Page 26 of It Taught Me to Hope

M atters settled into a rhythm in the ensuing days, and there was much congress between Longbourn and Breckonridge, and among the other houses of the neighborhood. Darcy was, as always, eager to put himself in Miss Bennet’s company whenever the occasion presented itself, and in this, he had the support of Georgiana and Fitzwilliam, both of whom enjoyed the company of the ladies at that estate. Mr. Westbrook soon returned to his estate in Bedfordshire, but his wife remained at Longbourn. This was a blessing for Georgiana, for she got on well with Miss Bennet’s younger sister, allowing Darcy to keep Miss Bennet’s attention to himself, whenever Fitzwilliam did not insert himself into their midst.

As for Fitzwilliam, the man was still exasperating, his jovial nature and tendency to jest an annoyance as often as it was amusing. Darcy had always esteemed his cousin above all other men, but when Fitzwilliam thought himself a font of jests, a little of his company went a long way. Fitzwilliam, true to his character, met all and sundry with his usual geniality and soon he was a favorite of the locals. There was, of course, one of their number who had known him before.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” exclaimed Mrs. Collins on a morning soon after Fitzwilliam’s arrival. “I had no notion you had come to Hertfordshire.”

“We have not met in several days,” said Miss Bennet to her friend. “There was no time to inform you.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Collins,” said Fitzwilliam, bowing. “I suppose I should have realized you would be in Hertfordshire, but I confess that I did not consider the possibility of meeting you. However, I am naught but ‘Mr. Fitzwilliam’ now since the end of the war.”

“I am not surprised, Mr. Fitzwilliam ,” said Mrs. Collins, smirking at Miss Bennet. “After all, I was naught but the parson’s wife, and you had fixed your attention on my pretty friend.”

“Yes, well, if I gave her so much of my attention now, I have no doubt Darcy would call me out.”

“Not at all, Cousin,” said Darcy, at ease with his jesting. “I am comfortable in my connection with Miss Bennet; how she might react to your insouciance I cannot say.”

“I will have you know that Miss Bennet has always enjoyed my insouciance.”

It was such a ridiculous statement that must provoke anyone hearing it to laugh, and the entire company did just that. The result was Fitzwilliam sitting next to Mrs. Collins, speaking with animation on his part, and interest on hers.

It was inevitable the longer Darcy and his sister remained in the neighborhood, the more attention they provoked, the more speculation to which Darcy was privy. It had always appeared that whatever the local populace had thought of Darcy’s behavior when he had been among them previously, they did not hold it against him now; whether this was due to his sister’s presence or his willingness to move in their midst Darcy could not say. While the gossip about his fortune and position in society remained on their tongues, he had heard nothing of the mothers espousing any aspirations for their daughters, which was just as well. There was nothing more liable to ruin his good humor than to be the target for every young miss on the prowl for a husband to say nothing of their mothers.

The principal constraint against the behavior of the local ladies was Darcy’s obvious comfort with Miss Bennet. Though Darcy abhorred rumors, he knew that his interest in her had not gone unnoticed by her neighbors, and as the days passed, they were the subject of more tittle-tattle, until they were both fielding certain comments every time they went into company. Darcy, as was his wont, endured such talk, telling himself their curiosity was only natural, and answering with brevity when provoked if he answered at all. Miss Bennet, however, appeared to be in her element, for she brushed such talk aside with wit, deflected with aplomb, and jested when all else failed. Soon, Darcy concluded that had she not taken the burden on herself, he would have offended everyone in the community twice over!

“First, I should point out that I possess years of intimacy with these people,” said Miss Bennet when Darcy praised her for her skill. “In a general sense, I know how to answer their questions enough to satisfy them without revealing anything I do not wish to disclose. Second, I am the more open half of our partnership. As I recognize both truths, I do not see it as any trouble to take the more active role of deflecting the inquisitive.”

Darcy regarded her, hoping she saw the esteem in his eyes. “I suspect it is more your second point than your first, Miss Bennet. If you should accept me, for example, you will assume the same responsibility when we go into society in London. With those people you will not be any less effective.”

“Perhaps I will,” agreed she. “We all act according to our strengths, do we not?”

“Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Then I shall be the social face, while you will manage the estate and care for our family’s physical needs. It is a position for which I believe you are well suited.”

“Tell me, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, with a hint of daring, “are you softening to my suit? This conversation does suggest that our eventual union is becoming more certain, for I would not suppose you would speak in such a way if you were not considering me.”

Miss Bennet shrugged, but she was anything but uncaring about the subject. “One must put oneself in a position, if only in imagination, to understand the benefits of that situation. Do you not agree?’

Darcy paused, pondering her assertion. “Perhaps that is correct. Then tell me, Miss Bennet, what do you see when you put yourself in that position?”

“It is not displeasing.”

The woman was evading his question; Darcy knew this from no other evidence than her attempt to avoid a wide grin. Charmed, Darcy leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“That is the best news I have heard in some time, Miss Bennet. My only request is that you make your sentiments known when you are ready for that proposal I mentioned, for the wait is already sweet torture.”

Miss Bennet smiled, though it appeared a little wistful. “How do you suppose it might have turned out between us if we had begun in a more congenial manner?”

“You mean if I had behaved as I ought?” asked Darcy, by now comfortable referring to that time in a lighter spirit.

The way Miss Bennet regarded him warmed Darcy all over. “If you recall,” said she, “ my behavior was not above reproach.”

“Oh?” asked Darcy, feigning disbelief. “How so, Miss Bennet? I did not consider you anything other than the soul of civility.”

“Then you did not see me at my more reprehensible moments, for I am afraid that I did not scruple to publish my assessment of you far and wide.”

“That is a serious offense, indeed.” Darcy attempted deep wisdom like a sage of old, but he suspected from her grin that it was a miserable failure. “Tell me, Miss Bennet, what should I contemplate for your punishment?”

“Punishment?” asked Elizabeth. “I cannot think of anyone who would consider my offense the greater.”

“Ah, but I already suffered for my misstep. My punishment has consumed the last six years, beginning with my temerity to approach a young woman with words of love.”

“It was not love alone you offered.”

Darcy gave her an agreeable nod. “Which must, in part, explain the rejection I received. I think that no one, least of all you, would deny that my suffering has been acute and of sufficient length to prove that I have paid my debt.”

“Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bennet, her lips twitching from the effort to hold in her laughter, “shall all our conversations consist of such silliness?”

“As I said, Miss Bennet, you are the teasing member of our partnership.”

“Yet, you began this silliness.”

“I suppose I did. The answer to your question is, of course, from my perspective, I would hope our situation would be the mirror opposite of what it is now. We might have been married five years now, with a gaggle of children the size of your sister’s brood.”

Miss Bennet raised an eyebrow. “You are so confident as to suggest that, are you?”

It was a valid question, and one Darcy paused to consider before offering a response. “Yes, Miss Bennet, I can say with no doubt that had our path been a smooth one, I believe we would now live in felicity.”

“What is your reason for this opinion?” asked Miss Bennet.

Darcy smiled at her curiosity. “Why, given the progress we have made since I returned and despite our history together, it is simple logic to assert our success had we met without acrimony.”

“Yes, I suppose I must agree with you.” The woman regarded him, her eyes searching his face. “Am I correct to assume that your sister’s recent difficulties influenced you when you were here before?”

“They did,” agreed Darcy. “If you will forgive me, Miss Bennet, I think I should like to focus on the future rather than dwelling on the past.”

“Very well,” said Miss Bennet. “I am at your disposal. What did you wish to discuss?”

Such a saucy comment was guaranteed to draw further banter, and Darcy did not hesitate. There were times of serious conversation when they fixed on subjects of import, proving that Miss Bennet was capable of such discourse. More often than that, however, she was playful and open, and there was no way for Darcy to resist her infectious lightness, even if he was of a mind to do so. This is what he had to anticipate if he succeeded in his campaign and convinced her to accept his suit. In some ways, Darcy could not believe his patience waiting for her to give him a sign of her regard. Impatience might have seemed more likely.

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A S TIME PASSED AND Darcy’s contentment and ease grew apace, there was one thought that persisted at the back of his mind, provoked him to silent contemplation and even a measure of concern. That matter was, of course, Mrs. Edwards and her situation.

Mrs. Edwards had ever been nigh impossible for Darcy to understand, for the woman put him to shame with her reticent nature. As he watched her now, Darcy wondered how he had presumed to judge her response to Bingley’s courting on the strength of one evening in company. What he had taken for disinterest or even disinclination was now revealed to be her general sense of reserve, a lack of emotion revealed to be an ability to hide what she felt from the world at large. Miss Bennet confirmed this of her sister’s character when the subject came up between them.

“Even I do not always understand my sister, Mr. Darcy, and I know her better than anyone else in the world.”

As Darcy considered this and watched the woman, he tried to understand her. Mrs. Edwards had not esteemed her husband, and he had this from the woman’s own mouth. It was still a matter of some wonder to Darcy that Edwards had summoned the ability to charm his wife and her family, for the man had long been more brusque than engaging. However he had managed it, whatever affection she thought she possessed for him had died when she discovered that he was not the man he had presented to her.

The question he had was how she fared now, for while she presented a contented facade behind her black dresses and bombazine, she was more often caught in the grips of introspection, the likes of which Darcy understood given his own predilection for the state. That she had determined to honor the husband who had disappointed her was a point in her favor. The question was what her future would hold now that she was a widow.

Again, Darcy’s thoughts returned to his good friend and the notion that the life he had allowed to die years before might not be so out of his reach as he had thought. Some men might balk at marrying a widow, but Darcy knew Bingley was not one of them—not if his affection had survived the intervening years. Mrs. Edwards would come to Bingley’s attention unless he severed the connection, an action Darcy would not contemplate. There was no question she was intelligent enough to recognize the likelihood of meeting him again; it was only what she would do in such a situation.

Not knowing her well and still feeling the shame of how he had misused her, Darcy kept his distance, not knowing what to say. On a morning visit that changed when Georgiana and Mrs. Hardwick appropriated Miss Bennet’s attention to a song they were playing on the pianoforte, leaving Darcy in Mrs. Edwards’s company; Mrs. Westbrook was engaged above stairs with her children.

“I would like to thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said she when there was no danger of her sister overhearing.

“Oh?” asked Darcy, turning to her with interest.

“You have made Lizzy happy,” was Mrs. Edwards’s simple reply.

“In truth, I cannot say if I have. I should like to know if she was unhappy before.”

Mrs. Edwards considered this. “Not unhappy , perhaps. If I were to label her state of mind, I suppose I must say that she was unfulfilled. Though she owned Longbourn and kept the property better than my father and gave every appearance of cheer, there was some significant part of her life that remained empty.”

It was Darcy’s turn to consider her assertion. “The surprise of my arrival rendered it impossible to know her state of mind. If I have made her happier, then I rejoice in my success. I can only hope that she comes to feel enough to accept when I propose again.”

“You mean to propose again?”

“That is impossible to say at present,” demurred Darcy. “While no one could doubt my wish to keep her in my life forever, at this moment, I cannot say if she will accept me.”

“No, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Edwards, turning a little ironic, “no one could claim you are not interested in Lizzy with a straight face. Though I regret my inability to give you hope, I cannot speak to her feelings; if she understands them, she has not confided in me.”

Darcy nodded, but he did not respond at once, for he was considering what had been flitting around the edges of his mind since word had come of her husband’s passing. While Mrs. Edwards turned her attention back to her sisters, watching them as they played and spoke in animated tones with Georgiana, he wondered if he dared to approach the matter. After some time of this, he decided there was no reason to refrain, for as an intelligent woman, she must understand the possibilities herself.

“Mrs. Edwards,” addressed Darcy, bringing her attention back to him, “you know I wish to make your sister my wife. It would be my fondest wish come true if I persuaded her. Yet, you know that my union with her would bring you back to my friend’s attention.”

For several long moments, Mrs. Edwards regarded him. “I had assumed you still counted Mr. Bingley a friend.”

While she did not frame it as a question, Darcy could hear a measure of it and responded accordingly. “We are perhaps not so close as we once were. That is human nature, I expect, for we are both older, live in different neighborhoods, and both have the cares of estates and other matters to occupy our time and attention.”

For the first time, Mrs. Edwards showed an interest that Darcy could detect. “Then Mr. Bingley accomplished his father’s wishes and purchased an estate.”

“Yes, he did. Hazelwood is a fine estate, perhaps half again as large as Netherfield. It is situated just within the borders of Derbyshire next to Nottingham only twenty miles from Pemberley. I visit him occasionally, though we conduct our visits at Pemberley more often.”

“Does Mr. Bingley still attend London society?”

“He does,” replied Darcy, “but he is not as eager as he once was. Looking back on it, I can date the change in his interest to a year or two after our stay in Hertfordshire.”

“He is still single?”

Darcy contented himself with a nod in reply. In a fashion familiar to Darcy who was prone to such behavior himself, Mrs. Edwards’s focus drew inward, her manner of one pondering a matter of great significance. Much would depend on Bingley, of course. How it would all turn out Darcy could not say, but above all other considerations, he had no interest in hurting the woman any more than he already had.

At length, she sighed and offered him a wan smile. “I am a truthful woman, Mr. Darcy, but in this instance, I cannot even decipher my feelings. Thus, I shall content myself with one question: has Mr. Bingley ever spoken of me?”

“Not since soon after we departed from Netherfield,” replied Darcy, knowing he owed her this much at least. “For several months after, he would offer the occasional comment, speaking of his enjoyment of our time in Hertfordshire and your company, or how he had never met a better woman. Such comments ceased over time—he has not spoken of you since. At least he has not in my hearing.”

Mrs. Edwards nodded as if she had expected his answer. “I have been the same. Did you know I met Miss Bingley once in London? I had gone to London with my uncle after Christmas for a visit in the wild hope I might see Mr. Bingley. When I visited, he was not home, and his sisters assured me that he was much engaged with your sister. Then, when Miss Bingley returned the visit three weeks later, she ensured I understood that my friendship was no longer welcome.”

With a shaken head, Darcy said: “Your sister already mentioned this, and I shall tell you what I told her: Miss Bingley’s behavior does not surprise me. After the event, Miss Bingley informed me of your visit and her efforts to sever the connection. It was part of my disgust for her behavior that led me to disabuse her of any notion of my intention to offer for her.”

“Yet, I cannot fault her,” said Mrs. Edwards, showing the angelic side of her character, that Miss Bennet had always extolled. “She had no wish of welcoming me as a sister; I am not so vain as to suppose everyone I meet approves of me.”

“I might agree with you, Mrs. Edwards, if she had done nothing more than offer her opinion. The way she went about it, from severing an acquaintance she had no right to disdain to invoking my sister’s name to destroy your hope paints her as a selfish and scheming woman. To this day, Bingley does not know the extent of it, for I long decided there was little reason to belabor the past.”

The sigh with which she responded carried the weight of many years of regret. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I understand your point. Please know that I do not hold you responsible, for I know you acted in the best interests of your friend.”

“Did I?” asked Darcy, raising his eyebrow in response. “I told myself many times that I did, but I cannot be certain. That Bingley is still unmarried and lives alone, and you endured a marriage with a man you cannot respect tells me otherwise.”

“And yet I absolve you and do not hold it against you.”

“I see your sister’s assertions about your character are nothing but the truth.”

This time she laughed, a genuine bit of mirth Darcy did not think had been part of her daily experience for some time. “Lizzy is far too generous with me. The truth is that I do not hold it against you because to do so would be to make myself miserable. Yes, you erred, but given what I know of your character, it was honestly done. We cannot know what might have happened, so I will not say you prevented my union with Mr. Bingley when all we have is speculation about what might have been.”

Darcy nodded, not wishing to overstate the point.

“For my part,” continued she, “I would adjure you not to hesitate on my account. Should Lizzy give you a reasonable expectation of success, please propose to her and make her a happy woman.”

“Then you are equal to a reunion of sorts with my friend?”

“I am equal to seeing him again,” replied she with a shrug. “For anything beyond that, we must wait and see.”

Mrs. Edwards regarded her sister, a measure of the fathomless depth of affection between them in her gaze. “Lizzy espouses thoughts of introducing me to all your friends and society expecting I shall meet a gentleman who cannot live without me.”

“Does this reflect your wishes, or will I need to persuade her to caution?”

The silvery laugh again appeared. “I can handle my sister if necessary, Mr. Darcy. While I cannot say at this moment what I wish, for the shock of my marriage ending as it did still has not left me. I am not opposed to the notion of another husband, but I have no wish to display myself to every man in London as if I were a debutante of eighteen.”

“No, I cannot imagine you would.” Darcy regarded her and asked: “Would you prefer to stay at Longbourn? If you would, you should know that I have no objection. We can write the marriage articles in such a way as to maintain your family’s control over the property, ensuring your continued residence if that is what you wish.”

“It appears you do not know Lizzy so well as you say, Mr. Darcy.” The wryness in her tone was infectious, provoking Darcy to grin with her. “If she agrees to marry you, Lizzy will insist on passing the estate to me, or to Mary if I refuse.”

“I shall not object.”

“No, I did not suppose you would. If you marry my sister, perhaps I shall go to Pemberley with you for a time. Meeting Mr. Bingley again is a pleasant notion, even if he has no more interest in me.”

“We shall welcome you for as long as you wish to stay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I believe I shall accept your offer.”

To Darcy, the conversation was a balm to his troubled soul—even more than the business between Miss Lydia and Wickham, the matter of his flawed advice to Bingley weighed on his mind. Darcy had no notion how Bingley would react to Mrs. Edwards’s appearance, no more than he knew how his friend would greet the news of Darcy’s marriage to Miss Bennet. The thought that Bingley still remembered her with fondness and would welcome meeting her again would not leave him, though Darcy could say nothing beyond that. Bingley had always been impulsive, even now after five years of managing his own estate. How that would translate Darcy could not say.

Of less mystery was what his sisters—especially the younger—would say. Mrs. Hurst was less of a problem, as the woman was both quieter and less forceful than her sister, and as Hurst was not a member of the highest society, she could not object to the sister of Mr. Darcy connecting her brother more firmly to a family of society. Miss Bingley was another matter altogether, for even if her husband inhabited a level no higher than Hurst’s, she was vindictive, jealous, irrational, and she hated Miss Bennet beyond reason. It was fortunate that Bingley rarely tolerated his sister any longer, much less listened to her. As Miss Bingley had no presence in London society that Darcy inhabited, her recriminations concerning his marriage would not trouble him at all. If she strayed beyond her boundaries, Darcy would have no compunction at all about putting her in her place. If it came to that, Darcy knew Bingley would do it himself.