Chapter 10

E lizabeth lived through a week of tumultuous emotions, oscillating between agony and ecstasy. One moment found her eagerly counting the hours, weaving intricate tales, and devising grand plans, while the next plunged her into a mire of worries and fears.

She resolved to keep her inner turmoil hidden from the ladies at Longbourn, particularly Jane, for she had no wish to augment her suffering with the notion that Mr Bingley, influenced by his family and the counsel of Mr Darcy, deemed her a fortune hunter.

“I shall ask Mrs Barstow to help me arrange a meeting with Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth declared, though she knew deep down that she would never do something like that.

“Mr Darcy will not attend the theatre,” she lamented in the next breath. “Or if he does, Lady Amelia will accompany him, and he will look at her with love in his eyes and wish to marry her. He will have no wish to see me. I shall see hatred in his gaze. His heart is entangled with another, and he will marry her. Oh!”

Mrs Gardiner chose her words carefully and tried to make her niece see the reality, telling Elizabeth that a man who had proposed less than two weeks ago could not possibly be in love with another woman. Nevertheless, he would likely be sad and angry, burdened with considerable resentment towards her.

“It is best to prepare yourself,” Mrs Gardiner advised. “Lady Amelia may be present at the theatre, but your true adversary is him. She is not yet a rival, but his wounded heart may be vulnerable to any woman’s charms.”

“Then there is no hope!” Elizabeth sighed.

“Not so, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner countered. “If you find a moment to show your regret for what occurred in Kent—”

“I am not sorry for everything!” Elizabeth cried, her fiery spirit returning.

“And that is precisely the woman he wishes not to encounter,” Mrs Gardiner cautioned. “Any misstep, and he will not see the remarkable woman you are, who is now in love with him, but rather the acrimonious lady who hurled insults at him.”

“I am that person.”

“No, Lizzy, no! You have changed. That person did not love him, while the lady he will meet at the theatre is truly smitten. Show him that.”

“I do not know how!” Elizabeth lamented. Whilst she occasionally relished the idea of being courted, she was at a loss as to how to flirt, and especially how to plan such a thing before their meeting.

“Why am I even going?” she cried. “We both made it abundantly clear that we never wished to lay eyes on each other again.”

“Both of you did that in moments of profound distress, my dear!”

“What could I possibly gain from such a meeting?”

“Nothing more than meeting him in an elegant setting where you do not share any sad memories, where two young souls might begin the journey of love. Do not anticipate anything extraordinary. Treat it as a chance encounter.”

“He will come but barely acknowledge me, making me feel like I am an intruder.”

???

Yet, contrary to her expectations, as Elizabeth placed her foot on the step of the carriage outside the theatre, her eyes fell on Mr Darcy. He regarded her with surprise, his expression mirroring her own astonishment. If she had feared that he might suspect some plot, her genuine surprise softened his demeanour. He extended his hand to assist her.

“Miss Bennet,” he greeted her, once again the gentleman she had encountered at the Meryton assembly, his eyes showing that familiar, playful sarcasm.

“Mr Darcy,” she murmured. The contact of his hand sent an inexplicable thrill coursing through her body, from her toes to her heart. She trembled, hoping her inner turmoil remained concealed, but his gaze, fixed on hers, left her uncertain, and his smile nearly caused her to lose her footing. She stumbled, but he caught her, and his laughter made her cheeks flush with embarrassment and delight at the same time. For a brief moment, she had been closer to him than ever before.

Elizabeth was saved by Mrs Barstow, who approached accompanied by a charming young lady. For a brief, harrowing second, Elizabeth feared it might be Lady Amelia. She looked at Mr Darcy, who was still smiling as he presented his sister, and only then could her heart be at peace. They bowed and curtsied in front of the bustling theatre, her aunt and uncle caught up in the joyful atmosphere.

As the Gardiners and Elizabeth prepared to ascend the stairs to their seats, Mrs Barstow made an impassioned suggestion. “Please join us. We have a box intended for a larger party. I believe Georgiana would relish sharing her impressions of the play with Miss Bennet.”

Miss Darcy agreed in a warm tone, but when Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy, her heart froze; utterly uninterested in their conversation, he was looking around, unmistakably in search of someone—and who else could it be but Lady Amelia?

She concealed her disappointment; his initial smile upon seeing her had been, at the very least, amused if not pleased. However, under the glow of the theatre’s many candles, his countenance remained as inscrutable as ever.

“We do not want to intrude,” Mrs Gardiner said.

“You are not,” Miss Darcy chirped. “Please, Fitzwilliam, add your voice to mine in requesting their company. ”

With all eyes on him, Darcy nodded indifferently. Mrs Barstow took this as confirmation and invited the Gardiners to follow her and her niece, hoping that Elizabeth and Darcy would follow suit.

However, Darcy excused himself and vanished before Elizabeth could understand what had happened or where he had gone. The throng of theatregoers concealed him, leaving her with a hollow ache in her heart.

Obliged to follow the flow of the crowd, they silently reached the box. Yet, upon arriving at the door, Mrs Barstow discreetly held Elizabeth back and whispered, “Put on your beautiful smile, my dear. I know him well—he was genuinely delighted to see you!”

Any glimmer of hope in her heart quickly dimmed when the play began, and Mr Darcy remained absent. When finally the door opened, she resisted the urge to turn, convinced it would be him, but a different voice whispering to Georgiana made her turn and discover Colonel Fitzwilliam looking at her in surprise.

“Miss Bennet,” he greeted her and sat in the adjacent seat, where Elizabeth had hoped Mr Darcy would sit.

Colonel Fitzwilliam remained silent for a time, his nervousness evident in his restless movements. Eventually, Elizabeth turned to him. She held no resentment towards the merry colonel and smiled at him, certain that his nervousness was due to his indiscretion at Rosings.

“You are not angry with me,” he whispered, barely audibly, and Elizabeth shook her head with the same serene smile. The colonel let out a long breath, and Elizabeth turned back to the stage .

In the past, attending the theatre had been her main delight in London, and the play was among her favourites. Yet, despite the luxurious theatre and the lively performance on the stage, she could not follow the play nor enjoy it. The profound despondency she was experiencing was beyond her control. Despite her attempts to temper her expectations, love had its own capricious rules.

She had not been able to close her eyes at night without yearning for Mr Darcy to forget what had happened at the Parsonage and approach her with the wish to win her heart in that traditional way that began with mere glances and evolved in a slow but steady rhythm to reveal the depth of love. That evening at the theatre, she finally understood Jane’s despair and her inability to move on from her love for Mr Bingley, even after more than four months of his absence.

She had experienced love for such a short time, and her heart burned with a pain more intense with every moment that passed. She recalled her words of encouragement to Jane, assuring her that she would find a new love in time, only now realising the near impossibility of such a prospect. The elegant and proud man who had assisted her from the carriage was the love of her life, and she could not imagine anyone else taking his place. Unlike Jane, she had been on the cusp of becoming Mrs Darcy. And she alone was responsible for rejecting his love.

It was too late.

“I am so sorry, Miss Bennet,” the unfortunate colonel whispered as they quit the box during the first interval. She regarded him, and no further explanation was required. The man before her knew what had happened in the Parsonage, and he considered it his fault.

“No, I implore you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, do not feel that way. The matter is far more intricate, and I assure you that what you disclosed was not of the utmost consequence.”

Their conversation was curtailed, however, as Mr Darcy finally arrived. Once more, her heart quickened its pace, pounding with an intensity she could scarcely have imagined.

“What did he say?” the colonel asked impatiently.

“He is prepared to sell!” Mr Darcy responded, addressing the colonel and his aunt exclusively.

“I apologise,” Mrs Barstow interjected, addressing the Gardiners and Elizabeth. “I am trying to purchase an estate near Pemberley, and Fitzwilliam is assisting me in this endeavour. I wish to be nearer to my niece and nephew.”

“Even though she need not possess her own estate in Derbyshire, for Pemberley is also her home,” Miss Darcy declared warmly, taking her aunt’s arm with much affection.

“What is your line of trade, Mr Gardiner?” Mr Darcy suddenly asked, plunging Elizabeth into deep consternation. She had not expected Mr Darcy to remember her uncle’s name, let alone express interest in his business.

“I am a purveyor of steam engines of all varieties. I like to keep up with the changes around us,” Mr Gardiner replied, while Elizabeth admired her uncle’s self-assuredness as he explained further.

“I find it intriguing,” Darcy eventually remarked. “I am contemplating employing some innovations at Pemberley to align it with progress—as you said.”

“Oh,” Miss Darcy lamented playfully. “We came here for Mr Shakespeare, and all we hear about is estates and engines.”

“And you are right, little sister,” Mr Darcy said, smiling at Miss Darcy, obviously proud of her. “This is men’s talk.”

To Elizabeth’s despair, the gentlemen departed when they descended to the main saloon, where the ladies convened for refreshments. Fortunately, Miss Darcy’s enthusiasm for the play led her to dominate most of the conversation. Eventually, Elizabeth allowed herself to become immersed in the pleasant and amiable atmosphere, momentarily forgetting Mr Darcy as she delighted his sister with her deep knowledge of Shakespeare and his characters.

At the end of the interval, the two young ladies strolled ahead, engaged in animated conversation, already fast friends, while Mrs Barstow and Mrs Gardiner followed.

“I hope we may have the opportunity to meet on some future morning,” Mrs Barstow remarked, and Mrs Gardiner enthusiastically concurred.

“I understand that you have an affection for Derbyshire,” Mrs Gardiner observed. It did not take long for them to discover that Mrs Barstow was acquainted with Mrs Gardiner’s father’s shop in Lambton, and this shared memory filled both women with joy. There was much to discuss, and it became evident that they would visit each other.

“Please tell Miss Bennet that my nephew was delighted to see her,” Mrs Barstow whispered in Mrs Gardiner’s ear as they re-entered the box. This sealed their friendship, as they were now united not only by their shared memories of a Derbyshire of the past but also by their determination to prevent the two young people from drifting apart.

During the next interval, it seemed that Mrs Barstow and Mrs Gardiner’s common interests were not so far from fulfilment. Mr Darcy remained with them, discussing the play and their plans for the rest of the Season.

“I have secured a residence in Bath,” Mr Gardiner revealed. “We shall spend at least two weeks there. My wife is fond of the waters, and my nieces enjoy the promenades and balls,” he added, smiling at Elizabeth.

“And then, at the end of July, we shall journey to the Lakes,” Mrs Gardiner continued. “Ever since William Wordsworth published his ‘Guide to the Lakes’, Elizabeth has been urging us to make the trip. And this year, we have resolved to do so.”

“But that would entail a stop at Pemberley!” Miss Darcy exclaimed with warmth, looking at her brother not for approval but for confirmation.

Only then did Elizabeth and Darcy’s eyes meet for the first time since they had entered the theatre. Although Elizabeth could not discern the true meaning behind his gaze, it was neither hostile nor indifferent.

A glimmer of hope began to flicker within her. He then seated himself directly behind her, and for half of the third act, she could sense his presence, rendering her unable to pay attention to the play.

However, disaster struck halfway through when an unexpected guest arrived. It took Elizabeth but a moment to discern that the newcomer was a lady, and not just any lady but Lady Amelia. Elizabeth’s world and meagre hopes crumbled as she watched the radiant and beautiful woman exchange a few words with Mr Darcy before he rose and departed with only a murmured explanation for his aunt.

And the evening that had begun with such promise, her hand resting in his, concluded in utter calamity.