Page 5 of Painted with Love

“Let us go to the library, Lizzy. We have quite a few things to discuss.”

He briefly greeted his family and said to Jane, “My dear, I hope you do not mind if I steal your aunt and Lizzy for a few minutes. Can you please watch the children? We shall explain to you later. Do not worry.”

Jane nodded, a worried frown creasing her brow, while the three of them entered Mr Gardiner’s study and closed the door behind them.

“Well?” Mrs Gardiner asked impatiently. “My dear, you look unwell. I shall prepare you some medicine immediately.”

“Madeleine, wait a moment. I promise no medicine is needed. Briefly — Lizzy was right. Mr Darcy seemed exceedingly interested in my story and thanked me countless times for informing him.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “So you spoke to him.”

“Yes. He was astounded when I revealed my identity and dumbfounded when I handed him your letter. He was reluctant to take it, but after reading it, his distress was apparent.”

“So, he said he will visit Mr Backer?”

“Actually, he asked me to travel there immediately with him and introduce him. I left him at the shop.”

“Oh…” Elizabeth said, quite distressed herself.

“I have to tell you, Lizzy, your supposition was apparently accurate. Mr Darcy acted as if you had saved his life, or at the very least his fortune,” Mr Gardiner joked. Elizabeth forced a smile, though she knew her uncle might not have been far from the truth.

“By the bye, Mr Darcy asked my permission to write you a letter to thank you, Lizzy. I granted it. I hope you do not mind.”

“No…of course not,” she answered, bewildered. It was simply a gesture of politeness, but she felt disconcerted at the thought of another letter from him.

“Now, let us prepare for dinner,” Mrs Gardiner suggested. “And you, sir, whether you think you need it or not, you will take your medicine.”

“I cannot argue with you, madam. But I must have a brandy too, just to increase my appetite.”

Elizabeth returned to her sister and cousins, still absent-minded. The situation was certainly of great importance since Mr Darcy had attended to it so urgently. Now that she had the confirmation, she wondered about the circumstances that had brought the watch and the portraits to the pawnbroker’s.

Miss Darcy, at the age of fifteen, must have been truly in love with that despicable man. Or at least she had fancied herself to be, maybe confusing childhood affection with romantic feelings.

Elizabeth knew a little of what had happened from Mr Darcy, but there were still many unknown details. Was the watch purchased for Mr Wickham or a family heirloom? The inscription on the back must have been made by a skilful hand — was there such a man in Ramsgate? Had Miss Darcy been so bold as to request such an intimate inscription herself? Had her dissolute companion, Mrs Younge, been involved?

There were so many questions without an answer, and it was such a distressing situation! A twist of fate had placed her in front of that window and drawn her attention to that portrait, and those coincidences might have made a difference to a young girl’s reputation. The more she thought of Mr Wickham, the angrier she became with herself for falling so easily into that scoundrel’s trap.

At dinner, Mrs Gardiner offered Jane a brief explanation for their private meeting involving their uncle’s business, and Jane did not request any further details.

That night, Elizabeth slept little and poorly. In truth, she had hardly had one restful night since the day of Mr Darcy’s proposal, and that night was even worse. When she finally fell asleep, strange and disturbing dreams ruined her rest; she woke up several times and fell asleep again with great difficulty.

In the end, she admitted that what troubled her the most was the question of whether she would see Mr Darcy again. Would he call to thank her and her uncle? It was unlikely but not impossible, and she could not decide whether she wished to see him. What was she to say to him? The first thought that crossed her mind was to ask him about Mr Bingley.

Had Mr Darcy accepted that he was wrong in considering Jane indifferent to his friend? Could he have taken the blame? Was Mr Bingley even interested in Jane any longer? Had he ever been, or was it only a shallow admiration that had disappeared after a few weeks?

With such musings, time passed, and Elizabeth welcomed the morning. She helped her aunt prepare the children for the day, her mind still engaged with only one subject.

At breakfast, Mr Gardiner declared he felt well enough to return to his office, then asked the ladies about their plans for the day.

They had barely finished eating when a servant informed them a letter had arrived for Elizabeth. She startled, glanced at her uncle and aunt, and, after Mr Gardiner nodded, the servant handed it to her.

“Would you mind if I read it in my chamber?” Elizabeth asked, and her uncle nodded again.

With great anxiety — completely unjustified for what she knew to be a simple polite note of thanks, she opened it. Immediately recognising the handwriting — she had read his first letter so many times that she knew it by heart — her eyes ran over the neat lines.

Miss Bennet,

There are no words to thank you for your considerate gesture, nor to explain how significant it was for me and my sister.