Chapter 14

"L izzy, I am sorry to keep you awake with my chatting," Jane said. "I cannot believe it happened, as I have dreamed of it so many times. I shall stop talking so you can rest."

"Do not worry. It is not you that keeps me awake," Elizabeth replied. It was true; the reason for her restlessness could not be repaired, nor silenced.

After her dance with Mr Collins, the ball had lasted more than another hour. She had spent some time in the library, claiming a headache. She had struggled to act politely with everyone, especially with Mr Darcy and Lord Matlock. She felt a strong resentment towards both of them, a sentiment as strong as it was unreasonable. Both gentlemen had been nothing but kind and friendly to her and her family since the earl had arrived in Hertfordshire. And Mr Darcy had played a significant role in Jane's present felicity. She should be grateful to them if she had a little bit of wit and reason.

Lying in her bed after Jane had already fallen asleep, Elizabeth recollected all her interactions with Mr Darcy. From their meetings out of doors, their conversations, both public and private, his confession about the reason for his improved manners, his claims of admiration towards her. There had been so many words with unclear meanings that she had chosen to interpret them in a certain way and to build unrealistic expectations. He had never said or done anything improper, or induced her to believe he would offer more than friendship. Not even her mother — who was obsessed with turning every man into a husband — had made absurd assumptions about Mr Darcy.

He had been engaged to his cousin for more than twenty years, Mr Collins had claimed. But he must have been a child then. What sort of engagement was it? Perhaps it was the custom among families of high society to arrange marriages when the couple were in their cradles. That was absurd and unreasonable too. Ridiculous! From one thought to another, Elizabeth remembered the earl's confession about regrets in marriage. Perhaps he had been in a similar situation and had regretted it later on. Mr Darcy would probably regret it too. Or perhaps he would find amusements outside the marriage.

The thought made her warm. Too warm to sleep or even to breathe. She would have liked to open the window a little, but it would be too cold for Jane.

In such turmoil, the time passed slowly, and the dawn seemed to never come. Other reflections added to her turmoil as she considered that Mr Bingley would marry Jane, and they would all be family. Mr Darcy would probably visit his friend often, and she would have to see him, probably his wife too — a hurtful thought that she struggled to dismiss. It was the final piece that completed the puzzle in her mind. She had foolishly fallen in love with Mr Darcy — the man with whom she had promised never to dance. Even worse, she was such a simpleton to have allowed the painful and unconceivable hope that he might love her too to grow inside her heart.

∞∞∞

Elizabeth did not remember finally falling asleep, but she woke up exhausted, dizzy, and with a terrible headache. Unlike her, Jane was already dressed, glowing, pretty, and serene.

"Lizzy dear, you look tired. Would you like to sleep a little longer?"

"No. I have a headache, and I cannot sleep in any case. I shall be ready soon."

"Mr Bingley could arrive at any moment. Do you think I should speak to Papa first?"

"As you wish. I am sure Papa will give you both his blessing with all his heart."

"I cannot wait to tell Mama. I am overjoyed to be able to bring my family so much happiness. I hope our mother will be less distressed now."

"I hope so too," Elizabeth replied. She was in no disposition for conversation with anyone, including her sister. Every word seemed to cut her temples.

They finally went down to breakfast, where the discussions about the ball were so loud that Elizabeth's headache increased.

"Mr Collins has already left. Apparently, he was invited to breakfast at Lucas Lodge. Now I am absolutely certain he will never propose to Lizzy!"

"Mrs Bennet, I am shocked that you cannot help talking about Mr Collins, regardless of the time or occasion," Mr Bennet interjected. "Should I worry that you have a romantic attachment to him?"

"Oh, do not be silly, Mr Bennet! You are not even amusing. I have an obsession with our daughters' situations, which are quite poor. Mary King just inherited ten thousand pounds!"

"We have no other choice but to hate Mary King if that will help our daughters," Mr Bennet answered calmly.

Elizabeth hoped to pass the meal peacefully and then return to her room. She spoke little and refused to respond to her mother's constant insinuations about Mr Collins.

"Lizzy, you look very ill!" Lydia said.

"I am tired, and I have a headache."

"Papa, Mr Bingley said he would call on you this morning," Jane said.

"Will he? How lovely. I suppose he will come with Henry and Mr Darcy."

"That, I do not know. He only mentioned he would come."

"Well, I shall be at home, so if he comes, direct him to the library."

"I wonder what Mr Bingley has to say," Mrs Bennet said. "I hope he is not coming to tell you that he is leaving. Jane dear, if you wish to talk to Mr Bingley privately, just tell me. You may invite him to take a stroll in the garden. Or we can leave you in the drawing room. Just signal to me, and I shall take your sisters out."

"Mrs Bennet, your schemes are very entertaining, except for those that end with Jane falling ill from riding in the rain," Mr Bennet replied. "Now excuse me, I shall retire to finish my book."

He stood up from the table but was interrupted by the entrance of their servant, John.

"Sir, I found this envelope in Mr Collins's room. I went to take up some coal for the fire, and there was no luggage, nothing. He has taken all his belongings, except for this letter."

"He left without telling us? Like a thief in the night?" Mrs Bennet cried.

"Are you sure, John?" Mr Bennet enquired. "He said he would breakfast at Lucas Lodge and leave Longbourn tomorrow. We shall be able to survive without him, but it is all very strange."

"I know nothing of what he said, sir. But there is nothing else in his room."

"Well! What a cousin and what a clergyman! To sneak out like a robber! I shall tell Lord Matlock to tell Lady Catherine. I wonder whether she approves of such behaviour! Go on, Mr Bennet, read the letter and see what he has to say."

Before he had time to open it, Mr Bingley appeared. He had entered unnoticed and was waiting in the doorway, his hat in his hands, seemingly confused at the agitation.

"I apologise for intruding. Is this a bad moment? I can leave and return later."

"Oh no, Mr Bingley." Jane hurried to him. "I told my father that you might call."

"This moment is as good as any other, Mr Bingley," his host agreed. "My daughter tells me you wish to speak to me?"

"Yes, sir. If you do not mind."

"Not at all. Mrs Bennet, I shall read the letter in a short while and inform you about the contents. I hope you agree that I should speak to Mr Bingley first?"

"Of course!" the lady replied. Not upsetting Mr Bingley was more important than news about Mr Collins.

When the ladies were by themselves, Mrs Bennet continued her whining. She had no doubts left that all hopes about one of her daughters becoming the mistress of Longbourn were lost, and she blamed Elizabeth for that.

Fortunately, the private audience in the library lasted less than a quarter of an hour, and the gentlemen returned together, in good spirits. Mrs Bennet ceased complaining immediately, and she addressed their guest.

"Mr Bingley, I hope you will stay with us a little longer if you are not in a hurry."

"I am in no hurry, madam. In fact, there is something I would like to tell you," he said timidly, looking at Mr Bennet, who nodded his approval.

"Mrs Bennet," Mr Bingley continued, "Mr Bennet has granted me his blessing on my engagement to Miss Bennet. If you approve too, I shall be happy to say we are betrothed."

There was a moment of silence, then Mrs Bennet burst out, "Oh, my dear Mr Bingley! Of course I approve! You are engaged? I did not even know you had proposed! Oh, how sly you two have been! Oh well, good for you! My dear Jane is engaged to the most handsome gentleman! What more could a mother wish for? Oh, come here, Mr Bingley, let me kiss you!"

She did so before he had time to respond, and she continued to express her joy for several minutes.

"Mrs Bennet, in case you are interested, I read Mr Collins's letter too. He says he is going to propose to Charlotte Lucas and already has Sir William's approval, so he expects complete success. He will stay at Lucas Lodge tonight and depart for Kent tomorrow morning."

"Oh, who cares about Mr Collins? He may do what he pleases! I only care about my daughter and son-in-law! Engaged to Charlotte Lucas? I am not surprised. I knew she would do anything to catch him, and Sir William and Lady Lucas would help. I do not care about them, especially since my beautiful daughter will marry a man ten times better than that clergyman," Mrs Bennet declared.

Unlike Jane's engagement, Charlotte's was a surprise and a disappointment for Elizabeth. She had always prized Charlotte's friendship, her wisdom, and her calm temper and often had applied to her for advice. She knew Charlotte was not romantic, that she was twenty-seven and hoped for her own household with a husband she could respect. Mr Collins might have offered her both, but Charlotte did not know him, did not know his disposition. She would marry a complete stranger, with few qualities on his side, for a modicum of comfort.

Elizabeth glanced at Jane and Mr Bingley. He was more vocal than she, but their faces expressed equal heartfelt delight. That was what an engagement should look like, and she was content that at least her beloved sister was blessed to experience it.

"Mr Bingley, please accept my congratulations, and I hope you know how grateful I am to be able to call you brother," Elizabeth said. "But I must beg you to forgive me now. I do not feel well, and I shall go and rest. I have a terrible headache."

"I am so sorry to hear that, Miss Elizabeth. Please do not worry about me. I wish you a speedy recovery."

She smiled at him, then at Jane, and walked out, hurrying to her room. She had not lied; she felt ill indeed, and the noise and the light increased her headache. She pulled the curtains closed, put another log on the fire, and covered herself with the sheets, closing her eyes.

She could not sleep, but at least it was quiet and dark. A while later, Hill entered, bringing her some herbal tea and insisting she drink a cup. Although she first refused it, shortly after she drank it, the effects gently enveloped her, like a soft touch removing the pain. Slowly, her body felt lighter, her mind cleared, and she fell asleep.

Elizabeth was startled and abruptly awakened by the sound of voices, loud and numerous. She recognised her mother and aunt Phillips, as well as Lydia and Kitty. She still did not feel well enough to join such a bustle; her headache returned simply by listening to it from afar.

She felt thirsty and hot, and she assumed she might have a fever, perhaps because of the long time she had spent in the Netherfield library with the window open. She looked around — there was no water left in the room. She gathered herself, arranged her appearance, adjusted the pins in her hair, and decided to go and greet the guests, take some water and some tea, and return to her chamber for the rest of the day. Surely nobody would miss her. So absent was she that she almost ran into John, who was passing the bottom of the stairs carrying a tray.

"Miss Lizzy! Are you still unwell?"

"I am. I only need some water and some tea and will return to my room. Do we have visitors? Who is here?"

"Yes. Mr and Mrs Phillips, Mrs Long, Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, and Lord Matlock are here. They are all in the drawing room, I believe. Mr Bennet asked me to take some refreshments to the library, so I assume he is in there."

"Very well." Knowing Mr Darcy was there only worsened her state. She did not want to see him.

"Miss Lizzy, you look very ill," John continued. "You should go back to bed. I shall take this tray to the library and ask Mrs Hill to bring you water and tea."

"Thank you, John. That would be lovely. Let me help you open the library door," she offered. She did so but did not step inside, merely allowed John to pass with the tray.

She turned to leave but was suddenly stilled by the surprise of finding herself face-to-face with her father, the earl, and Mr Darcy. She felt all the blood drain from her face, and she wished to leave, but her feet would not obey.