33

Elizabeth had not slept well her first night at Cameron Court. As she tossed and turned, she managed to lament a fair share for her poor sister Jane, in between bouts of tormenting herself over Captain Darcy’s unexpected presence. Except that it was not completely unexpected, not really. She had tried to convince herself, before and after her arrival, that it would be too much to hope for, and that she was too recently in mourning to have any right to cherish such a hope.

She wished to convince herself that it meant nothing, that after two long years, his feelings could not be what they once were. She had been a bride, a mother, and a widow since last they met – he must be someone else entirely now, as well.

Above all, Elizabeth anguished over her own stupidity that evening. Never had she been so dull and distracted at a dinner party. She had not been in possession of herself, certainly she had been of little use to Jane and Charles, and Captain Darcy must have thought her charms were not what they had once been. And how it chafed that the shock of his presence had unravelled her composure so thoroughly!

But she could not deceive herself; she could not bear the thought that Captain Darcy no longer cared for her, because the part of her that loved him was still rooted in her heart, and she knew she could do little to prevent those old embers from reigniting. It was not why she had come here – she dearly wished to help Jane and Charles in any way she could, but these dormant yearnings threatened to consume her.

She rose earlier than usual to walk the next morning, and though she brought a book to read in case she tired of exploring this new countryside, she desperately hoped Captain Darcy would remember their old routine and join her. And he did.

She was scarcely past the neatly manicured garden when she saw him walking across the meadow, shrouded in mist that clung to the high grass, lit by the first rays of dawn as the sun rose just above the dense forest to the east. His greatcoat hung open, and beneath it he wore only a thin shirt tucked into his trousers. There was a wild, tormented look about him, and she no longer had any doubt that he was as affected by their unexpected reunion as she was.

He strode toward her, and her body answered the pull of its own volition. There was only the sound of her steps on the dewy grass and the singing of birds in the pink light of dawn, and she sucked in a breath when he came to stand before her. Inside, her mind was screaming a dozen different questions she burned to ask him. But all she could say was, “I could not sleep.”

“Nor I,” he replied. He glanced downward and flexed one of his bare hands, before reaching for hers. His hands were cold as he tentatively brushed a thumb over her bare fingers. She froze as she allowed the touch, and his eyes searched hers. “Elizabeth….”

She opened her mouth to speak, but instead a nervous giggle bubbled from her throat. “Do you know, I never quite accustomed myself to your Christian name. I believe I only used it the last time we spoke.”

“Two years ago today,” he said softly. “Happy birthday, Elizabeth.”

He remembered. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath before looking back up at him. Their hands were still entwined, but she could not bear to break that contact between them. She could scarcely move. “I hoped I would see you.”

“This morning, or in coming to Yorkshire?”

“Both,” she replied, giving another nervous laugh. “It was very wicked of the Bingleys to say nothing of your coming to Yorkshire at the same time as me.”

“They did not tell me either, but of course I hoped for it.”

“Did you?” An eager smile crept across her face, and relief washed over her. Perhaps she was not about to make a terrible fool of herself.

“Of course I did, Elizabeth.” He fell silent as they began to walk together, their hands still entwined. It nearly felt as if once had, but for the heavy, awkward silence that hung over them.

At last, he said, “I wish to offer my condolences – I cannot recall – I do not think I said so last evening, but I was very sorry to hear of Olly’s passing. I saw him in London and we spoke briefly a few months before Trafalgar – he did not say that he meant to return to sea.”

“It was after returning from London, after the twins were born, that he decided to do so. I tried to dissuade him, but he insisted that he wished to go.”

“I hope you were not unhappy together.”

Elizabeth let out a breathy laugh, remembering how Jane had assumed the same. “Good Heavens, why would you suppose that we were not perfectly content? The year I spent as his wife was one of the best of my life, I assure you.”

She heard the defensive cadence in her voice and stopped herself for a moment, turning her face away from him to take in the sunrise ahead of them. Once she had calmed herself, she added, “Olly and I had little of passion or romance, but there was true, deep affection between us. His companionship was more than most couples enjoy. And he was such a good father, even for those brief months. He gave me two darling children, and when I think of the love I bear them, how could I wish things had been otherwise?”

He nodded. “Of course. I am glad you were happy. But I… I was shocked to hear of your engagement to him. Shocked and… grieved.”

“I felt the same when I heard of your engagement to Lady Amelia.”

Captain Darcy closed his eyes, his countenance pained and weary. “I was travelling when my aunt went to London and took it upon herself to print the announcement. I confronted her, refused so vehemently to wed my cousin that even my uncle the earl did not dispute me. I printed a retraction as soon as I could.”

She smiled sadly. “And I could not bear to read the papers for months after seeing that awful news.”

He gave her a rueful half-smile in return. “Perhaps we are cursed, to be always kept apart. So much lost – so much time lost, so many people dear to us.”

“Your father and brother, my father and husband. You.”

“You,” he repeated. They shared a silent, searching look, and then he said, “My Aunt Catherine passed as well, shortly after I confronted her about the engagement notice. About ten minutes after, in fact. I fear I was quite to blame.”

She swallowed back an unseemly retort about the domineering dowager experiencing the consequences of her own actions, and grasped for something appropriate to say. “That must have been very difficult for your mother; I understand they were close.”

“She was not herself for a long time after we left Hertfordshire. Only recently, with Georgiana’s marriage, has she begun to take pleasure in anything once again. They are both far more recovered than I am from the events of the last two and a half years.”

Elizabeth found that she still knew him well enough to presume what he would not say. His mother and sister had recovered because they had had him – and he had had nobody at all to share his burdens. He had lost Charles and Olly, too. That left the colonel, who seemed incapable of anything beyond a good jape, and Mr. Collins, perhaps the most happily married man in all of England.

She had suffered in her hopeless love for him, and the death of her father, but she had not anguished alone. In sentiment if not in station, her relations were far superior. Her sisters, the Gardiners, and even her cousin Collins had given her comfort and counsel. And she had had Olly and Charlotte, and a happy home at Netherfield.

They had walked back toward the edge of the garden, but Elizabeth stopped to study his face. The loneliness of responsibility and the pain of so much loss was etched plainly into his handsome visage, and she raised a bare hand to stroke his cheek. He flinched at the coolness of her touch, but then covered her hand with his own and held her palm against his face.

“In vain I have struggled,” he said. “It will not do. I must tell you how ardently and achingly I have loved you all these years. The moment I saw you yesterday, I wished to take you in my arms as I did two years ago in Kent – even at this very moment, it is all I can think of. But I know you are still mourning your husband. Yours has been a fuller, happier life than my own existence since we parted, and perhaps you no longer share those feelings which for me remain just what they were two years ago, when we vowed to wait for one another. A word from you will silence me on the matter forever; I shall depart at once if you wish it.”

Elizabeth moved her hand from his cheek to grasp his shoulder, and her other hand rose to do the same, but the book she still held slipped from hand. It landed on the gravel path, and out of it toppled her place-marker, a folded handkerchief sewn into a pouch. She could not explain why she had brought it with her to Yorkshire, but she had wanted it near, even if she had not read the letters within since before her engagement.

Captain Darcy bent down and picked up the book, and then the little pouch; she could see that he recognized the handkerchief that bore his initials. “I kept the two letters you wrote me,” she murmured, tucking the pouch back into the pages of her book.

“Elizabeth, I wrote you five.”

“What?”

Captain Darcy reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small bundle – three letters folded neatly and tied with a long gold ribbon. “After I left Kent, I wrote to you in May. And in June. And in July. In September I was recalled to Kent, and then to Brighton, back to London where I quarrelled with my aunt, and then again to Kent. Your cousin gave me these – he had recently discovered that his maid had been bribed by my aunt to intercept them. For months I had believed that you chose not to respond, but you never had the chance to read them. I hastened to Hertfordshire, and….”

He did not finish his sentence, but she understood. “You were too late.”

“By hours – minutes perhaps.”

Elizabeth gasped. “My wedding day?”

“I watched from afar.” He looked away and handed the letters to her. “I brought them in the hope that I might have the opportunity to give them to you; they are yours, if you want them.”

Of course she wanted them, though she was almost fearful of what they said – and if she was ready to read such things. She took the little bundle in her hands, staring at it in disbelief before tucking it into her pocket. “I shall read them, sir, but I can promise you no more than that, at present – that is, what you said before – it was very beautiful, but….”

“I ask nothing of you,” he said. “I only mean to make known my own feelings and wishes, which have never wavered since the moment I met you. I understand that for you it is more complicated – you have loved another.”

Elizabeth wrapped her arms about herself, shivering in the morning chill. “I have loved Olly all my life. It was not the stuff of novels, but I felt it right, for my sanity if not for my situation, to put aside those feelings that had tortured me all summer. I did not know of the letters, and felt the sting of abandonment without ever knowing that you must have felt the same. I thought I had to get past it, believing you had already done so. Time has cooled that passion, and up until this moment I have been grateful for the ease of that heartache. To open those wounds again is terribly frightening.”

Darcy winced but nodded his head. “I understand. I believe there is something else I must return to you.” He reached into the other pocket of his coat and pulled out something she recognized at once – a red woollen scarf Charlotte had knitted for her one Christmas years ago.

“I left it at Netherfield – you kept it?”

“I did. It has long ceased to smell of you, but sometimes I can still imagine a faint trace of lavender and mint.” And then Captain Darcy did something that shattered her heart and her composure. He lifted the scarf to his face and breathed deeply.

Elizabeth burst into tears at the same sight that had moved her so intensely at Christmas; she recalled how John Drake had made the same heart-wrenching gesture with one of Olly’s old shirts, and it had made her realise with shame and despair how different her affectionate friendship with her husband had been from true love.

And all along, Captain Darcy had loved her that deeply. She was in his arms in an instant and knew not which of them had initiated the comforting embrace. She did not care. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and wept, and he held her against the warmth of his broad, muscular chest.

“Do not cry, Elizabeth,” he whispered, stroking her hair and then kissing the top of her head.

“Do not tell me what to do,” she said, laughing through her tears. His chest rumbled with laughter, and he held her tighter.

It felt strangely pleasant to weep, to feel the embers of her passion for him reignite in a part of her heart that had never truly ceased to ache for him. She was flooded by the remembrance of what it felt like to love him, to crave the feel of being in his arms, of letting his love wash over her like this. It had all been real, those days long ago that had turned into a distant story in her mind, a fairytale she thought she must have imagined. It was real, and it came rushing back to her so forcefully she could scarcely breathe.

“Are you… unhappy?” Still pressed against him, she shook her head. Then she raised it to look up at him, and he leaned down until his forehead brushed hers. “Tell me what you are thinking, Elizabeth, else I shall run mad,” he said huskily.

Elizabeth could not find the words, hardly knew how to speak at all as she drank in the smell of him. A trembling inhale caught in her throat. His fingers moved up her spine to stroke her shoulders and his face had moved against the side of hers as he spoke, his breath hot against her neck. She stood up on her toes, her body moving against his as she slowly, so slowly, nudged his cheek with her nose, until their mouths were excruciatingly close. She lost herself in the bliss of anticipation, until finally their lips met.

He kissed her deeply, just as he had in Kent, two years ago to the day. She remembered that kiss, and only that kiss, as she gave into the moment. It felt like coming home at last.

***

Lydia Bennet passed a window on her way to Jane’s room; her sister was often ill in the mornings, and Lydia had made a habit of sitting with her and chatting until Jane was ready to dress and go downstairs. And every time she passed this window, she looked out to take in the splendid scenery.

But she had never enjoyed the view as much as she did this morning. She laughed giddily at the sight before her, and was met with an unexpected voice that made her jump.

“Do sunrises divert you, Miss Bennet?” Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned as he stalked toward her.

“Much as with sunrises, what presently diverts me is beyond mere words – come and see for yourself.” Lydia smiled at him, making a simple, sweeping gesture before resting her hands on the cool glass before her.

The colonel moved to stand at her side and gave a low whistle of appreciation at the sight of Captain Darcy and Elizabeth devouring one another at the back of the garden. “I ought to say something of how your virtuous innocence shall be corrupted or some such nonsense, but instead I can only rejoice.”

“With four sisters married, you can hardly imagine me to be insensible to… certain facts.” Her sisters had not disclosed everything to her, but she had discovered certain novels which filled in the gaps of her imagination. She swept a gaze over her companion and smiled placidly, hoping to conceal her sudden awareness of what it must be like to kiss a man.

“One sister in particular does not appear very married at present,” he quipped waggling his eyebrows before surveying her up and down as she had done to him. “I had feared it would be too much too soon for her, but it appears we both underestimated them.”

Lydia grinned. “And I was so looking forward to claiming a share of the triumph in uniting them, but I believe it will make Jane happy to know that she has done it just by bringing them both into the same house.”

The colonel nodded approvingly. “But we still have the Bingleys to manage, for I do not think their matchmaking endeavour alone will have them… enjoying the garden like these lovebirds. And as they ought not be distracted from… reacquainting themselves… we must take charge of our hosts.”

“Oh, yes. Lizzy and Captain Darcy were both invited here to be of assistance, but surely they must reacquaint themselves, which is a thing of tremendous possibility, is it not?” Lydia gave him a saucy look.

“How thrilling… for them. And I daresay, for us.”

“To be sure, there is nothing so satisfying as having a fine idea and acting upon it with alacrity,” Lydia agreed, giving him a smile she hoped would make him weak in the knees. What fun it was to bandy words about so playfully! She moved a little closer, her eyes wide with excitement as she began to confide the idea that had just occurred to her.

“I liked Miss Darcy very much when I met her in London, and her beau was so attentive to her that I was half mad with envy! They are recently married, is that not so?” He nodded, and Lydia continued, for she already knew she was correct. “Viscount Webster and his bride are on Charles’s guest list for the ball, but what if they came to Cameron Court a little earlier than planned? Happy newlyweds would set a fine example for more than one couple here, I think.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “That is a capital idea! And Georgiana is sure to like Elizabeth, which can only help matters along.”

“And she was so full of praise for her brother, she is sure to speak well of him to Lizzy.” Lydia stared at the colonel, fairly tingling from the brilliance of her new scheme.

“And you are to manage all the entertainment for the house party, so you might arrange such activities as would be most suitable for couples.” He grinned at her. “But I suppose that would leave you and I often in one another’s company.”

Lydia arched an eyebrow at him. “You may pretend to endure it with tremendous dignity and forbearance, if you cannot admit what excellent company I am.”

He threw his head back and guffawed. “You shall find me far more sensible than Darcy and Bingley, for I have no qualms in expressing my delight in spending time with clever beauties.”

“Good,” Lydia replied matter-of-factly. “Since it was your idea. I hope I shall not be obliged to remind you that you said such a thing, for I daresay we shall be often together – if I thought it was a punishment for you, I might be tempted to ensnare you with ribbons and read you my diary after all.”

“To remind me what true punishment is?”

“Exactly,” Lydia said. “But now I shall be obliged to deprive you of my edifying company, for Jane needs it more. And you have an express to send to your cousin.”

The colonel gave her a playful salute and then bowed before stalking away. Lydia watched him go, smiling to herself as she made her way to her sister’s bedchamber. Her head was full of notions for how to entertain two sets of estranged lovers, a pair of newlyweds, and a couple whose flirtation was dancing on the cusp of becoming something far more enjoyable.

“Ah, dancing,” she sighed, humming as she went down the corridor.

***

After looking in on the sleeping twins, Elizabeth entered her sister’s bedchamber to find Jane and Lydia chatting idly on Jane’s bed, and she joined them in their cosy informality. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Lydia grinned at her. “Happy birthday, Lizzy.”

“Yes, happy birthday, dearest,” Jane said.

“We have presents for you, but you shall have to wait until dinner to get our gifts,” Lydia teased her. “Has anybody given you anything yet?”

“Not yet,” Elizabeth replied. “But then, I have not your enthusiasm for presents.”

Lydia screwed up her face, and Jane shook her head with an affectionate look for both her sisters. “Lydia said she saw you out walking with Captain Darcy.”

Elizabeth looked to her younger sister, who pursed her lips and made a kissy face, then winked at her. Heat suddenly covered Elizabeth’s face. “Yes, I did encounter him on my walk.”

Jane smiled. “Because he remembered your habit of early morning rambles.”

“Yes.”

“And because he is still ardently in love with you,” Lydia added.

Elizabeth allowed a wide smile to spread across her face. “Yes.”

Lydia squealed and Jane clapped her hands before bringing them to her face in elation. “Oh, Lizzy!”

And for the second time that morning, Elizabeth burst into tears as the words tumbled out of her. “He loved me all this time, Jane. He wrote to me in Kent, but Kitty’s maid stole all the letters. Cousin Collins discovered them and Captain Darcy gave them to me. He searched for me, he even pursued me to Brighton, but he was too late. And then he went to Meryton, and again he was too late – mere hours late to prevent my wedding. And though I truly cannot wish it had been otherwise, for I love my children – Olly’s children – oh, how my heart aches for him! He loved me as I loved him, and was as wretched as I was all the while. And all this time I have tried to convince myself I had put him in the past, but it was never true. I have kept him in my heart and yet dared not wish I might see him again someday, but it has happened. And I have you to thank.”

After hastily babbling her account of their conversation, Elizabeth hurled herself into Jane’s arms. “You did this, Jane, I know it. You are so good, to think of me when I spurned you for so long. Thank you, Jane, thank you for bringing him back to me.”

As Elizabeth withdrew and wiped at her tears, Jane leaned in and briefly embraced her once more. “I am so relieved that you are not cross with me – I feared that you would think I had not amended my ways – it is the last scheming I shall ever do.”

“It was beautifully done, Jane.”

Jane smiled at her. “Charles helped. Since we resumed our correspondence with you and Captain Darcy, we each came to realise that you both still held tender feelings for one another, though you would not admit it. And making amends for the wrong I have done you in causing your separation has been a means of bringing Charles and I closer. Of course, I had no notion we should succeed so quickly.”

Lydia seized Elizabeth’s hand. “Are matters settled between you? Are you to be wed?”

“I am far from being ready to think of such things,” Elizabeth said. “My husband is not six months gone. It is too soon; I have not seen Captain Darcy in two years, we could hardly come to an understanding in the space of a morning walk.”

Lydia eyed her dubiously. “No?”

“Oh dear,” Jane sighed, her shoulders slumping.

Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hand. “I do not mean to say that I am not amenable to the possibilities that you may wish for us – only that I need time. I shall begin by reading his letters, though he has asked that I do not read them all at once, for he was in a very dejected state when he wrote them. But we have both changed a great deal after all that has befallen us, and we must become reacquainted. We mean to begin again.”

“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane cried, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks. “That is utterly perfect. Oh, I am so happy! And Charles will be happy, too. It is just what I had hoped for. Time may have cooled what you once felt for him, and grief may have altered you both, but in essentials, I believe you are still the woman he fell in love with in Hertfordshire, and I daresay you shall see the same in him.”

“I am certain you shall,” Lydia said with a smirk.

“But, Jane….” Elizabeth chewed her lips for a moment. “I beg you would not allow your own happiness to hinge upon mine. You have punished yourself too much for something I have long ago forgiven. I am flattered that you and your husband would wish to do me such a kindness, but you must heal the breach between you for your own sakes.”

“Lizzy is right,” Lydia said. “And I know just what you must do – what Lizzy does. Whatever is amiss between you and Charles, can you not also begin again? Can you not… court one another? It would be so terribly romantic!”

Elizabeth gave her younger sister a look of warm approbation, then watched as Jane considered the suggestion. “Why, yes, I suppose we could. Our little house party is very like when he first came to Netherfield.”

“Except that his beastly sister is not amongst us,” Lydia scoffed.

Jane gasped, but Elizabeth smiled. “That is a very, very good point. Caroline is gone, Jane, and so is that secret she held over you. Your friendship with her need not haunt you any longer. Banish the thought of her, and court your husband as you would have done, had he come to Netherfield without her.”

For the first time since Elizabeth had come to Cameron Court, she beheld a true smile from Jane, one that reached her eyes, one that glowed as it once did years ago. The two sisters shared a look of hope and joy; Lydia looked suspiciously smug.