Page 25 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Elizabeth

3rd October 1812

E lizabeth sat in the drawing room on the chaise longue, a piece of embroidery on her lap. As her fingers worked on the material, her mind wandered to her sister. If her most recent letter was anything to go by, she would soon be Mrs Bingley. Well, just as soon as their father was well enough to consent. It would be wonderful to attend the wedding of Jane and Mr Bingley, of course, though she knew they should not rush things. They had thought she was as good as engaged before, but then it had all fallen apart.

Nevertheless, the news helped lift her spirits. Her father was steadily improving, and Elizabeth noted with relief that her mother’s letters began to carry a tone of optimism rather than despair. Mr Bennet had even managed to express a few words, which filled Elizabeth with hope.

Longbourn itself still faced uncertainties. Despite Darcy’s attempts, Mr Collins remained obstinate about breaking the entailment. Thankfully, Darcy was shouldering the financial burdens, and, while Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt at relying on him, she was grateful for his generosity. The estate had a steward now, relieving some of the responsibilities, allowing Longbourn to finally turn a profit once more.

Lost in thought, Elizabeth’s reverie was interrupted when Mary appeared in the doorway, carrying a book. “I did not know you were here,” she said, about to turn away.

“Please, do not go,” Elizabeth urged. “I am merely embroidering. Come, sit with me.”

“I do not wish to disturb you,” Mary said. The solemnity that she had carried during the first few days after their arrival had returned, but there was something else. Something more. Elizabeth was not quite certain what it was, but it worried her. There was a darkness to her sister. But why?

“You will not disturb me,” Elizabeth said. “Come, sit. I know you wish to read, but I wanted to ask, how do you fare? I know we have endured a few difficult months.”

“I am well.” Mary hesitated. “Has Mr Darcy spoken to you about me? He seems much concerned for my welfare.”

Elizabeth tilted her head before nodding. It had been a fortnight since they’d discussed Mary’s change in mood, and while Darcy was arranging the trip to Matlock, they had all taken care to watch Mary more carefully for any hint of reasons for her despair.

Darcy, driven by a sense of responsibility for her, had gone a step further and attempted to engage her in conversation—but to no avail. She continued to claim nothing was wrong while withdrawing into her own world to which none of them had access.

“He has. He is worried about you. In fact, I am also worried. As is Kitty. You have been very quiet. And you have not said anything else about your friends from the convalescent home. You have not gone out with them in some while.”

Mary shrugged. “Margaret and Sarah left three weeks ago.”

Elizabeth drew in a breath. Had she noticed this? She did not think so. In any case, it would explain her sister’s silent mood. “I am sorry to hear it. It is never easy to lose friends.”

“They were not friends as such,” Mary said. “They were pleasant company, and I shall write to them, but we only knew each other for a few weeks. It is hardly a friendship the loss of which should permanently affect me,” she said, pragmatic as ever.

“It must still be difficult. Are there no other young ladies whose company you enjoy?” Elizabeth asked.

Mary shrugged. “Not thus far, but I do not mind. I have never been one for company. You know this. I have always preferred the company of my pianoforte or books.”

“I do. That is why I was so surprised that you gave up your music lessons.”

Mary placed the book beside her and leaned back. “Oh Lizzy, you do not know me at all. I enjoyed the music, I did. But I do not feel comfortable accepting Mr Darcy’s patronage. Everything we have is paid for by him. The very clothes we wear now are paid for by him. I do not wish to feel permanently indebted to anyone.”

“But he is your brother,” Elizabeth said. “He gladly assists us.”

“He assists us because he seeks your good opinion,” Mary said.

“He assists us because he cares, which is very kind of him,” Elizabeth said, though she knew he did wish to earn her favour or rather show her a side of him she had not yet seen.

“I suppose it is, but I cannot help but wonder what has changed.”

Elizabeth blinked. “What do you mean, what has changed? Nothing has changed.”

“But it has.” Mary’s gaze was steady. “Between you and him. When we first arrived here, you could scarcely endure his company, and now I see you walking together often. You appear content. You appear at ease. Could it be that you care for him?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth and closed it again. Was this not the very question she had been grappling with? She did enjoy his company, she appreciated their gentle teasing, their lively discussions. But was there more? She believed so, for she thought of him often when they were apart. Yet, she sometimes wondered if the contemplative, kind man he appeared to be now was the true Darcy or if he merely wished to ingratiate himself to her, as Mary had suggested. And there was more. Something she had worried about but had not voiced to anyone, not even Jane.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “I admire him. He has been so generous, so thoughtful. And yet…”

Mary’s eyebrows rose slightly, waiting for her sister to finish.

“And yet, I wonder if my affections are based on gratitude,” Elizabeth confessed. “He has done so much for our family. Perhaps it clouds my judgement, making me see virtues in him I might not have otherwise.”

Mary placed her book in her lap and folded her hands neatly over it, her expression thoughtfully composed. “Gratitude may sometimes be mistaken for something deeper. When someone acts as a saviour, particularly in desperate times, we cannot help but feel an attachment towards them.”

Elizabeth frowned. “You make it sound as though I am a child swayed by flattery.”

Mary gave a small shake of her head. “I would not diminish your feelings. I believe you are sincere. But sincerity and wisdom do not always walk hand in hand. You must ask yourself whether Mr Darcy has truly changed… or whether you are simply seeing him differently now.”

Elizabeth stood by the window, gazing out at the gardens. “Thank you,” she said at last, turning back to Mary. “Your honesty is precisely what I needed.”

Mary inclined her head slightly. “You are welcome, Lizzy. I do hope Mr Darcy is as genuine as he seems. For your sake.”