Page 17 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AT HOME WITH THE BENNETS

T here was little for Darcy to say or do following Mr Gardiner’s pronouncement. He was correct: Elizabeth had made her choice. Twice, in fact, and the same answer both times.

He kept his mind on the banalities of getting himself back to Mayfair. Bidding Mr Gardiner a polite farewell and asking that his best wishes be given to his family. One foot in front of the other to go down the Gardiners’ wide front hall, observing the quality of the furnishings and concluding that Mr Gardiner’s warehouses, for all that they could be seen from his home—and actually, you really could not see them unless you went to a great deal of effort and craned your neck—were exceedingly profitable. Mr Gardiner was wealthy, perhaps not as wealthy as he was, but possibly as wealthy as Bingley.

His mind was then centred on the sights viewed from his carriage on the way home. A turn there, observe a fine pair of horses passing, consider the condition of the roads, calculate how many persons were walking along the streets. Thinking of anything but what had just happened and how he might have avoided it.

The evening was long as he thrashed about between his study and his bedchamber, eschewing human interaction to the greatest extent possible. To Georgiana, he penned a quick note of scant explanation, telling her more would come later.

He returned to Gracechurch Street the next day with a posy in hand and his heart pounding as if he had run the whole way there. Alas, he was too late. Elizabeth and her mother had evidently decamped from London at dawn. Mrs Gardiner was out, and Mr Gardiner was at his warehouses.

“Shall I fetch him for you, sir?” the housekeeper asked. “I can send a footman over.”

“No, no,” he said. “That is not necessary.”

His demurrals were interrupted by the two girls he had seen previously. Curiosity had brought them to the top of the stairs, and when they perceived his notice, they came down to the door. “Lizzy went home,” the elder informed him. “Her head is still sick.”

“A snake bit her in the brain,” the younger added. “It made her very queer.”

“Enough of that,” the housekeeper interrupted sternly. “Your cousin wants for nothing but a bit of time, and she will be right as rain.”

A bit of time. Would time dispose her towards forgiving him?

Darcy recognised he had no reason to be still standing there, so he asked the young ladies if they would like to share the flowers he had brought for their cousin. They were absolutely delighted to divide the posy between them. He heard the elder tell her sister, as the door closed behind him, that she really thought Cousin Lizzy ought to marry the nice man.

Having spent most of the night crying into her pillow, Elizabeth began the next day with a throbbing headache that was not helped by Mrs Bennet’s vociferous disapproval of what she had done.

“I could forgive you when you refused Mr Collins,” Mrs Bennet proclaimed, her phial of salts held in three fingers so that the fourth might point at her daughter in an accusatory manner. “But to refuse such a man as Mr Darcy? Do you understand how rich, how great you might have been?”

Elizabeth only nodded. To tell her mother she did not care for such things would only lead to further lecturing.

“The pin money! The jewels! He very likely would have bought you a carriage. I should wager my own life on it.”

Elizabeth nodded again, then rubbed her eyes which felt gritty and inflamed. Her head hurt, her chest hurt…she felt like her skin was on too tight. “I do understand, Mama, and I am sorry. But the lies?—”

“Lies? Who cares about some silly little lies?” Mrs Bennet scoffed.

“I do. I care a great deal about lies. I was everyone’s fool, including yours and Charlotte’s.”

“Charlotte and I were as deceived as you!” Mrs Bennet protested. “It was that cousin of his who started the whole thing.”

“And you did not think to doubt it?”

“No, Elizabeth, I did not,” said Mrs Bennet in an uncommonly stern tone. “If a man as great as Mr Darcy took notice of you, I am sure I was too busy in my delight to doubt it. It was his cousin himself who told us of it! If I ever see that man again, I shall box his ears directly!”

Elizabeth sighed. It was no use being angry with her mother or with Charlotte. As her mother said, they were as wilfully misled as she had been.

“But who cares about a little falsehood here and there?” her mother continued. “I am sure he merely misunderstood it! It still gives no cause for you to wantonly put aside the attentions of a man of such consequence!” On and on she went, berating her until, thankfully, the rocking of the carriage caused her to fall into a doze. Then Elizabeth was left to stare out of the window and berate herself for such foolishness as falling in love with such a man as Darcy.

They arrived midafternoon. Jane uttered a cry of relieved joy and came to kiss her cheek, and Mary came from upstairs to do likewise. Kitty and Lydia wanted to know if she had brought them presents, which Mrs Bennet rapidly scolded them for, and Mr Bennet laid down his newspaper to enquire, “How are you feeling, my dear Lizzy?”

“Stronger every day,” she told him, even if the journey had left her feeling rather spent. “Now if I can only manage to read again without a pounding headache, I shall be well satisfied.”

“A pounding headache from reading! That is grievous indeed,” said Mr Bennet with a chuckle. “And what of young Darcy? Engaged, not engaged—shall I expect him to come thundering into Hertfordshire to rant and storm about his love for you?”

The way that he said so made Elizabeth understand that he thought her heartbreak a source of great amusement. Had she been in her usual spirits, she might have bristled at such levity, but she was too low to even summon up vexation. She felt only tired as she said, “No, Papa, I do not think we should expect to see Mr Darcy ever again.”

Mr Bennet had raised the newspaper again. “We all thought him a proud, disagreeable sort of fellow, so no great loss there.”

“We did, Lizzy, we all hated him,” Kitty informed her. “No great loss, just as Papa said.”

Elizabeth could think of nothing to say to that and merely nodded.

“How clever it was of me to ensure the neighbourhood would not know about Lizzy’s engagement,” Mrs Bennet announced, tossing herself into her usual chair. “I told Charlotte to say nothing of this to anyone and see that Mr Collins did likewise. I just knew that once Mr Darcy understood Lizzy had lost her wits, this engagement would go off like a puff of smoke!”

“There was never any engagement to go off,” Elizabeth reminded her. Again, she was not acknowledged. It was a mercy. Mrs Bennet’s harangue from the carriage still rang in her ears, and she imagined more scolding would come in the days ahead.

Jane had taken a seat near to her on the settee and studied her with a worried crease in her brow. “But your health, Lizzy. How do you feel?”

“Sad,” Elizabeth replied for Jane’s hearing only.

“I thought she was well enough,” Mrs Bennet interjected. “I was told there seemed to be no damage to her wits, but then this! She is clearly out of her senses! That snake! Why, I would like to wring its neck!”

“Do snakes even have necks?” Jane asked softly, an obvious attempt to make Elizabeth smile. It did succeed, if temporarily.

“Snakes,” said Mary from her seat across the room, “have long represented the evil of temptation, the allure of what is forbidden to us, and their bite is the sting that represents the pain of spiritual warfare and?—”

“In my case, the pain of the snake bite represented bruising and bloodshed,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I think I ought to go to my bedchamber and rest. I slept very poorly last night and the journey was long.”

She retreated to the bedchamber she had always known. Thankfully it looked as it always had, even if there was a shawl on the chair that she did not recognise. She did like it, however, and picked it up to wrap around her shoulders before reclining on top of her bed.

A quiet knock on the door came only minutes later, followed by a tentative opening of the door. Jane poked her head in. “Lizzy?”

“Jane, you need not knock at the door of your own bedchamber.” Elizabeth smiled at her sister as she arranged pillows around herself.

Jane entered and took a place on her sister’s bed, then spent some moments fussing over Elizabeth’s health, adjusting a blanket over her, and fretting that her pallor indicated a setback was afoot.

“The journey was…challenging,” Elizabeth admitted. “But every day is a step forwards, I believe.”

“You are home now, and I am determined to do my share in caring for you,” Jane said with a firm nod. “I still cannot believe you lost your memory. An entire year, gone! It must be very distressing.”

“I confess it was at first, particularly waking and finding that I was engaged…but then was not.”

“I could not believe it when my mother told us what happened. But you must tell me everything in your own words, so I can understand it all.”

Many, many letters had gone between Hunsford and Longbourn; any house boasting so many energetic females was bound to have a brisk correspondence abroad. Alas, Elizabeth had found herself unable to read many of them, and nevertheless, it could never be the same as hearing things firsthand. Elizabeth told Jane how it had come about, how she had not known Darcy at first…but had come to love him.

“He showed such diligence in caring for me! And the time we spent together was just wonderful—we have a similarity in our minds that I felt would serve us very well once we had married.”

Jane pursed her lips. “And yet, you have jilted him.”

“No! I did not jilt him—I never agreed to marry him . That is an enormous difference.”

“Very well. So you have refused to marry him.”

“Several times, in fact.”

Jane said no words, but her countenance and her attitude spoke clearly.

“Jane, how could I marry someone who lied to me in such an egregious manner? I was deceived by every person who purported to care for me! Charlotte and Mama, I can forgive; they did truly believe I was engaged. But Mr Darcy?”

“Dreadfully distressing,” Jane said sympathetically. “Only…”

“Only what?”

“You came to love him, I think? Is that not what you just said?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I did.”

“And do you believe he loves you? Or do you accuse him of a lie there as well?”

“N-no, I do not think he is lying about that.” Elizabeth pursed her lips. “If anything, his feelings were his motive. He wanted to have me and would stop at nothing to get me.”

“Or he truly believed he was acting in your interests. Mama said that the physician warned him, warned them all, against shocking you or causing upset.”

“I refuse to believe his motives were wholly altruistic, and do you know why? Because I have subsequently learnt firsthand how well he enjoys arranging people’s lives to his own liking.”

“Who else’s life did he rearrange?”

“Mr Bingley’s…and yours, in fact,” Elizabeth told her. “Mr Darcy played a principal part in persuading Mr Bingley against returning to you.”

Jane looked down, a frown marring her pretty face. Elizabeth cursed herself for being so insensitive; what angered her was fresh pain to her sister. “Forgive me. I do not mean to wound you further.”

“It is no one’s fault but my own. I knew it would all come to nothing, and did all I could to practise restraint, to guard my heart, but?—”

“Practise restraint? How do you mean?”

“I did not wish to make it seem as if I had expectations of him, so I…I was careful with my own expressions of attachment. A woman can only show so much of herself. I did not wish to seem…brazen or forward.”

And thus did Darcy conclude she merely tolerated Bingley. Pushing that thought away, Elizabeth asked, “But surely a man needs a little encouragement, does he not? You must have let him know how you felt at least a little?”

Jane was busy tracing a finger over the embroidery on one of Elizabeth’s pillows. “Lizzy, I know how these things are. I am not so naive, am I? How does the saying go? The marriage mart is in London; the mistress mart is in the country.”

“Jane!” Elizabeth laughed. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“I cannot say,” Jane admitted. “But it is true. No one comes into the country, into a leased house, because he wishes to find a wife. He was seeking diversion and a good time, and for me to behave as if I expected more would be the greatest presumption. It was too embarrassing to think of—me, making a cake of myself for nothing. A man like Mr Bingley is not seeking a wife with no fortune from an embarrassing family.”

Elizabeth shifted her position on the bed. “Were they so very bad?”

“If you had only seen Mama and the girls that evening at the assembly! That is, you did see it, but I mean if you could remember seeing it. But perhaps it is all best forgot.”

Elizabeth reached over and stroked her sister’s hand for a moment, then withdrew.

“They were positively the worst I have ever seen them,” Jane admitted. “Our mother allowed our younger sisters out as soon as Lydia turned fifteen last June—do you remember that assembly?”

“I do. And I remember thinking then, as now, that it was far too young, although I know Mama did the same for you and I, once I was fifteen. From what I remember the girls were very?—”

Jane nodded vehemently and interjected, “Excessively silly, all giggles and running about wildly, and nothing had improved from June to the time when the Netherfield party came in October. Every time we were in company with them, Mr Bingley’s sisters and Mr Darcy were aghast, and rightly so.”

“It does seem that I am fortunate to have forgotten it.”

Jane nodded. “That is why it is no surprise to me to find out Mr Darcy had a hand in keeping Mr Bingley away. How do you think he did it?”

“Well…” Elizabeth twisted her hands together in her lap. “In truth, Mr Bingley told me he readily withstood the protests of fortune and family. It was not until Mr Darcy said…he told him he perceived no affection on your side. Mr Darcy believed you were only tolerating his friend, and given Mr Bingley’s natural modesty…he believed it.”

A weighty silence ensued. “Therefore, I have no one to blame but myself.”

Heatedly, Elizabeth said, “Yes, indeed there are others to blame. Mr Darcy ought not to have presumed to know you. Mr Bingley ought to have discovered your affections for himself. He owns himself that he has, in the past, relied too heavily on his friend’s judgment.”

“Mr Darcy could not have influenced his present engagement.” On Elizabeth’s look, Jane added, “Yes, my mother told me.”

Elizabeth did not know what to say for a minute. “He did not seem happy about it.”

“I hope he is happy. I do not wish him ill, nor any of them. They do no worse than anyone else does. Everyone wishes to better themselves through marriage. Why should a young man of large fortune do differently?”

“Because he could have had something worth far more than gold,” Elizabeth told her. “And that is you.”

“Someone else will have me, then,” Jane replied. Her eyes looked a little moist, but she seemed determined to put a brave face on it. “At least, I hope they will. Oh Lizzy, I do not wish to be four-and-twenty and unmarried!”

“You will need to be three-and-twenty first,” Elizabeth reminded her.

“Which I shall be next week,” Jane replied. “And you will be one-and-twenty the day following.” It was a long-time jest at Longbourn that when Elizabeth had been born, one day after Jane’s birthday, Jane imagined her sister to be a birthday gift for herself.

“I daresay we both still have a little bit of time to find husbands,” Elizabeth teased. “No need to put ourselves in lace caps just yet.”

Jane suddenly leant towards her, wrapping her in a hug. “I am so glad you are back, and so glad you are well. I am less glad you have managed to purloin my new shawl already.”

Elizabeth was relieved by the little jest. “Is it yours? I imagined it was a gift to me for all of my many misfortunes.” She paused. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“When you learnt that I was engaged to Mr Darcy, were you…shocked?”

Jane pressed her lips together, then said, “In some ways I was.”

“So you saw my dislike of him?”

“I saw how much you wanted to dislike him.”

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

Jane looked like she wished to smile. “You gave him a great deal of attention for someone you said you despised.”

“I did say I despised him? Who heard me say it?”

Jane considered that. “In fact, I do not know that you ever said that you despised him, not to my knowledge in any case. You said he was proud and disagreeable?—”

“Because he insulted me at the assembly.”

Jane nodded. “I think the largest part of the problem was Mr Wickham’s testimony against him.”

“Which is not true,” Elizabeth admitted. “Mr Wickham lied just like Mr Darcy did.”

“Not exactly like Mr Darcy did,” Jane said.

“What do you mean?”

“Mr Darcy hid information for your own good. Mr Wickham lied to make you feel sorry for him.”

“Need I remind you that if I had not learnt the truth, I could have found myself bound to Mr Darcy for life!”

“Ooh!” Jane gave an exaggerated shiver. “How terrible! To marry a wealthy and handsome man who adores you! Yes, Lizzy, how good it is that you escaped that fate!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I have always said that, above all, I wish to look up to my husband, to admire him. I cannot admire a liar.”

“It seems your decision was right, then, and you should be happy in it.”

“And so I am,” Elizabeth replied.

“Are you?” Jane kept her gaze steady on her sister. “You surely do not seem very happy.”

Elizabeth sighed, absently running her hand over the coverlet on her bed. “You know me too well for me to prevaricate. I suppose I would say I wish to be happy more than I actually am at present. In time I do not doubt I will recover my spirits.”

“Which no doubt would happen faster if you forgave him.”

Elizabeth gave her sister a look. “Forgiving is not the problem. Trusting is. I loved the man I believed him to be—a man it seems he was not, not at all. It is that man I regret, a man who does not exist. But it will all be forgot, and I will be happy once again.”

Jane looked doubtful as she leant over and kissed her sister on the forehead. “For you to be happy is all any of us wants.”