Elizabeth took her hand and tried to calm her. There could be no doubt regarding the outcome of the gentlemen’s conversation; however, Jane seemed more tormented than ever. Not even the happy smile on Bingley’s face or Mr Bennet’s apparent contentment could calm her. In truth, she was not worried but overcome by the fulfilment of a dream, her beautiful and pure soul heightening her emotions in this most important of moments.
“My dear,” Mr Bennet said, kissing her hand, “I bless your union!”
He placed her hand into Bingley’s. Fearing that Jane might faint, Elizabeth took her into her arms and made sure she could stand, whilst the gentlemen congratulated a lost Bingley, who could only nod.
Once again, Thomas saved the situation and the two lovers.
“My dear great-niece, I do not want to spoil this moment for you, but Tom is waiting for you to resume your ride. Perhaps you should inform him that you have finished for today.”
Full of gratitude, Jane nodded, for she indeed longed for a few moments alone with her betrothed. They both hurried to the garden and then disappeared with Tom and the horses.
“I am certain she merely wished to be sure that her horse is well cared for,” Thomas said, and his little joke was as kind and innocent as the lovers themselves.
For the first time, Darcy felt that the turmoil which had governed his life was finally appeased. He had feared the journey because he was so uncertain about Elizabeth’s feelings, but also because he had been uneasy in the presence of her family. He remembered meeting Mr Bennet a year before and noticing the rather unpleasant expressions upon his face. Then, when he realised that the man had five unmarried daughters and that his interest in Bingley was of that nature, his dislike increased.
He had been wrong. The two Bennet gentlemen resembled one another physically, but there was more than that. They shared the same love for their family, the same tolerant vision of life, and that hint of sarcasm which Darcy himself also liked to display. The discovery that he felt entirely at ease with them brightened his day.
Unfortunately, for the moment, the only person he had not yet conquered was the recipient of his love. She was looking after her sister and her betrothed, and Darcy searched her face for any slight sign of regret that she was not herself in that situation. When Elizabeth’s attention turned again to her companions, he discerned a certain sadness in her eyes.
She was nostalgic, indeed, for more than one reason. Happy for her dear sister, she could not help reflecting that for Jane, marriage meant a new life, a new family, and a future in which the role of Elizabeth and their parents would considerably diminish. It was not a bad thing, only difficult to accept for those left behind. She had always been close to Jane, much closer than to her other sisters, and she would have to face a life withoutthat bright smile and beautiful face always by her side. Jane shone from the first moment in the morning, when everyone else was grumpy or sleepy; she was like the sun in the sky, smiling and warming the atmosphere with her kindness. Her family had been so affected by her sadness because it was the first time they had ever known her to be sorrowful and even desperate. That state of mind had been so unusual that they had all come to dislike Mr Bingley. Later, Elizabeth had hated Mr Darcy even more when she discovered that he had been one of the causes of Jane’s suffering.
Looking at Darcy, who was talking cheerfully to her father and uncle, she wondered whether it was time to forget him, or rather, whether she should forget the torment she had experienced in Kent and begin a new relationship with him upon different ground. Jane was happy with Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy was laughing with her male relatives. She was still uncertain whether his disregard for her family had vanished or whether he would preserve his scornful attitude towards her mother and younger sisters. That would not be difficult to discover, since they would all be together for dinner in less than three hours.
Then she had to admit that Jane’s happiness made her wonder how great her own joy might be were she in a similar situation. But she was not yet certain that the man she would one day love and accept in marriage was already known to her. There had been small signs that her feelings for him had changed…but she was still confused.
She stole a glance in Mr Darcy’s direction, imagining him as her betrothed: a happy man, deeply in love, and not that dreadful gentleman from Kent who had asked her to marry him whilst seeming, at the time, to wish only to carry her far away from her family.
They had both been wrong; her harsh and hurtful answer had matched his inappropriate proposal.
“My dear,” Uncle Thomas had said when she told him of the event, “only strong sentiments can push a gentleman or a lady to behave in such a manner.”
She had often reflected upon those words and upon what such strong sentiments might mean. There had been hatred in her heart, but it seemed inexplicable to feel so much for a man she scarcely knew. She was forced to admit, however reluctantly, that beneath that hatred lay an unexpected interest in him. Her very fury might itself have been proof of those strong sentiments, deeply hidden though they were.
Now, many of her reproaches were no longer valid. Jane was strolling with her betrothed, unwilling to return to the house, whilst her uncle and father conversed with Darcy like old acquaintances.
Observing how relaxed he seemed, Elizabeth found herself wondering how he would manage his relationship with her mother. She smiled at the thought, and perhaps that was the first moment she looked at him with expectation. She was not yet in love, but neither was she far from an affection deeper than she was still willing to acknowledge.
Chapter 12
She did not have to wait long. Having been informed of the events at Netherfield by a servant dispatched by Mr Bennet, her mother descended upon the house in great haste, accompanied by her three younger daughters. Seen from a distance, they formed a formidable party indeed, capable of frightening away any suitors, though perhaps less so Mary, who followed some ten feet behind the others.
Leaving the carriage before the house, they hurried towards the garden where the reunited lovers were still walking arm in arm. Like a vulture descending upon its prey, Mrs Bennet rushed to meet them, and tears, embraces, and laughter blended into a heady confusion difficult to endure, particularly for those outside the family. Fortunately, Jane and Mr Bingley, entirely absorbed in their own happiness, perceived no danger. Mr Bennet rose and went out to moderate his wife’s loud and impassioned behaviour. He alone possessed the power to calm her sufficiently for her to meet their other guest in something approaching a composed state.
She curtseyed to Darcy with indifference, then immediately cried out for her other daughters to come inside and leave the newly betrothed couple alone.
The only person amused by the spectacle was Uncle Thomas. To him, it was something entirely new. Elizabeth admitted that, to most people, her mother’s exuberance and inability to govern her nerves might appear disturbing, if not downright irritating. Yet she could not concede that Mr Darcy had been right to judge her on that account. Such a privilege belonged exclusively to Mrs Bennet’s family.
“Elizabeth,” Thomas said suddenly, “Mr Darcy wants to see the horses we received from Morocco. Please take him to the stables.”
Surprised, she looked at her uncle with amused reproach. Everybody knew she feared horses and disliked riding, even Mr Darcy, who had once invited her to ride with him during their time in Kent. She glanced again at Uncle Thomas, who was now engaged in lively conversation with Mrs Bennet and appeared entirely absorbed in it. Shrugging, she invited Mr Darcy to follow her.
The proposal offered a perfect escape from the growing commotion. Her mother and sisters had transformed what had been a peaceful afternoon into something approaching chaos.
As they walked through the garden, however, she found herself enjoying the day, the walk, and the company. Mr Darcy showed no sign of resentment towards her, though any man might well have felt it after so decisive a refusal. His presence beside Mr Bingley suggested a desire for reconciliation, and on his side, he had done everything possible.
“We have to talk,” she said.
Even she was startled by her own directness. She had often prepared a speech for such an occasion. Sometimes, late at night whilst Jane slept beside her, she would quietly rehearsethe words she wished to say. Yet it had always remained a dream, since she had been almost certain they would never meet again. The only place where such a meeting might have occurred was at Mrs Hurst’s house, and Caroline guarded that territory too fiercely, still regarding Mr Darcy as her property.
