Page 32 of Time Stands Still

Mrs. Gardiner, seeing the appeal in both her nieces’ eyes, and perhaps sensing the need to dissipate the lingering awkwardness, readily gave her consent.

True to his word, Darcy returned in the early afternoon, this time with his sister and his two cousins. Elizabeth felt a flicker of the strangeness of their situation as she was once again introduced to Georgiana Darcy, a delightful girl whose gentle manners were most pleasing. She greeted her, however, with a genuine warmth she hoped would put the girl at ease.

The conversation in the parlour was made easy by Mrs. Gardiner, who kindly turned to Miss Darcy. “Are you enjoying your stay in London, Miss Darcy?”

“I am, thank you, madam,” Georgiana replied, her voice soft but clear. “Though I confess I much prefer the country. I am always happiest at home at Pemberley.”

“Pemberley!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed with a smile. “I know it well. I was raised in Lambton, you see, not five miles from your brother’s estate.”

This happy coincidence delighted Georgiana, and for fifteen minutes, the room was filled with a pleasant discussion of its hills and valleys, a shared nostalgia that bridged the gap between their different worlds. Anne de Bourgh, though quiet, occasionally interjected with a relevant question, proving her keen ear for detail.

Soon after, the party made their preparations for the park. When Darcy’s fine carriage was summoned, the ladies were handed in, and Elizabeth found herself seated beside Georgiana, with Anne de Bourgh opposite her, and Jane beside Anne. The gentlemen then mounted their horses, taking their places to accompany the carriage, and the party set off for Hyde Park.

The walk in Hyde Park was bathed in the gentle afternoon sun, its warmth a soothing balm after the morning’s emotional upheaval. As if by some unspoken agreement, Colonel Fitzwilliam fell into step beside Jane, their conversation flowing easily, while Anne de Bourgh, whose quiet observations often proved surprisingly astute, walked with Georgiana. This arrangement left Elizabeth to walk alone with Darcy, a private world unfolding amidst the public thoroughfare.

It was Elizabeth who spoke first, her voice low, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “I must apologize for this morning, Fitzwilliam. I only became aware of the full extent of my sister’s feelings last night. I am sorry I was not able to warn you of her... resolve. I know how much you value Mr. Bingley’s happiness.”

Darcy looked down at her, a wry smile, acknowledging his own folly, touching his lips. “My honour required I confess my part in the affair to Bingley, regardless of the outcome. Though I believe this shall be the last time I endeavour to play matchmaker.” A twinkle appeared in his own eye. “It seems my judgement in matters of the heart is… profoundly flawed.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied, her own eyes sparkling with mirth. “If your interference in my sister’s affairs is any indication, I should say you are a most dangerous man to let loose in society. We should be grateful you are now safely spoken for.” Her smile then softened into something more earnest. “Though in truth, you did a good and honourable thing, Fitzwilliam. To own your part in it was no small matter. To risk Bingley’s displeasure, and perhaps even his friendship, for the sake of truth… that is the mark of a truly honourable man.” She paused, her expression turning to one of genuine concern. “But I hope Mr. Bingley was not terribly disappointed.”

“He was very disappointed,” Darcy replied, his voice grave. “But he understood that he had forfeited any right to press his suit. He knows now that his conduct was without excuse. There is a melancholy in him, certainly, but also a new understanding, I believe.”

He turned to her, his expression serious. “I have spent these repeating days confronting the consequences of my own arrogance, of my own misjudgment. Mending my friendship with Bingley was but the first step. You, Elizabeth, have shown me the true path to self-knowledge.” He paused, his gaze searching hers, a deeper question in his eyes. “Have you given any thought to it, Elizabeth? To why this has happened to us? To what unseen hand might have orchestrated such a profound disruption of the natural order?”

“I have thought of little else,” she confessed. A playful light entered her eyes, a familiar spark of defiance. “I have concluded that some celestial matchmaker with a rather theatrical bent must have grown tired of our mutual obstinacies, and decided to take matters into their own hands.”

“It would seem they have succeeded admirably,” he murmured, a smile gracing his lips. “I know only this,” he continued, his voice low and full of a feeling that made her heart stir with overwhelming emotion. “That if it took being trapped in eternity to win your love, Elizabeth, then I do not regret a single day of it.”

He took her hand then, a gesture both possessive and tender, tucking it into the crook of his arm. It was a simple, public gesture, and in that quiet act of possession, Elizabeth felt the full, unassailable reality of their new life. This present moment, this one, perfect, forward-moving day, was theirs. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt utterly, completely free.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Two nights later, the party, comprised of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth, Jane, Miss Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, attended the opera. Darcy had secured a large private box for a performance at Drury Lane, a position of prominence that he had chosen with deliberate care. The theatre was a world unto itself, a glittering cavern of velvet, gilt, and flickering candlelight, alive with the murmur of a thousand conversations.

Elizabeth, seated between Darcy and her aunt, found herself as fascinated by the audience as by the performance. The pit teemed with humanity, while the boxes opposite gleamed with jewels and painted fans, a spectacle of society itself. Darcy was a quiet but attentive host, his focus rarely straying from her. During the rising of the curtain and the acts, he introduced her and the Gardiners to several acquaintances who called at their box. Elizabeth was keenly aware of his purpose; he presented her and her relations not as incidental companions, but as honoured guests, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. She watched with a quiet, burgeoning pride as her sensible aunt and uncle engaged with Darcy’s acquaintances, their conversation so full of intelligence and easy propriety that it commanded a genuine respect that had nothing to do with their host’s endorsement, and everything to do with their own innate worth.

During the first interval, as the orchestra played a lively tune and the audience rose to stretch and socialize, a sharp rap at the door of their box announced a visitor. It opened to reveal the entire Bingley party. Mr. Hurst appeared first, looking bored and dyspeptic, followed by Mrs. Hurst, whose expression was one of languid indifference. Then came Mr. Bingley, his usual cheerful aspect somewhat dimmed, and finally, Caroline Bingley, who swept in as if she owned the theatre itself. Her gown, a confection of expensive but ill-matched silks and an unfortunate profusion of feathers, seemed designed to draw every eye, though perhaps not always with admiration.

“Mr. Darcy! And Miss Darcy!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying across the box as she moved directly to them, offering a hand to Darcy and a rather possessive squeeze to Georgiana’s arm. “We had no notion you were in town! How delightful to find you.” Only then did she seem to notice the rest of the party, her gaze sweeping over them with a cool and dismissive air before settling on Jane and Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet. Miss Eliza. You are in London as well.”

“Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth replied, her voice even and composed. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“You are staying with your relations, I collect?” Caroline asked, her eyes flicking momentarily towards the Gardiners, her tone a masterclass in subtle condescension. “From… Cheapside, is it not? A very industrious part of the city, I am told.”

The insult, with its clear implication of the Gardiners’ connection to trade, was plain. Before Mrs. Gardiner could feel the sting of the remark, Darcy spoke, his voice quiet but firm, a clear note of warning in it. “Miss Bennet and her sister are the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, whose hospitality in their very fine home on Gracechurch Street has been most generous.”

Ignoring the gentle rebuke, Caroline turned her full attention back to Georgiana. “You must come and visit me, my dear. We shall have a musical evening. All of London will be there.”

“I fear that will not be possible, Miss Bingley,” Darcy intervened smoothly, though his voice held an edge of finality. “Georgiana and I will not long remain in London. Indeed, we plan to return to the country shortly.”

Mr. Bingley, meanwhile, had made his way to the other side of the box, where Jane sat beside Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice earnest, though subdued. “I am very glad to see you looking so well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Jane replied, her smile polite but distant. “I hope you are enjoying the season.”

His eyes flickered to the Colonel, who sat attentively beside Jane, his posture one of quiet possession. The Colonel met his gaze, offering a brief, polite, and altogether unyielding nod that spoke volumes of his intentions toward Jane. Elizabeth, observing the exchange, felt a jolt of surprise at the Colonel’s clear assertion, followed swiftly by a wave of profound pleasure. Her dear Jane deserved a man who would not be swayed, a man who would claim her with such quiet conviction.

A look of such profound and defeated regret then passed across Bingley’s features that Elizabeth almost pitied him. “The season is as it always is,” he said quietly. “But I find London holds fewer charms for me than it once did.” He seemed about to say more, but looking at Jane’s serene and unreceptive countenance, he fell silent.