“Oh, indeed! Mrs. MacGregor’s very presence was a comfort.” Helen squeezed my fingers gratefully. “Will you kindly convey my thanks to Mr. Darcy for so promptly sending her? Please tell that excellent gentleman that his foresight may well have saved my baby’s life, and perhaps even my own.”
“Indeed, I shall, at the first opportunity! Mr. Darcy’s instincts do him much credit.” I felt a telltale blush rise under Aunt’s suddenly sharp glance but ignored it breezily. “Perhaps you will feel equal to receiving visitors later today? I will go below and see that refreshments are prepared.”
Rising to withdraw, I turned back at the door to favor both ladies with an arch smile. “And do ring if any little wants present themselves. Your devoted allies await any summons below!”
Laughing softly at Helen’s promises, I descended with a lighter heart than yesterday’s uncertainties warranted. Truly, fate had showered unexpected blessings on our humble little circle. And it was all thanks to Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the brother I had always ignored because I never understood him. But wherever his quiet strength abided, peace and comfort also prevailed.
Voices below announced Mr. Bingley’s arrival. It seemed he had come in Pemberley’s carriage to convey Mrs. MacGregor home, which meant he was probably not alone. I hurried my step, eager to greet the man who had orchestrated it all. But upon reaching the front sitting room, no tall figure presented itself. My hopeful smile faltered only slightly, beholding merely Mr. Bingley handing Jane a small nosegay with boyish ardor.
I curtsied brightly in greeting, nonetheless. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bingley! How fares the road between here and Pemberley? Not overly hot or dusty this morning, I hope?” At his assurance of a very pleasant ride, I went to stand opposite Jane, where I could face our guest. “Will you not sit awhile after your drive? Perhaps there is news of how Mr. Darcy and George are passing their day?” I could not help glancing out of the window again, but neither Darcy brother met my eye.
Bingley shifted his weight awkwardly. “Er… that is... Darcy sends his felicitations regarding Mrs. Westing’s improving condition, of course! But he was engaged on various estate matters, so he could not accompany me on this trip. And George...” He cleared his throat, unease flickering over usually genial features. “... George felt it best also to remain behind some days rather than risk, er, overtaxing your hospitality with excessive guests under the circumstances.”
I nodded politely over the awkward pause following this halting explanation. So... both brothers found an excuse to avoid further contact? But surely not even shy Darcy would stand on ceremony so soon after the way we had left things yesterday! There was a moment there, when he was leaving, that I had actually fancied he would have liked to kiss me. And I? I would have sunk my hands into his coat and kissed him back.
Well, that was that, I supposed. I firmly ignored the sharp pang of disillusionment. Clearly, other responsibilities commanded the Darcys’ time, which could not revolve exclusively around the whims of inconsequential neighbors! With murmured excuses, I turned to leave Mr. Bingley and Jane to their cozy exchange, reflecting rather sadly how little real claim I possessed on either Pemberley’s master or my girlhood beau, no matter what tender moments we might have shared lately.
But perhaps… perhaps I was overreacting. Just because neither Darcy had come with Mr. Bingley today did not mean they would not come tomorrow. Yes, that was possible.
I aimlessly wandered the back lawns after Bingley left, brooding over Darcy’s absence. Had yesterday meant nothing? Was it silly to imagine those sweet moments were a prelude to something more lasting? With a rueful sigh, I determined to put girlish fancies firmly from my mind. A woman grown could not indulge romantic imaginings over passing attentions from charming gentlemen.
My cogitations halted at the approaching clatter of hooves. A scruffy boy drew up on a farm nag, saying he had a letter for me from one Mr. George Darcy. Surprised, I thanked him for the delivery. Nearly stumbling in my haste inside, I rushed to the desk in the sitting room and broke the seal with trembling fingers.
But my eager smile froze, taking in the careless phrases marching across the fine paper.
DearestLizzy(his handwriting had not improved since the age of fifteen),
I trust you will rejoice to learn your old friend is happily pledged to be married! Lovely Lady Lucilla of Berkwell, daughter of Lord Belmont, captured my fancy last spring at Ascot, and I have been courting her these three months past. And would you credit it, neither Fitzwilliam’s ambitions to see me leg-shackled early, nor my own roaming eye have wavered since beholding her angelic golden beauty!
Oh, I will confess to a brief temptation when fate so unexpectedly restored your winsome company to mine these past weeks. What red-blooded man could remain unmoved, finding your fine dark eyes once more alight with pleasure in my presence? For a fleeting moment, I fancied renouncing my sweet Lucilla (and her family’s wealth—it pains me to confess it, but second sons must have something to live on, as Fitzwilliam so often reminds me) just to taste past enchantments long mourned as lost.
But my too-astute elder brother wisely intervened, sternly counseling against impulsive folly that could wreck shining prospects so carefully built. And he was right, of course. For truly, no lady yet has stirred me as my gentle darling does with but a glance from those twin emerald stars in her lovely face. Were there in this world a woman capable of tempting me from her arms, it would be you, my dear Lizzy. Patience, my dear, for I am certain that in time, you shall be similarly smitten with some worthy fellow.
So, whilst you sheltered blithely in your country cottage amidst rustic charms this summer, Cupid’s arrow winged straight and true at last to pin this wild heart securely. Forgive me, Lizzy. Lucilla and I will deal extremely well together, I am certain, for all our contrasts in temperament. We shall enjoy the deep contentment only true minds perfectly fitted to one another can confer. My admiration for her person will undoubtedly increase as years augment familiarity with inner excellence if such outward brilliance finds any equal...
Icouldn’treadtherest. My knuckles whitened, crumpling the parchment cruelly. I stared numbly at the letter’s careless phrases. George was engaged? While he flirted and toyed with my heart, he was pledged to another all along?
The page blurred as fury and anguish tore through me. How could he betray me so cruelly after all we had suffered?
And Fitzwilliam! He engineered this mercenary match while urging me to open my heart to him, instead of George. Did he dispassionately calculate pros and cons while holding my hand? Measure estates instead of feelings?
I crumpled the vile letter, chest heaving. The men I had trusted most had used me ill, yet now preached patience and forgiveness! Where was the justice? By heaven, I would not meekly comply to further insult! Deception layered upon deception!
Without a backward glance, I fled upstairs, nearly crashing into poor Jane emerging from the room we shared. I barged straight past her outstretched hands and cry of concern, choking back fresh anguish until I gained my chamber. Fumbling fingers shot home the bolt before rage and humiliation shattered the last vestiges of tattered pride.
Oh, what abominable treatment! Bandied about as a mere plaything between both brothers, then dismissed without a second thought once I had entertained them! How could I have deluded myself into believing either gentleman possessed a shred of integrity or cared for me beyond selfish convenience?
The years I had dreamed of George Darcy—nay, even the days of late when I had come to adore Fitzwilliam!—playing gentle words over in memory, imagining foolish, impossible dreams... now each recollection mocked and taunted me for being such a witless fool.
For Fitzwilliam knew—he knew George’s circumstance and kept me blissfully ignorant so he could step into George’s place! Likely, they had laughed together over dinner, congratulating each other on their supreme cunning.
What was I to do but have a good cry? And when I had done, I read that letter again and worked myself into fresh rage and tears all over again.
Some while later, as wretched weeping finally ran dry, a carriage’s approach caught my dazed attention. I moved swiftly to peer out the window. Fresh pain lanced through me to behold Uncle Gardiner himself stepping down below!
New purpose erupted from simmering outrage and anguish as I stared in the direction of that dear place I had once called home. None should vanquish me so easily again! No longer would I linger abject in others’ power, allowing mystery and injustice to reign unchecked around me.
Chin high, I turned from faithless Pemberley and started packing my trunk to return to Longbourn.
