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He faced the sea, his arms also around his knees.
“Perhaps you do not have only two alternatives. You can offer for someone else entirely, someone who meets all of your needs.”
He shrugged. “I do…not…no…bloody…choice.”
She thought of that for a moment before nodding. “There are always choices…it is just that sometimes there are no good ones. I had the opportunity to secure my family’s future when my cousin, Mr Collins, proposed marriage to me. I rejected it. I thought I did right at the time, and perhaps I did. But there might always be a part of me that wonders if I should have stepped forward with a more courageous acceptance instead.”
He reached out, as if to touch her, but withdrew his hand before he did. “No,” he protested, the distaste upon his face obvious. “Differ.”
“Not really. You act to save your estate’s future as well as your sister’s. The only shame in all of it is that neither your relations nor my parents care enough about either of us to save ours.” She gave him a crooked smile. “You scorn Lydia, but she did help me at my lowest. She is no heroine, but she does care. Georgiana cares deeply for you. We will take such love as we possess and look at the past only as it gives us pleasure. I will always cherish your friendship, but you can see, I hope, that I must leave at once.”
“No!”
She frowned.
“I…blazes…behave. Trust. Please. A…nugging…week or two. More…health. Please.”
His earnest appeal for just a bit more time was too close to Lizzy’s own inclinations. After all, he could not perfectly communicate on his own yet, James did not write, and reading was still a tedious process. It would, perhaps, be a week or so before any of his men of business arrived. It was the Christian thing to do. How much more pain could a few extra days bring?
Mr Darcy was not the first man to discount her because she had no fortune. It was a hurt she had faced down years ago; the Caroline Bingleys of this world were always offered first choice. Large fortune cloaked every vice of malevolence, insipidity, or foolishness with a pleasing desirability. Perhaps Jane’s near miraculous marriage had given her an unwarranted hopefulness, but the future might yet present another man for whom she could feel such affection and respect, who would be happy with an impoverished gentlewoman.
I am a frigging fool,Lizzy thought. A blasted, frigging fool.
* * *
The very next afternoon, she received a letter from Jane.
Mr Saxelby, one of Darcy’s trusted men of business, had written to Bingley with the assurances of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s wellbeing and an offer to forward any return correspondence. Thus, when a large envelope arrived from him, she was not overly surprised at its contents.
“From Mr Bingley!” she said breathlessly when she came upon it, after thumbing through each of the letters it contained.
Mr Darcy looked up sharply. “Bing.”
“Yes…should I begin with it?” She clutched the letter to her bosom.
She could see the reluctance upon his face, and in a way, she understood. The drama of their story together was in its final act and would end unhappily for both. Bingley and his sister, Caroline, represented a future Mr Darcy must accept.
But…home. Jane. Longbourn. Netherfield. News of any of it was a longing in her breast and a comfort for her own future.
He nodded. His brow furrowed as she broke the seal. A folded note with her name written across its surface fell out, a letter from her sister. But she set it aside in favour of the first. It was stained with blots, scores, and crosses, but its message was clear enough.
Darcy,
Where the devil are you? What have you done with my sister? In the meantime, your sister resides with my wife and me, and both Mrs Bingley and Miss Darcy worry day and night, for your safety and for Elizabeth’s. I have endured a visit from an earl, an experience I am not anxious to repeat anytime soon. I could tell him nothing, but of course, I hope Saxelby knows more than I do about how to reach you. Avoided mentioning him to your uncle this time, but if he continues to push, I must give him something. I do hope you are recovering, but dash it, we must hear from you.
Bingley
It was as unlike Bingley’s tone as she could have imagined. “He is upset,” she said with some understatement, and bit her lip. “And why would he have Georgiana?” Suddenly, she joined Mr Darcy in reluctance to read her own missive from Jane. But the thing must be done.
Jane’s script was neat and flowing, unlike her husband’s. She gave a great deal of added detail, without the cursing. But the gist of her message was the same. Because Mr Darcy had to sacrifice privacy to hear his letter, she felt it only fair to read hers aloud as well.
Dearest Lizzy,
I cannot imagine where you have gone and why you would not write to me. We have been home to Netherfield for nearly five weeks, every day expecting word, and every day disappointed.
“Why does she assume I know where she is?” Lizzy interrupted herself. “Last I knew, she was in Scarborough, and she was supposed to come here!” She ignored the niggling voice reminding her that she had known Jane would not be arriving for nearly three weeks now.
We received yours and Miss Darcy’s letters, forwarded by Louisa, whilst still in Scarborough. How alarmed we were to hear of Mr Darcy’s illness! And how astonished we were to learn you had departed Ramsgate and the care of Harriet Thorpe, a place of which our parents approved, at least. Instead, you have been in a house of illness!
