Page 54 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Elizabeth was astonished by Darcy’s actions and furious at herself; within minutes she was filled with a mortification and despair that overwhelmed her anger.

My father trusted Darcy to help his family and respected him as the man who would love and respect me. He does both. Or he did. I think?

She had only a few minutes to regain her senses before the nursemaid entered with news that Kitty was awake.

For the next two hours, Elizabeth busied herself tending to her sister and the children.

Like her, her aunt showed no signs of illness, only the fatigue of a mother pulled between sick children and a fretful baby.

It was her natural intelligence and her well-earned maternal intuition that compelled Aunt Gardiner to question her melancholy niece.

As they sat in the small sitting room outside her aunt’s chambers, the baby sleeping contently in his mother’s arms, Elizabeth let out a tired sigh. “There is more than exhaustion in your expression, Lizzy. Is it Mr Darcy? He left in a hurry this morning.”

“We had an argument.”

“All couples argue. ”

“I disagree. Jane and Mr Bingley will never argue.”

Mrs Gardiner smiled. “Why did you argue? Is it because you doubt him? Or is it that you simply doubt yourself, your own feelings?”

“It has been such a confusing time,” Elizabeth protested. “I should not be exulting in my good fortune to marry a handsome, wealthy man. How can I rejoice at what my father’s death has wrought? I should be grieving!”

“You should be happy , my dear. Your father was an imperfect creature, as are we all. It was his imperfections that helped shape you and brought Mr Darcy to Longbourn. He helped your father put his estate in order and secure a prosperous future for your mother and sisters.”

“My father requested much of him.”

“And Mr Darcy has appeared eager to help.”

“I cannot marry him based on his compassion for a dying man.”

“No, of course you cannot. I believe that each of you wishes to marry the other based on more than compassion. I believe each of you prefers the idea of a loving marriage.”

The baby snuffled in his sleep, prompting a smile from both ladies.

“I believe you suffer too much from guilt, my dear. For the answer to how you could deserve such good fortune, you must only look in the mirror! It was a lucky chance that he should meet you, but only a sign of his intelligence that he so quickly understood the treasure he’d found! ”

Treasure . It struck her heart somehow, her aunt’s words that had nothing to do with buried hoards. “You are a sly creature.”

“No, I am an observant one, who found and married a very good man. Thus, my judgment is all that it should be, and I beg you, think well of your Mr Darcy and doubt not his love.” Mrs Gardiner stood and prepared to lay the baby in his cradle. “And Lizzy, do tell him how you feel.”

Desperate for a moment alone to shut her eyes, Elizabeth walked back to her room.

She sat on her bed and began unlacing her slippers.

Her eyes fell on the book on the bedside table; it was the volume on Hertford agriculture that Darcy was returning to Netherfield.

She reached for it and pulled out a small slip of paper sticking out one end.

It was a note written in Darcy’s hand, containing a numbered list of tasks and thoughts, some of them crossed off. Write solicitor on settlement, funds for Copperdale bridge. Mother’s ring. Wall coverings for Elizabeth’s rooms. Desk for Elizabeth. Ask Elizabeth...

Tears sprang to her eyes and she fell to her pillow, weeping.

I am a fool. He had offered himself to her and she had pushed him away, allowed her fears to speak for her.

He wishes to wed a lady who is clad in black, forgetful of small joys, and afraid he could not love her so much as she loves him . He is a fool as well, she sniffed.

My dear Elizabeth,

We must not allow this afternoon’s conversation to grow into a larger misunderstanding.

I will tell you honestly that I did not consider marriage before your father approached the s ubject.

I tried in vain not to notice you at Longbourn.

It frustrated me that I was preoccupied with you, whilst spending time with your father, when I was supposedly in Hertfordshire to assist Bingley.

In truth, I was there to avoid my family and advising Bingley was a convenient excuse.

I have seen few happy marriages, and almost none that were love matches.

I have been raised to believe that an attachment predicated on love was less a guarantee of felicity than was a marriage arranged and approved of by family.

Thus was my parents’ match, and those of my aunts and uncles.

Thus was my marriage to my own cousin, an attachment done only to protect her and my family.

I did not expect love or anticipate happiness within its confines, but neither did I expect my family’s anger and society’s disapproval of my actions, before, during, and after marriage, which, as you know, ended with the deaths of my cousin and my aunt.

In the following years, I cared little for the opinions of anyone to whom I was connected, by blood or in society.

That is how you found me in Meryton, a man of some natural importance who had become a selfish, intolerant being.

And that is who I would have remained had it not been for you.

I enjoyed your father’s company as an escape from my own troubles, and did not perceive how my presence in Longbourn’s book room had removed yours.

You are right to resent me, for I did little to be kind.

I cannot say when the shift occurred; I cannot fix on the hour or the spot when I realised what called me to Longbourn and what kept me at Netherfield was neither obligation nor duty to my friend, but to you.

When your father asked for my help, much as I respected him, I believe I thought only of you.

Copperdale will earn income for your mother and whichever sisters remain with her over the years.

Anything that is grown, sown or dug from the ground will provide for them.

Any treasure, be it Roman gold or minerals, will be theirs.

Or it can be sold now, and speculation as to its value as a water source can begin, or word can be put out about Matthew Wadham’s long ago find, and fortune-hunters and adventurers, honest and underhanded all, shall descend.

My secrecy’s motive was to protect your family.

My failing in this was, as has become my habit, managing affairs without seeking the counsel of those whom I oversee, and in this instance, not sharing all that I knew with you.

I have long admired your mind and your intelligence and esteemed you as my equal, yet failed to respect it here.

I shall honour my pledge to you and to your father, and continue to support and, I pray, to please you.

I have learned the value of pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased.

You, Elizabeth Bennet, more than please me.

Yours,

F D

Darcy handed the missive to Hudson and ordered it sent straightaway to Gracechurch Street.

Then, glimpsing the sun, he walked through the house and into the small back garden.

He sat on a bench, unmoving and still in the quiet, and tried to empty his mind of thought.

The harder he tried, the greater the difficulty.

He hoped Elizabeth would see his letter as it was intended: a declaration of his heart.

Despite all the complications that had arisen, his feelings for her were simple; he needed and wanted her, and hoped she felt the same.

But perhaps she did not. If they married, it might be without her loving him, without feeling the painful and exquisite joy that thrummed through his veins.

It would have to be enough. Jewels and his name would be enough for nearly any other woman to profess her love and devotion.

Not Elizabeth Bennet, who had nothing to recommend her except a beguiling beauty, a joyous spirit, and a keen intelligence. A worth beyond rubies.

She deserved to feel safe and valued by a man, and if she did not, he had been a fool.

He would do more. He would treasure Elizabeth Bennet.