Page 22 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
WHAT WAS LOST CANNOT BE UNDONE
I t was by miracle that Mrs Reynolds arrived to escort Lady Catherine to her rooms at the very moment Fitzwilliam left to follow her stepdaughter.
Looking shocked by the events of the past few minutes, Lady Catherine appeared eager to leave the company of her furious nephew.
While she was gone, Darcy closed his eyes for a moment against an impending headache.
After taking a deep breath or two, he walked towards the window, muttering, “This family is going to kill me.”
“I hope not,” said a light-hearted voice he would have recognised anywhere. He turned quickly to see Elizabeth stepping into the room. His spirits instantly lightening, he could not help the wide smile spreading on his face. Does she know how much of a balm she is for me?
He gave her an apologetic look. “I take it you heard that rather vulgar discussion?”
“I did. I cannot say their opinions are surprising to me. ”
“Will you sit for a moment?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she turned towards the door, as there was no maid or companion present. Darcy noticed her concern, and stepped into the corridor to convey a message to the first servant he saw. When he returned, he assured Elizabeth that Sarah would be along shortly.
“Before she arrives, I should like to tell you what I have just learnt.” He motioned to the settee and when they were both settled, he continued. “The letter that you intended for me, at Rosings—we now know what happened to it.”
“Your aunt found it?”
He shook his head. “My cousin. Anne.”
Elizabeth looked horrified. “Well then, it is no wonder your relations think I am a temptress, writing to an unmarried man.” She put her face in her hands.
Darcy could scarcely stop himself from reaching out to comfort her. “I am appalled at her behaviour, both then and now. I have never known Anne to be so…vindictive and spiteful.”
“I should never have written it.” Elizabeth looked up at him. “And yet, if you had received it, so much would—” She heaved a sigh. “But never mind that. It was so long ago, and none of it makes any difference now. I ought to leave. Truly, I can only bring you?—”
“You will do no such thing,” he said firmly.
At that moment, Sarah entered, a look of curiosity and concern on her face, as she could easily see Elizabeth’s distress.
He nodded to her, and she took a seat in the corner.
Darcy turned back to Elizabeth, placing one hand gently on her arm and saying quietly, so that only she would hear, “I can only assume that a great deal would have been vastly different had I ever received that letter. I cannot tell you how angry it makes me to know that my cousin intervened in such a way. It is unforgiveable, as are the cruel, slanderous thoughts she and my aunt spoke. It will be stopped; you can be assured of that.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He reluctantly removed his hand. “Now, shall we continue with our initial plans for the day?”
His words seemed to rouse Elizabeth from faraway thoughts. “Initial plans?”
“I fear we are later than we meant to be,” he said, looking at his watch, “but if you do not mind, perhaps we can visit one or two of the tenant families?”
“Yes, of course. I should like very much to feel useful.”
“Very well. Mrs Reynolds has news of your accommodations, and I will leave it to her to explain. Shall we reconvene in one hour?”
“I shall be ready.” Their eyes locked for a brief moment, before Darcy left to summon his housekeeper.
When he saw no sign of either of his cousins, he was almost glad for it; he could not explain Anne’s behaviour, now or five years earlier, and it was better that Fitzwilliam, who somewhat inexplicably had feelings for her, assume the role of confessor.
He had Elizabeth to think of, and that was enough for him.
Darcy felt the heat return to his face. In spite of all the revelations of the morning and the abhorrent conduct of his family, this woman—the woman he loved more with each moment in her presence—brought warmth to his soul.
He had long known it, and he felt even more strongly now. He needed her in his life.
There was no way to go back and capture what was lost; there was no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth felt the same.
But where their resolve differed was in understanding how things might go forwards.
He saw her well-established stubbornness rising; she had so long been the victim of misfortune she did not see she had options before her, save for that of a schoolteacher.
She continued to speak as though she would remain no more than a servant at Pemberley, when in fact he had far different plans for her future, plans that were only just beginning to grow firm in his mind.
He was glad to know what had become of Elizabeth’s letter to him.
Since she had first mentioned it at their meeting in the park in London, he had wondered to himself what it may have contained and why he never received it.
She must have had feelings for him if she risked impropriety to write to him, and he held out hope that those feelings were still alive.
He needed only to stir them within her, to make her see that all was not lost for them.
Finding Elizabeth in London was a gift. This was their second chance, and he would not make a muddle of it.
This time, he would be a gentleman, but with the gentleness of a suitor rather than the condescension of a master of a great house.
Nothing would get in their way—neither his ridiculous relations nor Elizabeth’s misfortunes.
They would overcome their challenges. It would be worth it, to have her by his side.
And he would care not a whit for the opinions of others.