Beginning, Section II, Section III
Chapter 7
Darcy noticed the slightly dazed look in Elizabeth's eyes and rushed to her side just in time to break her fall. In an instant, she was in his arms, unconscious. For a second, Darcy was motionless, inhaling her scent and savoring the feel of her light form in his arms, then, recollecting himself, he called Bingley for assistance.
"Bingley, help me take Mrs. Wickham to her room!"
Bingley summoned the servants, but to his surprise, Darcy insisted on helping Elizabeth himself. Once Elizabeth was comfortably settled in her room, Darcy and Bingley returned to the parlor, leaving Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to tend to the guests.
"I am sure she will be fine, Darcy," said Bingley, observing that his friend was concerned for their young guest.
"Yes, but I wonder what was in that letter," mused Darcy. He spied the letter on the floor, near the window, where Elizabeth had collapsed. His eyes met Bingley's, who shrugged doubtfully. Darcy looked at the letter again and then rapidly walked over and picked it up, pursuing its contents.
Seconds later, Darcy gasped. "Oh good god!" Stunned, he handed the letter to Bingley.
Bingley was surprised, likewise. "Oh, poor Mrs. Wickham."
Darcy did not respond; his eyes were fixed on a distant point. The first thought that crossed his mind was...Wickham is dead!! And the second, more important one...now she is free! As soon as that thought occurred to him he berated himself for being so selfish. She was undoubtedly struck by grief, because regardless of his desertion of her, Elizabeth loved Wickham, of that much he was sure.
"It is so unfortunate," said Bingley sadly.
"Very unfortunate indeed," muttered Darcy.
At that moment, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst walked in and Miss Bingley exclaimed, "Why are we to be invaded by every sick Bennet in the country?! It is insupportable."
"Caroline, I demand a little respect for our guests, please," said her brother rather sternly.
Miss Bingley looked sourly at her brother, before ignoring him and addressing Darcy. "Quite frankly my opinion, Mr. Darcy, is that they are doing this on purpose so that they can stay on at Netherfield! I know it is a horrible idea, but who knows what these country people are capable of?! Dear Jane is not to blamed, I suppose, for with her prospects, she must grab what she gets..."
Thoroughly sickened, Darcy got up abruptly and stomped out of the room, leaving Miss Bingley's mouth agape. She sighed and glanced at her sister, "Louisa, was it something I said?"
The Netherfield party was assembled for dinner when the door opened and Elizabeth appeared. The gentleman rose to greet her and Miss Bingley exclaimed,
"Mrs. Wickham! How nice of you to join us! Won't you sit down?"
Elizabeth murmured her thanks and mechanically sad down in the seat opposite Darcy. Her face was drawn and she seemed to have aged suddenly. The sadness that had previously existed in her eyes had vanished and was replaced by a vacant gaze. Her entire aspect had changed so visibly that it could not fail to attract attention. Darcy's eyes were on her as soon as she had entered the room. He was shocked to see what he saw. As she sat down opposite him, he finally managed to say,
"I hope you are feeling better, Mrs. Wickham?"
Elizabeth looked up, straight into his eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, trying to convey something through her eyes. Then, she dropped her gaze and said, "I thank you, yes."
"I am pleased to hear it," he almost whispered.
The tone of his voice conveyed his genuine concern and Elizabeth glanced at him again. Miss Bingley jealously observed this exchange and remarked,
"Tell us, Mrs. Wickham, what was in that letter of yours?! I am surely dying to know!"
Bingley and Darcy exchanged glances. They had not deemed it right to spread the news without Elizabeth's consent. As Miss Bingley sneered, a flicker of pain crossed Elizabeth's face, but disappeared. She glanced at Darcy and said in a steady voice,
"It was regarding my husband...he is dead."
A general expression of horror and dismay followed that calm statement. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst insincerely expressed their sorrow while Hurst did not even care. Bingley was the only one who was genuinely affected. Elizabeth accepted their condolences with equanimity, not displaying any emotion. All through dinner, Darcy observed her secretly. Her expression was inscrutable, and the drooping curve of her rose lips was the only indication that something out of the ordinary had occurred. As soon as the meal was finished, Elizabeth excused herself using Jane's fever as an excuse. Darcy watched her leave with a perplexing conflict of emotions raging within him.
Wickham was dead...Wickham was dead...he repeated that mentally as if it were some sort of magic mantra. He did not feel the jubilation that might have been expected. Instead, he felt a gentle sense of pity for the young man who had grown up with him at Pemberley, but had gone astray. Darcy could recall several images from their childhood, all of which were surprisingly pleasant. But then, there was Ramsgate. There would always be Ramsgate. Darcy's pity turned to anger. That man had not deserved to live, and yet, even his death did not solve all the problems in the lives of whom he had touched. Darcy thought of Georgiana's reaction for she had to be told, sometime. And then, there was Elizabeth. Elizabeth... She was now free...but could she ever be truly free? As long as she bore Wickham's name, no.
"Well, I am sorry for poor Mrs. Wickham, I am sure," said Miss Bingley in a tone that suggested that she did not care at all. "I wonder what she will do now."
Bingley commented. "Well, I say she is handling herself very well and I admire her for that. A weaker person would have not been able to bear it as well."
"I suppose she will go home now," continued Miss Bingley, with a glance at Darcy, who appeared deep in thought.
"She will stay as long as her sister requires her, Caroline," said Bingley firmly.
Miss Bingley looked disgusted but ventured no comment. She merely exchanged exasperated glances with Mrs. Hurst. For the remainder of the evening, she tried to gain Darcy's attention, but he was too deep in thought. Miss Bingley was frustrated. It can't be that Bennet woman he is thinking of...what then? Estate business? That must be it. Yes, he thinks of his estate. Well, I shall let him be...for the moment. If Miss Bingley had been able to divine the content of Darcy's thoughts, she might have been quite surprised indeed.
Darcy was restless and sleep eluded him. The disturbing news haunted his thoughts and his mind was distracted. At length, he got up and walked to his window. The moon was out and the sky was unusually clear. The stars were visible distinctly and appeared to be tiny gems in the blanket of darkness. The night was still, lifeless, quiet. Darcy was just about to turn away from the window when his eyes caught a figure in white gliding across the grounds. At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but the figure was real. Darcy had a fair idea of who it could be, and with astonishing swiftness, he dressed himself and headed down with his lamp.
The autumn air had a distinct chill that was both pleasant and uncomfortable. Darcy inhaled the sweet scent of the crisp air, then stopped to listen to gentle sounds coming from the direction of the shrubbery. He followed the sounds to the source and gasped in surprise at the sight he beheld.
It was Elizabeth and she was sobbing. Her head was buried on the bench. She was dressed in a simple, white gown and her dark, curly hair was loose. In fact, she looked like she had the first time Darcy had laid eyes on her. Darcy just watched her for a few moments without disturbing her, but the cracking of twigs under his feet signaled his presence. Elizabeth looked up. Her face was puffy and tear-stained. The tears threatened to spill over her luminous eyes. She just stared at Darcy, then put her head down again.
"Please leave me alone. Go away!"
The urgency in her voice stirred Darcy, but he said firmly. "No, Mrs. Wickham, I must insist you come inside at once. The air is chilly. You will catch a cold. Please."
Darcy stepped forward, but Elizabeth did not move. She looked up at him defiantly. "You cannot make me do anything."
"True," said Darcy, moving closer towards her. "You shall be the best judge of your own well-being." He was now very close to the bench and Elizabeth stood up and stepped back.
"Mr. Darcy, I pray, leave me alone."
"Mrs. Wickham," he said solemnly. "I understand your grief, but I cannot allow you to harm yourself in this manner."
"You understand?!!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "How could you, or anyone else understand?!! How could you possibly know what it feels to love and depend on someone and have that trust broken...how could you possibly know the loss and loneliness of death?! How can you even presume to understand what I feel?!!"
Darcy said not a word. His outward calm exterior did not betray the turbulence of his emotions. At that moment, he was insanely jealous of Wickham and of the love that Elizabeth had for him. He was pained to see Elizabeth so hurt and angry, but there was nothing he could do. Clearly, words did not comfort her. He sorely wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her tenderly. But propriety was against him.
Elizabeth calmed down a little and said no more. Darcy saw his chance and said. "I am sorry I upset you. I assure you it was not my intention."
Elizabeth looked at him uncertainly, then said. "All right...then you will let me be?"
Darcy shook his head. "I shall not leave without you."
Elizabeth flashed Darcy a disapproving look, then shrugged. "Well, that is your own choice, Mr. Darcy. I shall not stop you."
She turned her back to him and started walking slowly. Darcy watched her retreating figure, doubting his self-control, then making his mind, followed her. Elizabeth ignored him, looking straight ahead. Darcy hesitated to look at her for it distracted him. Instead, he took in the beauty of the silent night, marveling at its clarity and freshness. However, it was chilly, and he saw Elizabeth shivering in her light gown. She was determined, however, to stay out, so Darcy did not comment.
At length, Elizabeth said. "I am sorry." Darcy glanced at her, surprised, but she did not look his way. She continued. "You must understand...I am not myself...this news has affected me greatly...and I just took out my hurt and anger on you. You did not deserve it, especially from me."
Darcy found his voice. "Think nothing of it."
Elizabeth laughed softly. "It seems I am forever apologizing to you for my unpardonable behavior. I do not know what has gotten into me. I am never like this..." She sighed. "But I should not burden you with my troubles."
"No," said Darcy quietly, his heart beating wildly at her closeness to him. "Please go on. I shall like to hear about it."
Elizabeth glanced at him, her eyes filled with wonder. He smiled slightly, encouraging her. She smiled back and said. "You knew my husband, so perhaps you will understand... I met him when I was 19 and very vulnerable. He was so charming. I, well, I got charmed, I suppose. And I thought he...he cared too. Well, that is all in the past."
Darcy walked stonily, devouring her words. With every word, he felt more jealous and angry at Wickham. It was unfathomable to him how anyone could hurt Elizabeth in such a way, but he knew Wickham. Darcy wondered what had prompted Wickham to marry her in the first place. She was too wonderful for him, but not rich. That was the material point. Darcy thought of Wickham smiling and charming young Elizabeth and writhed with envy and disgust.
Elizabeth shivered again. The night was, indeed, quite cold as Darcy had pointed out. But she had felt the need to get some fresh air, else she would go insane. Her conflicting emotions at the news confused her. Although she knew she had loved Wickham, she did not feel excessively sad at his death. It was more a matter of hurt and betrayal. However, knowing that he was dead, she felt a part of her die with him; a part of her that was young and impulsive and naïve. She would never be able to trust anyone with her heart again, never. She would not be able to bear another heartbreak. She glanced at Darcy, who was lost in reverie and not for the first time, wondered what he was thinking. He was so kind. He had always been kind to her. She was ashamed at how she behaved at times, but his presence comforted her.
They had walked quietly together to the door. Elizabeth stopped. Darcy looked at her questioningly.
"Shall we go in now?" he asked.
"Yes," nodded Elizabeth. She hesitated, then said. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy." Darcy bowed gallantly and Elizabeth continued. "You have been a good friend."
"At your service, madam," smiled Darcy. Always...
Elizabeth simply smiled. They went inside and parted ways.
"Oh Lizzy!!" Jane cried, the next morning. "I am so sorry."
Elizabeth lowered her eyes. "I am fine, Jane."
Jane was all but fully recovered. She still kept to her bed, but her cold was greatly improved. Elizabeth had not imparted the news of Wickham's death to her, unwilling to cause her any uneasiness. But she could not withhold the news any longer, so she told Jane.
"B-But how?" asked Jane, her eyes filled with concern.
"He was killed in a duel...in Madrid," explained Elizabeth. "And that is all I know."
"That's awful!" exclaimed Jane. "It is shocking! Poor Lizzy. Are you sure you will be alright?"
"It might surprise you, Jane," said Elizabeth slowly. "But I am not as heartbroken as one might imagine. In fact, this news does not upset me too much. I loved him, to be sure...but he is gone and that's the end of it. I am determined to be strong."
Jane smiled at her brave sister. "Oh, Lizzy! I am so proud of you!"
Elizabeth hugged Jane, thinking of how angelic her sister was. If only everyone else treated her similarly. Elizabeth dreaded conveying the news to the rest of her family, especially her mother. She sighed and prepared to endure that trial.
When Elizabeth entered the breakfast parlor, the others were already assembled. They greeted Elizabeth, inviting her to join them. Elizabeth nodded and sat down quietly. She was seated, once again, opposite Darcy. He was grave and silent as usual, barely acknowledging her presence. Elizabeth tried to catch his eye, but he fixedly stared at his muffin. Elizabeth was confused.
It took every ounce of his willpower for Darcy to refrain from looking at Elizabeth. He had been awake for chief of the night puzzling over her. He had come to the decision that although she was very intriguing and he liked her, Darcy would not want to give her the impression that his intentions tended in any other direction. It would just not be possible. Any alliance between them would be a disgrace to the Darcy name, especially considering her connection to Wickham. No, it would be unimaginable. Darcy knew that if he looked at her, his resolve would weaken. So he persistently studied his muffin.
"Jane is well enough to join us downstairs this evening, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth. "We have been discussing it and think that it would be prudent if we left for Longbourn tomorrow. We have imposed on your hospitality too long."
Bingley protested. "No indeed! I do not think it would be prudent at all. Miss Bennet might catch a cold again...!"
Elizabeth smiled. "No, you are too kind, Mr. Bingley, but we are determined. We shall be gone tomorrow." She glanced at Darcy as she said the last part, and he looked at her for the briefest of seconds, then quickly looked away.
She will be gone soon, thought Darcy. I should be relieved...but why, then am I so sad?
The next day, the two sisters bid the Netherfield party goodbye. While Bingley was openly sorry to see them go, Miss Bingley became more and more cheerful. Hurst did not care one way or the other. Darcy, also, showed no emotion. Elizabeth was a little puzzled about Darcy for he had been very cold and reserved after their midnight walk, but she refused to let herself care too much about it. As the sisters rode away in the carriage, Elizabeth laughed,
"Oh Jane! Not withstanding your excellent Mr. Bingley, I have never been so happy to leave a place in my life!"
Their reception in Longbourn was not quite cordial as Mrs. Bennet had hoped for them to stay in Netherfield much longer. She scolded them saying that Jane might have caught a cold again. Elizabeth just rolled her eyes. She had decided to impart the news to her family at dinner. Escaping to the solitude of room, Elizabeth took out a fresh sheet of paper and started writing.
Mrs. Annesley,I thank you sincerely for your kindness towards myself and am happy to accept the position offered. I would be delighted to serve as a companion to Miss de Bourgh. I am available to start work at your discretion. I shall be eternally indebted to you and beg to remain,
Your well-wisher and friend,
Elizabeth Bennet
Elizabeth read over the letter again, purposefully omitting the last part of her name. Satisfied, she sealed it and sighed. One chapter of her life was finished; who knew what the next was to bring?
Chapter 8
Dinner at Longbourn could, by no standard, be deemed a poor affair. Mrs. Bennet always prided herself on running an efficient household and keeping a good table. Mr. Bennet had long ago given up hopes of any kind of economy and the Bennets had lived within their income only due to Mr. Bennet's independence. At any rate, as Elizabeth slowly arrived at the dinner table, the bustle indicated that the rest of the family was already assembled. She sat down without a word, simply exchanging a quick glance with Jane, whose eyes flashed with gentle commiseration.
Elizabeth barely listened to Lydia and Kitty's never-ending description of the latest lace designs and the new hat they had seen at the milliners. She ate her meal without speaking a word and Mr. Bennet looked at her with slight concern. She met his gaze, and gathering her courage, sighed and said,
"I...I have something I wish to tell you..." She spoke to no one in particular, but instinctively both Lydia and Kitty stopped talking to listen to her. Blessed silence ensued and all eyes were trained curiously on Elizabeth, who feeling highly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, cleared her throat and continued,
"I received, by express, some very disturbing news which, I am afraid, will not be pleasing to any of us..." She paused, glanced at Jane, who smiled encouragingly and continued. "I received word that...my husband...Mr. Wickham has been killed in a duel in Spain."
Lydia gasped aloud. "Oh la!"
Mrs. Bennet, likewise, exclaimed loudly. "Oh!! I knew this would happen! Now what will you do?! You should never have married him...I told you! But does anyone listen to me, pray? What will we all come to? And he has left you penniless...wretched, wretched man. Oh, Mr. Bennet! What will we do?!" She wailed.
Mr. Bennet looked coldly at Mrs. Bennet for a moment, then turned his attention to Elizabeth. His gaze softened and he spoke softly.
"I am very sorry, Lizzy..." he said.
"I am alright," she assured him, thankfully, her voice shaking as she spoke. "None of us could have foreseen this."
Mr. Bennet did not reply, indeed, he could not think of anything to say at such a moment. He need not have troubled himself for promptly, Lydia exclaimed, "A duel, you say? That is so exciting! I would love to go to Spain one day."
Elizabeth stared at her sister, astonished at her insensitivity. She shook her head slightly in despair. Mary, who had hitherto, been relatively quiet, spoke up. "It bespeaks well of us all, if, when faced with adversity, we strengthen ourselves and learn the useful lesson that mortality is an undeniable fact of life."
Unable to bear it any longer, Elizabeth excused herself and hurriedly left the dinner table. As Jane started to follow her, Mr. Bennet shook his head and said, "Let her be for now, Jane."
Jane sat down again, feeling her sister's sorrow and understanding her fragile state of mind. Mr. Bennet sighed inwardly. With Elizabeth gone, Lydia shrugged and promptly commenced to talk about laces in a most flippant manner.
Meanwhile, at Netherfield, Darcy was pacing the library, restless for no apparent reason when Bingley entered. Darcy stopped and looked at Bingley inquisitively, slightly annoyed at the interruption. But the wide smile on Bingley's face made Darcy temporarily forget his own worries and he allowed himself to smile.
"Darcy! Where have you been hiding all this time?!" exclaimed Bingley, laughing good-naturedly. "I declare, if I did not know better, I would say you were hiding!" Seeing that Darcy was beginning to protest, Bingley waved his hand and said, "But that is immaterial...I was searching for you because I need your opinion. What do you say to a ball, here at Netherfield?"
"A ball?" repeated Darcy, frowning a little.
"I know how you detest balls, Darcy," continued Bingley quickly. "But I would beg your forbearance for one evening. Our neighbors have been so kind to us, I feel like we owe them a ball...and Miss Bennet likes to dance..." at this point Bingley smiled even more, and would have continued had not Darcy interrupted him.
"You do not need to convince me, Bingley," he said. "I think a ball is an excellent idea."
Bingley was certain he hadn't heard him right. "You do? ...But why?"
"As you said, our neighbors have been remarkably hospitable to us. You should express your gratitude." Seeing Bingley's astonished look, Darcy smiled. "You are amazed, are you not?"
"I confess, I am," replied Bingley. "It is just that I had prepared myself for a long battle with you on this subject and I had not imagined that you would actually approve..."
"I have my reasons," said Darcy mysteriously.
Bingley looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. Darcy said, "Well, get to it, man!"
As Bingley hastily exited the library, Darcy sank into a chair and sighed. He thought of the torture he was going to subject himself to and groaned inwardly. Why am I doing this to myself? The answer was very obvious, but he dared not admit to himself for oftentimes, the truth is hard to accept.
"Well, what is your decision, Lizzy?" inquired Mr. Bennet, as they were assembled for breakfast, the following morning.
The dark circles under Elizabeth's eyes were prominent signs of her mental and physical fatigue. She appeared tired and emotionally drained. She was in no humor to deal with her mother and sisters, but knew that confrontation was inevitable and hence, was best dealt with at the first opportunity. She took in a deep breath, glanced at her mother, and said,
"I have taken a position as a companion for a Miss de Bourgh, daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh."
As soon as Elizabeth spoke those words, Mrs. Bennet exploded, "My daughter...a companion?! I will not have it! Mr. Bennet, tell your daughter to come to her senses."
Elizabeth sighed and said calmly, "I am afraid, mama, that this is a choice that I alone can make, and I have made up my mind. I have already accepted the position, so I would request that you support my decision."
"You are such a headstrong girl, Lizzy! Always must have your own way!" Huffed Mrs. Bennet, high-strung. "It will be such a disgrace to the Bennet name! My daughter, a common servant! Oh, I feel faint!!"
Elizabeth quelled the urge to leave the room immediately and she looked at her father, who had hitherto been quiet. He looked at Elizabeth and said, "I shall respect any decision you make, Lizzy, be assured of that. But is this absolutely necessary?"
"Yes, papa," nodded Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet said no more, but it was evident that he was saddened by his favorite daughter's decision. Jane did not seem happy either. She suffered vicariously from her sister's hurt and did not deem it necessary for Lizzy to leave. Uncomfortable silence followed and would have been very awkward, had not, Lydia with her utter lack of sensibility exclaimed,
"Kitty and I are going to Meryton...we want to catch Denny by surprise, before he has time to dress...ummmmm!" This followed by a fit of giggles stopped only by the stern look on Mr. Bennet's face.
To distract the attention focussed on her, Lydia hastily exclaimed, "Um...Lizzy, Jane...would you care to join us?"
Meryton was but a few miles away from Longbourn, very felicitous since the Bennet girls often walked there in quest of news, entertainment and officers. The autumn air was pleasantly chilly, exhilarating and refreshing. The sun shone brightly giving the illusion of a summer day, but the chill proved otherwise. By all accounts, it was a beautiful day, at least, on the outside.
Elizabeth had not the energy to decline the invitation to join her sister, hence she accepted and was glad she did. Staying at home with such proximity to her mother would not be therapeutic for her nerves. And the beauty of the day was not altogether lost on her in spite of the turbulence of her emotions. As she inhaled the faintly scented, fresh air, a new force and liveliness surged through her making her temporarily immune to the pangs of pain that had become, of late, inveterate.
Mary had, as usual, declined to join them, preferring books to a walk, so the other four set out. Lydia and Kitty chatted incessantly on no significant topic. Jane and Elizabeth walked side-by-side, saying nothing at first.
"It is so beautiful, is it not?" said Jane, at length.
"Yes, Jane, very much so," said Elizabeth.
Then, unable to restrain her feelings any longer, Jane said, "Lizzy, I do not wish for you to leave...please, you need not do this..."
Elizabeth looked at her sister, smiled slightly, then sighed. "I am sorry, Jane...it is so difficult to explain, but I simply cannot live here...I need to do this...please understand my predicament."
"I do, I do understand!" exclaimed Jane with energy. "But I so wish that you did not have to leave, but fear not, dear sister, I shall importune you no further. However I shall miss you greatly..." She stopped and smiled. "But look at me, being so selfish. I wish you all the happiness in the world, no matter where you go."
"Oh, Jane!" Elizabeth embraced her sister. "I do not deserve such a sister...truly, I don't."
Linking arms, the sisters walked on, in companionable silence only to be broken by the gentle swaying of the trees and the occasional chirping of the birds. Had it not been for the uncertain situation of her future, Elizabeth would have relished the scenes she had grown up with. But, be as it might, she managed to maintain her outward calm and did not betray any of the thoughts and feelings that had come to haunt her. She was never entirely free of those emotions. At times, she found herself wondering where she had gone astray and where she had wronged to deserve such a fate. Sometimes, she wondered whether she was mourning the loss of her husband, or if her sense of loss resulted from the deprivation of her familiar lifestyle. After much introspection, she came to the conclusion that she had, indeed, loved her husband very passionately at one point of time, but that had subsided into quiet affection. She did miss him, however, but was resolved not to pain herself too much on that account. It was all in the past and best not to dwell upon it.
The ladies' arrival at Meryton was marked by the younger girls exclaiming and pointing at familiar officers. Jane tried, in vain, to calm them and impart a shred of dignity. Lydia chose not to hear her words at all and waved wildly at a young officer from across the street. The young man smiled and waved, enthusiastically and came to join them.
"Denny! You're back! We came into town to see you!" cried Lydia.
"Oh? And I was just going to Longbourn to find you!" smiled Denny, good-naturedly, acknowledging the other ladies.
They stood there, thus, for a few minutes, engaged in pleasant conversation. Elizabeth's mind was engaged elsewhere, hence she spoke, but a few words. In her current state of mind, she was in no condition for civil conversation. Suddenly, Kitty exclaimed,
"Oh Jane! There's Mr. Bingley! Look!" she pointed in the direction of two horsemen.
Jane looked, recognized, colored and averted her face. Elizabeth also glanced in that direction, her attention, however, was not centered on Mr. Bingley, rather on his friend. She promised herself she would not be affected by his presence and cleared her head of all disturbing memories of romantic moonlit walks.
On discerning the ladies, Bingley got down from his horse and approached. Darcy followed him hesitantly. He greeted them all, though his salutations were more addressed to Jane than any of the others. Elizabeth repressed a smile at this evidence of his partiality. She stole a look at his friend, but stopped short at his cold demeanor and upbraided herself for expecting anything more.
"Miss Bennet!" exclaimed Bingley. "I hope you have been feeling well. We were just on our way to inquire after your health."
"You are very kind, sir," said Jane, her eyes lowered. "I am very well, thank you."
"Good! Very good!" said Bingley, then remembering, addressed Elizabeth. "And, Mrs. Wickham...I trust you have been well as well?"
"Yes, thank you," murmured Elizabeth, not looking at Darcy, but feeling his eyes upon her. She resolved not to return his gaze, but that was not to be. She found her eyes gravitating to his and soon enough, she was staring straight into his dark, bottomless eyes. His gaze was veiled, yet earnest and Elizabeth looked away, dismayed at her apparent lack of self-control.
How it came to pass or who had proposed it, no one was certain, but soon after, the Bennet ladies found themselves heading home, accompanied by Bingley and Darcy. Kitty and Lydia led the way as they were not disposed to converse with either of the men and chatted only among themselves. Jane and Bingley walked side by side, conversing easily and amiably. Elizabeth and Darcy followed last, in complete silence.
Try as she might, Elizabeth could not feel the indifference she convinced herself she possessed. In vain did she struggle to overcome her strange emotions, for they puzzled and frightened her. However, she was resolved that she would not betray herself to anyone, least of all, to him, the man of ice. How astonished she would have been had she been able to peek into his heart and mind, which dwelled only on her, and her alone; propriety and prudence being the only thing holding him back.
Darcy was in an unbearable situation. Through Bingley's insistence, he had agreed to accompany him, but had not calculated on happening upon the Bennets in such a manner. He had been elated at seeing her at first, but recognized the danger of the situation. He had scarcely been able to detach his eyes from her and was aware of how it might appear to an observer. But there were greater forces than his common sense at work. Forces that he had no control over. Hence, as Darcy walked slowly on that autumn day, he felt frustrated. His taciturn bent of mind would, no doubt, offend her, but he could not trust himself to speak lest his deepest thoughts betray him unwittingly. He wondered whether her thoughts ever dwelled on him, the way his did on her.
"I did not think I would see you so soon," said Darcy, at length, unable to contain himself any longer.
"Oh...?" Elizabeth stole a look at him, but said no more.
Darcy bit his lips, not knowing what more to say. There were many things he would have liked to say, but which were out of bounds of common propriety. It was truly ironic, he reflected, that he should be thrown in such close proximity with her, and did not know what to say, when all morning he had been rehearsing what he would say, if he met her.
"Have you received further information of your husband?" he dared to ask.
"No," she replied. "And I am glad because I do not think I could bear to learn much more."
Darcy nodded understandingly, but was at a loss regarding how to continue the conversation. He need not have worried since Elizabeth, sensing his discomfort, exerted herself to think of a new line of discussion.
"It is so beautiful here, this time of year," she said, mentally kicking herself for coming up with the drollest topic of all: weather!
"I could not agree more," said Darcy.
"But I grew up here as a girl, so my partiality in the matter is quite unavoidable," added Elizabeth.
"Well, I shall compliment your taste and say that your partiality serves you well," said Darcy gallantly.
"Oh, mock me, if you will!" laughed Elizabeth, maybe for the first time in many days.
"Indeed, I do not dare," he replied in much the same vein, but with more intensity. The sound of her laughter was sweet, almost lyrical. It was very disturbing for the already delicate state of his emotions. He glanced at her furtively, and discovered, much to his further dismay, that the exercise had given her normally creamy complexion a definite rosy blush. A few undisciplined tendrils of her dark, curly hair escaped and framed her lovely face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and animation. Darcy knew he was fighting a losing battle.
Elizabeth noticed Darcy's preoccupied silence, misinterpreted it and flushed. She refused to look at him, keeping silent and only mentally berating herself for falling in the trap once again. How many humiliating experiences with this man would suffice to let her understand that all her precarious fancies were unimaginable? Her lack of self control infuriated and annoyed Elizabeth, since she could not, for the life of her, understand what it was about him that attracted, yes attracted her thus.
Thus involved deeply in their own thoughts, they continued in silence, quietly wondering what the other was thinking about, hoping their inner thoughts wouldn't be discovered. The entire party arrived at Longbourn, much to Mrs. Bennet's delight and surprise. She immediately burst into a frenzy of activity to welcome her guests and even, good-natured Bingley couldn't suppress a smile at her display.
"Oh, Mr. Bingley! How good of you to accompany the girls!" she cooed. "It was very, very nice of you! And, Mr. Darcy, it was nice of you, too! I declare, my poor Jane was very ill indeed and it was very generous of you to let her stay at Netherfield. I cannot imagine what would become of her if she did not have such kind, attentive friends...oh well, here you are!!"
In vain did Jane attempt to calm her mother. She glanced apologetically at Bingley, who bore Mrs. Bennet's attack with equanimity. Mr. Bennet did not exert himself since experience had taught him never to interfere with his wife when she was excited. He merely watched the scene with quiet amusement. He looked over at Bingley's brooding friend, Darcy and found him staring fixedly at Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet's interest increased as he saw Elizabeth glance surreptitiously at Darcy when she thought she was unobserved. Highly amused, Mr. Bennet chuckled inwardly. This shall be very interesting... and I dare say they don't know it themselves!
A half-hour passed in that manner and at length, Darcy and Bingley rose to take their leave, but not before Bingley issued a general invitation for a ball at Netherfield, the following week. His announcement resulted in excitement in more than one quarter. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia expressed their joy in a more loud, explosive manner, while Jane simply blushed and smiled quietly. With many adieus, the men finally departed. Unable to comprehend the complexities of her emotions, Elizabeth quickly left the parlor to go to her room. As she passed the main hall, Darcy appeared suddenly, startled at beholding her.
"I came back for my hat," he explained and hastily claimed it from the stand. Elizabeth did not utter a word. Instead of taking his leave, as she expected, he approached her, and said. "About the ball..." he paused hesitantly, looked into her eyes, then continued. "Will you do me the honor of dancing the first two with me?"
Elizabeth was too stunned speak.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth dared not say a word for fear that she had not heard him. So, she simply stared at him for a few awkward moments, in disbelief. Darcy watched the expression on her face and felt his heart sink. He reprimanded himself for asking her at such an inopportune moment and regretted it. He cleared his throat and at length, Elizabeth said,
"I...I thank you for the offer, but I do not think it would be appropriate for me to attend the ball."
Darcy almost kicked himself for being so inconsiderate and foolish and would have gladly disappeared to the center of the earth. Gathering all his courage, he looked at her again and managed to say, "I understand...good day."
With that he walked away in quick steps, leaving an astonished Elizabeth staring after him. She was still standing thus when Jane walked up beside her.
"Lizzy? What did he want?" asked Jane as she saw Darcy saddle up and ride away.
"I wish I knew," muttered Elizabeth under her breath.
"Oh girls!! Isn't this grand??" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, joining them. "This is all in compliment to you, Jane, for I declare, I have never seen a man so much in love. Oh Jane!! How happy you shall be! And so close to!"
Elizabeth looked at Jane and rolled her eyes. Jane simply smiled good-naturedly.
In the solitude of her room, Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed and seemingly stared into nothingness. But her mind was occupied and occupied by one thing only. What does this mean? It was a question she'd been asking herself ever since Darcy had left, but still she came to no satisfactory answer. The enormity of Darcy's request did not escape Elizabeth and yet, she could not accept that Darcy asked her to dance because he wanted to that would not make any sense, to her, at least. He had always made it perfectly clear that he had no intentions towards her. And why should he? Elizabeth sighed. Somehow she knew that she would not see him again.
As Darcy rode home, he barely listened to Bingley's excited plans for the ball. His mind wandered off and he could hardly repress his disappointment. He did not know what he had been thinking to have asked Elizabeth to dance. It was highly improper and he shuddered even to think of what indication it might give her. She might interpret it to mean more than it actually did. She might even think that he actually cared about her. The question was, did he care about her? Darcy did not have the answer, or, would not admit it.
As the day of the ball approached, the excitement of Mrs. Bennet equaled that of Lydia and Kitty, and the rest of the household was suffered to bear it. Jane's excitement, perhaps, exceeded theirs, but with her quiet serenity, she hid it quite well. Only Elizabeth noticed her anticipation.
"It's good to see you so happy, Jane. I hope that you have a wonderful time," said Elizabeth. "By the way," she continued, pointing at the dress on Jane's lap. "Mr. Bingley will like that very much, I am certain!"
Jane blushed and said, "Thank you, Lizzy. I wish you would come with us...can you not do that?"
Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "No, Jane, you know it will not be right."
"Perhaps," said Jane. "But I am not asking you to dance...just come with us."
Elizabeth pictured spending the whole evening in close proximity to Darcy, not knowing what to think or how to feel. "My mind is made, Jane. Besides, I shall give papa some company."
"And he'll appreciate it, I am sure," smiled Jane.
The day of the ball finally arrived, much to the delight of Mrs. Bennet. It was a busy day with bustling activity. Jane was, as usual, the center of the activity as supreme efforts were made to show her off at her best. All the work paid off as Jane descended the stairs, looking like an angel.
"Oh, my Jane!!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "She will outshine all the others, to be sure."
Elizabeth smiled proudly at her sister and as the party was leaving, she whispered into her ears, "Enjoy yourself, Jane."
Jane smiled. "Yes, I will. Take care, Lizzy."
As the Bennet party departed with many adieus, Lizzy retreated to the sanctity of Mr. Bennet's library, where her father was quietly reading a book. On her entrance, he looked up and gave her a small smile.
"Are they all gone, Lizzy?"
"Yes, papa," she replied before taking a seat.
Mr. Bennet sighed. "Good."
Elizabeth nodded, then chose her favorite book, MacBeth, and settled into a chair. Mr. Bennet observed her quietly for a few moments before saying,
"You should have gone, too, Lizzy. There was no occasion. It would do you good."
Elizabeth put her book down. "Papa..."
"No, no, you need not explain...I understand," said Mr. Bennet. "I just do not want you to suffer on his account." Mr. Bennet could not get himself to pronounce Wickham's name.
Elizabeth said nothing, just lowered her eyes to hide the tears that threatened to spill. She felt like a hypocrite because her absence at the ball stemmed as much from her wish to avoid a certain dark-haired gentleman as it did from the fact that she was in mourning. Elizabeth wished sorely to confide in her father about the turmoil of her emotions, but dared not. And furthermore, she was not mistress enough of her emotions at present to share them with anyone, even Jane. It was all so confusing because she did not even really know, or want to know, what her heart desired most.
"I am sorry, Lizzy," said Mr. Bennet apologetically.
"It is alright, papa," Elizabeth assured him with a forced smile.
Mr. Bennet looked at his favorite daughter, pained to see her in such a condition, and sighed inwardly. Fate was such a strange thing, indeed.
"Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy," declared Jane, the next morning, as the sisters were alone in the parlor. "It is so good to be with one's friends in such a manner. I had a most agreeable time."
"Which I am sure is to do with a certain gentleman we all know," hinted Elizabeth with a sly smile.
"Lizzy!" Blushed Jane. "Do not tease me. I am sure Mr. Bingley does not intend his friendship to be anything more than friendship.
"Oh, dear Jane," said Elizabeth. "It is not possible for anyone to see you two together and not come to the same conclusion that I have."
Jane said no more, but the radiating smile on her face said it all. Elizabeth felt happy for her sister, but could not rid herself of the nagging pang of regret at the unfortunate circumstances of her own life. She was shaken out of her reverie by a knock on the door. Hill appeared with a letter for Jane.
"What is it, Jane?" asked Elizabeth, with a note of concern at witnessing the change in her sister's expression.
"It is from Miss Bingley and she writes that the entire party will have left for town by this time, with no intention of ever coming back."
Elizabeth let out a little gasp, the first thought darting through her mind: I shall not see him again. Reprimanding herself for being so selfish, she said, "Oh Jane! I cannot believe it. It can't be so. It just one of Miss Bingley's ruses, surely you do not believe her?"
"But Lizzy, what reason does she have to lie?"
"She sees that her brother is falling in love with you and that does not suit her, so she follows him to town and hopes to convince you that he won't be coming back."
"That is only half of it," said Jane. "What hurts me most is..." Jane related the Miss Bingley's hopes of her brother's attachment to Miss Georgiana Darcy. Elizabeth cringed as Jane read the letter and said, at its conclusion,
"Jane, do not give credit to anything she has to say. If Mr. Bingley is not back and dining at your side in two weeks, I shall be very surprised."
Jane cheered up considerably and Elizabeth only wished that she felt half the confidence that she had claimed.
The days turned into weeks and there was no sign of the Netherfield party. At length, even Elizabeth gave up any hopes of their coming back. Jane's disappointment was acute, but she hid it tolerably well. Mrs. Bennet never failed to complain and declare that her daughter had been ill used. Jane bore all her attacks with her usual equanimity, but Elizabeth could discern that she was at the end of her patience.
Soon, it was time for Elizabeth to assume her new post as companion to Miss de Bourgh. She was determined to assume the position in spite of all the entreaties from her parents and sister. Very dogged in the adherence to her beliefs, Elizabeth was certain of the merit of her intentions. She would not let herself be influenced or tempted by the promise of familiar comforts of her home, because she did not feel the right to savor those comforts. She was determined, therefore, to fulfill her obligations.
Elizabeth often found herself wondering about Darcy and reflecting on their strange relationship. They had met under the most unusual circumstances and the following events had been even more unusual. She recalled his kindness to her on that night at Netherfield and how he had asked her to dance. But he had left without even attempting to say goodbye. Their relationship was a bundle of contradictions, quite like the man himself. At times, she would peep into her heart in an effort to uncover its secrets, but failed because she was too afraid of what she might find inside.
And so, the day of Elizabeth's departure arrived and all her family and friend, Charlotte gathered to bid her farewell. As the carriage waited for her, Elizabeth said her final good-byes and found that the final leave taking was very painful indeed. Mr. Bennet said little and stayed in the background, while Mrs. Bennet was exceedingly noisy in her adieus. Jane was quiet too except for her best wishes and urges to write soon. Charlotte begged for her to write often too, and as time to board the carriage came, Elizabeth felt her eyes moisten. The servant that was to accompany her ascended the carriage as did Elizabeth. The carriage gently rolled and Longbourn slowly disappeared from sight. Elizabeth looked back as long as she could unwilling to let go of the memories because she knew her life would never be the same again.
It was rather dark, when after a day's journey, Elizabeth arrived at Kent to begin a new life. The trip had been uneventful, much to Elizabeth's dismay for she had almost hoped to be stopped by highwaymen again so that a certain someone could rescue her. But she had no such luck. She reached Kent safely and stood outside the mansion that was to become her home. It was called Rosings Park.
Some servants came out at hearing the sound of the carriage and a woman, presumably the housekeeper appeared.
"You must be Miss Bennet," said the old lady. "I am Mrs. Stevens, the housekeeper."
"How do you do? Yes, I am Miss Bennet," said Elizabeth politely, mentally erasing Wickham from her memory.
"If you want to make it to dinner on time, Miss Bennet, you should proceed to your chambers directly," said Mrs. Stevens. "I shall lead the way."
She directed the servants to carry the baggage and walked ahead, with Elizabeth following quietly, taking in the scene. The house was perhaps even grander on the inside than on the outside. There were stately paintings and furniture and majestic staircases. Elizabeth appreciated the beauty and glamour but was not intimidated by it. She felt quite equal to the situation and hoped to find her stay at Rosings satisfactory. Mrs. Stevens showed her to her room and before leaving, said,
"Dinner shall be served in half an hour. I suggest you change and be there on time. Lady Catherine dislikes waiting for her meal."
With a brief nod, Mrs. Stevens left Elizabeth to her own devices. Elizabeth shrugged at the cold civility of the housekeeper. She refused to feel any affront on that account. She walked about in her room, which was quite large and had a pretty view of the gardens. The servants deposited her luggage in her room, so as per Mrs. Stevens' directions, Elizabeth changed into her favorite gown and headed for dinner. After losing her way twice and asking for directions thrice, Elizabeth finally found the dining room. It was a large room and in the center was an elegant dining table, on which were seated two women: Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh. Elizabeth paused briefly and then, entered the room confidently.
"Ah, Miss Bennet, so good of you to join us," said the older woman, who Elizabeth guessed was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
"I am sorry, I lost my way, your Ladyship," said Elizabeth before taking a seat.
"It is of no matter," said the lady genially.
Elizabeth glanced at Miss de Bourgh, who said not a word and fixedly focussed on her meal. Elizabeth looked at Lady Catherine again who was regarding her peculiarly.
"You look like a genteel, pretty sort of girl, Miss Bennet," began Lady Catherine. "You come highly recommended by Mrs. Annesley, who assures me that you are the best person for this position."
"Mrs. Annesley is very kind, your Ladyship and greatly exaggerated my merits, I am sure," smiled Elizabeth. "But I shall endeavor to fulfil the duties of this position to the best of my abilities."
Lady Catherine nodded imperiously, while glancing at Miss de Bourgh. "Do you have any sisters or brothers, Miss Bennet?"
"Yes, ma'am, I am the second of five sisters."
"Are any of your younger sisters out?"
"Yes, ma'am, all of them," said Elizabeth.
"All of them?!" exclaimed Lady Catherine. "All five out at once? The younger out before the older are married? Your youngest must be very young."
Elizabeth just nodded, then said, "Yes, ma'am, she is but sixteen, but surely, don't you think it would be hard on the younger sisters to be deprived of the pleasures of youth if the older sisters have not the means or the inclination to marry early?"
Lady Catherine was very surprised at this mark of Elizabeth's penchant to express her opinions. "You express your opinions very decidedly for one so young. Pray, what is your age?"
Feeling the full effects of the lady's imperious ill-manner, Elizabeth replied lightly, "With three grown-up younger sisters, your Ladyship can hardly expect me to reveal my age!"
"Miss Bennet!" exclaimed the great lady, shocked. "I demand that you answer my question."
"I am not one and twenty," replied Elizabeth, suppressing a smile. She stole a glance again at Miss de Bourgh, who sat mutely.
Throughout the meal, the conversation was carried chiefly by Lady Catherine with some aid from Elizabeth. The lady pried into Elizabeth's affairs and expressed her opinion decidedly on every topic that could be thought of, from the weather to lady's fashions. Elizabeth bore the conversation tolerably well, not inclined to offending her patroness on her first day. At the conclusion of the meal, Lady Catherine said,
"Well, Miss Bennet, Anne would probably like to go to her room now. Why don't you accompany her and get acquainted?"
Elizabeth nodded and Miss de Bourgh acquiesced silently. The two ladies left the dining room and walked together to their destination. As soon as they were out of earshot, Miss de Bourgh stopped and turned to Elizabeth.
"Miss Bennet, what is your Christian name?"
Surprised, Elizabeth answered, "Elizabeth."
"Okay, Elizabeth," continued she. "You can call me Anne, but not in front of my mother. She would disapprove." There was a gleam in Anne's eyes, which Elizabeth liked, yet distrusted. She continued, "Let me straighten some things for you...I hope that you are here to be my friend and not one of my mother's spies. You seem like a sensible person, so I shall request that anything that happens between us shall remain strictly between us."
"As you wish," said Elizabeth, more and more shocked at the sudden transformation of the mousy woman who had not spoken a word in the dining room.
"Good," smiled Anne, satisfied. "Are you good with hair?"
"I suppose I am...why?" asked Elizabeth, puzzled.
"You shall help me with my hair, of course," said Anne. "I have to get ready for the visitor who arrives tomorrow."
"What visitor?" asked Elizabeth.
"Why, my cousin, of course!" exclaimed Anne as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Colonel Fitzwilliam."
Chapter 10 Posted on Friday, 7 January 2000
"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth managed to say, unable to determine how to respond.
"I just want to appear my best, Elizabeth," explained Anne. She sighed and smiled as she studied the astounded demeanor of her companion. "You seem, how shall I say...surprised? Why is that exactly?"
Elizabeth determined what was best disclosed at the occasion. "I...well, I admit, you are not what you appear."
Anne let out a small laugh. Her laughter was low, musical, almost infectious, leading Elizabeth to smile ever so slightly. "I seem to surprise all whom I meet. But I am resigned for it is to be so. As you have seen, my mother is not always entirely...pleasant? She has never attempted to understand me and probably never shall. I have nothing to complain. Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that my feelings and interests go unnoticed by her. It does, however, surprise observers to note that I have a will of my own and a life that I lead apart from my mother. Personally, I do not see why I shouldn't lead a secret life, but I suppose, it is not usually done. And that, my dear, is the entire story."
"And a fascinating one it is," acknowledged Elizabeth, recovering her wits. "But how did you determine that I would not betray your secrets to your mother. I might be one of her spies, for all you know..."
"No," Anne shook her head emphatically. "After observing your eyes glaze over ten times during dinner, I was almost certain that you found mother as tiresome as I do. Do not misunderstand, I love my mother, but I simply cannot blind myself to the obvious."
Elizabeth grinned. "I understand perfectly and can commiserate with you for my mother is much the same."
"Is she?" Anne raised her eyebrows as they were almost upon the door to her chambers. "Then we understand each other. Marvelous. I think that we shall get along charmingly."
Elizabeth could only smile and nod in acquiescence having been so pleasantly surprised by the candor of Anne de Bourgh. There was a certain artlessness, almost airiness about her manner that was both unexpected and refreshing, especially after the dismal display at dinner. The transformation, in all its suddenness, could not but please the sensibilities. The playful charm in Anne's manner seemed to indicate a free, open spirit that could not heed to the confines of Rosings. It was less difficult to imagine the environment nurturing such a spirit than to comprehend how it could go unnoticed by the mother. But Elizabeth perceived in Lady Catherine such a willful, studied ignorance that her view of the world narrowed to what it ought be rather than what it was. It was, therefore, highly possible that the rebellious nature of her daughter would escape her attention. Such a neglect might be deemed lamentable in many quarters, but perhaps, it was a blessing in Anne's situation for without doubt, had Lady Catherine been aware of her daughter's rebellious bent of mind, she would have put an end to it summarily.
Having gained upon her chambers, Anne stationed herself in front of her looking glass and remarked, "I do so wish that I was not so plain!"
Common politeness called upon Elizabeth to contest that declaration. But before she could protest or indeed, utter a word, Anne resumed, "Do not attempt to contradict me, I am quite reconciled to my lack of beauty. I look upon it as fate's cruel attempt at humor." She paused and smiled. "But I suppose, I shall have to do with what I have...now, you said you could help me with my hair...? I would ask my maid, but she is quite as devoid of talent in that quarter as myself."
"I will help you, of course," replied Elizabeth, approaching Anne. "But you must elaborate on the importance of this occasion. I am all curiosity."
Anne smiled a devious smile, a smile that revealed more of her purpose than her words could. "Well, my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam is to visit us."
"And?"
"And I would wish to appear to my best advantage."
"I see," Elizabeth began to comprehend. "Indeed, I see. Does your mother know?"
"Know what?" asked Anne innocently.
Ignoring Anne's professed innocence, Elizabeth continued. "I would like to hear more about this gentleman..."
Anne's eyes shone and her pleasure was obvious. "Well, he is quite handsome, at least, in my eyes. I believe him to be very brave and gallant and so very pleasant. He is the second son of the Earl of Matlock, my uncle and I have known him all my life."
"Second son, you say," Elizabeth eyed her new friend. "I dare say your mother would not approve."
Anne sighed. "I suppose you are correct in that assumption, but I am determined not to let my mother influence my life in that manner any longer."
"That is very brave of you," replied Elizabeth, brushing Anne's hair. "But I would not wish to be present when she does find out."
Anne shook her head as if in agreement. "I do not know why I am even considering this. He does not think of me in any other light than 'cousin Anne'."
"So, he does not know?"
"No, of course not," pouted Anne. "I have not had the courage to tell him."
Elizabeth refrained from any further comments, correctly judging that she did not wish to discuss the subject any more. In any case, there were no words of sympathy or commiseration that would ease the pain, and so, Elizabeth deemed it wise to offer only the comfort of golden silence. She arranged Anne's hair in a simple, flattering style and stepped back to regard the final creation.
"This is so nice," exclaimed Anne. "He might even notice me."
Elizabeth smiled. "I am glad you approve. I shall be happy to do your hair tomorrow before he arrives."
"Thank you, Elizabeth. That is very kind of you," Anne paused momentarily. "Now that you know all about me...is there anything I should know about you?"
Elizabeth stiffened visibly. "Well...nothing of consequence, I dare say."
"Are you quite certain?" prodded Anne.
"Yes," Elizabeth whispered, fully aware of the fact that she would never be able to share her life with anyone let alone Anne. Her life was a forbidden maze of heartbreak and gloom and she would not wish to burden anyone with its oppressing details. Even if she wished to, there was nothing to share. What would she say? That her late husband abandoned her in the face of gambling debts and that she was reduced to destitution. Or that she had foolishly depended on the friendship of the stranger who rescued her only to desert her subsequently. Elizabeth was aware that she had no right to expect anything from Mr. Darcy; there was no reason to, but deep inside her heart, she could help but wonder what if? What if she had not been married? What if she had had encountered Darcy prior to her marriage? Would the outcome have been any different? Would she have wished the outcome to be any different?
Elizabeth realized that such fruitless contemplation would not serve any other purpose than to cause mental unrest and disquiet. It was not for her to question fate and destiny's whose overriding intentions no mere mortal could discern. There lacked, however, in Elizabeth's outlook, the natural, ever-present joy and happiness that had pervaded before. Suffice it to say that she would never be the same. Never again would she dance in the rain letting her hair fly freely in the wind. Never again would she dwindle amidst the roses in the summertime or watch the stars on the autumn sky. Never again would she allow her heart to be touched the way it once was. Never again would she trust another man the way she had trusted him. Yes, she would never be the same again, but perhaps, that was a blessing in disguise, although Elizabeth could not see it in that light. But hers was not the temper to complain. She would bear all those forced changes with equanimity, still reveling in the simple pleasures life afforded her. But never again would she smile a genuine smile or laugh a genuine laugh. All that had been taken away from her, gone with the hopes of any happiness or domestic felicity.
"Elizabeth? Are you quite alright?" Anne regarded her with concern.
"I, ah...yes, I am fine," Elizabeth recovered. "I am just a little tired. Perhaps I should retire?"
"Yes, of course," replied Anne, still concerned. "I am sorry, I should not have detained you."
"Do not trouble yourself, I am alright," Elizabeth assured her. "Good night."
"Good night."
The following morning breakfast was followed by anxious anticipation for the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam. The nervous excitement of Anne de Bourgh, though understated, was rather obvious to Elizabeth and she wondered at the complete obliviousness of Lady Catherine to her daughter's feelings. Lady Catherine suspected nothing, which might be fortuitous for the moment, but Elizabeth wondered at how the great lady could manage to overlook and not recognize the hidden Anne. And yet, Lady Catherine remained lost in her own tiny world, disregarding the opinions or thoughts of her daughter.
"Well, I suppose the Colonel must be quite attached to me for he visits us a great deal," observed Lady Catherine once the ladies were seated in the parlor. "And why shouldn't he? I am his aunt. You know, Miss Bennet, the Colonel is my nephew and grows quite attached to Rosings."
"It is hardly surprising, Lady Catherine considering your bounty and beneficence," said Elizabeth with a hint of sarcasm, wondering what the real reason behind the colonel's were. Could it be his attachment to his cousin Anne? As Elizabeth exchanged glances with Anne, the great matchmaking prospects loomed ahead.
"Yes, of course," waved Lady Catherine. "Well, Anne, I dare say you will be glad to see your cousin, but do not be offended if he does not take pleasure in your company. Our dear colonel is accustomed to much more excitement than we can offer."
Elizabeth fancied that she detected a slight upward rolling of Anne's eyes, but the look vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. To all outward appearances, Anne remained passive and expressionless as if she had no opinion. Elizabeth marveled at her ability to maintain that calm exterior when she certainly must be excited with anticipation. It was rather melancholy to see such a great spirit repress her feelings, Elizabeth mused. It was a great loss for in Anne, there was a promise of a remarkable young, spirited lady. Perhaps, her only chance, her only savior would be Colonel Fitzwilliam. Unwittingly, Elizabeth smiled at that thought.
"What are you smiling about, Miss Bennet," Lady Catherine asked, nay, demanded.
"Oh, nothing, ma'am," Elizabeth recovered herself, but not before Anne warned her silently through a flash in her eyes. It would not be prudent to reveal anything, at least, at the present for the truth needs be told.
Soon after the aforementioned exchange, the Colonel was announced and shortly, he appeared himself. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a pleasant, young man with open, engaging manners. He greeted his aunt and cousin warmly and when introduced to Elizabeth, said,
"Well, what a pleasing addition to our little society. I am pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth found herself instantly inclined favorably towards the Colonel. "The pleasure is all mine, Colonel." She studied him closely and felt a disturbing stirring that he seemed familiar.
"Well, Anne," the colonel commenced. "I see you have changed your hair since I last saw you. You are becoming quite a young lady."
Anne colored charmingly and exchanged a quick look of gratitude with Elizabeth. She had barely opened her mouth to reply when Lady Catherine addressed her nephew. She inquired minutely into all his intimate concerns, but the Colonel bore the attacks well. He answered her in a cheerful tone, although it was obvious that he searched for means of escape. And he found it in an unlikely source: Elizabeth.
"Miss Bennet, so you are new to this region. From whence do you hail?" he asked.
"Hertfordshire," replied Elizabeth.
"Pretty country," commented the Colonel. "I have had the opportunity to visit that part of the country myself and I was rather enchanted. You know..."
And thus, the conversation carried on. The more the Colonel engaged Elizabeth in conversation, the more disposed was she to approve of him. It was not difficult for scarcely anyone could find fault with the easygoing colonel. In spite of frequent interruptions from Lady Catherine, the conversation flourished without any contribution from Anne, who seemed satisfied by simply observing the exchange. At length, the ladies retired to dress for dinner and the Colonel sojourned to his chambers. Elizabeth dressed with her head full of the pleasing Colonel. It was no wonder that Anne was disposed to like him. He had all the qualities that a young man ought to have - charm, pleasing open manners and he was handsome as well. If only he could have his own fortune. Elizabeth laughed shortly, berating herself for beginning to sound like her mother.
Once Elizabeth had changed, she stepped out of her chambers. As she approached the grand staircase, on sudden impulse she knocked at Anne's doors. This would serve as a perfect opportunity to exchange private words with Anne, especially regarding the Colonel. A firm voice commanded her to enter. But scarcely had Elizabeth stepped in that an object came flying at her. Elizabeth sidestepped, the object barely missing her.
"What?!"
Chapter 11
"Anne? What is the matter?" Elizabeth asked tentatively still slightly shocked at suddenly being attacked by a flying object.
"Need you even ask?" Anne pouted and crossed her arms, settling down on her bed.
Elizabeth had some intimation of what might have offended her friend. "Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
"Partially," acknowledged Anne. She looked away in the distance as if disregarding Elizabeth's presence in the chamber. "I do not even see why I am pursuing this in vain. It is not probable that he will ever regard me in the light that I regard him. This will undoubtedly end in great heartbreak. But there is no controlling my wayward heart. And you!" Anne turned to face the standing Elizabeth. "How dare you corner his attentions so? After knowing how I feel about him!"
Elizabeth let out a small laugh. This was an afternoon of wonders. In the past day, she had learnt of Anne's many curious idiosyncrasies and now she discovered that Anne was capable of harboring one of the most basic human instincts: jealousy. It was quite interesting indeed.
"What is so humorous in the situation, pray?!" demanded Anne, apparently miffed at being laughed at.
"I am sorry," Elizabeth suppressed a grin. "It is just that I find it funny that you consider that I pose any threat to you. Rest assured, I am not in danger of being attached to Colonel Fitzwilliam, charming as he is."
"Is that so?" Anne raised her eyebrows in distrust. "It did not seem thus when you were batting your eyelashes at him in the most coquettish manner."
"Anne, you must believe me. I do not intend to take away your colonel from you."
Anne regarded her for a moment before turning away. "Very well, then. You are forgiven this time, but I do not want this repeated."
"Yes, of course, I shall take greater care to divert his attentions towards you," replied Elizabeth with half a smile. "Surely, if you do not utter more than a monosyllable in his presence, how do you expect him to notice you?"
Anne did not reply immediately. "I...well, I always seem to be tongue-tied in his when I am near him."
"Might it have anything to do with your mother?" prodded Elizabeth.
"I do not think so...well, perhaps...I don't know," Anne shook her head in despair. "At this rate I shall either die an old maid or end up married to Lord Sheffield."
"Who is Lord Sheffield, if I may inquire?"
"The son of my mother's old acquaintance. They live only a few miles away. Apparently his father asked for my hand for his son when I was just 15, and the only consideration that prevented my mother from giving me away was that I was so young. But she might not consider that to be a reason to further delay my so-called felicitous marriage. And what is more, he is expected to arrive here tomorrow."
Elizabeth could detect a trace of melancholy despair in Anne's voice. "If I can have my way, I would never allow you to be married to Lord Sheffield. All is not lost yet, Anne. If you agree, I suggest that we get to work immediately."
"And do what?"
"Why, capture the colonel's heart, of course!" laughed Elizabeth. "There is one condition, though."
"And what might that be?" asked Anne.
"No more flying objects."
"Never!" grinned Anne. "I really startled you, did I not? What a good laugh I shall have for many a day. The expression on your face!!!"
Slightly discomfited, Elizabeth replied. "Well, I admit I was a little surprised."
"Of course you were, but I promise not to do that again."
"Good," said Elizabeth. "Let us proceed downstairs then. We have no time to waste. We shall begin with step number one."
"What is step number one?" asked Anne bewildered.
"Appear interested in his concerns and engage him in conversation," Elizabeth solemnly replied. At Anne's slightly surprised look, she added. "I have had superior instruction on these matters from my mother. It is a long story."
Anne smiled faintly. "We shall have to discuss your mother sometime. For now, let us proceed."
"My dear Colonel," began Lady Catherine once the entire party was seated at dinner. "It really is pleasant to have you join us today. Isn't it, Anne?"
"Oh yes," smiled Anne, stealing a look at Elizabeth. "Most pleasant." She caught Elizabeth's encouraging look and continued, "So, Colonel Fitzwilliam, how long should we expect the pleasure of your company?"
Colonel smiled at his fair cousin. "Why, you almost sound like you care, dear Anne?"
"Of course I care," replied Anne, daringly.
"Well, since you asked, I have to admit that this will not be a long visit. I must report to my headquarters in two days. I simply wished to spend a few hours in Rosings before I departed north."
"That is a shame, indeed," sighed Anne, unable to mask the disappointment from her voice.
Apparently the colonel caught that wistful note in her tone. "You seem almost sorry, Anne. That is very sweet. But do not forget, I shall visit you at Easter."
"And so you shall," Lady Catherine interrupted. "Do not trouble the colonel so, Anne. I dare say he has no patience to answer all your questions."
"On the contrary," smiled Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I am always delighted to converse with my cousin." He glanced significantly at Anne.
Appear interested in his concerns and engage him in conversation. "Well, where is your regiment stationed, Colonel," ventured Anne tentatively.
"In Newcastle," replied Colonel.
"And must it be so far away?"
"I have no say in the matter, Anne," answered Colonel. "I would wish it to be quartered nearer to my home and family, but it was not to be so."
"I see."
Anne could say no more without exciting the suspicion of her mother for she had seldom witnessed her daughter conversing easily with anyone. Anne glanced at Elizabeth who gave a silent nod of approval. The remainder of the meal passed without much conversation except the one-sided monologue of Lady Catherine which everyone ignored effectively. Elizabeth noticed that during chief of the meal, Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Anne. Nothing escaped Elizabeth's observation. He seemed captured by Anne and appeared to be in search of an opportunity to begin a new conversation with her. To Elizabeth, it did not seem like the signs of a man, unattached and she discovered, with glee, that there was a great possibility of Colonel Fitzwilliam being attached to Anne. The more she pondered the idea, the more plausible it seemed and Elizabeth rejoiced in her felicitous matchmaking scheme.
When Elizabeth retired that night, she pondered on the great feeling of familiarity and deja-vu she experienced whenever she cast her eyes upon the face of Colonel Fitzwilliam. It almost seemed as if she had seen him before or someone quite like him. It suddenly occurred to her that his demeanor and to an extent, his entire visage resembled that of Mr. Darcy! The startling realization intrigued Elizabeth greatly. She had had made great efforts not to think about that gentleman, but it seemed she was not going to be blessed with such a happy fortune. There would always be something to remind her of him. Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam did resemble Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth waved that aside as a coincidence. However, she could not rid herself of a strange feeling that it was not, indeed, a coincidence. Elizabeth shook her head silently. Mr. Darcy was gone forever from her life and she would probably never see him again. It would be advisable for her to give up on him entirely. But that was easier said than done and Elizabeth feared that once all of this madness was over, she would left, once again, with a wounded heart and a bruised spirit. And that was one eventuality for which she was not prepared.
The next morning, as Elizabeth proceeded in her habitual ramble before breakfast, she stumbled upon the unmistakable figures of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anne! Pleasantly surprised at the sight, Elizabeth was unwilling to disturb the happy couple for they seemed to be engrossed in a deep, earnest conversation, the subject of which Elizabeth could only conjecture. However, the unfortunate creak of dry twigs beneath her feet served to inform the couple of Elizabeth's presence and they instantly turned around.
"Elizabeth!" exclaimed Anne, slightly flushed.
"Good morning, Anne, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I did not mean to encroach upon you."
"Not at all," smiled the Colonel gallantly. "You are welcome to accompany us. We were just enjoying some fresh morning air." Saying thus, the Colonel offered Elizabeth his unengaged arm and they continued their walk.
"I was pleasantly surprised to find cousin Anne this morning," began the Colonel, stealing a glance at Anne. "I did not know that she enjoyed walking in the mornings."
"There are so many things you don't know about me, Colonel," said Anne earnestly.
"Well, I shall be glad to begin now," whispered the Colonel and Elizabeth had the distinct, uncomfortable feeling that she was intruding on what could have been a very precious, private moment.
However, divining some of Elizabeth's quiet concerns, the Colonel cleared his throat hastily, "The air has some chill, so I do not suppose it would be wise for you ladies to venture out for so long. Shall we go in?"
Elizabeth nodded briefly and so did Anne. Once inside the breakfast parlor, the Colonel took his leave from the ladies and was subsequently out of sight. Anne watched his hasty retreat and sighed as she sank into a chair.
"So?" asked Elizabeth. "How was it?"
"Well," began Anne. "He was very surprised to see me at first. I dare say, he had never expected to see me walk outside, and on my own free will! But, he seemed to recover quickly and was a perfect gentleman."
"And?" prompted Elizabeth at Anne's pause.
"And that is all. You did not actually expect that anything would be accomplished. What did you think would happen?" asked Anne, looking squarely at Elizabeth.
"I do not know...something," smiled Elizabeth. "What did you talk about?"
"Oh, this and that. He expressed his loath of the wars and I concurred. It was politics, generally. Oh, and I forgot, he did say something rather nice..."
"You will make me ask you, will you not?"
"Yes," laughed Anne. "Oh, your impatience! Well, when we had been outside for about five minutes, he said that the morning air did wonders for my rosy cheeks!"
"Did he really?!" Elizabeth was smiling. "That is very interesting. So far, so good. Now, on to step two."
"I am almost afraid to ask...," Anne said hesitantly.
"It is quite easy, in fact, painfully so," answered Elizabeth. "Get him to dance."
"Dance?! But how?! I can't...we have no time...he will leave soon."
"Do not trouble yourself, Anne," said Elizabeth, her voice filled with confidence that Anne could not help but trust. "Leave it all to me."
No sooner had Elizabeth finished speaking that Lady Catherine's booming voice signaled the lady's arrival. "Anne! Miss Bennet! You both are up so early! I dare say it cannot be conducive for your health, Anne. The Colonel just informed me that you had been walking outside! You shall catch cold in this manner! Do be more careful."
"Yes, mother," said Anne, unwilling to argue with her mother.
"Well, Anne, you shall be happy to know that Lord Sheffield is going to accompany us for dinner tonight."
"I am delighted, mother," said Anne in such a dry, joyless tone that Elizabeth wondered how Lady Catherine could be so blind.
"Excellent. And oh, I almost forgot. Mr. Collins will not be joining us, Anne. He is gone to Bath for the present," continued Lady Catherine. "Mr. Collins, Miss Bennet, is the rector of our parish here."
"I see, Lady Catherine," said Elizabeth.
"I dare say, dinner shall be very interesting tonight," said Lady Catherine, with satisfaction.
"I am all agreement!" smiled Elizabeth in a sly tone, causing Anne to lock eyes with her. Elizabeth nodded slightly, the wheels of her mind already in motion, regarding her plans for the evening. As Lady Catherine said, it promised to be a very interesting evening and Elizabeth was prepared to do all in her power to ensure a happy conclusion of the evening for her two young, love-struck friends.
The sound of a carriage signaled the long-awaited arrival of Lord Sheffield. The entire Rosings party was assembled to greet the new addition to their small party. As the sounds of the lord's rapid footsteps approached, Anne exchanged uneasy glances with Elizabeth who tried her best to silently comfort her agitated friend. Elizabeth supposed that the arrival of Lord Sheffield would rightfully discomfit her friend seeing that Lady Catherine had dropped many not-so-subtle hints regarding her daughter's future groom. After a few moments of quiet patience, the earl himself appeared.
Lord Victor Sheffield was contrary to everything Elizabeth had expected. She was not quite certain as to what exactly she had expected, but it was certainly not what she beheld. Lord Sheffield was tall, dark-haired with clear blue eyes and a laughing demeanor. He appeared younger than what Elizabeth had expected, but then, she did not recall Anne specifying his age. But somehow, it had never occurred to her that he might not be a decrepit, old earl. In reality, Lord Sheffield seemed to epitomize everything that was good and favorable. His blue eyes danced with mirth and his lips curved upward in innate amusement. His entire manner seemed engaging and Elizabeth was instantly disposed to approve of him.
"Lady Catherine, how lovely to see you again."
"Lord Sheffield," smiled Lady Catherine. "It is my pleasure." After the necessary introductions had been made, Lady Catherine led Lord Sheffield to the sofa in the drawing room, engaging him in conversation as she did.
"Well, I have not seen you since you were a little boy."
"Yes, Lady Catherine," answered Lord Sheffield. "I was away at Eton, then Cambridge and only recently returned from the continent."
"Well, Anne is just delighted to see you again, are you not?" Lady Catherine glanced at her daughter as if bidding her to say something to that effect.
Anne cleared her throat. "Yes, of course."
"You may not remember, Miss de Bourgh," Lord Sheffield held her eyes. "But we used to play together as little children."
"I remember," whispered Anne softly, and how could she not. She remembered distinctly a clear summer day when Victor had torn apart her favorite doll, Nelly. "Yes, I remember."
"Indeed, she does!" interposed Lady Catherine as Anne seemed lost in reverie. "How could she not?"
"As long as they are pleasant memories, I have nothing to complain of," Lord Sheffield smiled slightly and then turned his attention towards Elizabeth. "Ah, Miss Bennet, so how do you find Kent?"
"It is very pleasing, my lord," smiled Elizabeth, secretly pleased at being addressed by him.
"That is good," smiled Lord Sheffield. "I would have been surprised if it were otherwise." He held Elizabeth's earnest gaze for a few moments before turning his attention towards Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"So, where is your regiment, colonel?"
"Newcastle," replied the Colonel shortly.
Lord Sheffield looked at him in surprise but pursued the subject no further. If Elizabeth had had any doubts as to the state of the colonel's heart before, all those doubts disappeared. She had heard Lady Catherine convey her hopes of the union between Anne and Lord Sheffield and apparently, those hopes seemed to alienate the Colonel from Lord Sheffield. There could be no better evidence of the Colonel's attachment than that, and for her part, Elizabeth rejoiced. She unobtrusively observed Lord Sheffield as he conversed with Lady Catherine and a small smile played on her lips. He was so open and artless and his dealt with Lady Catherine admirably. He caught Elizabeth's eyes once and a handsome smile spread over his features. Elizabeth was delighted, indeed.
During dinner, Elizabeth found herself seated opposite Lord Sheffield for which she was thankful. The conversation hinged around Lady Catherine for the Colonel had nothing to say and Anne only spoke when bid to do so by her mother. Elizabeth would have participated in the conversation had not she been sensible of the danger of arousing Lady Catherine's wrath and suspicions. So, she satisfied herself by merely observing Lord Sheffield from afar. Apparently, Lord Sheffield was aware of her glances for he looked in her direction several times; however he said nothing. After dinner, Elizabeth remembered her promise to Anne and applied for the permission to play on the instrument. The permission granted, Elizabeth proceeded to the piano and was surprised when Lord Sheffield followed her, gallantly offering to the turn the pages for her. Elizabeth only smiled in acquiesce.
After a few moments, he said, "Well, Miss Bennet, what is the verdict?"
"The verdict?" Elizabeth repeated, confused. "I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, sir."
"I think you do," continued Lord Sheffield. "You have been closely observing me for the entire duration of this evening. I am simply curious to know what conclusion you have reached."
Elizabeth blushed furiously. "I...ah..."
"Do not distress yourself," laughed Lord Sheffield softly. "I shall not be offended."
Unable to decide what was best said at such an occasion, Elizabeth smiled, "I would not have you offended, my lord, but you shall be happy to know that I approve."
"Happy, indeed," replied Lord Sheffield. "You are too kind, madam."
Elizabeth just smiled and glanced at Anne. Anne nodded and Elizabeth varied the air with a lovely Scotch air. Soon enough, to Elizabeth's delight, Anne and the Colonel were dancing a reel. Elizabeth was so occupied in observing them that she was not aware that Lord Sheffield beheld her with something akin wonder.
"How quickly your fingers fly about!"
"I assure you, sir," Elizabeth returned her attention to Lord Sheffield, "that I am not as accomplished as I would like to be."
Lord Sheffield smiled, "Well, I must contradict you in that I have not seen many ladies more accomplished in music than you."
"I will not have that, sir," Elizabeth protested. "You will make me vain."
"And rightly so, indeed," grinned Lord Sheffield as the reel concluded. "Perhaps I shall have the good fortune of dancing with you, Miss Bennet?"
"Perhaps you shall...at some other time," replied Elizabeth, aware of Lady Catherine's scrutiny.
Lady Catherine addressed Lord Sheffield and as he left Elizabeth's side, he bowed slightly and said, "You owe me a dance, Miss Bennet. I shall not forget."
"I would not have you forget."
For remainder of the evening, Elizabeth did not have an opportunity to converse with Lord Sheffield, but she smiled inwardly as she recalled their exchange. He was gallant, to be sure, and very charming and had Elizabeth not been determined to protect her heart, she might have been in some trouble. He smiled and laughed a great deal and when he did, his blue eyes danced with mirth. Elizabeth had never beheld such happy manners and such a spirit. As the evening concluded, Lord Sheffield rose to take his leave. He greeted everyone individually and when he came upon Elizabeth, he smiled and said,
"Do not forget."
Elizabeth smiled, but did not reply. Later, as she headed up to her chambers, she was accosted by Anne.
"So?" said Anne.
"So. Did you enjoy the dance?" asked Elizabeth.
"Yes, indeed, thank you, Elizabeth."
"Do not think of it," replied Elizabeth.
"What did you think of Lord Sheffield," asked Anne.
"He is nice."
"Nice? Is that all?" grinned Anne mischievously.
"Yes," said Elizabeth firmly.
"Take care, my friend!" giggled Anne and Elizabeth deemed it fit not to reply.
The next morning, as Elizabeth prepared to proceed on her walk, there was a knock at her door.
"Come in."
It was Anne. But it was not the Anne, Elizabeth knew for this Anne had a gloomy demeanor and tears threatened to overwhelm her.
"Good god, Anne, what is the matter?"
"Colonel Fitzwilliam...he left."