Page 28 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Fifteen

Nearly a week had passed since the Netherfield Ball.

Elizabeth missed Mr. Darcy and walked out every day in hopes of meeting him on Oakham Mount.

He never appeared, and she began to worry that something had befallen him.

Convincing herself that her fears were unfounded, she settled on patience.

It was likely that Mr. Darcy merely refrained from visiting without his friend, owing to Mrs. Bennet’s inhospitality.

He would come when Mr. Bingley returned.

Two days after the ball, Jane received a note from Miss Bingley.

It was filled with falsehoods. The lady claimed they were all bound for town for the winter and had no intention of returning.

She further intimated that her brother had formed an attachment to Miss Darcy and was eager to be once again in her company.

Jane’s distress became evident briefly before Elizabeth reminded her sister it would be the work of a moment to write to her suitor for clarification.

She did so, enclosing Miss Bingley’s letter with her own.

A reply came two days later. Mr. Bingley reassured Jane of his love and his intention to call upon her on the second of December.

News of Charlotte’s engagement infuriated Mrs. Bennet.

She wailed for hours, complaining of Mary’s stubborn refusal.

Mr. Collins, however, assured Mrs. Bennet that he understood her daughter’s position and appreciated her thoughtfulness.

After many long-winded declarations, he firmly declared that Mary’s selflessness had brought him his felicity, and so, in gratitude, the Bennet ladies would always have a place to live once Mr. Bennet met his reward.

This settled the matron’s nerves, to everyone’s relief, and she ceased her wailing.

Her wayward daughter, too, felt relieved, and resumed her usual practice of avoiding her mother’s notice.

Elizabeth waited with Jane in the parlor, eager to see Mr. Darcy again.

She imagined his face—his soft smile, and kind eyes.

His character was of the highest caliber, and she knew she was well on the way to loving him.

Indeed, I already do. The realization struck her, and her heart warmed.

With him, she felt at ease. He did not dismiss her opinions as many of his sex were wont to do.

Instead, he debated and discussed, delighting her with his thoughtful rebuttals.

He countered her repartee with measured confidence, the perfect foil for her witty banter.

Mr. Bingley arrived during calling hours. Jane heard the carriage first and met Elizabeth’s gaze, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly. “He has come, Lizzy!” she whispered fervently. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she smoothed her free hand down the front of her gown.

Mrs. Hill came to the parlor door and stepped aside as she announced their guests; yet to Elizabeth’s disappointment, she spoke but one name.

“Good afternoon,” Mr. Bingley greeted them. “I cannot express how much I have missed being in your company. Miss Bennet, you look particularly fetching today.”

Mrs. Bennet and the three other ladies were not in the room, which allowed Jane to answer freely, rather than endure their mother’s interruption.

Hill departed with instructions to send in a tea tray, and to inform the rest of the family of Mr. Bingley’s arrival.

The gentleman took his seat next to Jane, clasped her hand, and kissed it as he settled in.

“Forgive me, sir, but I had expected Mr. Darcy to be with you,” Elizabeth interjected before he and her sister became too lost in their conversation. “Is he well?”

“It was the most peculiar thing,” he replied. “I received a note from him the morning after the ball, informing me he had left for town. Some sort of emergency.” Mr. Bingley shrugged. “I have yet to receive any further word from him—I am sorry I cannot tell you more.”

Elizabeth’s heart seized. Was he well? What of his sister? “Will he return to Netherfield Park?” she asked, desperate for any scrap of information.

“His note intimated he had no intention of returning. The situation is very bad, or so he said. I am certain I can convince him to come when…a desirable event takes place.” He turned to Jane with a fervent look, one filled with promise for the future.

Elizabeth scarcely noticed Jane’s equally fervent expression. Instead, a dull ache settled in her chest, and she suddenly felt too confined within the parlor.

“Pray, excuse me for a moment,” she murmured.

She might have saved her breath—neither of them looked up in acknowledgement.

So she hurried out and ascended to her chambers.

With trembling hands, she shut the door, locked it, and stumbled to her bed.

Collapsing upon it, she curled to her side and stared blankly at the wall, her thoughts whirling.

Never to return? she repeated silently. Why?

He had given every indication that he would offer for her.

She had expected a courtship. Yet, now he was gone.

Perhaps his friend was mistaken, she reasoned.

Was Mr. Darcy not an honorable man? Surely, he could not raise a lady’s expectations and then abandon her.

That would be dishonorable and ungentlemanly.

Perhaps I do not mean as much to him as he does to me.

The thought stung, and her mind slid toward despair. She forced herself to reject it. He will return, she told herself firmly. He will come back to me.

December 24, 1811 Longbourn Elizabeth

Mr. Bingley’s sisters remained in town. Jane learned he had scolded them thoroughly for attempting to interfere in his life. They, in turn, declared they would have nothing to do with so low-born a lady. If he married Miss Bennet, they said, then they would be compelled to distance themselves.

“I reminded them that they are the daughters of a tradesman, and as such, Miss Bennet is higher placed in society than they are. Caroline did not like that one jot.” He chuckled, and the others joined in.

Elizabeth wondered how long Mr. Bingley’s sisters would maintain the estrangement. Their brother remained their connection to the first circles, owing to his friendship with Mr. Darcy.

Thoughts of that gentleman often crept in when least expected, and Elizabeth fought valiantly to keep them at bay.

She succeeded during the day, for the most part, but her memories coalesced into dreams at night.

His beloved countenance haunted her, and in sleep, her mind conjured all manner of reasons for his abandonment.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived on Christmas Eve, and everyone promptly donned their warmest clothing to venture outdoors in search of greenery. The Gardiner children were divided among the adults, and each group wandered off in different directions.

“Hurry up, Lizzy!” Lydia tugged on Elizabeth’s hand, pulling her deeper into the trees.

“I see some mistletoe over there!” Her younger sister adored Christmas.

Lydia was often selfish, but the season brought out the best in her.

She had begun the tradition of gift-giving when she was only eight, always choosing with care.

No one ever felt disappointment when opening something from the youngest Bennet.

Still vain and foolish, she often purchased a fine gift for herself as well.

Elizabeth followed half-heartedly. She had no desire to participate in the festivities.

Mr. Darcy had not returned. With each passing day, her hopes dwindled further.

Jane’s felicity only deepened her own low spirits.

No one appeared to notice, save Mary, who would now and again touch Elizabeth’s arm and offer a sympathetic look.

Not even Jane knew of Elizabeth’s hopes, so she kept her feelings to herself, unwilling to cloud her sister’s happiness with the weight of her own misery.

“Help me up!” Lydia reached toward the lowest tree branch, which was only an inch or two out of her reach. “There is enough here to make several kissing boughs! I shall have a kiss from Denny—you wait and see!”

Rather than rebuke Lydia about the impropriety of her remark, Elizabeth laced her fingers together and offered her a step.

Lydia clambered onto the lower branch and began stripping mistletoe, dropping it to the ground as she worked.

Elizabeth gathered the fallen sprigs into both her basket and her sister’s.

Lydia lowered herself back down, Elizabeth wrapped her arms about her waist, steadying her until both her feet touched the ground.

“Look at our baskets!” she crowed triumphantly. “I am certain Kitty will not have found half so much. Where shall we put the boughs, Lizzy? One in the parlor, one in the drawing room. Do you think the dining room is a good spot?”

“I hardly know, Lydia,” she replied wearily. “Shall we look for some other greenery now?”

Lydia agreed and skipped off. Elizabeth watched her go, struck by how very young her sister appeared in that moment. Fifteen was such a tender, difficult age. If only Lydia knew how blessed she was to be so young and unburdened by love.

Shaking off the morose thoughts for what seemed the hundredth time that afternoon, she picked up both baskets and followed.

Later, they adorned Longbourn with their collected greenery and yards of ribbon.

Candles lit every surface, and when all were aflame, the atmosphere transformed into something nearly magical.

The children chattered excitedly about the coming feast and the parlor games they would play.

Elizabeth watched it all with a sense of detachment.

Is this what heartbreak feels like? If so, she wished she had never known love. Papa always jested that ladies liked to be crossed in love now and then. Elizabeth was not so certain she agreed. If the end result was this heavy, oppressive sorrow, then she would have gladly done without it.