Chapter 40

Netherfield

Dawn

10 th December, 1811

Darcy shivered as the footman slammed the carriage door, sealing in the warmth escaping from the hot bricks laid out along the floor. Hastily taking his seat, Darcy drew his rug over his lap before rapping at the top of the carriage with his cane. The carriage lurched into motion, and Darcy leaned back against the cushions.

He and the party bound for Pemberley had bidden the Bingleys and the Hursts farewell the preceding evening as they departed from the drawing room. Darcy had planned to leave Netherfield at dawn, despite the cold. Though the sky was clear, and the sun tinted the horizon a pleasant pale pink, winter was far enough along that a storm might arrive unexpectedly, and Darcy did not relish the prospect of being caught in either sleet or snow. They would go as quickly along the road, changing horses frequently, with the servants' coach with the luggage following behind them. Darcy had written ahead the previous day to inform the landlord of the Hare and Hound, a thoroughly respectable establishment along the way, that they would require rooms late that evening for himself, his sister, his cousin, and their companion, as well as the servants.

Now, as he relaxed on the plush cushions, the thick wool rug over his lap quickly warming him, he breathed a sigh of relief at being on his way. By tomorrow evening, they would be arrived at Pemberley.

"So, did you ask Miss Bennet to marry you?" Anne asked suddenly, which provoked Darcy to gasp in astonishment and shoot a horrified look at Mrs. Annesley.

"Mrs. Annesley is well aware of your interest in Miss Bennet," Anne continued cheerfully. "She has eyes in her head, after all."

"She is a lovely young woman, Miss Bennet," Mrs. Annesley said comfortably. She had barely waited for the carriage to begin moving before pulling her knitting needles from her sewing basket, and she was industriously working on a red and blue scarf.

"Did you, Brother?" Georgiana asked eagerly, and Darcy, faced with such genuine enthusiasm, felt any irritation and discomfort fade away in favor of gratitude. It was a great blessing that both his former fiancée and his sister approved of his interest in a young woman with poor connections and no fortune.

"I did not, of course," he said, mitigating his negative response by smiling at his female relations. "I did not think it appropriate given the circumstances. I did, however, express my admiration for Miss Bennet and indicated my desire for a growth in our relationship. It was not, perhaps, particularly well done of me, since Miss Bennet is mourning her father, but I cannot regret it."

"It was very well done of you, Darcy," Anne said in a reassuring tone. "I understand that Miss Bennet is in a difficult situation, but she at least knows of your admiration now and can make future choices based on that knowledge."

"Quite," Darcy agreed and turned to stare out the window at the passing scenery. It was hard leaving Hertfordshire, hard to look forward to a life where there was no immediate hope of enjoying Miss Bennet's bright eyes and cheerful demeanor, but it was the right thing to do, to allow the lady to grieve and mourn her father and to adjust to her new circumstances in life.

He could only pray that in the future, somehow, some way, he would see her again and, if their mutual interest continued, to win her hand and her heart.

/

Elizabeth's Bedchamber

Longbourn

Midnight

Elizabeth curled in her fire-side chair in her own room, relishing the welcome feeling of normality. She was weary right down to the very bone, but yet her mind buzzed with thoughts like angry hornets. Everything had been topsy-turvy since Mary and Mr. Collins had arrived the previous day, and Elizabeth found herself out of sorts from dealing with the chaos.

Blessedly, Lydia and Kitty had opted to remain in their own bedchambers for now. Elizabeth was grateful for this sensible decision from her youngest sisters; certainly there had been enough shuffling around to do that day to prepare the master's and mistress's suites for Mr. Collins and Mary. Even before their arrival, Mrs. Bennet had hastily packed up most of her belongings and was largely ready to move into Jane's old room, yielding her former bedroom up to her third daughter.

It had been clearing out Mr. Bennet's room that had proven to be the greatest trial. It had lain untouched since his death, and Elizabeth and Jane had taken it upon themselves to clean it out and prepare it for the new master of Longbourn. Mr. Bennet, no aspirant to fashion, was not over-burdened with a great deal of clothing, and clearing the wardrobe took little more time than clearing the bookshelves. There were no knickknacks of a personal nature, and the last thing Elizabeth had picked up had been the bottle of medicine on the bedside table.

She had been surprised by how light it was, only dark dregs left in the bottom, and Mr. Stewart, who had come in with the two eldest daughters of the house, to assist with packing, had remarked with some surprise that it had been nearly full the morning of the wedding. Elizabeth had turned the plain, square little bottle over in her hand pensively. Her gut twisted with unease as she remembered the way her father had shuffled grimacing down the church aisle and how heavily he had drunk that morning. She wondered, with a pang, whether his mixing of the day's alcohol with the laudanum he took to help him sleep had brought on the apoplexy.

It was not a cheering topic to consider, and Elizabeth, with a sigh, forced her thoughts onto a more productive path. She gave silent thanks that, with Mary and her husband moved into their respective bedchambers, some semblance of order had returned to Longbourn. Jane had traveled to her own home with her husband, removing two people from the upheaval. There was still the mourning to be considered, as well as Mr. Collins meeting with the steward and taking over his inheritance, but Elizabeth could, at least, retire to her own room to rest.

There was a soft tap on the door, and Elizabeth lifted her head and called out, "Come in!"

To her surprise and pleasure, the door opened to reveal her mother, still dressed in her day clothes, who said, "My dear Lizzy, I hoped you would still be up."

"Come in, Mamma, and sit by the fire."

Mrs. Bennet did so, and within a minute, mother and daughter were seated side by side in front of the crackling fire, relishing both the warmth and one another's company.

"How are you, Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet asked after a few moments, and Elizabeth sighed and said, "Well enough, I suppose, given the circumstances. I find myself bewildered by Father's death. I know he is gone forever, but I have noticed that I still listen for his tread in the corridor and expect to hear his voice from the library."

"I quite understand, dear one. When I lost my mother, and then a few years later, my father, it was exactly that way; every morning when I woke up, I wondered if I had only dreamed of their deaths."

Elizabeth sighed again and said, "I suppose we will grow used to it in time, and I … I am sad, but I am still not entirely certain whether I will truly miss him, or merely grieve what might have been. I know that sounds dreadful…"

"It does not," Mrs. Bennet declared and planted a gentle kiss on her daughter's cheek. "Your father was an unpleasant and unkind father for most of your life, and you have no responsibility to produce emotions which are not there. I think it is reasonable, and right, to mourn the relationship you longed for."

"I suppose so," Elizabeth said wearily.

Silence fell again for a minute, and then Mrs. Bennet said, "Lizzy, I think that of all my daughters still at home, you will have the most difficult time with Mr. Collins as master of Longbourn."

Elizabeth was of the view that her mother was correct, but she merely asked, "Why?"

"Because you are extremely intelligent," Mrs. Bennet replied, lowering her voice, "and Mr. Collins, not to put too fine a point on it, is a fool. Because Mary seems already adept at handling her husband and is able to ignore Mr. Collins when he says foolish things. Because Jane is safely away at Netherfield, and the younger girls can hide in the school room in the attic with Mrs. Montgomery when they need some time apart from the new master of Longbourn."

"I will be well enough," Elizabeth assured her mother, though her heart did misgive her a trifle. Mr. Collins was, while not vicious, extremely tiresome. "In any case, I would think it would be harder for you, Mamma. You have been mistress of Longbourn for more than twenty years, and to have to take a subservient role must be difficult."

"Not at all, I assure you, not when Mary is the new mistress of the house. She is a sensible young lady and has far more energy than I do. Indeed, I look forward to fewer responsibilities and being able to rest more."

Elizabeth, considering how often her mother had toiled to shield her own daughters from Mr. Bennet's cruel tongue, nodded. "I understand."

"Lizzy, if you find life at Longbourn intolerable, I hope you will either move to Netherfield Hall or perhaps spend some weeks with Gardiners."

"Thank you," Elizabeth murmured.

Silence fell for a minute, and then Mrs. Bennet said, "I had best allow you to sleep."

"Mamma," her daughter said, reaching out an arresting hand.

Mrs. Bennet, who had been preparing to stand, stopped and settled back into her seat, her eyes fixed worriedly on Elizabeth's countenance. "What is it, my dear?"

Elizabeth wrinkled her brow, heaved out a breath, and said, "When Mr. Darcy and his family bade me farewell yesterday, Mr. Darcy expressed his admiration for me."

Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened. "Did he?"

"Yes," her daughter replied and blushed. "I was surprised."

"The timing is a trifle suspect, in my view. Your father was buried only last weekend."

"He said that he expected no response from me, but that he wished to inform me of his interest before leaving for Derbyshire."

Mrs. Bennet frowned and said, "I see. So is he expecting for you to write to him, perhaps, if you decide to further pursue your acquaintance?"

"Not unless I wish to do so. Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh asked if we could begin a correspondence, and I agreed. I can, if I choose, send messages on via Mr. Darcy's female relations."

"Oh," the older woman said with obvious approval. "That is far better and safer. Well, Lizzy, what do you think about Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth, to her own surprise, felt her eyes fill with tears. "I am not certain," she confessed. "I do like him very much, and likewise I do admire him. He seems a fine gentleman. He is obviously intelligent, along with being a good friend, brother and cousin, and the master of a great estate. But I also cannot pretend to know him well, and with Father's death..."

She trailed off as the salty drops slipped down her cheeks. Her mother, who had made it a point to carry two clean handkerchiefs at all times since Mr. Bennet's death, handed one over and then put a comforting arm around her second daughter.

For a full five minutes, the women were silent, as Elizabeth cried and her mother pondered and prayed for wisdom.

"Lizzy," the lady said when she thought her daughter had sufficiently recovered to listen, "with Mary and Jane well married now, we have no fear of genteel poverty. You need not ever marry."

"I know," Elizabeth agreed with a shaky smile. "And that is a blessing, certainly."

"Having said that, you are the cleverest of my daughters, and as I said before, will probably find Mr. Collins a tiresome presence at the dinner table. I realize I have warned you for many years to take care in choosing a husband, but I am inclined to approve of Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth felt her chest ease at these words. "Do you, Mamma? Why?"

"He is, as you said, a very good brother; protective of his sister, along with being gentle and kindly. I did not know to look for it when your father and I were courting, but he was slyly sardonic with everyone, including his mother and younger sister."

"I have not thought of Aunt Penelope in many years," Elizabeth murmured.

"Well, she died when you were but eight years of age. Your father used to poke fun at her, claiming she was a hypochondriac, but she was not, of course. She was ill for several years before she passed on."

Elizabeth grimaced at this, but her mind was fixed on the most important question of all. "Do you think I should pursue a courtship with Mr. Darcy, then?"

"That is your decision, and I will not push you one way or another. I think he is a fine man, and I am well aware that my own poor experience in marriage has led to many warnings to you girls to be careful in the choice of a husband. As far as I can tell, he is a good man, and you have my blessing to either continue the acquaintance or not."

Elizabeth contemplated this gravely for a minute and then nodded. "I understand. I will consider the matter, pray for wisdom, and make my own choice, as frightening as that is."

Mrs. Bennet pressed a loving kiss on her daughter's nightcap and said, "My dear, you are far wiser than I was when I wed your father. I have confidence you will make the right decision."

"Thank you."