Page 19 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Elizabeth

15th August 1812

“T hey are so adorable!” Kitty said as Elizabeth and Georgiana sat with her in the drawing room. Elizabeth smiled, noticing that Kitty looked far happier than she had in months. It had been a fortnight since she had started volunteering at the orphanage. Initially her visits were twice a week, but she had since made the habit of going there almost every single day. The children adored her, and Kitty could not be more delighted.

She had bloomed in a way Elizabeth had never expected. Mr Darcy had done a great favour. In fact, he had done both of her sisters a great favour because Mary likewise seemed in much better spirits. She volunteered at the Home for Convalescent Soldiers in Lambton twice a week and, in addition, took pianoforte lessons with the master teacher another two afternoons a week.

Mary had also made friends with some of the women who volunteered at the convalescent home and spent time with them, while Kitty and Georgiana were now as thick as thieves. It made sense, as they were closest in age. Elizabeth would often find them together in the library, reading similar books or discussing the ones they had already read, or working on watercolour paintings together. Other days they went into town together, purchasing ribbons and bonnets.

Mr Darcy had been exceedingly generous with her and her sisters. At the start of each week, they received an allowance from Mrs Reynolds, and whenever they needed more—which was often the case with Kitty but not so much with Mary and Elizabeth—they could simply ask Mrs Reynolds.

Elizabeth appreciated that she did not have to ask Mr Darcy for money every time she needed it. It would have been humiliating to have to ask for an allowance.

Indeed, he had done everything he could to make her comfortable. Elizabeth peered out of the window and saw Mr Darcy there, walking with Mr Somerville, the steward. She rubbed her lips together in thought and then paused as she took in the man.

Their conversation at the lake, as innocent as it might have been, had changed something in her. It was silly, she knew, that a talk about naming swans and squirrels should have made her look at Mr Darcy in a different way. At the same time, it wasn’t just that.

He told her deeply personal things about the loss of his parents and about his feelings towards his aunt. He trusted her—even after she had given him such a stern rebuke.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she had been wrong about him.

No, she reminded herself. While she might’ve been wrong about some aspects of his character, there were others that felt true. He was a prideful man, though now she could see that he was willing to admit when he was wrong. Still she had to remind herself that he had separated her sister from Mr Bingley—while he may have recanted and tried to undo his actions, the fact remained that if it weren’t for him, Jane and Mr Bingley might have been happily wed by now. That deed could never be forgotten or forgiven.

Or could it?

“Lizzy?” Kitty called, her voice a little shriller than usual, and when Elizabeth looked up, she realised why. Her sister had been talking to her, but she had entirely ignored her—not purposely, but her thoughts had wandered as they often did.

“Yes, adorable. I am glad.”

“You were not listening at all,” Kitty said.

“I was. I…” She glanced at the spot next to Kitty where Georgiana had been sitting, and found it empty. Frowning, she turned to her sister. “Where did Georgiana go?”

“Lizzy,” Kitty said and rolled her eyes. “You were wool-gathering. Georgiana left a short while ago. She has a riding lesson. Mr Darcy asked me if I wished to learn to ride.”

“He did?” Elizabeth asked.

“He did, but I told him I have no desire to. The beasts frighten me,” Kitty responded with a look of distaste on her face.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Just because you were kicked by a donkey when you were a child. Not all horses are the same, and they are most certainly not donkeys.”

Kitty waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever the case may be, I shall keep my feet firmly on the ground. Say, what did Jane write?”

Elizabeth blinked. “Oh,” she said, almost having forgot the letter from her sister that had arrived the previous day. “She says that all is well at Longbourn. The physician is looking after Father very well, and she says that he appears to be making improvements. Mother was alarmed by the amount of bloodletting they are doing, but it is supposed to be an effective treatment.”

“And what of Mr Bingley? Has he called upon Jane yet?” Kitty asked but was interrupted when the front door opened and then closed. The sound of flat shoes against the marble floor drifted to her ears, and she knew at once it was Mary.

“What a day! Three new soldiers arrived today. They are in such dreadful shape. I cannot wait for the wretched war to be over. These brave men—They have served King and country well, and yet they receive so little in return,” Mary said breathlessly as she entered the room.

“Well, they have you to keep them company,” Kitty said, chuckling.

“There is nothing to laugh about, Catherine,” Mary said, and Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. Mary hardly ever used their full names, and when she did, it was only when she was gravely upset. Kitty, who had inherited some of Lydia’s easy ways, raised her hands placatingly.

“You know I do not mean it in a bad way. They have you, and they can be grateful. Besides, I heard the vicar say in his sermon last Sunday that they will be making a collection for the returning soldiers. Mr Darcy has already pledged a small fortune,” she said.

Elizabeth nodded. Mr Darcy had told her about this when the two of them had dined together alone a few nights ago. She had been surprised that he would inform her of an upcoming large expenditure. The money, after all, was not hers, and therefore she should not be concerned. But he had insisted. She was his wife after all, and what was his was hers.

This she knew not to be true. Legally, nothing was hers, and everything was his. But she couldn’t help but feel pleased that he had included her in the decision.

“That is very kind of him,” Mary said looking at Elizabeth.

“Indeed, he is not half as bad a man as Elizabeth would have us believe,” Kitty said, and both her sisters stared at her.

“I never made him out to be horrid,” Elizabeth said defensively.

“You were so distraught about the possibility of marrying him, you might as well have said that he was Lucifer himself,” Kitty said, and Mary nodded with a solemn expression.

“I was perhaps wrong about the man, in some regards.”

“Do you mean because he was responsible for parting Jane and Mr Bingley?” Kitty said.

Elizabeth stared at her sister. “How do you know?”

“Georgiana told me,” Kitty replied, and then shrugged. “I suppose I should not have said anything. She overheard Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley talking about it after your wedding, in fact. He encouraged Mr Bingley to attempt to woo Jane back. And then he mentioned that he was wrong to advise Mr Bingley to leave her in the first place. Georgiana said it did not sound as if it was the first time they had spoken on the matter.”

“Is it true?” Mary said, her eyes now wide. “Did you know about this? Is that why you were so opposed to marrying him?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “That and other reasons. Let us not talk about this behind his back. It would be most inappropriate. It is inappropriate that the two of you know.”

“Very well, but is that why you are sometimes hard on him?” Kitty asked.

“It is in part. Jane is our dear sister, and we all know how much she has suffered.”

“She has. But if Mr Darcy saw the error of his ways and is now trying to remedy it, is he not worthy of another chance?” Mary asked, pragmatic as ever.

“Indeed. We all misjudge people at one point or another. I recall when Mr Wickham visited us, and he spoke of the Darcys. He said that Georgiana was a bore and high in the instep. She is not like that at all.”

Elizabeth felt herself cornered—not just by her sisters’ sound arguments, but by the feelings she had harboured over the last few months, which had only grown. She knew now that Mr Darcy was not the terrible man she had thought him to be.

She understood that she had misjudged him just as he had misjudged Jane. And yet she couldn’t allow herself to—what? Reconsider?

For the longest time, she had counted the days until she could end the marriage and return home with her sisters. But these last few weeks she hadn’t thought about it once. As news from Longbourn was increasingly positive, she had felt lighter. In fact, she had even enjoyed dining with Mr Darcy and talking to him.

Was it possible that he was succeeding in his quest to show her that he was not the man she thought him to be? Or was he perhaps showing himself from his best side to somehow trick her into giving up on the idea of an annulment?

That was the problem. She did not trust him. No matter what he did or how kind he was, she could not trust him. Or did she not want to trust him?

She sighed, but then was drawn back to reality when her sisters’ voices penetrated her thoughts.

“Did he really?” Mary said.

Elizabeth looked up, aware that she had once again missed a good portion of the conversation. Kitty was speaking.

“Yes. Georgie said that the living was meant to be Mr Wickham’s if he wanted it, but he turned it down. He said he wanted to read the law instead.”

“What did you say?” Elizabeth asked, now paying close attention. For this—the sordid tale of how Mr Darcy had cheated poor Mr Wickham out of his living—was one of the reasons why she felt herself unable to trust him.

“But that is not how Mr Wickham told the story,” Mary said ignoring Elizabeth’s request. “He said Mr Darcy took it from him.”

“That is what he told me,” Elizabeth confirmed.

“Well, Georgiana said this isn’t true. She also said that when they were younger, Mr Darcy would often favour Mr Wickham and bestow upon him gifts, both financial and material, that Mr Darcy did not receive himself. He justified this by saying that Mr Wickham was a poor orphan and therefore deserving of assistance.”

“Well, there is nothing wrong with that,” Mary said. “If one is poor, one will take the affection and assistance one can get.”

“That is true,” Kitty said, “but Georgiana said that Mr Wickham was never truly grateful for this. To the late Mr Darcy, he was more than grateful, at least on the surface, but he used those gifts, attention, and affection to taunt our Mr Darcy. It was quite unkind of him.”

This was not what Mr Wickham had told her. He had said that the late Mr Darcy had been kind to him and shown him affection, but he had never said that he had favoured him. It must have been galling, she thought, to be the only son of a great man and to find oneself having to share his affection and attention with someone one so deeply disliked.

Elizabeth did not want to think on the matter anymore. But if this was true—if Mr Wickham had not only turned down the living in exchange for financial assistance to read the law—then that meant he had lied to her. He had already exaggerated when it came to Georgiana. She had looked upon him more kindly in that regard, for recollections she knew, could vary. And perhaps he truly saw Georgiana as high in the instep. Maybe she had been when she was a small child. After all, one could never know how someone perceived another person. Her perceptions of both Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham appeared to have been wrong. Mr Darcy’s perception of Jane had been wrong. But if Mr Wickham had, in fact, taunted Mr Darcy, been favoured by his father, and then lied about the living, what did that mean for anything else he had said?

If everything Mr Wickham had told her about Mr Darcy was lies, then the only true objection she could hold onto against the man was his actions against Jane. And even that he had already admitted to and was attempting to remedy.

In fact, what she hadn’t told Kitty about the letter was that Jane had written her that Mr Bingley was making regular visits to Netherfield, travelling from London for long weekends with frequency.

And he always called on Longbourn. He always brought baskets with sweetmeats from London, expensive marmalade and curd, and imported fineries, which he presented as gifts to Mrs Bennet and Jane, as well as everyone else in residence, from the maids to the physician and his nurses.

He would bring medical journals he found and talk to the physician to ensure Mr Bennet’s care. This was probably something he had arranged with Mr Darcy, but in any case, Jane appeared genuinely pleased by Mr Bingley’s affection and attention.

She could not think about this anymore. She could not allow the wall she had built around her heart when it came to Mr Darcy to crumble entirely. She had to hold onto at least some of her defences. She could not allow herself to feel affection for the man only to be disappointed again.

Or could she?