Chapter 43
After spending an agreeable fortnight in Scarborough, Jane, Bingley, and Elizabeth returned to Hertfordshire in early September. Bingley might have liked to remain in Yorkshire longer, but Mr and Mrs Bennet’s pleas that they return were growing increasingly urgent, and they were all conscious of having to inform the family that they were removing to Larch Lane.
Upon entering the neighbourhood, they first went to Netherfield Park, where Elizabeth would remain. That same afternoon, the three of them journeyed to Longbourn to take dinner. Mrs Bennet fussed over Jane, but when she at last addressed her second daughter, Elizabeth knew she had been right to agree to stay with the Bingleys.
“I had hoped someone would take an interest in you. Did I not warn you those town gentlemen would not take kindly to you always acting as though you are cleverer than the rest of us? Mark my words, if you do not change your ways, you will end up a spinster.” Mrs Bennet shook her head, seeming both sad and disappointed.
“All the better. She can remain at home and keep her old father company. One of our daughters must.” Mr Bennet winked at Elizabeth. “I did just happen to notice, Lizzy, that no trunks were brought into the house.”
“I insisted she stay with me.” It was unlike Jane to speak up, especially when she knew what she said would displease someone. Doing so was a mark of her concern for Elizabeth.
Mr Bennet scowled but said nothing more.
Worse was to come several days later when Jane gently broke the news that Bingley had purchased an estate in Derbyshire and they would soon be removing to it—and that Elizabeth would live with them. Mrs Bennet spent two days in her room, claiming the announcement had caused a severe nervous fit. She spent several more constantly dabbing a handkerchief under her eyes and saying that Jane and Bingley had broken her heart. Mr Bennet accepted the news as well as could be expected, and Mary and Kitty had little response to it.
One morning soon after, Elizabeth sat with her father in his book-room. He observed her from behind his desk, his fingers steepled together, as he so often had over the years.
“Are you certain you wish to go north with Jane? You do not seem particularly pleased about it.”
Elizabeth was taken aback that he had noticed her mood. “Do I not?” she said, attempting to suggest she felt he had said something outrageous rather than that she had betrayed her struggle to be cheerful.
It might help if I knew how Miss Darcy fared. Surely if Bingley had any news, he would tell me.She worried that if she enquired, he—and especially Jane—would think too much of it.
He shook his head. “I do not doubt that Jane wants you with her, but you need not give in if you do not like the notion.”
“I am grateful to her and Bingley, and I do want to live with them. It will be better for me, Papa. I know you might not like to hear that, and I shall miss you, but I shall be happier at Larch Lane than I could be here,” Elizabeth insisted.
“Hmm. Next you will remind me that you are of age and do not need my permission.” He took a sip from a cup of tea. “Well, you are old enough to know what suits you best. I trust you appreciate that I have not asked if there is a gentleman behind your present mood, which no matter what you say, is not at all as lively as I would expect.”
Rather than say more, Elizabeth stood, kissed his cheek, and left him to his books.
Correspondence occupied a fair amount of Elizabeth’s time during the first week she was in Meryton. She received and wrote letters to her aunt Gardiner, Charlotte Collins, and various friends. The one she found most heartening was from Rebecca Reed. As she had promised before leaving town, Elizabeth had provided Rebecca with an account of her connexion to Mr Darcy, though she left out many details and softened how and why it had ended, simply saying they had a disagreement. She had also mentioned the sojourn at Pemberley, but only in passing.
September 4, 1813
My dear Elizabeth,
I hope that you and your family are well and your journey from Yorkshire to Hertfordshire was as easy as possible. I am very happy for your sister and brother-in-law that they found a new estate. Derbyshire is a wonderful county, and I hope you and they will be very happy there.
Thank you again for telling me of your past with my cousin Darcy. I find myself often thinking of it and you, especially after you said you were at Pemberley last month. I can only imagine it was very difficult and awkward for both of you. I shall not burden you with my wishes for the two of you. Only know that I am very sorry you could not reconcile your differences.
As I mentioned in my last letter, my parents and I went to Pemberley to see my cousins. Viscount Bramwell and the earl and countess visited at the same time, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was there for several days as well. I was pleased to spend more time with Georgiana. She appeared more willing to speak and partake in conversations and activities. It might simply be because she was at home and surrounded by her family again. She and I spoke of you one morning. My cousin has a high opinion of you, which shows she is wise beyond her tender years.
While at Pemberley, the viscount, whom I suppose I may now address as Bramwell, proposed. We went for a walk in the gardens after dinner, and whether he meant it to be or not, it was very romantic. The light was hazy, the air was full of floral scents, and some species of bird was singing in the distance. He immediately spoke to my father, and we were all awake into the early hours of the next morning celebrating. Apparently, the earl and countess already knew he planned to ask me to marry him, and I am pleased to announce that they show every sign of being happy with their son’s choice. I suppose it helps that Lord Romsley and my father are friends.
We have returned to London. If Mr and Mrs Bingley do not intend to spend time here before removing to Derbyshire, I hope you will come and stay with me. I am sure between your brother and my father we could make arrangements for you to safely travel to them later in the autumn.
Your friend,
Rebecca Reed
Elizabeth was delighted to hear of the engagement, but what most affected her was the news of Miss Darcy. It took several minutes for her head to stop swimming, such was her relief. It sounded as though the young lady had made a genuine improvement, and Elizabeth fervently hoped it was so. It would ease the heavy weight on Mr Darcy’s shoulders, and she would dearly love to see him be happy. She would greatly value knowing more about Miss Darcy’s present circumstances. Was Rebecca correct that her health was improving? What had led to such a change?
Perhaps I shall obtain more news from Bingley. He and Mr Darcy must write to each other, and they will see each other in town. At least, she hoped that was the case. She hated that their friendship had been damaged, despite what she and Jane had done to protect it.
Another notable letter she received was from Lydia. While in Scarborough, Elizabeth had written to her sister. She was determined to view her with more compassion than she had since her elopement. They would never be as close as she and Jane were, but still Elizabeth might be a better friend to her than she had been in the past. In her missive, she had expressed a wish to exchange letters—something they had never done. She did not mention her concerns or explain her changing views, knowing Lydia would overlook them.
I would like to know how you are. You can tell me anything, whether you think I shall like or approve of it or not. I think it is valuable to have someone in whom we can confide without fear of what they will say in response. I do not know whether you have someone such as this already in your life. Kitty is the only possibility I can think of, but whether she is or not, I am offering to be that person for you.
She had not expected to receive a reply for weeks, possibly months, if one ever arrived, yet a letter from Lydia was delivered soon after Elizabeth’s return to Meryton. It was full of glee and assurances that she had never been happier than she was since marrying her ‘dear Wickham’.
I do not know why you were so serious. Lord, it is almost as though you expected me to tell you that he beats me. I would never let any man treat me so infamously, and Wickham would never behave in such a manner. Being a wife is the most wonderful thing in the world, and if you were as quick-witted as Papa always says you are, you would find a husband as soon as you might. I know you envy me mine, but I am sure you can find another man who will suit you almost as well as he does me.
There was a certain falseness to Lydia’s claims of being pleased with her life, but Elizabeth could not compel her to be franker. At least half of the letter was filled with Lydia’s complaints about being short of funds. Elizabeth chose to overlook that part of it; she had no intention of sending Lydia money, being certain Mr Wickham would pocket it all, then gamble or drink it away.
The least expected and most satisfying letter arrived a few days later. As Bingley was distributing that day’s post, he handed Elizabeth a missive in an unknown hand. Her curiosity excited, she immediately broke the seal and sought the name of the sender.
Georgiana Darcy
Elizabeth stared at the two words for a long while, Bingley and Jane’s voices fading as she seemed to slip to a different place where the loudest sound was the blood rushing through her body. Why would Miss Darcy write to her? Quickly, she excused herself and went to her apartment where she could read in peace. She sat in a wide armchair, her legs tucked beside her, and with some trepidation, began.
September 8, 1813
Dear Miss Bennet,
I hope you are well, and I beg you will forgive me for writing to you in such a fashion. My aunt encouraged me to do so. She said that, from what she had heard of you, you would forgive the presumption. I wished to convey certain messages, and as I do not know when we might next meet, this seemed like the best means of saying what I wished. I do not know whether I would be brave enough to express it all were we sitting together; thus a letter is more practical as well.
First, I must offer you an apology. I know the last day we were together was unpleasant for you, and indeed I made those you passed at Pemberley last month difficult. I am very sorry for my behaviour. Regarding Buxton, I am extremely grateful that you were there when I most needed a friend.
As you can see from the direction, we are now in town. My brother and I remained at Pemberley until four days ago. You may have learnt already that my cousins—the Reeds—came to visit us, as did Lord and Lady Romsley and Bramwell. Having them all there made the house so much livelier. For the first time in years, I liked being amongst them. After my stupid decision to run away from those who love and care for me, everything changed. I was very glad to see my relations, especially Rebecca. It provided us with an opportunity to grow closer—enough that I believe she would call me a friend. It was amusing and heartening to see her and Bramwell together, especially to see him in love. I am very happy for them. I am not sure I would have been able to enjoy it two or three months ago—their visit or the celebration that came with their engagement, about which she told me she would write to you. She told me how much she enjoyed meeting you last winter and that you had become good friends. I was not surprised by that. I, who can appreciate your worth in a way I imagine few others can, know that she is fortunate to have gained your friendship.
I have rambled long enough. The true reason for disturbing you with my letter is to thank you. I do not know exactly what it was you said to me that day, but your words have helped me more than I can express. Long ago, my brother told me what a sympathetic lady you are, and that is what I found in you during that horrible morning when I was in desperate need of help.
Since my silly, ill-planned escapade, there has been a great deal of talking—with my brother, cousin, Mrs Annesley, and my aunt and uncle. I find it all uncomfortable, but I am determined to continue it. I know it is necessary if I am to grow stronger. Beyond that, my brother arranged for a new doctor to come to Pemberley. He is a young man, not yet thirty, and I liked him. I cannot explain why exactly, but his manner was reassuring, more so than the older gentlemen we have consulted. He prescribed more exercise, especially in the open air, and certain changes to my diet. I do not know whether they are making a difference, but I suppose they cannot hurt and are far less displeasing than the various powders and elixirs thrust upon me by others over the last two years. I am following his instructions carefully, and I do feel more myself. I know I have a long road ahead of me, but for the first time since Ramsgate, I am hopeful. I tell you all of this so that you know I am truly trying to be well again.
Miss Bennet, I owe you a debt I can never repay. Your goodness to me cannot be praised enough, especially when I have treated you so poorly this past year. I was lost the day you found me at the inn, in more than one way, but with your assistance, I believe I have been set upon the correct path towards recovery. I will only add, God bless you.
Georgiana Darcy
“Well, the Darcys are certainly superior letter writers,” Elizabeth quipped, although no one was nearby to hear her.
Her hands trembled as she folded the paper. Doing so was pointless; she would read and reread it many times in the coming days, just as she had the one Mr Darcy gave her in Kent. Was she destined to have her life altered by letters from that family? How many more times would it happen?
“I do not know why, but her letter has changed me,” Elizabeth whispered. She wiped her cheek, only vaguely acknowledging the moisture she felt.
Elizabeth felt set free. That is what had changed after reading just a few paragraphs.
It was over. Truths had been revealed—Miss Darcy’s regarding what happened with Mr Wickham and Elizabeth’s in how she had harboured anger and disappointment rather than compassion for Mr Darcy and her own sister. I pray Miss Darcy’s dark cloud truly is dissipating. I have the strong sense that it is, and with it, so is the hold the Darcys had on me, and have had since Mr Darcy and I met two years ago.
With that thought, she buried her face in her hands, Miss Darcy’s letter still clutched in one, and began to cry. She did not know whether it was from relief or sorrow.