Page 70 of Regrets

“No; and even though Mr. Collins wished very much to marry one of us, my father would not permit it!” Her voice rang with hope.

He shuddered at the idea of Elizabeth – his Elizabeth – married to Mr. Collins. “There! You see? He knows better now. Elizabeth – I apologise, Miss Elizabeth – might I now tell you a long and rather dreary story?”

“Go on.”

Mr. Darcy took a deep breath. “When I was at Oxford, I shared a room with a fellow named Richard Barnes. He was brilliant, and a great academic future was predicted for him. He had already been offered a teaching position, though he had not yet graduated. Then came word that his elder brother had died, and he was required to go home to learn to manage the family’s estate.”

“Oh! How terrible!”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “Yes; he was devastated. First, that his brother had died, of course; but also because the life he had envisioned for himself, that of spending his days and nights in study and contemplation, of sharing ideas with like-minded men, had vanished in an instant. Now he would be forced to turn his mind, his marvelously agile and brilliant mind, to problems of drainage and planting, storms and droughts. Before he left the college, he confessed to me that he had thought of doing away with himself, and it was only the knowledge that he was the only son left and his family depended on him, kept him from such a terrible action.”

By the time Mr. Darcy had finished, Elizabeth’s eyes were wide and her hands were clasped to her chest. “That must have been how Papa felt,” she whispered. “His father and his brother died, and he was forced to return to Longbourn. I never thought about what that must have been like for him.”

“And no one is saying that it was your business to do so,” Mr. Darcy said, softly. “You were a child and he was an adult, and it was up to him to manage the situation.”

She hardly heard him. “So selling those books must have been a grim reminder that his life had changed utterly,” she murmured. “No wonder he still regrets them.”

At that moment, Jane and Mr. Bingley returned back down the path, their faces wreathed in smiles. “She said yes!” Mr. Bingley called out.

Elizabeth quickly wiped the tears from her face as she went to congratulate her sister and the man who would soon be her brother.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Brother and Mr. Bingley were both gone to Longbourn, and doubtless they would be gone for some time. This, Georgiana knew, was her opportunity! She rushed to find Braddock, and demanded that the carriage be readied for her immediately.

Braddock raised his brows. “Where are you going, Miss Darcy?” he asked.

“That is not your concern,” Georgiana said, in her haughtiest tone.

“Miss Darcy, you must at least take a footman; you know that I am right,” he argued. He was surprised at her behaviour; he had thought her a very polite young lady, but now she was proving to be as difficult as Miss Bingley.

She stamped her foot. “Very well! Bring Archie!”

With great misgivings, Braddock went to fetch Archie and gave him his instructions: do not leave Miss Darcy alone for even an instant. Archie nodded his understanding, and the carriage set off.

Once again, Georgiana found Mr. Wickham lounging about on a street corner with his friends. She banged on the roof of the carriage and it stopped at her command. She did not wait for Archie to open the door for her; she reached through the open window and managed to open the door herself. Then she flung herself from the carriage and bolted across the road. “George!” she called out.

He turned upon hearing his name, and his face broke into a broad grin. “Georgiana!” He ran to meet her.

“Quickly, before Archie comes! They will not let you visit me at Netherfield, but will you wait for me at the Netherfield fence nearest the road? I can say that I am going for a walk!”

“Of course; when?”

“Three days from now, at noon!”

“I will be there,” he vowed to her.

Archie caught up with them, then, and he scowled at Georgiana. “Like to get me into trouble, Miss,” he said, shaking his head.

“I am sorry, Archie; I just could not wait to see my childhood friend again.” She smiled so prettily that Archie was suddenly ashamed to have been so angry. “Let us sit and have tea,” she said to George.

Once again, the trio walked to the little teahouse. Archie sat and was treated to tea and a pastry. After watching her fly across the street, he could not help but think that she had mischief in mind; but the conversation between the two now was dull in the extreme, once again all about people and places he did not know. He supposed that they really had grown up together.

They did not touch one another in parting, and so Archie thought that it really had been very innocent.

***

Dear Anne,