Chapter 9

Elizabeth

Elizabeth awoke the next morning with a knot of dread in her stomach. Not one, but two invitations to see Mr. Darcy today! She glanced over at her still-sleeping sister with annoyance. Pulling the pillow from beneath her head, she swung it and thumped Jane on her back.

“Lizzy,” Jane groaned, rolling over. “What was that for?”

Elizabeth felt a momentary flash of embarrassment—she had not done that in years! However, she quickly recovered.

“Do not pretend that you do not know!” Elizabeth said with a flash of irritation. “For now, we have to wake up and prepare for not just one, but two outings with Mr. Darcy!”

“You say that like it is a bad thing,” Jane said, sitting up with a yawn. “You seemed to quite enjoy yourself last night. And you looked so cosy discussing old things with Mr. Darcy in a dark corner.”

Elizabeth blushed crimson. “I was being polite,” she said, struggling to maintain her dignified tone.

“Well, I was being polite as well,” Jane responded stubbornly. “I believe, when a gentleman offers to take time out of his busy schedule and take you to an attraction, the polite thing to do is to graciously accept.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again, realising she had nothing else to say. She too had accepted his invitation to the museum, after all.

Instead, she paused for a few moments before hesitantly asking her sister, “How are you? Are you alright after the discussion last night?”

“I’m fine,” Jane said quickly, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Just fine. That was the first time I’ve discussed him in a social situation, and I did quite well. Now, I will be able to talk about him without the slightest drop in composure. No, I’m certain that I could pass him in the street and feel nothing at all.”

Elizabeth watched Jane’s face as she spoke. She wanted to believe her sister, wanted to believe that her heart was on the mend and that Charles Bingley had no hold over her. But Elizabeth saw the drop in the corner of Jane’s mouth, the shine of unshed tears in her eyes, and the slight quiver in her voice as she talked. Elizabeth would not take Jane’s resolve from her, but she did not believe her sister for one moment.

“I’m glad,” she said, choosing to respond to Jane’s words instead of her face and tone.

Elizabeth swung her legs out of bed and began to dress. She did not care what she looked like in this moment, for she planned to change before Mr. Darcy arrived. Instead, her goal was to give Jane a moment of privacy.

“I’m so hungry, I think I shall head to breakfast directly.”

Jane nodded, not moving from under the covers. “I think I shall take my time this morning,” she said with a falsely bright tone.

Elizabeth leaned over and kissed her sister’s forehead.

“I’ll save you some toast,” she said softly as she walked to the door.

Before the door had even properly closed, Elizabeth could hear Jane’s quiet sobs emerge on the other side. She leaned against the door heavily, her heart hurting for her beloved sister. With each muffled cry, Elizabeth found herself becoming more and more angry with Mr. Darcy.

No matter how polite and pleasant he had been the evening before, her sister’s pain was his doing. While he had acquitted himself of Wickham’s accusations, he had not even attempted to respond to his role in breaking Jane and Mr. Bingley apart. In fact, he had defended his position as an attempt to protect his friend!

No, no matter how polite or agreeable Mr. Darcy became, Elizabeth would not forgive him for hurting Jane in this manner.

All too soon, Elizabeth found that eleven o’clock was approaching and Mr. Darcy would be calling on them any moment. Upon hearing of the outing, Maria had made a face and declared that she had never heard of anything so boring. Instead, she had volunteered to go with Mrs. Gardiner and the children to the park, leaving Jane and Elizabeth to accompany Mr. Darcy and Georgiana to the museum.

“Mr. Darcy’s note said that the opera begins at eight o’clock,” Aunt Gardiner reminded them as she headed out the door. “Do be sure to be back in time to get ready.”

Elizabeth and Jane assured her they would, and waited patiently in the sitting room for the Darcys to arrive.

“Lizzy,” Jane said uncertainly. “If you would prefer not to go, I will make your excuses. I have thought about it and realised that I may have placed you in an awkward position by accepting these invitations, and I do not wish for you to be upset with me.”

“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m not upset with you, I promise. After all, it was I who accepted the museum invitation in the end. I wanted to go.”

She paused for a moment to think, taking Jane’s hand in hers.

“Although in truth, I do not know how to feel,” Elizabeth admitted at last. “I am quite confused by the whole situation—Mr. Darcy’s letter provided much information, and meeting Georgiana has continued to affirm his version of events and prove Mr. Wickham to be quite dishonest in his assessment of his relationship with the Darcy household.”

“I cannot imagine the confusion that must be plaguing you,” Jane said kindly.

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. She felt bad for misleading Jane—her confusion was not nearly so great as she was portraying it, after all. Mr. Darcy’s behaviour toward Jane had made her attitude towards him rather clear. But she could not reveal Mr. Darcy’s role in the whole affair to Jane. It would only lead to more heartache for her sister, and break off a new friendship that Jane was seeming to enjoy.

No, it was with that friendship that most of Elizabeth’s confusion lay. She found that she greatly enjoyed the company of Georgiana Darcy and would be sad if their acquaintance proved to be short-lived.

However, she did not know how they could maintain a relationship given the history that she shared with Georgiana’s brother. She was certain that Mr. Darcy had not shared his failed proposal with Georgiana—it was exceedingly evident how fond Georgiana was of her brother, and Elizabeth could not imagine that she would be so friendly to the woman who had rejected her brother. So what would happen when Georgiana found out?

“Mr. Darcy,” a servant announced Mr. Darcy’s arrival all of a sudden, breaking Elizabeth out of her thoughts.

Mr. Darcy strode into the room wearing light trousers and a light blue jacket. While the fit highlighted his build, Elizabeth thought the colours suited him poorly. He looked much better in dark colours, she thought to herself. Unconsciously, she turned her head from side to side, trying to rid herself of the idle observation—what silly observations upon a man that she had sworn to loathe!

“Mr. Darcy,” Jane said with a smile, standing and curtsying to him.

“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy bowed in response. “Miss Elizabeth.” He greeted Elizabeth neutrally, with neither warmth nor coldness in his voice.

Elizabeth stood and curtsied in greeting as well.

“But where is the rest of your party?” Darcy asked, clearly surprised to be meeting just the two of them.

“I am afraid that the prospect of a museum did not hold my young cousins’ interest,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “The beauty of the day instead drove them to picnic in Hyde Park with our aunt and Miss Lucas.”

“I can hardly blame them,” Mr. Darcy said. “For it is a beautiful day and the park offers many distractions. However, if you do not mind, Georgiana is waiting in the carriage and we should be off directly. I want to ensure we have enough time to view the collection.”

“Of course,” Jane said smoothly, already walking towards the door. “We are quite excited to see what treasures this museum holds.”

Jane and Elizabeth pulled on their bonnets and gloves, electing to leave their cloaks behind in the face of warm sunshine. Walking to the carriage, Elizabeth saw Georgiana lean out to wave to them.

“Jane, Elizabeth! Good morning,” she smiled widely. “I trust you slept well, for knowing my brother, we will be kept on our feet the whole afternoon!”

“Good!” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “For I have spent far too much time sitting of late.”

She went to climb into the carriage, and took the hand that offered to help her up. With a start, she realised that it was not the footman that helped her but Mr. Darcy. His hand was warm and solid, offering her more than adequate support for the high step. She sat down next to Georgiana and unconsciously rubbed the spot he had touched, as if she wished to remember the feeling.

Jane climbed in next, followed by Mr. Darcy and then they were off.

Jane and Georgiana quickly fell into conversation, but Elizabeth could not find a good opening in which to join. Instead, she listened for a few minutes, content to allow the sounds to float over her without worrying about participating. After a while, she noticed Mr. Darcy staring at her, and she began to feel uncomfortable.

“So, Mr. Darcy,” she said, clearing her throat. “What is your favourite thing to see at this museum?” She looked at her hands after asking her question, finding his gaze to be too intense to hold for very long.

“I must say, there are many choices,” Mr. Darcy said, thinking aloud. “They have a number of Greek vases that are fascinating to see. Collections from Sir James Cook’s voyages that shed light on the mysterious inhabitants of faraway places… But I must say, I am most drawn by the objects found here in Britain—from the Romans and before. Because Pemberley hosts ruins, I have been drawn to early Briton history for as long as I can remember.”

“It is fascinating,” Elizabeth agreed.

“And you, Miss Elizabeth? What fascinates you?” Mr. Darcy asked.

Elizabeth thought about his question for a while. She too found the early inhabitants of their island home interesting. But she found that the Romans captured her imagination more.

“Have you read The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire?” She asked. Her father had brought home all six volumes several years before, and she had read them multiple times since.

“I have,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Am I to understand that you have read it as well?”

“More than once,” she said with a laugh. “I know that it is not normally considered suitable reading for a young lady, but my father rarely set much stock by what the rest of the world thought to be suitable.”

“A brave man,” Mr. Darcy said with a smile. To her slight surprise, he seemed to mean what he said. Elizabeth could hear no hint of condemnation or reproach in his tone.

“Well, I am fascinated by the idea that something as powerful as the Roman Empire could be destroyed in so short a time,” Elizabeth said carefully.

“Indeed!” Mr. Darcy said, more excitement in his voice than Elizabeth had ever before heard. “The study of the Romans shall prove vital for us today, given our own imperial goals. We have the chance to avoid the pitfalls of the Romans, and thereby avoid their fate.”

“A fine observation,” Elizabeth agreed. She had brought up much the same point several times in various conversations and settings, but each time the men in the group had laughed away her contribution to the conversation. It rankled her to remember, but it seemed Mr. Darcy was different.

The rooms and hallways of the Montagu House held more wonders than Elizabeth had ever thought possible. Each turn seemed to reveal another world bidding her to explore. After an hour, they had only made it through one room and Elizabeth understood what Georgiana had meant by her warning. Mr. Darcy did not move quickly through the exhibits, instead stopping for minutes at a time to closely examine the smallest specimen.

Elizabeth did not mind in the least, for as she stopped to examine things for herself, she noticed tiny details that would have easily gone unnoticed. Jane and Georgiana, however, did not enjoy the close examinations. After an hour, it was obvious that they were bored.

“Perhaps we should move on,” Elizabeth said softly to Mr. Darcy, who was bending close to a collection of, what appeared to be, bracelets.

“Hmmm?” He mused, evidently unaware of much else going on around him. “Oh, yes, I think you are correct.” Jane and Georgiana were standing in an out-of-the-way corner, talking quietly and fanning themselves gently.

“There is a collection of sculptures in the next wing,” Darcy said. “Perhaps that will be more agreeable for our sisters?”

“Yes, I think Jane would like that,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

“Well, then, let’s see if we can salvage their day,” Mr. Darcy replied, with an equally wide smile. “Georgiana? Miss Bennet?” He called softly towards them. “Are you ready to move on?”

“At once, brother!” Georgiana said with an exaggerated expression of exasperation. “Perhaps we could go to the sculpture hall?”

“Precisely what I was thinking,” Mr. Darcy said. Elizabeth smiled to herself at the meeting of minds. She always found it amusing when family connections illuminated themselves in such small ways.

Georgiana and Jane led the way out of the room, and Elizabeth watched the various exhibitions pass without the chance to stop and look. Her eyes kept catching different things she itched to examine, and she kept letting out frustrated sighs each time their pace drew them away.

“I know how you feel,” Mr. Darcy said after the third such sigh. “There is so much to see. I have been here hundreds of times and could come back hundreds more and still not see everything I would wish to see.”

“If this is what visits to London were like,” Elizabeth replied. “Perhaps I would not have held so much dread for them!”

“Yes, it is a pity that society does not include more activities such as this,” Mr. Darcy chuckled. “I wonder if I might have your opinion on something,” he continued after a moment’s pause.

Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry—what would he ask?

“I do not know that my opinion is worth much,” she said. “But, as your aunt has noted, I am always willing to give it.”

“Yes,” Mr. Darcy laughed out loud. “Yes, I suppose you are. No, my query has much more to do with your sister than anything else.”

“With Jane?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.

“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said slowly. He paused, as if he didn’t know how to continue. “I am wondering… if Jane would be amenable to seeing Charles Bingley again.”

Elizabeth whipped her head around, shocked by Mr. Darcy’s question. She could see his face was burning red, as if he was acknowledging his previous mistake.

“Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth whispered fiercely, shooting a look at Jane’s back, just ahead of them.

“Yes,” Mr. Darcy said. “Her reaction last night has set me to wondering if I’d been quite wrong in my assessment of her affections.”

Elizabeth could hardly believe what she was hearing. Mr. Darcy admitting that he was wrong? She couldn’t believe her ears! And yet, she was suspicious. The last thing that she wanted was for Jane to suffer more.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, finding her voice was tight. “I am gratified that you have realised your mistake, however, I caution you against taking any action that may result in further hurt upon my sister.”

Mr. Darcy looked startled, he had clearly not expected this reaction. But Elizabeth was firm in her resolve—she did not want Mr. Darcy to further fracture the situation.

“I have no thought other than creating an opportunity,” he whispered back. “For them to meet once more, and for things to take the natural course—without interference from me or his sisters.”

Elizabeth thought about this idea. On the one hand, she thought that such an opportunity would lead to both Jane and Mr. Bingley being as much in love as they ever had been. But, on the other, what if it did not? Such an encounter would, perhaps, break Jane completely. She had made much progress in the area of Mr. Bingley over her weeks in London, Elizabeth was quite hesitant to endorse a plan that could ruin it all.

“I do not know,” Elizabeth said slowly. “I hesitate because I do not know the mind of any except my sister. I will say this: Jane’s affections for Mr. Bingley are true. Jane loves as no one else in the world can love, and your friend would be blessed to have her regard.”

“That is all I need to know,” Mr. Darcy said. “I will take this information into consideration.”

He stopped suddenly, and turned to Elizabeth. Hesitantly, he took her hand. Elizabeth was so surprised, she did not know what to do. But she allowed him to take it. Looking deeply into her eyes, Mr. Darcy kept her hand between both of his.

“I swear to you,” he said thickly. “I will do nothing that will cause your sister any more discomfort or hurt. I will never do anything to cause you, or any of your family, pain or harm. I swear.”

The intensity of his gaze, of his words and his voice was too much for Elizabeth. Gently, she pulled her hand free.

“I thank you for that promise,” Elizabeth said. “And I appreciate all you’ve done for us over these past days. However,” she took a deep breath. “I have not changed my mind.”

She thought she saw a flash of pain go across his face, but it was quickly smoothed over.

“I did not think you had,” he said softly. “Nor is it my intention to renew the sentiments you have rejected.” He turned away from her. “I simply wish to be a good friend to those about whom I care.”

“Good,” Elizabeth said awkwardly. They continued to walk together, but did not speak any more.

Elizabeth felt miserable that she had made the situation so uncomfortable, but she felt it was necessary to avoid causing Mr. Darcy more harm. She did not want to lead him to think her feelings had changed when they had not. Such a course of action would have been cruel. Her words had been necessary. But, however necessary they may have been, they also broke the comfortable camaraderie of the afternoon.

Two hours later, they were pulling up in the carriage in front of the Gardiner’s house. Climbing down from the carriage, Mr. Darcy turned to help Jane and Elizabeth from the conveyance.

“Is it still agreeable to accompany us to the opera tonight?” Mr. Darcy asked Elizabeth, releasing her hand as quickly as possible. Elizabeth felt a twinge of hurt at the gesture—she had not intended for him to become so uncomfortable with her.

“Of course,” she replied with a genuine smile. “My aunt and uncle are most looking forward to it.”

“Excellent,” he said without looking at her. “Then we shall see you at the theatre tonight.”

Bowing, he climbed back into the coach and he and Georgiana were on their way.

“What did you do to Mr. Darcy?” Jane asked, staring after the disappearing carriage.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, climbing the stairs towards the door.

“He seems so much more closed off than he was earlier today,” Jane replied.

“I didn’t notice,” Elizabeth said, not wishing to discuss the particulars. She hated lying to her sister, but she did not want to talk about what had transpired between them. She was increasingly uncertain that her attempt to keep Mr. Darcy from more hurt had been accomplished. It seemed as though her best intentions had done the very thing she had wished to avoid.

“There you are my dears!” Aunt Gardiner came hurrying towards them as soon as they entered the house. “This came for you by express while you were out, and I’ve been half out of my mind with worry over what it could be!”

She handed Jane an envelope addressed in their father’s writing.

“By express?” Jane said, worry in her voice. “That cannot be good!”

She ripped open the envelope and began to read, Elizabeth over her shoulder. Her eyes skimmed the page as the shocking news sunk in.

“Lydia is ill!” Elizabeth said. “Pneumonia. Father says that the doctor assures them she will be alright, but our mother is out of her mind with worry.”

“Poor Lydia!” Mrs. Gardiner said, her hands on her face. “Your poor mother! I cannot imagine the toll it takes on a mother’s heart in such a situation.”

“Our father asks that we return home,” Jane said, the colour draining from her face. “At once. To comfort our mother.”

“Yes, that is quite right,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed. “We will book you on the first carriage tomorrow, and you shall be home shortly. This is sad news, but I do not see why you cannot enjoy your last evening in London…”

“No,” Elizabeth cut in suddenly. “No, I am sorry aunt, but we must depart at once. Our father would not have asked us to come if we were not desperately needed.”

Elizabeth hardly knew what she was saying—on the one hand, she knew her mother and father all too well. Her mother was prone to overreactions and her father prone to being unable to handle her reactions. With his two eldest away, and his youngest ill, the brunt of Mrs. Bennet’s nerves must be falling upon him. This was the reason for his request, and such reasoning needn’t spoil their evening.

However, Elizabeth wanted to seize upon this excuse. As kind as Mr. Darcy had been to everyone, she could not bear to be in his presence any more. He confused her in ways that she did not appreciate, and she feared that her continued presence in his life would only serve to cause him hurt. She had no desire to treat him in such a manner.

“Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Be sensible, you will hardly arrive home any sooner by leaving now and traveling into the night than if you leave in the morning after a good rest!”

“No,” Jane broke in. “Lizzy is right. How could we possibly enjoy ourselves tonight knowing how our family suffers at home?” She looked at the letter in her hands. “How could we bear it if the worst comes to pass?”

“Hush now,” Mrs. Gardiner said, drawing Jane into her arms. “Your father writes the doctor is confident in her recovery. But I see your point. You will take our footman, James, with you. He will ensure that you get home safely by nightfall.”

“Thank you, aunt,” Jane said seriously. “I do feel bad for cancelling on Georgiana and Mr. Darcy, after all the kindness they’ve shown us.”

“We will tell them what happened,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Do not concern yourself with that.”

“You will still go without us?” Elizabeth asked with slight surprise.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Mrs. Gardiner said with a laugh. “It has been far too long since I have been to the opera, and Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy are wonderful company. In fact, I can hardly believe this is the same man I heard such stories about from Hertfordshire. I have yet to see one tenth of the arrogance or pride previously ascribed to him!”

Elizabeth felt shame flood her once more. The stories to which her aunt alluded were not only the country gossip of a small village—she herself had been responsible for spreading such tales. And yet, the longer she spent in Mr. Darcy’s company, the more she realised how inaccurate her assessment of him had been.

“We should pack,” she said quickly, avoiding responding to Aunt Gardiner’s statement.

Lydia’s illness was a terrible situation to flee back towards, but she was grateful for the distraction. Perhaps this would mean she did not have to face Mr. Darcy ever again.