Darcy entered his chamber as the clock struck eleven. He had passed a busy hour beforehand, considering the efficacy of acting upon the advertisement he had seen: a ship due to sail for Ireland out of Bristol docks within the week, but as the hour was so late and there was little he could do to investigate until the morrow, his thoughts returned instead to his cousin, Anne. She had given him much to consider. This recent awareness of how his behaviour had been a disservice to someone who could well use his influence caused him no little regret. The arrogance that Elizabeth had accused him of, his selfish disdain for the feelings of others, was deeper than either she or he had anticipated, for he had clearly extended it to those amongst his supposed inner circle.
Darcy walked over to the dresser and began to empty his pockets, staring at his own reflection as he did so. He looked weary. The last ten days had been a strain upon him, yet in some ways the final outcome – the devastation of Monday evening – had been what was required. He had begun to do what he had sworn he would not: he had started to believe there might be a chance for him and Elizabeth. He could only be thankful that those first tentative wisps of hope had not taken too firm a hold before all was dashed.
With a heavy sigh, Darcy dropped his money clip and hip flask onto the dresser and, conscious that Thornton awaited him in his dressing room, shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He knew he carried an air of despondency, and something must be done to shed it before Georgiana’s arrival. He must think, also, on how to redress the situation with his cousin; with a shudder, he recalled Anne’s desire that he marry elsewhere. Was that his fate: to find a bride not solely to fulfil the need for an heir but also to free his cousin from her mother’s oppression? If he were to fully forego his selfishness, perhaps it was.
~o0o~
Having made her way upstairs, Elizabeth pushed open the door to the chamber she shared with Serena and walked into the room. Her friend had settled by the remnants of the fire, a book in her hand, which she put aside to meet Elizabeth’s gaze earnestly.
“Dear Lizzy! Please let me help you; tell me what ails you.”
Elizabeth removed her shawl, throwing it onto a nearby chair and dropping the letter onto the bedside cabinet, unsurprised that Serena had perceived her distraction, yet she remained fearful of putting into words what caused such a disturbance of mind.
Reluctantly, she walked over to join her friend near the hearth. “I do not know what you would wish me to say, for I cannot guarantee that I can contribute anything of sense.”
Serena gave a small smile, but then she reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand.
“I – we – are concerned for you. I do not wish to pry or ask of its content, but it is blatant that something in your father’s letter has caused you some disturbance of spirits.” She waved a hand towards where the letter now rested.
“It would be foolish to attempt a denial. But it is impossible to explain the severity of my… distraction, for I little comprehend it myself.”
“But something has deepened your discontent, Lizzy. I am no fool; your manner has changed dramatically since reading it.”
Releasing a frustrated breath, Elizabeth turned and walked over to the dresser, but Serena got up and followed her, and they both stared into the looking glass for a moment. Then, Serena reached out and took the hand nearest to her and squeezed it, before saying tentatively to Elizabeth’s reflection, “I know that I am not Jane, Lizzy, but I would not have you without a confidante in her absence.”
Touched by Serena’s affection, Elizabeth returned the squeeze of her hand and likewise addressed her through the mirror.
“It is not Jane’s return to Longbourn that lowers my spirits, though your support is much appreciated.” Elizabeth attempted a smile and then turned around to face her friend. “I find myself affected by something that Mr Darcy has done.” At Serena’s look of surprise, she sighed and turned away. “Not negatively; indeed, quite the contrary.”
Serena frowned and followed her friend over to the bed where they both perched themselves on its edge. As succinctly as possible, Elizabeth related the history of Wickham’s acquaintance with her family, of some of his dealings with the Darcys and of the happenings of recent days, from her revelations to Mr Darcy at the ball to Wickham’s arrest not four and twenty hours ago.
“But why should his actions affect you so?”
Elizabeth chewed her lip for a moment. “Because it is above and beyond the call of duty. Even if he… if we…” she stopped abruptly and made a movement with her hand, unable to continue the thought. “I cannot believe that he would take such steps – that he would put himself out so to travel to Longbourn to speak with Papa, all in aid of protecting the family.”
“He must be a very good man, Lizzy.
Elizabeth sighed. “Of that I have no doubt. Every encounter of late has shown me how far from the truth my original perception of the man was.” She glanced quickly at Serena. “My opinion of him was once not so high. I cannot deny that he has his failings.” A glimmer of a smile appeared but faded quickly. “But even the faults that I suspect were ingrained from his upbringing he seems determined to attempt to alter. And now this,” she gestured at the letter where it lay. “His taking the trouble to visit Papa and reinforce my words – even in the aftermath of his blatant displeasure when I revealed the truth to him – it is incomprehensible. Why would he do such a thing when he holds our family in such low esteem?”
“He cannot, Lizzy, or he would not have acted so. Besides, why do you care so much? I have never seen you so discomposed.”
Getting to her feet, Elizabeth began to pace to and fro. “After my disclosure to him on Monday of how my family had behaved, I came to the realisation that I could not bear for him to think ill of me; I was saddened that I no longer held his good opinion.” She looked over at her friend as she turned on her heel. “He once told me that his approbation, once lost, is irreversible. Yet when we first met, it was all I sought – I took delight in courting his disapproval.” She sat down heavily on a chair beside the bed.
Serena spoke softly. “You are in love with this Mr Darcy, I think.”
“Impossible!” Elizabeth shook her head, but her heart lurched in her chest and with a sickening clarity, she knew it to be the truth. Her friend had expressed the very words that Elizabeth had been unable to find: she was indeed in love with him. It must have been coming on so gradually, she had not been aware of it happening, but enamoured of him she most decidedly was, just when all hope of his returning her affection was over.
Her face must have expressed her disquiet, for Serena leaned forward and took her hand. “Lizzy, are you well? You are dreadfully pale.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but no words were forthcoming, and she closed it again, conscious of the ache in her throat. How could this have come to pass? How could she not have seen him for the man he was, that she might not have lost her opportunity to be with him? Had she been in love all along she could not have been more blind.
Moving closer, Serena patted her on the arm. “And he, Lizzy? What is his opinion of you? Do you know it?”
Her mind was instantly filled with all manner of memories from the past ten days: Mr Darcy’s avowal of his admiration for her when he proposed, the pain of rejection upon his features as she refused him, being held in his close embrace when she fell, the conversations they had shared of late and the closing of his expression when she talked to him at the ball.
“Lizzy?”
Lowering her head to stare at her hands, Elizabeth absent-mindedly smoothed her fingers across the back of her hand; then, she returned her gaze to her friend.
“I do – or at least, I did. Now, I have no notion of what he thinks of me, nor am I ever likely to discover the truth of it.”
“What did you know?”
“He – he did hold me in affection once, but sadly, I held him in very low esteem at the time.”
“Oh my poor Lizzy.” Serena leaned over and hugged her tightly, and Elizabeth felt tears well but shook them fiercely aside as her friend released her. “And you have been given no indication that his interest continues?”
Casting her mind back over her few days in Town, Elizabeth had to concede that he likely still harboured some feelings for her then. But now?
She shook her head and summoned a weak smile. “’Tis discovered too late, Serena. The moment for us has passed. Whatever admiration Mr Darcy held me in has long been quashed by recent events. Suffice it to say, he is well rid of me.”
Unable to bear the thought of what she had lost, Elizabeth got to her feet, keen to seek the oblivion of sleep but doubtful she would be blessed with its comfort.
“Is there no likelihood of a continuance of the acquaintance?” Serena walked over to the nightstand and poured some water from the pitcher into the bowl before picking up a towel. “Though I am not fully conversant with the circumstances, I find it hard to believe that someone who had the good sense to once value you so highly would be prepared to give you up, dear Lizzy.”
Letting out a humourless laugh, Elizabeth picked up her shift and began to prepare for bed.
“It was blatantly obvious from his manner on the last occasion I saw him that Mr Darcy could not quit my company soon enough. Further, Papa’s letter confirmed that he has taken himself off; I can only suppose his intent is to ensure he is no longer subjected to my company. I think there is as much likelihood of him seeking me out as there is of Aunt Gardiner running off with the coal man.”
Serena choked back a laugh but quickly sobered. “It pains me to see you thus, Lizzy. I would do anything to not see you so unhappy.”
Elizabeth smiled somewhat forlornly. “I would not see me so sad either, if I had a choice. But it is all my own doing, Serena. I deserve little sympathy, though I will accept it willingly if it is on offer.”
Walking over, Serena gave her a consoling hug before clambering in between the covers, and Elizabeth took her turn at the basin before coming to perch on the edge of the bed to plait her hair. It all made such perfect sense now that she understood her condition; all the interminable thoughts, the confusion over why she could not curtail her interest in Mr Darcy, the contrary desire to see him again and again… with a sigh, she leaned forward and blew out the candle before swinging her legs into the bed and lying down. Was this to be her fate, to love a man she had thought she hated?
She closed her eyes, willing herself not to think of him and what might have been, and eventually sheer exhaustion from their journey combined with her many sleepless nights of late led to her falling asleep, a solitary tear escaping as she did so and running down her cheek onto the pillow.