Page 21 of The Painting (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

“I cannot believe it is you.” he said.

“Mr Darcy, are you well, sir? Mrs Clarke said you looked very troubled and you left in a hurry. And as time passed, we feared you might have been hurt.”

“Yes, I am well, thank you. I hope Stevens conveyed my apologies to you.”

“He did. We were happy to know you were safe.”

“You are very kind, Miss Bennet. You were about to return home, I assume?”

“Yes. I have not only come here tonight, but whenever I could not sleep. I doubt any other honourable woman has such a bad habit,” she attempted to joke.

“I have the same habit. At Pemberley I have a pond where I often swim. But having the sea in front of me was much more tempting.”

“You went swimming one night? Far, far away?”

“I did…How did you know?”

“I saw you entering the water and then disappearing. I feared you might have drowned.”

“I am very sorry for frightening you. I did not expect anybody would be watching me at that hour. But…you were on the shore, waving to me?”

“I was,” she smiled.

“And I was certain I was losing my mind…I…”

“What do you mean?” she asked. He watched her lips parting as she spoke and he fought with the desire to test their warm softness.

“I was thinking of you so much, that I could hardly tell the difference between dreams and reality. I was uncertain whether you were a woman or a chimera, as your image was always in my mind.”

The confession slipped from his mouth before he had time to guard the words.

“Forgive me, I did not intend to distress you. But surely you knew that.”

“I did not know, sir. I have often asked myself what you thought of me after that day.”

“Have you? Did it matter to you?”

“Very much so.”

“But why? You hated me and—”

“I never hated you. I perhaps disliked certain flaws in your character that I assumed to be true. And I was angry with you for your unfair interference between Jane and Bingley. Just as I am now deeply grateful to you for reuniting them. I know it was your doing. Even Charles admitted it.”

“Please do not speak of gratitude, Miss Bennet. Even if you feel it, I do not deserve it.”

He suddenly stopped, looking around.

“It is very late and we should not be talking here, in the middle of the night. May I escort you home? We may continue our conversation tomorrow, in more appropriate circumstances.”

She felt her cheeks burning. How silly and inconsiderate of her!

“There is no need to escort me; it is a very short distance. Coming to the cottage would expose you to even more danger, as one of the other guests might see us. I do not wish to place you in a compromising position that might dishonour you.”

She turned to leave, mortified by what he thought had been gentle teasing. He gently grasped her arm.

“We have already placed ourselves in several compromising situations, Miss Bennet. But it is not my honour I am worried about. I am always delighted to be with you, under any circumstances. Any time. This I cannot deny.”

Her nearness was more intoxicating than the brandy that was already losing its effect. Her lips were suddenly dry and she licked them, so she could reply.

“I am glad to hear that…I was so worried about you,” she suddenly declared, in complete earnest. “I shall leave now, but I hope you are telling me the truth. I hope you are well.”

Careful to look for any sign of opposition, he took her hands in his and brought them to his mouth.

She did not reject him, only held her breath until she felt the tender touch of his lips on the back of her hands.

Then, while his thumbs gently stroked them, he placed other kisses—warm and sweet—in her palms. The sensation was so powerful that she sighed and her heart pounded as never before.

“I am deeply grateful for your concern. I do not dare hope it came from more than a genuine friendship and I will be content with it, for as long as you wish me to be.”

Her knees were as weak as her voice. “I do not dare speak of where my concern came from…but I know it was much more than I have felt for any other friends, ever before.”

“Was it? Are you certain? I do not doubt your words and I know you are too generous to trifle with me. But I fear to believe that I understand you correctly.”

Her hands were still in his and she began to move her fingers, brushing over his, in a response that was more reassuring than words.

“You should not fear, sir. All is too soon and too hasty and I struggle to know my own heart yet. But what I am certain of, is that I have friends enough for whom I care deeply, in a completely different way.”

He kissed her hands again, this time his lips pressing longer and warmer on her skin, and the pleasure she felt was as powerful as a burn.

“I should leave now, as you said,” she repeated. “But you still have not answered my question. Are you well?”

“I am unharmed, but I am not well. ”

“Would you tell me why? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No. Come, Miss Bennet, let me escort you home now. I will call on you tomorrow after breakfast and hopefully I might accompany you for a walk, in full daylight.” He attempted to smile and she felt her cheeks burning just like her hands had done when he had kissed them.

“Very well then. I do not want to force your trust,” she accepted.

“Miss Bennet, there is nobody I trust more than you. I would open my heart to you with complete confidence, if I dared to burden you with my turmoil.”

Despite his attempt to sound composed, she did not miss the weight of his words, nor the frown on his handsome face.

“Would you be able to sleep if we returned home now.”

“No.” he admitted.

“Neither would I. I feel I need some more exercise, if you would be so kind as to join me. And if you wish to.”

“I do, but…”

“Yes, I agree we are in danger of being seen. What is the worst that might happen?” she asked, embarrassed by her boldness.

He knew she was fully aware of the consequences, but he indulged her with the answer.

“You might be compromised and forced to marry me.”

She paused a moment, then replied, “I believe there are greater misfortunes than that, and a walk would be worth the risk.” The sparkle in her eyes was as bright as the stars and the beating of his heart was as strong as hers.

“I would not wish you to be forced into anything against your will, Miss Bennet.”

“I have been pleading with you to join me for a walk for quite some time, Mr Darcy. Do you still question my will?”

She grasped his arm, and he put his hands over hers in silent agreement.

“I am troubled about my mother. She is the reason that I came here, to Brighton. I never dreamed that, following my mother’s past, I would meet you again.”

“I know that you came here for your mother and you wished to meet her old friends.”

“Yes, but there is much more that I have not said and it will remain forever hidden from any soul except you, Miss Bennet.”

“It will be as you wish.” She whispered a solemn promise that he did not doubt.

“It all began thirteen years ago…the summer my mother passed away…”

He continued to speak while they walked on at a slow pace. Eventually, they both sat, as the story became burdensome. He was facing the water and she looked at him as his turmoil was slowly unfolding.

“… you can imagine how I felt yesterday, when I realised I was standing in front of the man I was searching for. I cannot understand why Julia lied to me…”

“Are you certain that man is the one?” she asked gently.

“Yes. The paintings are very similar. Only my mother was missing from those hanging on the walls.”

“But how do you know he was the painter?”

The question dumfounded him. “It was just a feeling. And I remembered that phrase ‘the sun of my darkness’. It must be him!”

“I see. And why would you assume that Julia deceived you? If it was a secret so well kept, I doubt they shared it with anyone. I do not believe Julia would purposely deceive you—what would she gain by doing so?”

“True. I believe you might be right again, Miss Bennet, which would make me wrong one more time. But how can I be certain? I have so many doubts, so many questions, so many fears.”

“I must ask you, sir—what certainties do you need?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“Please think carefully—if you had not found the letters, would you have ever doubted your mother, or your parents’ loyalty in their marriage? ”

She looked at him with a comforting tenderness that melted his heart but also induced him to stare into the mirror of truth.

“No…”

“Have you ever felt that your mother was not offered love and care and understanding from your father? Or that she was unhappy with him?”

“I am certain my father loved her very much. And she…I believed she loved him too. She asked me to take care of him after she was gone.”

“And is that not enough?” Elizabeth whispered the tormenting question once again.

“She kept that painting in her chamber, with the letters hidden behind it, all that time. She looked at it every day—when she was with me or with Georgiana, or with my father—until she passed away. Why did she not put it away, in another room? How could she have been happy, with the constant recollection of her lost love?”

“I do not know and I would not dare to assume. But you said she was not unhappy.”

“I hope so.”

“Is it useful to keep the turmoil that might have been in her heart alive and carry it with you?”

He shook his head.

“I should have done as she asked me and burned that painting when she died. I should not have read those letters.”

“Perhaps not. But is it useful for you to blame yourself now? What you have done is in the past now and cannot be changed.”

“I know…but I cannot simply put everything away.”

“Of course not, Mr Darcy. And I cannot pretend to understand your torment. I just feel you should find comfort in the love you shared with your mother and in all the wonderful memories she left you.”

“I might speak to that man again tomorrow. I mean today. And to Julia. I will be careful not to betray anything that is still secret, but I must speak to them before I leave. What do you think?”

She smiled at him. “I think you have already decided and nothing will comfort you until you complete your quest to heal your wounds.”

“You have healed most of my wounds, Miss Bennet, by sharing the burden with me. Your presence, your care, your nearness, your smile, your touch are all my comforts. But still—even if I might sound selfish—I do need to complete my quest.”

“You do not sound selfish at all, at least not to me. I feel privileged that you have shared the past and the present with me, Mr Darcy.”

“Would you allow me speak of the future with you too, Miss Bennet? Soon?”

“Soon,” she agreed.

There was nothing more to be said for the moment, and they returned home in silence. Elizabeth entered her house first and Darcy walked on, absently, torn between the deepest bliss and a powerful sorrow that would not go away.

∞∞∞

The extraordinary encounter with Elizabeth kept Darcy awake for the rest of the night.

His restlessness kept sleep away so he welcomed the first appearance of dawn.

His mind and his soul were so full of her that he could hardly think of anything else.

He wondered if he should have proposed to her right there; she had indicated clearly enough that she would not oppose it.

She was so sweet, so tender, so caring that he could not doubt her opinion of him.

But she had also said that she still needed time to know her own heart.

Even if his own desires and eagerness demanded it, how could he have proposed after she so generously comforted him, advised him, supported him in the hardest challenge of his life?

His reflections ceased as soon as he heard movement in the house, and he called for a maid, asking for coffee. Bingley woke up earlier than usual, too. The second day of his engagement found him joyful and impatient to see his betrothed again, so he barely ate breakfast.

“Darcy, will you join me in calling on Miss Bennet? Did I mention that I will escort Miss Bennet back to Hertfordshire? I must write to my steward today, to open Netherfield.”

“Excellent, Bingley. I will join you a little later. I absolutely must speak to Julia first, but I will not be long.”

“I hope you will not disappear again!”

“Not at all, I assure you!”