Page 41 of Moments of Truth
Elizabeth’s lips parted in protest, yet no words came.
Her hands tightened together in her lap, as though they alone could contain the tumult in her breast. The very thought of standing before Mr. Darcy, of meeting his dark and earnest gaze while offering some acknowledgement of her fault, filled her with both dread and an inexplicable longing.
Her pride urged her to silence, to let the matter fade into the safety of forgetfulness; but her conscience, stirred by the sincerity of his own letter, whispered that to remain silent would be cowardice.
The conflict played upon her countenance, a struggle between shame and hope that even Charlotte could not fail to discern.
Charlotte moved closer, lowering her voice as though afraid the very walls might overhear.
“I understand your hesitation, Lizzy; truly, I do. But think of it this way: by giving him the letter, you prove yourself above pettiness. It would show him that you possess the grace and integrity that I, and indeed all who know you, so greatly esteem. And who can tell? Perhaps it might even bring you closure—or more than closure.”
Elizabeth’s gaze softened at Charlotte’s earnest appeal, her heart torn between pride and a desperate longing she scarce dared name.
After a long pause, she nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are right, Charlotte. It would be the proper thing to do, regardless of my feelings. It is unworthy of me to shrink from justice merely because it is difficult.”
Charlotte smiled warmly, relief glimmering in her eyes. “I knew you would understand, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth managed a faint smile in return, though her lips trembled.
“Yes—but I must write another letter. What I penned before is no longer sufficient; his own letter has altered everything. I see now how unjustly I judged him, how cruelly I misinterpreted his character. And that knowledge makes it all the harder. My hand falters when I try to set down words that might repair such wrongs.”
“You must not falter,” Charlotte urged gently. “Only you can tell him what lies in your heart. No one else can undo the shadow that has come between you.”
“I know, Charlotte,” Elizabeth whispered, pressing the folded letter in her hand as if it burned. “But it is dreadfully hard for me to write now. What words could possibly suffice?”
“Think twice, Lizzy,” Charlotte said, her tone both firm and affectionate. “Perhaps, if you act with courage, you may not only find peace for yourself, but restore peace to him also.”
Thus resolved, Elizabeth agreed to accompany the Collinses on a short visit to Rosings, to offer their respects before Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam departed for London and, in time, Pemberley.
Depending on Mr. Darcy’s manner, she would act: if his countenance betrayed displeasure, she might quietly drop the letter and withdraw; but if she found him softened in spirit, she would dare to remain—and perhaps speak to him herself.
***
It was evident to her ladyship that the Hunsford residents had arrived at Rosings on foot at dusk to pay their respects to Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam on the eve of their departure.
Simple though it was, it appeared to Lady Catherine a gesture of rare and most commendable propriety, for it bespoke the Parsonage’s eagerness to honour her and her distinguished connections.
Her vanity, gratified by such attention, was further stirred when she resolved aloud to lend her carriage for their return to Hunsford, and even condescended to suggest the eventual purchase of a one-horse gig for the Collinses, that their visits to Rosings might be less fatiguing in future.
Mr. Collins stood before Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam with his usual mixture of self-importance and humility, his figure stiff with rehearsed solemnity. Clearing his throat with an exaggerated cough, he began his farewell speech with all the gravity of a divine addressing his flock.
“My dear sirs, I must express, on behalf of Mrs. Collins, her dear sister Miss Lucas, our cousin Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and myself, our deepest and most sincere gratitude for the affability and condescension you have shown in visiting our humble abode during your brief residence at Rosings. It is not every day that one is honoured by the society of such distinguished gentlemen, and we are truly indebted for your kindness. Mrs. Collins, who esteems you both beyond expression, has commissioned me to convey her warmest wishes for your health and prosperity, and hopes that, should Providence allow, you will again deign to grace Hunsford with your presence.”
He paused, puffing out his chest like an orator before a crowded church.
“And, of course, I must not omit the regards of my esteemed cousin, Miss Elizabeth, who will, I am convinced, long treasure the edifying conversation she was privileged to enjoy with you, Mr. Darcy, on the subjects of literature and estate management. Nor should I fail to add the sentiments of my sister-in-law, Miss Maria Lucas, who, though younger and less conversant in such weighty matters, has been equally impressed by the affability and condescension with which you have honoured our little circle. And for myself, I must humbly declare that it has been an unspeakable privilege to observe your refined manners and gentlemanly deportment. Your presence has elevated our spirits and enriched our lives in ways too delicate for mere words.”
He concluded with a bow so profound he nearly lost his balance, recovering only with a triumphant air of satisfaction. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, exchanging the briefest glance, seemed equally amused and indulgent.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth stood quietly beside Charlotte and Maria, her eyes drawn, in spite of herself, to Mr. Darcy.
He, however, appeared determined to seek every possible occupation—addressing his cousin with studied attentiveness, or gazing out of the window at the descending sun—anything, it seemed, but meeting her look.
His reserve, once more so formidable, struck her as both a shield and a rebuke, and her spirits faltered.
She silently congratulated herself for not troubling to compose a second letter, but at the same time, she could not silence the pang of disappointment that she might never find an occasion to speak with him again.
At length, Mr. Darcy swept his eyes across the company and said, “Thank you, Mr. Collins, for your kind expressions. I trust they may prove true, and that we may meet again under happier circumstances. Please extend my compliments to your household. And now, dear Aunt, I must take my leave. My valet awaits; my luggage must be seen to, and the details of our journey settled. Farewell to all. My cousin will, I daresay, prove a far more agreeable companion in my absence.”
“Do not be deceived by what Darcy says,” Colonel Fitzwilliam interposed quickly, his tone light, as though eager to prevent Lady Catherine from commanding her nephew to remain.
“He would have you think him dull, when in truth he abandons me to all the talk.” The cousins’ understanding was plain; their retreat had been arranged between them.
Mr. Collins bustled forward to bow yet again to the Colonel, who, with unaffected good nature, returned the courtesy in a manner that was no common gesture, adding a few words of encouragement to the clergyman.
Lady Catherine, unwilling to lose her part in the scene, rose to add her authoritative observations on the morrow’s weather, which she delivered with the serene assurance of a prophetess.
Charlotte, perceiving Elizabeth’s anxious look, whispered, “I think you must let the Colonel deliver your letter to Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. Her hands twisted in her lap, betraying her agitation. “I did not bring the old letter, nor did I compose a new one,” she confessed, her voice low and hurried. “I had hoped I might speak to him—but he scarcely acknowledged me.”
“I had hoped you would write,” Charlotte answered, her expression composed though her tone carried gentle reproach. “But we must return to Hunsford now. Had her ladyship wished us to stay, she would have ordered refreshments or pressed us to remain for dinner. It would be quite improper to linger.”
Elizabeth sighed, her breast heaving with a mixture of regret and dread. “Heaven only knows what will happen now.”
“You are beginning to sound like your cousin, Lizzy,” Charlotte whispered back, her smile faint but admonishing. “Do not despair. Leave matters in my hands—I shall see what may yet be done.”
Then, with a smile to her friend, Mrs. Collins headed straight for Colonel Fitzwilliam.
She discreetly pulled him aside from the conversation between her husband and Lady Catherine de Bourgh and handed him a letter carefully, explaining something in a low voice.
The Colonel accepted it graciously, tucking it into his inner chest pocket.
He then gave a conspiratorial smile to Elizabeth, who watched him with astonishment.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had received the letter from Lizzy’s cupboard – the letter she had purposely left at Hunsford Parsonage in her room.
***
“You need to understand, Darcy. If you do not swallow your pride, you will remain a bachelor for a very long time—or worse, you will end by marrying some shrew content to endure your whims. Either way, my congratulations! You have at least taken a first step by writing to Miss Bennet this morning,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, chiding his cousin with the frankness of an elder brother.
“I do not know what Miss Bennet understood from my letter—from my feelings, my struggles. I am satisfied only that I answered the questions which seemed to trouble her.”