At last she spotted him through the throng of people, standing against a pillar, looking quite uncomfortable amidst the noise and gaiety. Mrs. Gardiner’s voice blended in with the background, and all Elizabeth could hear were her own words from several days before thrown at him in irate accusation.
“If you will excuse me, Aunt, Uncle.”
Making her way through the crowd, Elizabeth walked past her mother, who was nattering on to her friends about how Jane’s excellent match would throw her daughters in the way of other rich men. She winced but continued, pressing through the party until she reached the place where Darcy was standing.
He looked down at her, startled. “Miss Bennet,” he said stiffly in his deep, serious voice. “My congratulations on this happy day.”
“Thank you,” she said. When he simply nodded and started to move away, she extended the hand which also held her reticule and grasped his arm. “No,thank you,”she added with emphasis. “It was very kind of you to arrange for Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to attend the wedding. Both they and Jane are grateful.”
“If you will thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone. Your family owes me nothing; I thought only of you.”
She gaped up at him, blinking in astonishment.
He colored, then said, “I fear you have long been desiring my absence. Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”
Before she could say a word, he bowed, lifted her hand from his arm and kissed it, then disappeared into the swirl of the crowd.
∞∞∞
Several hours later, the last of the guests—meaning Mrs. Bennet and her daughters—left Netherfield, having been ushered out by Louisa and Elizabeth. Jane and Bingley had gone upstairs long before the celebration had ended. It was clear to everyone that Jane was feeling quite poorly, and not a single guest made the typical bawdy comment about an eager groom.
Elizabeth was worried for her sister, but she reminded herself that it was now no longer her place to look after her. Bingley had promised to call for Elizabeth should Jane have need of her.
With Louisa having gone to check in on her husband, Elizabeth was left to her own amusement for the few remaining hours of the day. A footman informed her that Darcy had already departed for London, which initially surprised Elizabeth, though on reflection made logical sense. A guest, even one that was a good friend, was hardly welcome in one’s home on a wedding night.
Feeling relieved that she had been able to avoid encountering Mr. Collins during the wedding breakfast, Elizabeth chose a book from the library before making her way to her bedroom. Along the way, she sent a message with a passing maid that she would take a tray in her room for dinner.
Upon entering her room, Elizabeth placed her reticule on the table and was surprised by the slight crunching soundit made. Upon inspection, she saw that it was bulkier than she remembered. Confused, she opened the small bag and discovered a sealed envelope within. On the front, “Elizabeth Bennet” was written in bold, block letters so as to make it impossible to determine whose handwriting it was.
She cautiously closed the door and placed the envelope on the bed, then quickly changed into more comfortable attire, taking care with her bridesmaid gown. Once situated in her bed, she broke the seal on the envelope and read the folded letter inside.
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension that it will contain anything improper or compromising in nature.
Two offenses were laid at my charge when we last spoke. At first glance, they may appear as if they are of two entirely different natures, but they are more entwined than you may think. At the time, I was not able to address either of them adequately, but I must demand your attention in order for justice to be served.
The first mentioned was that I consider people like your sister Jane, the tenant girl Polly, and your servant Jamie to be unnatural creatures. I can only infer that you were eavesdropping on my conversation with Bingley our first night in society at the Meryton assembly.
She huffed. “Eavesdropping, indeed. If he didn’t want anyone to hear what he was saying, he shouldn’t have said it in a ballroom!”
The truth is that there is a very good reason for me to make such a statement, but to justify myself, I must first go back to the very beginning.
My father was a stern man, and his love for my mother was more of an obsession than a passion. When I was eleven years of age, my mother gave birth to a baby girl who had clearphysical defects. My father’s reaction was to accuse my mother of infidelity and attempt to abandon the babe to a workhouse.
Elizabeth gasped in horror.
My mother and I successfully convinced my father to allow her to keep the child, but it was all for naught—the babe only lived a few hours. In spite of his concession, my father remained adamant that the child’s condition was a curse from God as punishment for my mother’s supposed sins. He locked her in her chambers and refused all visitors.
One day, the steward, Mr. Wickham, visited my mother’s door to pass on his wife’s greetings. My father became convinced that Mr. Wickham was my mother’s paramour and immediately terminated his position. I begged my father to reconsider, but he refused to hear me. Eventually he threatened to leave me at school during the holidays, thus keeping me from ever seeing my mother again. In order to maintain my connection to her, I ceased my pleas on my friend’s behalf.
My mother quickly fell with child again, even though the midwife and the doctor both told my father that another baby would likely kill her. Another girl was born, this one with a double harelip. My father was forced to accept that he was the babe’s sire, as my mother had had no contact with any other man in over a year. He refused to allow any medical treatment for Georgianna, as my mother named her, and banished the baby to the dower house with the same woman who had served as my nurse. My mother died only a few hours later.
“How cruel! How heartless!” Moisture filled Elizabeth’s eyes as she imagined the trauma to both Darcy children, as well as their mother.
Darcy’s letter went on to relate his experiences at university, including his unique methods of diverting his fellow students’ attention from young ladies who did not wish for their advances but were unable to resist.
When Bingley first saw your sister, I reacted out of instinct, after years of habit. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I realized that I was speaking to an honorable friend about a well-protected gentlewoman, but I cannot blame myself for having done so. It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done, and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at this prevarication. “Oh, yes, because heaven forbid you admit that you were in error.”
