Page 113 of Obligation and Redemption

Darcy became more concerned as he continued to travel along the path without seeing her. He was quickly becoming fatigued since he was running at his quickest pace. Finally, he saw her. She was up ahead on her hands and knees taking in deep breaths and crying, or was it laughing?

Darcy ran up to her, breathing in heavily himself, and started to chastise her for the display, fearing that she had caused herself harm, but then checked himself.

No, he would not revert to his previous habits of trying to control her, so with as much restraint as he could muster, he exclaimed, “Elizabeth, are you well? What happened? Are you hurt?” He was trying to see her face to somehow determine what was wrong.

“Elizabeth, what induced you to do such a thing?” His words became louder and more intense the longer she went without a response.

While Elizabeth was enjoying the exhilaration that came with a swift descent down a hill of some magnitude and in the purview of such inviting scenery, she experienced the intruding idea that her husband, who was watching her from the top of the incline, could in no way approve of her unseemly performance, not now.

Darcy was sure to censure her for the impropriety of her actions.

Rather than cause her to halt and apologise for her breach in decorum, she was spurred on for a reason she could not have explained.

The elation of the moment invigorated her, thus propelling Elizabeth forward at a more rapid pace.

She was somewhere stuck between laughing and crying, laughing for the incomparable feeling derived from such an activity and crying for the upcoming verbal lashing she was to receive – coupled with his certain strictures on her future outings.

Elizabeth had continued to run until she could go no further, collapsing on the hard ground and letting her conflicting emotions have free rein.

It was not but a few moments later that her husband caught up with her, demanding that she account for her actions.

Elizabeth could not move; she continued on her hands and knees as she attempted to calm her heaves as her lungs cried for air, tears escaping the confines of her eyes.

“Elizabeth, please answer me!” Darcy’s clamours finally got through to her.

She turned her head and looked up to him and saw a look of sincere concern upon his face, and then she finally found her voice, “I can’t do it anymore!”

“What? What can’t you do?”

“I can’t be what you need me to be!” She no longer confused her crying with laughter.

“I need to run! I need to be Elizabeth Bennet – wild, impertinent, impetuous, impulsive Lizzy! I have tried so hard to be a good mistress, to be respectful of my position, but I cannot. My faults are not just in my harsh judgement of others. How can I possibly place judgement on others’ actions when I cannot control my own? ”

Elizabeth’s emotional outburst took Darcy by surprise.

Did she think that he was to reproach her for her spontaneous display?

Had he not done likewise many times in the past?

Had he not done his best to tame her wild, passionate spirit?

Instead of giving her reproof, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, slightly startling her, as though she feared him in some way.

“Elizabeth, I have no desire for you to change. I admire Lizzy Bennet Darcy’s exuberance for life.

You remind me of Bingley and Fitzwilliam in that way.

Although I cannot claim such a lively spirit, I can appreciate your great capacity for pleasure.

” She looked at him as if she were gazing at a great statue, scrutinising every aspect of his countenance.

“You jest.”

“No, I am in earnest. I have, well, let me just say that I have grown to appreciate some of your qualities that initially I might not have seen to advantage. Please, Elizabeth, do not change for my sake. I would not have you walk around my home and my life as a puppet, pulled by strings. I have never been good at puppeteering.”

“No, but you do enjoy directing.”

“I would rather my wife not be one of my play actors, but by my side.”

“That is not what you have said before. I remember clearly. You said that we all had a role to play on the stage of life, but that since I am a Darcy now, I could not flirt with chaos and ruin your good name.”

“I have said and done a lot of things I regret. Come, stand up.” He helped her up and began brushing dirt off the knees of her coat.

“Would you like to continue on, or are you in need of returning? That was an impressive race you just ran. I know few men who could have performed with greater success.”

She regarded him trying to figure out if he were teasing her or displeased despite his previous words. When he smiled, she relaxed and then said, “I was always the fastest at home. None of my sisters or neighbours could catch me, not even the boys.”

“You speak of your youth?”

“No, last summer.” He raised his brow at her, which brought out her laughter. Darcy was not to know if she were in jest or sincere and could not find it in himself to mind the difference.

Elizabeth was not sure how to take Darcy’s words.

She could not deny the appeal of the new Mr. Darcy, but she also knew that there was a darker, foreboding man who had made his appearance too many times in the past to forget.

She found that she could forgive his physical treatment of her, for he did have his husbandly rights, and he was generous enough now not to make demands.

However, his officious conduct concerning her sweet sister and the ill-used Mr. Wickham were never far from her mind.

Could she ever hope to truly honour her husband as she had promised on her wedding day?

THIS WAS TO BE THE LAST DAY of walking in the open air, for on the next morning they awoke to a veritable winter wonderland.

The two ate a quiet breakfast together – Darcy, a full meal and Elizabeth, bread and tea – while Elizabeth thought about her plans for the day.

She was to practise her instrument and chip away at one of the tomes she had begun, hoping for some time alone.

Just then, a servant entered with a salver upon which sat two letters for Darcy and one for Elizabeth.

“That is strange,” said she. “I have a letter from Lydia. Papa must have made her write for she has always been a poor correspondent. She must have written two pages by the looks of it.”

“I suppose she misses you.”

She raised her brow at him and smiled. “Or she wants something from me.” After a last sip of tea, she informed her husband that she would read her letter in the music room prior to practising.

Before sitting at the pianoforte, Elizabeth stood by the warmth of the fire to see what Lydia found worthwhile to write about.

She suspected that there would be much talk of officers and lace, but was perplexed when she unfolded the pages because before her eyes was not Lydia’s careless hand but one scarcely familiar to her.

Elizabeth’s name was at the top, so she began to read.

February 11, 1811

Dearest Elizabeth,

Please do not be unhappy with your dear sister, Lydia, for my breach in propriety in writing to you.

I have been so worried about you this past month and cannot go another day without contacting you to ensure your wellbeing.

The frightened look in your lovely eyes has haunted me since that fateful day in the garden at Longbourn when D showed his true colours yet again in hurting me, now through you.

Elizabeth stopped there. What is this? Then she glanced at the inside of the exterior page where she was able to read a short note from her sister, Lydia.

Lizzy,

Do not be vexed at me, Sister. My dear friend, Wickham, has begged me to include a letter to you.

I think it is quite unfair that you are now married and continue to take attention away from me.

Wickham assures me that he only wishes to make certain you are well.

I don’t see how it is any of his business, but I cannot deny such a handsome man.

You may send a return letter through me if you like.

Won’t that be fun? – A secret correspondence!

And if you wish it, you can send me a small portion of your pin money, so that I can buy ribbons and netting to rework your yellow muslin for it is so dreary.

But please do not tell Papa. He claims what is good enough for you is good enough for me, but Mama agrees with me.

So be quick, as there is the winter assembly to be held in three weeks.

LB

Elizabeth could not at first comprehend what Lydia had done in sending her a clandestine note from a gentleman.

She was shocked to be included in an illicit attack against her marriage.

What could Mr. Wickham mean by writing to a married woman?

Surely he could see the unsuitability of such an action.

If Mr. Darcy were to see the correspondence, it would only confirm his mistaken suspicions against her and could cause permanent damage to their already strained marriage.

“Elizabeth,” came a baritone voice from the doorway, surprising her and causing her to instinctively put her hands and the letters behind her back. “Is everything well? You look as though you have had unwelcome news.”

“Forgive me, sir. You just startled me,” replied she, turning nervously to fold the letter. “I was just about to start practising,” she said as she turned back around, looking towards the instrument.