Page 43 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

When a letter arrived for her shortly after noon the day after the ball, bearing the familiar hand of its sender, Elizabeth’s heart fluttered with happy expectation. She could not for a moment imagine the dreadful tidings it concealed.

It took her a second to read its scant contents.

Miss Elizabeth,

I am sorry! Forgive and forget me!

Yours forever,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

She gazed at the words for a long moment, unable to see the writing through her welling tears.

Mary was the first to notice her turmoil and subtly signalled to her aunt.

The three ladies were alone in the drawing-room, which allowed Elizabeth to release her pent-up despair.

In two strides, Mrs Gardiner was by her side, taking the note from her hands.

Then, she gently lowered herself and Elizabeth onto the sofa while Mary read the troubling missive, her eyes shining with tears as if the news regarded her personally.

Mrs Gardiner’s distress was brief. She rose resolutely, declaring, “I must see Lady Oakham.”

Despite Elizabeth’s futile attempts to dissuade her, she made her way towards the door, but before she reached it, it swung open unexpectedly, and a maid announced, “Lady Oakham, ma’am.”

They stood to receive the lady, and to their astonishment, Lady Oakham enfolded Elizabeth in her embrace—a gesture that led Elizabeth to believe that all was lost, causing her to murmur, “I have lost him.”

Surprisingly, Lady Oakham dispelled the sombre atmosphere in the room with a resolute, “No!”

“We are all ears,” Mrs Gardiner replied.

Elizabeth shifted her gaze from one lady to the other, unable to comprehend the turn of events. Instead of explaining her anguish, she handed the message to Lady Oakham, who appeared unmoved.

“It is that odious woman,” she began. “I observed your happiness just last night—and every day since we arrived in Bath. Fitzwilliam was in such high spirits that we remained awake until dawn, discussing the ball with Lady Matlock, Georgiana, Anne, and the colonel. Although Fitzwilliam did not articulate it explicitly, every word he spoke hinted at a future filled with brightness and joy.”

“Then what happened?” Elizabeth asked. “I, too, believed that we had left our past in Kent behind, having forgiven each other.” She no longer wept, yet her sorrow was palpable, and this silent desolation proved even more agonising for the ladies surrounding her.

“Fitzwilliam and I had a late breakfast with the girls and the colonel, and he received a letter whilst we dined,” Lady Oakham continued.

“I immediately perceived the distress that overwhelmed him even before seeing the letter’s contents.

He discreetly read it, and suddenly, it was as if the life left him.

The radiance we saw on his face dimmed in just a moment.

It was painfully evident he was experiencing a dire moment.

We exchanged glances full of anxiety, anticipating he would offer clarification.

But he angrily set aside his napkin, still remaining at the table, the letter in his hand, as though uncertain what to do.

The colonel, seated beside him, asked in a near whisper what had happened, and Darcy waved the letter he had received.

Perhaps, at first, he intended to show it to him but then changed his mind and shoved it angrily into his pocket.

Before he did, however, the colonel caught a glimpse of the signature—it was from Lady Olivia. ”

Elizabeth sighed with a sorrow she made no attempt to conceal.

“Within half an hour, he had departed for London without uttering a word. I had hoped he would take the colonel with him, but alas, he left alone. Lady Matlock, who awoke much later, found us in our wretched state, and in a moment, she instructed her son to follow him. The colonel, mounting his steed, departed in pursuit of his cousin, hoping to catch him when he next changed horses.”

“But why did he leave?” An enraged Mrs Gardiner asked the question Elizabeth did not dare voice.

“We believe it is because of that woman, Lady Olivia… The London matrons with grown sons dread such women.”

“Did he lie to me?” Elizabeth asked, as though she had not been following the conversation, though she had clearly heard the name she already feared.

“No,” Lady Oakham replied, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her arm. “You know his integrity. You may say what you will about him, but do not doubt his honour.”

Elizabeth nodded, unable to impugn his moral character, no matter how wounded she felt.

“How can a woman compel a man to follow her?” Mary interjected, prompting Lady Oakham and Mrs Gardiner to exchange glances keenly observed by the two younger ladies.

“Pray, speak,” Elizabeth implored. “Tell us!”

“These unscrupulous women have their means,” Lady Oakham stated.

“We were so good together,” Elizabeth murmured.

“Yes, it was evident to all, and we held such high expectations. Even Lady Matlock agreed that Miss Elizabeth was the perfect lady for Fitzwilliam.”

“Even?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, even. One might expect a woman of her station to harbour different aspirations for her nephew’s wife. But no, Lady Matlock asked me about your family and then about Mary and appeared quite content when she danced with the colonel.”

Their attention turned to Mary, who blushed deeply; she had indeed enjoyed her dances with the dashing officer.

“But Lady Olivia was not even in Bath!” Mrs Gardiner exclaimed.

“No, but she likely has informants. In recent days, Miss Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam have often been seen walking together. Yet I cannot say for certain what happened.”

“What should we do now?” Mary asked earnestly, for Elizabeth’s happiness was paramount to her, and she wished to assist however she could.

“We shall depart for London in two days’ time,” Lady Oakham said.

“And us too!” Mrs Gardiner replied. It was indeed decided to leave.

“Then…immediately from London…I shall return to Longbourn,” Elizabeth murmured, and her choice met with no objections.

After all, it was her life, and she had the right to determine what to do next.

“I regret that he is so ensnared by that woman as to run when she merely sends a letter, but I can do nothing. Besides, he bade me to forgive him, which appears to be an unequivocal request.”

“Need I remind you that just a few months ago, you declared him to be the last man in the world you would marry? Circumstances and feelings do change, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner said sternly, intending to rouse Elizabeth from her despondent resignation.

However, Elizabeth shook her head. “He knows where to find me. I took the first steps after Kent to show him my feelings had changed. Now it is his turn. Yet, judging by his message, it seems he has reached a decision.”

“Nevertheless, you will accompany us to the Lakes,” Mrs Gardiner insisted.

“I shall. A journey can serve as a healing balm,” Elizabeth said with a tight smile that could not erase the pain etched upon her face. “But we will not stop in Derbyshire.”

“This situation cannot be accepted if Lady Olivia attempts to force him to marry her,” Lady Oakham said. “I am sure that Lady Matlock and, ultimately, even Lord Matlock will be involved in saving him from a grave mistake. But you go back home, then we shall see.”

As on most evenings since leaving Kent, Elizabeth wrote to Charlotte, certain that a reply would follow.

Only this time, she had asked her to write directly to Longbourn, where she expected to arrive in a few days.

She regretted having allowed herself to be drawn into that plan, which—how many times had she told herself so?

—resembled the schemes of her mother and Aunt Phillips.

Perhaps that was why she had written to Charlotte, who, far from everything that now surrounded her, maintained an untroubled view of events.

Each time Elizabeth received a letter from her, she welcomed its measured tone and gentle advice, which often amounted to telling her that no path leading to pain was worth following.

And indeed, Charlotte had been right. Had she remained at Longbourn, she would likely have been tending the roses in the garden now, wrapped at last in a peaceful stillness.

She would not allow hope to rise again, as Jane had done for months after Mr Bingley’s departure.

Yet she wished with all her heart that Lord and Lady Matlock might prevent Darcy from making a terrible mistake—if, in truth, that woman was as unscrupulous as she feared, and if she meant to trap him into marriage.

Elizabeth imagined how she might go about it.

Although she blushed, she did not hesitate to admit that she had heard of women who had used dreadful means to secure a husband.

She smiled faintly and sadly, for her mother’s meddling seemed almost childish in the face of such ruthless schemes.

Unfortunately, it was also because of her mother that she had refused him.