Page 19 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

Elizabeth found Mrs Gardiner and Jane awaiting her in a state of profound anxiety that they tried to hide behind smiles and words of welcome.

She had written to them both, recounting the events in Hunsford and including in Jane’s letter a desperate plea for the return of her beloved sister, who had been lost in a sorrow that had lingered for far too long.

Jane was essential to restoring her spirits and helping her navigate the torment she had endured since Mr Darcy’s proposal.

She longed desperately for peace, to understand how that event had changed her and to plan for a future that seemed for the moment obscured by doubt and pain.

She hoped her thoughts would settle inher aunt’s warm and welcoming drawing-room and that the turmoil of the last few days would subside.

Jane took her into her arms, and the embrace lasted far longer than usual, for in recent months, consumed by her own suffering, Jane had shut out everyone, even her dearest sister.

“I am sorry,” Jane murmured into Elizabeth’s ear, but Elizabeth pulled away almost abruptly to look at her.

“Heavens, but why?”

Yet all three knew the reason, and Mrs Gardiner’s smile deepened as she regarded her two nieces, both different from how they had been just a few months ago, matured and yet even more beautiful.

“Your last letter felt as though it drew me out of a dark tunnel I had been wandering through for months,” Jane said, her voice tinged with regret. “I suddenly realised I had no notion of what had been happening around me all that time. It was only ever about me.”

“And that was perfectly natural,” Mrs Gardiner declared, her voice carrying the weight of her wisdom, “but now it is about Lizzy.”

Elizabeth cast her a grateful gaze. “It is so good to be with you both! I desperately need to discuss what happened in Kent with you.”

“And we have some interesting news…” Jane began, then fell silent, waiting for Elizabeth to speak first.

“There is little more to recount besides what I wrote,” Elizabeth admitted with a sigh. She took a sip of tea and nibbled on a biscuit, but the time had come to unburden her heart.

“Besides from Mr Darcy asking for my hand and my horrible refusal, everything else seems indistinct. It is as though I am no longer myself but watching these events and feelings unfold from a distance. I know they are mine, yet I am afraid to feel them…to the very end.”

The two ladies looked at her without a word, waiting for her to continue.

“His proposal was”—Elizabeth hesitated, unwilling to use a harsher word—“awful.” Somewhere in her heart, she did not wish to reveal the whole truth about his disparagement of her family, as though she did not want her aunt and sister to form too harsh an opinion of him.

“In what sense?”

“Mr Darcy declared his love for me, but at the same time, he made it clear that his family was superior to ours, that within him there had been a great struggle—”

“Which love won,” Jane interjected unexpectedly, watching her intently.

“Yes,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I could not accept his view of our family.”

“Which, in truth, he does not even know,” Mrs Gardiner remarked. “Do you love him?”

Elizabeth hid her eyes, bewildered by such a simple question, the key to all her torment.

“Before his proposal I was sure I did not love him. Today…I am not that sure any longer… I love him…my God, I love him,” she murmured. “But I understood my feelings too late. He left Kent unaware of how I felt…or worse still, carrying only the memory of my scorn and barely hidden loathing.”

The hesitation and regret in her voice moved both women. They sat beside her on the sofa, drawing her into a gentle embrace, their presence a comforting shield against the storm of emotions.

“How is it possible not to know?” Jane finally asked, recalling with perfect clarity that she had felt love from her first dance with Mr Bingley—a sentiment that had only deepened over time. “I never hesitated to recognise what was happening to me—from the first moment.”

Elizabeth shook her head while saying, “Because Mr Bingley was an open and cheerful man—”

“Who left me without a word. While the taciturn, arrogant gentleman proposed to you. Truly, it is not difficult to see which of them is the more honest and earnest.”

“Mr Darcy advised Mr Bingley to leave you,” Elizabeth proffered as if trying to convince herself that the man who had asked for her hand was unworthy of her love.

But Jane responded calmly, “As did his sisters. But Mr Bingley is a grown man, in control of his own life, and advice is nothing more than words.”

“I thought I hated Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth continued.

“Because he did not like us?” Jane asked, puzzled.

“Yes.”

“Was that the only reason you hated him?” insisted Mrs Gardiner.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to relive the proposal.

Still, the memories of that moment, devoid of the furious passion that had once consumed her, gave no answer.

Suddenly, she no longer knew why she had hated him, why she had spoken so harshly.

At the very least, she could have refused him with cold anger.

The outburst, which now filled her with shame, was proof that within her heart, a battle had raged—just as it had in his.

“Yes, because I could not accept how he spoke about my family.”

“I love you dearly, Lizzy, but sometimes I do not understand you at all,” Mrs Gardiner said with infinite tenderness but also a hint of bitterness; refusing Mr Darcy was not an act of audacity from her perspective but a foolish gesture.

“I am too headstrong.”

“Hasty, angry, eager for a fight, prejudiced,” Jane added gently.

“While he is an arrogant and proud aristocrat. Ironically, he chose the right woman to be his wife, the only lady who could say no to his proposal,” Mrs Gardiner said. “But I have this feeling he is not as you imagine him to be, and you took his words too literally.”

“Too eager to see faults before qualities and to judge them too harshly,” Jane continued.

“He has a strong team to defend him,” Elizabeth said, wiping away her tears with an expression that looked like amusement, yet she was still engulfed in pain and regret.

“I am not defending him, but I am shocked that you refused him—though not for the reason most would assume, that you turned away one of the wealthiest men in the country who could have offered you a wonderful life.”

“Then why?” Elizabeth asked.

“Because you are so right together!”

Shocked, she looked at Mrs Gardiner. “That is what you think?”

“I am more interested in what you think, Lizzy.”

“I do not know what to think any longer. I was so sure about my feelings. It was not a proposal. It was not about love but a veritable battle,” Elizabeth whispered. “Was he quite out of his senses?” she asked, her gaze fixed upon her aunt.

“No, my dear, he was not mad, merely hopelessly ensnared by love. At times, the two manifest in similar ways. We need to know more, so we can seek a solution together.”

“Am I in search of a solution?” Elizabeth questioned, observing the ladies before her. She had told Charlotte that she would not give up on him, but Kent was far away, not only in time or space but also in feelings. She was in love; that was utterly certain, but also doubt engulfed her heart.

“That, my dear, is a choice for you to make. Perhaps you need some time to reflect and understand your feelings.”

“No, a two-page letter and a night of sleepless torment have illuminated the truth in my heart. I have feelings for him—and not the ones I imagined!”

Tears coursed down her cheeks, resembling the glistening droplets of water on a marble statue.

“Oh, heavens! Why must you two make everything so difficult? We should be rejoicing over your engagement, not shedding tears in my drawing-room!” Mrs Gardiner exclaimed, looking from Elizabeth to Jane, who was also on the verge of tears.

“When he proposed—how he proposed—I could not say yes.”

“Because of what the colonel told you?” asked Mrs Gardiner. Elizabeth felt pure bewilderment as she did not remember writing to them about the colonel’s indiscretion.

“How could you know such a thing?” Elizabeth asked at last.

“Your marriage proposal caused upheaval in more places than one,” Mrs Gardiner replied, smiling enigmatically.

“Yesterday, Lady Oakham paid us a visit,” Jane explained, and Elizabeth’s astonishment deepened further, even though her heart scarcely had room for any more surprises.

Everything was utterly different from when she had left for Kent almost two months ago.

In the meantime, Jane had learnt of the friendship between Lady Oakham and their aunt—a secret finally revealed when Jane had come to understand that she had not seen Mr Bingley because he had not wished to, and no one could help her in that direction.

It had been a harrowing revelation yet a purifying one.

And if pain still lingered, it had softened somewhat.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam confided in Lady Oakham about what happened in Kent and sought her help, knowing that she is a friend of mine. He was tormented by the belief that you refused his cousin because of his indiscretion.”

Elizabeth looked from one to the other, unable to speak, as though she could not quite comprehend what the two ladies were telling her.

“Mr Darcy was crushed by your refusal. I hope you are fully aware of this,” Mrs Gardiner said, and even though her words seemed harsh, her face reflected only sorrow and worry.

“Because he could not conceive that a woman might refuse him,” Elizabeth proffered, her tone edged with anger.