Page 32 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

Darcy came down late to breakfast, and when he entered the dining room, he found Georgiana, Anne, and Mrs Jenkinson—Anne’s companion—already at the table.

“You returned late,” said Georgiana. It was not a question but a statement, and he smiled, for a moment struck by the impression that it was his mother seated there and not his sister.

She used to greet him in much the same way, not with reproach for his tardiness but with gentle curiosity.

She would have liked to know where he had been.

Lady Anne delighted in life at Pemberley, yet she had always been fond of the lively pace of London—its theatres, its balls, and the dinners that often stretched well past midnight.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I went to the opera and afterwards to Lord Robertson’s. He is to be married at the end of the week, and we celebrated his last days of freedom.”

Georgiana blushed faintly. She wished the wedding those gentlemen had celebrated the night before had been her brother’s.

Had Anne not been present, she might have spoken more freely.

Still, that morning, Fitzwilliam did not seem inclined to talk.

To spare him the difficulties of a morning conversation, she began describing the day’s arrangements to the ladies.

Darcy, grateful, let his thoughts drift once more to his mother.

He would have given anything for her to be at that table with them and, afterwards, to accompany her to the small parlour in her suite—unchanged since her death.

There, without doubt, his turmoil would have settled, and that blessed blend of her wisdom and kindness would have brought clarity to his intentions and plans.

His love for Elizabeth had not passed; nor had he expected it to.

The resolve to forget was growing more difficult to uphold.

Lady Oakham’s friendship with Elizabeth’s family meant he encountered her more often than he wished, when, in truth, the only remedy would have been to neither see her nor hear her name.

Even that—her name—had a disturbing power over him, often rising unbidden to his lips in the first waking moments of the morning, a remnant of dreams filled with her presence.

There were times he was on the verge of requesting her uncle’s address, prepared to go to her and discover whether her thoughts and feelings towards him had shifted, as he had briefly sensed at the theatre.

But then he faltered, overtaken by a great uncertainty.

He could not bear the thought of another rejection.

“My guests regretted not seeing you,” said Georgiana, and he looked at her attentively. Her face, beautiful and composed as ever, betrayed no hidden intention. He wondered how much she might have learnt from Lady Oakham, who surely knew what had occurred in Kent but was too discreet to reveal it.

“It was Lord Robertson’s evening. I could not miss it,” Darcy replied, offering an explanation though none had been asked for.

After breakfast he withdrew to the library, where his correspondence awaited him.

It was the quietest part of the day when estate business kept him occupied for a few hours and distracted him from the disquiet of his personal thoughts.

But that morning, an unexpected letter shattered the fragile calm he had managed to rebuild since returning from Kent.

From the stack of envelopes, one alone unsettled him—the signature at the end causing him to pause for a long while before reading it.

He smiled, despite himself, as he read the first lines—there she was, the woman he loved—indifferent to convention, eager to assert her individuality. Elizabeth Bennet was unlike anyone else.

He read the letter and then returned to certain passages, especially the final one, where Elizabeth spoke of a better solution for them both.

…with only a little more diplomacy on both sides we could have had a civil conversation from which we might have emerged with a better solution, whatever that may have been.

If, for him, that solution meant her accepting his proposal, and since she spoke of only one solution, then perhaps, once her fears, frustrations, and anger had subsided, she too had come to believe that becoming his wife might be the right path.

He scolded his mind for leaping to such a clear interpretation of an ambiguous line, but deep within, he felt that Elizabeth regretted not only the manner in which she had refused him but the refusal itself.

And the way her hand had trembled in his when he had helped her down from the carriage outside the theatre seemed, to him, a confirmation—Elizabeth Bennet might indeed harbour feelings for him.

Abandoning all other duties, he searched for his sister and without any preamble he said, “Please invite Mr and Mrs Gardiner and their nieces to dinner next week.”

To his surprise his sister’s countenance did not reflect the joy he expected. On the contrary, she looked disconcerted.

“Oh, there is not time for an invitation. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are leaving London in two days’ time.”

Darcy joined her in her confusion, but only for a moment, because immediately another plan took shape in his mind.

He departed in haste to the office of theSecretary at War to find the colonel, who received him with surprise, though not alarm, for Darcy’s face bore an unusual serenity.

“Has something happened?” he asked.

“Could you arrange to accompany me to Bath at the beginning of June?”

The colonel peered at him, ensuring he had understood the meaning of that request.

“Of course, together with Georgiana…and perhaps also Lady Oakham could accompany us with the children,” Darcy continued, though with hesitation, unwilling to reveal that he had remembered Mr Gardiner’s conversation at the theatre about a journey to Bath—and how, quite suddenly, it had seemed the most natural way to see Miss Elizabeth again.

Yet he was certain that Richard understood.

His cousin nodded without speaking, waiting for more details, still frightened of committing a blunder of any kind. But Darcy had no intention of explaining further, leaving his cousin to draw his own conclusions.

Later that day, upon his return home, Richard shared Darcy’s visit with his mother and sister-in-law, certain they would correctly interpret his cousin’s intentions.

And indeed, the two ladies laughed, quite delighted—their plan was advancing without any effort on their part, and that was indeed good news.

Of late, the colonel had begun to suspect that in the shadows of those plans stood none other than his mother, and he knew for sure that Lady Matlock never failed.