Chapter 9

Having unburdened herself to Jane, Elizabeth found it slightly easier to act in a cheerful manner. It helped to know someone else understood she had suffered a heartache. For the first few weeks after their conversation, it was as though she entered a period of relative calm; she was still affected by the loss of Mr Darcy, but she was able to go about her daily life with relative ease. But the closer the wedding drew, the more Elizabeth felt her anxiety growing.

Mr Darcy had informed Mr Bingley he would be at the ceremony, and soon she would see him!

While admitting it was exceedingly silly, in the corner of her heart, she harboured a dream of reconciling with him. On his return to Netherfield, he would bring with him an excellent excuse for his prolonged absence and silence, and he would apologise in the most genuine, heartfelt manner possible. Elizabeth knew her weaknesses; whether she should or not, she would forgive him at once. Possibly, she would throw herself into his arms and weep. To be sure, she would eventually tell him how much his behaviour had injured her, but that would be after rejoicing in being with him and secure of his love again.

Jane worried for her, despite anything Elizabeth might say to convince her not to. They spoke about it one night just a few days before the wedding, while sitting on Elizabeth’s bed. They were wrapped in wool shawls, and they rested side-by-side, their backs against the headboard.

“I could see that my mother’s speech at dinner vexed you,” Jane said.

Elizabeth gave a short laugh. “That it did.”

Mrs Bennet had spent what seemed like an hour bemoaning Lydia’s absence, especially that she would not be present at the wedding.

“Mama’s wish to see Lydia is understandable,” Jane said.

Elizabeth just managed not to roll her eyes. “Yes, I am familiar with her preference for our youngest sister. I do not have to like it, however, and I certainly do not have to anticipate seeing her or her husband ever again.”

Jane remained silent, no doubt thinking what Elizabeth was—her anger was largely if not wholly because she blamed Lydia for her loss of Mr Darcy. When Jane spoke again, she raised an issue they had debated many times in recent weeks. She wanted Elizabeth to accompany her and Mr Bingley on their wedding trip to Bath, and Elizabeth had refused.

“I do wish you would change your mind, Lizzy. I truly believe it would do you good to be away from here for a time.”

Elizabeth offered her a smile, though it was not long-lasting. “And I truly believe a couple should be alone after their wedding, not distracted by discontented sisters. They also deserve to have the opportunity to think of no one but themselves. I shall be well. It will be Christmas soon, and Charlotte wrote that she and Mr Collins are planning to visit. I shall enjoy seeing her again. In six short weeks, you will return, and I dare say, you will see that I am much improved.” Every word she said was genuine. In addition, she wanted time to herself, perhaps partly out of a hope that she and Mr Darcy would reconcile and partly out of fear of experiencing bitter jealousy at seeing the newly married couple’s happiness.

Jane’s brow furrowed, and after a short pause, she sighed. “I know you are too stubborn to change your mind once you have convinced yourself you made the right decision. I hope I do find you happier when we see each other in January. I shall insist you spend a great deal of time with me then. Be forewarned!”

The ladies shared a light laugh at Jane’s mock-stern tone, and soon after, they said good night.

The day before the wedding, Mr Darcy, the Hursts, and Miss Bingley arrived at Netherfield Park, and there was a celebratory dinner at Longbourn for the residents of the two houses. All day, Elizabeth was sick with apprehension—alternately chilled and overheated, unable to eat more than a morsel, and desperately praying she would not make a fool of herself, no matter what happened.

As soon as the Netherfield party entered the drawing room, Elizabeth’s eyes sought Mr Darcy. Her heart ached when she saw his tall, handsome form. Their gazes met, but he had to avert his to greet her parents, which he did politely, congratulating them on Jane’s engagement and thanking them for their hospitality.

A moment later, he was standing in front of her, and their eyes met. Her heart stopped beating as she waited for him to speak. When he did, she struggled to take in every nuance of how he spoke and acted.

“Miss Elizabeth, I…I hope you are well.” He looked away, chagrin or perhaps embarrassment in his expression.

Her mouth was too dry to permit speech, and she made a shallow curtsey and did her best not to show how affected she was. An icy sensation overcame her, dulling her pain and fury. She would not let her true emotions show; nothing she did would mar even a moment of Jane’s happiness. To mitigate her sister’s anxiety, Elizabeth smiled broadly and joined her in chatting to Mr and Mrs Hurst for a few minutes until they went through to the dining room.

All through the meal, Elizabeth continued to put on a performance that would have ensured her a successful career as a stage actress, if she could repeat it. She smiled and talked animatedly and showed no sign that behind her delight for Jane lay misery. Fortunately, Mr Darcy and she were separated by two people, and it was enough that she could avoid seeing him.

Unfortunately, she could hear him perfectly well, his deep voice drawing her in as he spoke to her mother of neighbourhood news or Jane and Mr Bingley about their plans. In everything he did, apart from how he treated her, he was the same gentleman she had known that summer and autumn. She was glad for Mr Bingley’s sake, and it confirmed her desire to keep her new brother from learning what had happened between her and his friend.

During the separation of the sexes, she remained with Mary and Kitty, having little desire to speak to Mr Bingley’s sisters. When she heard the gentlemen approaching, she surreptitiously took a deep breath. Another hour or two, and they will return to Netherfield. He will probably depart for town or Derbyshire or wherever he chooses to go after the wedding breakfast. Then and only then shall I permit myself to feel the weight of what seeing him again has meant.

More often than not, when she peeked in his direction, she caught him regarding her, but he did not approach her, and she certainly was not going to demand he pay her any attention if he did not wish to. She noticed him speaking to several others—her father and Mr Bingley most of all but also her sisters; he had even managed to look interested during a long conversation with Kitty, although Elizabeth doubted he had contributed more than half a dozen words.

As they took tea, Miss Bingley spoke more loudly than necessary about her arrangements after the wedding. It appeared to be an attempt to capture the attention of all her companions and make them jealous.

“Louisa, Mr Hurst, and I depart the day after tomorrow. We are going to Brighton. Will that not be the most splendid way to spend the winter? We shall have ever so much fun, and it will be a wonderful change from being in town, although I adore London, of course. If I cannot be there, Brighton is the only place I would not be absolutely miserable. I can hardly sleep, such is my anticipation.” She grinned, and her eyes were round with elation when she turned to Elizabeth. “What will you do, Miss Eliza, now that your sister will be so fortunately married?”

Elizabeth longed to say something sarcastic in response. To her, Miss Bingley’s odious behaviour merited it, but she also knew that her disappointment regarding Mr Darcy wanted an outlet of some sort, and the other lady did not deserve to bear the brunt of Elizabeth’s darker emotions.

“I have decided to remain at Longbourn at present.”

Mrs Bennet scoffed. “You had much better go with them. Perhaps you would find someone who wanted to marry you in Bath. You certainly have had no luck here or when you went to visit Charlotte or on your travels with my brother and sister last summer.”

Elizabeth could not stop herself from glancing at Mr Darcy. His expression was unreadable. How she wished she knew what he was thinking and feeling! Her mind screamed that he looked regretful, even that she saw some of the tenderness she had come to expect and treasure, but she refused to accept it.

Jane began to stammer, evidently hoping to change the subject and protect Elizabeth from any more of Mrs Bennet’s talk of marriage.

To spare her the necessity, Elizabeth said in a joking manner, “I am glad to know you are so anxious to be rid of me, Mama. Mary, Kitty, you will be glad to have me here, will you not? I dare not hope my father will have an opinion on the matter.”

Her sisters both answered, and from his seat near the fireplace, Mr Bennet chuckled and evidently also spoke; Elizabeth saw their lips move, but she heard none of it. She was occupied by the belief that the thoughts of at least one other person in the room mirrored hers—someone had wanted to marry her, and she had wanted to marry him too. The perfect gentleman for her, in fact, though she had not told anyone that was how she viewed Mr Darcy. Had events transpired as she had supposed they would, she might be seated by his side this evening, anticipating exchanging marriage vows with him on the morrow. Instead, she wanted to scream at him, beat him with her fists, and demand he tell her why he had abandoned her.