Page 20 of The Painting (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
He wondered if Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock had discovered something that induced them to forbid any connection to Mrs Crawford and Mrs Fitzroy but, more than anything, he wondered what there was to be discovered.
What had truly happened? That his mother had been involved in a love affair with another man before marriage, he already knew.
But did it continue after her wedding? He struggled to recollect the last letter but failed, as the words and meanings were all blurred in his head.
He had loved his mother with all his heart. He would have readily given his life for her, but the thought that she had deceived and betrayed his father was unbearable.
Then, a revelation struck him so hard that he froze at the edge of the sea. Waves were crashing at his feet, giving him chills that made his blood rush around his body.
The letters revealed a love so powerful, so intense, so complete that it had lasted through the years.
That man had asked Lady Anne to be happy in her new life, with her new husband.
This was what he had requested from her.
And she had kept the secret hidden deep inside her and wished for it to be burned and buried with her.
Had she met that man again after she had married?
Had she been happy with her husband? Had she discovered the meaning of a blissful marriage?
Nobody could know with certainty except for her.
But how could he dare to judge her? Question her? Doubt her?
Only two weeks ago, he had surrendered to the despair of having lost Elizabeth forever, then he rejoiced in the bliss of finding her and improving their relationship beyond his hopes.
What if someone were to force him to marry another woman?
What if he was sentenced to a life where he knew he could have been happy with her but had no choice but to try to find happiness with another.
Even if that other lady was a worthy woman, who would love him and be loyal to him, could he ever abandon and forget his love for Elizabeth?
Certainly not, he would probably bury it deep in his heart—just as his mother had done.
But he was a man. He was the master of his estate and of his life.
He was allowed to decide for himself, to choose the turns and the path he wanted to walk on.
Lady Anne—although she belonged to an old, honourable, titled family—was a young woman forced to comply with her family’s wishes and with society’s demands.
She had no means and no strength to fight for her own desires and her own dreams.
From his beloved mother, Darcy’s reflections turned to Elizabeth again.
While she was far from being in such a favourable position as the Fitzwilliams, with little dowry, no connections and even with the threat of losing the family home after her father’s death, Elizabeth had found the power to refuse a marriage proposal that would have offered her stability, comfort, and a position that most women would fight for.
She had stood up for her beliefs, even if some of them were ill-grounded.
She had rejected him when she did not consider him worthy of her admiration and respect.
His love was not worth enough for her to ignore his flaws, so she dismissed it.
He thought his suffering over her rejection had been unbearable but now, he realised how much more painful suffering caused by a shared loved that could not be fulfilled would be.
He collapsed on the ground, staring at the sky.
It was already late in the afternoon when he left the cottage, now it must be dinner time and probably everyone was wondering about him, but he could not gather himself to return to his companions.
If he returned, he would be impelled to decide his next steps.
Should he speak to that man again? Or to Julia?
Should he take his quest further or stop it there?
Could he trust himself to make the correct choices, under the present circumstances?
It was all too much, too disturbing, too overwhelming. He wished—he needed—to be alone for a long while. Bingley would understand; he might not even notice, as he was surely too preoccupied with Miss Bennet.
The image of his friend, smiling and overjoyed, heading to speak to Miss Bennet hours before, shook Darcy out of his reflections .
He stood up hastily, brushing down his clothes.
If Bingley had indeed proposed to Miss Bennet, he would expect Darcy to be there so he could share the news.
Since he had promised to join the party and did not appear, Bingley would likely search for him and Mrs Clarke would certainly share his worries.
Nobody was aware of his whereabouts or of that place—so they must have been looking for him.
If Bingley was engaged, that happy day would be shadowed by his worry about Darcy.
That was not to be borne! He had no right to ruin his friend’s happiness once again, acting like a selfish, inconsiderate, arrogant fool!
In haste, he jumped into the saddle. He hesitated for a moment, then he realised that it might be more direct and a shorter distance to return home along the beach.
So he turned his horse in haste, galloping back.
The sun was slowly going down and the shades of red in the sky reminded him of the dawn he had spent with Elizabeth.
Time passed and houses appeared in sight, while the chilly evening breeze brushed over his face.
Soon enough, he spotted the row of cottages that included Mrs Crawford’s—the one that held his interest. He passed by it but did not stop.
There were too many people there—some of them complete strangers that he did not wish to see.
He rode his horse onward, at a slower and steadier pace now. Then the Fitzroys’ house appeared and Darcy finally dismounted. He heard the sound of the pianoforte—Julia was playing.
He dismounted from his horse, took the reins, and led the stallion towards the cottage. He had barely reached the door when Bingley appeared, red-faced, with his hair and clothes in great disorder, followed by Stevens and Mrs Clarke.
“Darcy, where on Earth have you been? We have been so worried about you! What happened? Are you hurt? Where did you go?”
He handed Stevens the reins, then replied in what he hoped was a composed voice.
“Please forgive me for worrying you. I went for a ride and I believe I fell asleep under a tree. How silly of me. ”
Bingley was dumfounded, while Mrs Clarke gave a sigh of relief.
“But Darcy—”
“Bingley, I apologise again. Please let us have a drink and tell me what have you done today? Do you have any news to share?”
“News? Yes, yes, of course. But I must send word to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth—they were all very worried about you! We waited and waited and you did not appear and I came to enquire after you but nobody knew where you were. They were all so very worried too!”
“It is too late for visiting, but I will ask Stevens to convey them my apologies right away and tomorrow I will call on them myself,” Darcy answered remorsefully.
“Yes, that will do. Send Stevens, and tomorrow we will call together. Mrs Clarke is waiting for you with dinner. Have you eaten? Where have you been?”
“Bingley, please do not worry about me any longer. Let us enjoy some food and drink—I really need it. And then tell me all about your day.”
“My day? Well, there is not much to be said! I am engaged! Can you believe it? I proposed to Miss Bennet and she accepted! And we already talked to Mrs Gardiner and she wrote to Mr Bennet. And Miss Elizabeth looked overjoyed. Everything happened so fast, and so easily! I cannot believe my good luck! I was so miserable only a month ago and now I am the happiest of men! Can you believe it?”
Bingley’s enthusiasm and utter bliss touched Darcy and revived some of his old guilt. How little was needed for such an excellent man to lose his chance of happiness and how quickly shared love found its way to completion if it was nurtured and encouraged!
He allowed Bingley to brag about his bliss and good luck during dinner and over several glasses of wine, then brandy, until excitement, tiredness and the alcohol defeated the young betrothed and sent him to bed.
Darcy withdrew to his chamber too, and even changed his clothes, but, as much as he tried, sleep evaded him.
He was alert, then became restless again, until he could stand it no longer.
It was very warm in the room, despite the windows being wide open.
He walked to the window and looked out at the sea, then returned to his bed for a while, then walked to the window again and this time stood there, stunned.
Under the bright sky, at the edge of the sea, in full moonlight, was the chimaera that he had imagined a week ago, on the night of his long swim.
He continued to stare, assuming it was the result of too many drinks, but the image did not disappear.
It finally turned and seemed to move away from the water, then stood still and glanced back to the sea again.
It was too far away to see much except for her long hair falling loose on her shoulders, yet his anxiety became burdensome.
Without much consideration, he left the house almost at a run, hoping to catch a glimpse of the apparition.
And he did, as she appeared in full sight, walking barefoot on the sand and carrying her shoes. She let out a small cry when she noticed him, then she paused, while he stepped forward.
“Miss Bennet…”
“Mr Darcy…”