Chapter 20

“M ary, I am sorry for my silence,” Elizabeth begged as they travelled to Longbourn after a short stay in London. “I must think about how I should behave when we return home. I have decided not to tell anyone about what happened in Bath. I feel desperate and humiliated. It is like he rejected my feelings.”

She thought about her feelings of humiliation for a while, which must have been similar to what he had experienced in Kent after she rejected him. She wondered whether the time they had spent together in Bath, that closeness that had grown between them, was revenge on his part.

Then, she remembered how he had looked at her, his charming smile, and those two occasions when he had kissed her hand in a way only a man in love would do. But she had no experience of love, and she wondered whether those sweet gestures and delicate allusions to feelings and the future were just an act.

“How did you perceive Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked Mary, who had shown her true intelligence in the last few weeks, as well as her longing to be close to her sister. She had been a quiet but comforting presence during that difficult time.

Mary blushed happily at the importance of the question. “Lizzy, I know nothing about love, but I have read—”

“You have read a lot,” Elizabeth acknowledged with a small smile—the first that morning.

“Yes, but I wonder whether books can replace real experience.”

“I trust your keen observations more than what you have read. I am sure you have been keeping an eye on us.”

“I have,” Mary admitted. “I hope you are not offended.”

“Not at all. Please, tell me what you noticed.”

“I saw two people equally in love. Mr Darcy was more obvious in his affection. He looked at you more often than you looked at him.”

Elizabeth sighed deeply, trying to shake off the heavy burden on her soul. Sometimes, it felt almost unbearable, preventing her from breathing.

“He was honest then—he was not faking a sentiment he did not truly feel,” Elizabeth said.

“No, I do not think so.”

“I shall keep my feelings to myself when we return home.”

“I understand your decision. You might find it hard to conceal your sadness though.”

“I hope Jane’s happiness will shine so brightly that it eclipses everything else.”

“Did she say anything about her engagement?”

???

“There is no engagement,” Jane said lightly, her smile spreading as she hugged her sisters, answering their unspoken question. “In this house, we do not talk about engagements or marriage. When I have news, you will be the first to know. At present, Mr Bingley is simply courting me, hoping I shall fall in love with him!”

Jane’s announcement was so unexpected that Elizabeth and Mary looked at each other in surprise.

“Stop exchanging those knowing glances,” Jane playfully scolded. “I want our feelings to develop naturally.”

“Are you not worried that he…” Elizabeth hesitated to say more; just a month ago, simply saying his name caused her sister great pain.

“No, I am not worried any longer. We have reached a point where our feelings are clear, but it will take some time before there is any official declaration.”

“And Mama?”

“She is beside herself, but Papa tries to check her as much as possible,” Jane replied with a laugh, and Elizabeth was happy to hear that sound that had been missing at Longbourn for too long.

“And you?” Jane asked, but just then, Mr Bingley arrived, and she rushed to greet him.

“As I said,” Elizabeth remarked to Mary, “I might cry in a corner, and no one will notice.” Yet she held no bitterness or sorrow; she hoped Longbourn and her dear friends from the neighbourhood would help her return to her previous spirits.

Even if her father sensed her sadness, he did not press further. Perhaps he understood that there was little to say, as any favourable changes in her situation would have been immediately disclosed.

Elizabeth appreciated her father’s discretion and confidence in her decisions. Still, for once, she did not feel the need to speak to him or anyone else.

The only question Mr Bennet asked, about a week after her return, was about the forthcoming trip to the Lakes.

“There will be a change of plans for mid-July. Instead of going north, we shall travel south,” Elizabeth replied, her pain catching Mr Bennet’s attention.

“But why this change?” he asked, subtly showing his deep interest in what had happened in Bath and her future plans.

“Because I have never been to the seaside, and Uncle Gardiner wanted to fulfil this deep wish of mine. Lyme Regis is a natural choice,” she answered, determined not to say more about the past yet let her father understand that the future differed from what she had hoped for or dreamt of.

With visible torment, Mr Bennet nodded. His adored daughter suffered, yet she was so different from Jane; it was unlikely anyone would know what was going on in her heart. He kissed her on the temple and let her go.

Despite Elizabeth’s efforts to move on, each passing day made it harder to accept that Mr Darcy was no longer part of her life. She sometimes considered travelling to London to visit Mrs Barstow, curious and anxious about where he was, what he was doing, and whom he was with. But even though Mrs Barstow had written to her, she never mentioned Mr Darcy. Instead, she talked about Lady Matlock wishing to see Elizabeth and Mary in London in the autumn—a strange request that made Elizabeth wonder about Mary marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam, tying her somehow to Mr Darcy and his family forever. How could she face him when he was married to someone else?

These thoughts showed how deeply she loved him and made her wonder whether those feelings would ever fade.

???

Life at Longbourn went on as it always did, yet for the first time in her life, Elizabeth had the feeling that she was not part of it.

And again, besides her father, no one observed the change.

Then one night, Jane entered the bedroom she shared with Elizabeth carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. This used to be their nightly ritual, a comforting routine that hearkened back to simpler times not too long ago, when the two sisters had lived a tranquil existence, sheltered from the tumultuous highs and lows of love.

“I am sorry,” Jane whispered as they settled on the window seat, gazing out at the stars and the moon. They still shared the same room, but the unique relationship they had enjoyed since their childhood had, in one way or another, become less intense or deep, or perhaps it had simply evolved and matured over time.

“Why would you apologise?” Elizabeth asked, already aware of her sister’s unspoken thoughts.

“I went to the kitchen to fetch the biscuits without thinking, just as I had done countless times in the past, not even realising that at a certain moment last year, I stopped doing it—and I stopped being the sister you once knew.”

“Not bringing biscuits is hardly a loss,” Elizabeth quipped, though her face betrayed her joy at resuming the cherished tradition.

“You know what I mean, but you cannot help speaking like Papa,” Jane gently chided, her smile mirroring her sister’s.

They ate in silence for a while before Jane mentioned, “A deer wandered into our garden a few days ago.”

“Could it be Lily?” Elizabeth wondered aloud, recalling the orphaned roe deer they had cared for in their youth for a whole spring and summer.

“I am not certain. Papa said it might be her, but it is hard to recognise her. Could it be that we too have transformed into different people from who we once were?”

“We have changed,” Elizabeth conceded, hesitating as she tried to discern where her sister was going with the conversation.

“I do not want our relationship to change. That is why I am apologising for being absorbed in my troubles and suffering. I was selfish—”

“No, I understand what you went through,” Elizabeth interjected .

“How could you?” Jane asked, her gaze fixed on her sister with a newfound intensity, perhaps for the first time in months. In the dim light, with only a solitary candle flickering in the window, Jane sensed her sister’s distress more than she saw it.

“What happened, Elizabeth?” she asked, using her sister’s full name—an unusual occurrence.

“First, let us discuss you. I am dying to know what transpired with Mr Bingley—the mystery that has shrouded your life lately.”

“I did everything to spare my sisters from experiencing my anguish. Not that it could not happen again, but there are at least some lessons to be learnt.”

Elizabeth regarded her sister, surprised. That newfound determination was a quality she admired in Jane. Still, it was also a departure from the sister she once knew.

“What lessons are those?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mr Bingley’s departure was the result of a series of mistakes made by nearly everyone involved in my life. The main players, of course, were him, me, and Mama.”

Elizabeth’s astonishment grew as she listened to Jane. Her sister was more beautiful than ever, yet she was no longer the same person she remembered. Elizabeth briefly wondered whether Jane had crossed that line they were taught never to cross before marriage.

“Did you…?” Elizabeth murmured, certain that Jane would understand her unspoken question.

Jane laughed, and even that familiar sound resonated differently. “Almost,” she admitted, her face blushing only slightly, while her voice remained resolute. “I have learnt my lessons. First, not to let Mama or anyone else influence me in any way, not even in small matters. Also, to quell the damaging rumours that circulated so effectively in the neighbourhood.”

“That is nearly impossible,” Elizabeth countered.

“It is not impossible when you do not give any news to those prone to gossip. And it helps that Papa and Kitty accompany me to Netherfield almost every morning.”

“Papa?” Elizabeth exclaimed, shocked.

“Yes, he felt guilty for not intervening on several occasions when Mama’s actions were detrimental.”

“Such as?”

“Such as sending me to Netherfield in the rain or bringing all her daughters to visit me at Netherfield when I was ill. He knew at the time that Mama’s only desire was to see me married to Mr Bingley, and she was bound to speak of it.”

“He was powerless—”

“No, he demonstrated that he possessed influence and used it.”

“So, you are visiting Netherfield in the mornings?”

“Yes, and Papa spends his time searching for rare books in the library. Kitty often visits Aunt Phillips or Lucas Lodge—”

“Leaving you alone with Mr Bingley.”

“Exactly. But that happened only after some time. The first time he came to Longbourn, he went down on one knee and asked me to be his wife, and I told him I needed to think about it.”

“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed, amused .

“Oh, yes. That is precisely what I said, but rest assured, I know what I am doing this time. Concealing one’s feelings can be as detrimental as revealing too much. He confessed his weakness, which he was deeply ashamed about, and also that his family had heavily influenced him. And that happened mostly because his sisters did not believe I was in love with him. Once Mr Darcy told him the truth about me, sometime after you met him in Kent, he spoke to his sisters, conveyed his decision, then journeyed here.”

“I returned from Kent in mid-April, and he did not arrive here until we left for Bath, almost two months later.”

“Well, yes, perhaps Mr Darcy did not speak to him immediately, or maybe he needed time for reflection or to speak to his sisters…I do not know,” Jane explained. At the same time, Elizabeth recalled that she had written her letter to Mr Darcy about three weeks after her visit to Kent.

“But, as I was saying, I was as transparent as glass this time,” Jane continued with joyful laughter. “After he rose from his knees, I told him that I loved him deeply…but back in November—”

“You did not!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“I did. Then in a cold tone, I let him know how much he had hurt me with his sudden departure, without a word of farewell. He was truly repentant and desperate. As I continued, I explained that I needed evidence that he would be a good husband, capable of caring for me and our future children. At that moment, I was not entirely sure. And this is where we are now. We are building our future happiness by getting to know more about each other every day.”

Jane blushed as she spoke of her budding relationship .

“Whatkind of more is included in this process?” Elizabeth asked with a mischievous smile.

“A lot,” Jane admitted. “We often find ourselves alone, talking and talking, then we kiss. Oh, how can I convey to you what a kiss means? At first, I was afraid and timid as his lips drew near mine. However, he gradually helped me overcome my fears, and my lips parted for him…” Jane whispered.

Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered as she imagined Mr Darcy’s lips on hers. They had come close to kissing that night at the ball, and she regretted not doing it. At least she could have cherished that memory, certain that her lips would have yielded to his.

“And?”

“And next week, after visiting our church, we shall leave for London with Papa and Mama and go to his church.”

“For the banns.”

“Yes, and we shall marry when you return from your journey.”

“My question was about…what happened after that kiss,” Elizabeth said. There never used to be secrets between them, but those times had passed.

“What happened next between us?” Jane asked. “When I began to understand what a kiss was, I was suddenly aware that I did not know anything about what happened…after the wedding.”

“Yes, that is so true.” Elizabeth sighed. So many times lately she had felt that awkward sensation that it was utterly wrong not to know what to expect after marriage.

“I let Mr Bingley explain to me what we shall do on our wedding night,” Jane said, blowing out the candle.

“And?” Elizabeth asked in a shaky voice that revealed her turmoil.

“And we became intimately acquainted with each other’s bodies. Afterwards, I told him we could marry.”

“Will you go further?”

“No, we shall be in London, and upon our return, we shall marry!”

“Are you not afraid that something might happen?”

“That he might leave again? No. He is my man, and we are counting the days together.”

With that, their conversation concluded. Elizabeth smiled in the darkness, realising that Jane had forgotten to enquire about her own story. But she did not mind. She would attend Jane’s wedding alone, and what had happened between her and Mr Darcy would become a memory she could swiftly put behind her rather than something to dwell on or share with others.

Elizabeth could not fall asleep for a long time, her thoughts consumed by him. She remembered the moment he had tried to teach her the waltz, then pondered everything Jane had told her about the relationship between a man and a woman. In the darkness, she trembled with a longing she could not quite comprehend, which, lately, had turned from a bright expectation into a painful and pointless memory. She often asked herself if she would ever love again, and she made every effort to hope…but imagining the future without him soon became a torment she learnt to avoid, determined to live only in the present.

?? ?

She often dreamt, sometimes even during the day, about a carriage stopping at Longbourn and Mr Darcy stepping out, his face filled with love, just like it had been on the night of the ball. But every time she opened her eyes, reality pulled her back to loneliness and longing.

When, from the window seat in the drawing-room, she did espy a carriage finally arriving at Longbourn, she assumed it was for Jane. She paid little attention until Mary came in breathlessly to announce, “Mrs Barstow has come to see you.”

Elizabeth jumped up, her heart racing with uncertainty.

“Is she alone?” she asked.

“Yes, she wants to see you,” Mary repeated.

“Please, invite her in,” Elizabeth said.

She looked about the room, even though she knew Mrs Barstow did not care much about appearances. Nevertheless, she was grateful that her mother and Kitty had gone into the town.

Mrs Barstow hugged her warmly, then stood back, looking at her with undeniable affection.

“What happened?” Elizabeth asked, still hoping for good news. But Mrs Barstow’s expression showed no sign of happiness.

They took seats and ordered refreshments, Mary discreetly not joining them, understanding that the two ladies needed to talk privately.

It did not take long for Mrs Barstow to regain her composure and begin speaking, skipping formalities, too eager to tell Elizabeth the news.

“I am sorry to say I do not have good news. As we suspected, the source of all this suffering is that woman—”

“Lady Amelia,” Elizabeth whispered.

“Yes, that wicked, wicked woman who has shamelessly caught him in her claws. Miss Elizabeth, I do not know how to say this gently, but you are a woman now, not a child. So, forgive my bluntness, but there is no other way to tell you what happened. Do you remember the letter my nephew received in Bath?”

Elizabeth nodded, her curiosity and anxiety growing.

“It was from her. She demanded he visit her urgently. Well…she claimed to be carrying Fitzwilliam’s child.”

Mrs Barstow paused, allowing Elizabeth to recover from the shock that had overwhelmed her. The mere thought of Mr Darcy with another woman made her almost sick, filling her with a queasiness she had never known. However, she summoned up her courage and lifted her gaze to Mrs Barstow, prepared to hear the full story.

“You are of such unblemished virtue, my dear, that I understand the profound distress this revelation brings you. Nevertheless, one must accept that young gentlemen often engage in such encounters before marriage.”

“In the case of men, it is not condemnable,” Elizabeth replied with a stiff demeanour and obvious resentment. Her senses were gradually returning, and her predominant emotion was anger towards Mr Darcy, who had deceived her into believing he loved her while indulging in such behaviour with another woman .

Yet she could not help but ponder the character of a lady who would engage in such conduct before marriage, and all her conflicting emotions were clearly displayed on her countenance, vulnerable to a discerning lady like Mrs Barstow.

“Do you wish to hear the full account?” asked Mrs Barstow, suddenly worried that Elizabeth could have already made peace with what had happened in Bath and moved on with her life.

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied resolutely. “I wish to know.”

“Upon my return to London, I confronted him as a mother would, echoing the words Anne would have used, demanding an explanation. However, even though he listened, visibly affected by my reproaches concerning you, he adamantly refused to reveal the truth. Thankfully, he eventually confided in Colonel Fitzwilliam, that brave man who loves Fitzwilliam dearly. It was the colonel who persuaded him to seek my counsel and assistance. Miss Elizabeth, when he came to speak to me, he was utterly shattered. His love for you is profound—”

“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “What good does that knowledge bring me?”

“I have not come here to cause you unnecessary distress—please believe me. My purpose in coming is because there is hope for the two of you to be reunited, and I shall do everything in my power to ensure your happiness, for I have witnessed your love.”

“But what about the child?”

“Fitzwilliam is certain he simply slept on her sofa in the drawing-room. Unfortunately, their night began with a lot of brandy, and her butler and lady’s maid are prepared to state that he spent the night in her bedroom.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth uttered again, overwhelmed by the shock, worry, and sadness—yet no hope appeared in her soul.

“She devised a very elaborate scheme. She is with child, but it is not Fitzwilliam’s. Sadly, he became entangled with a lady of questionable morals and no scruples who had a plan.

Mrs Barstow did not look at Elizabeth as she spoke, imagining her shame when confronted with such details—yet they were necessary.

“But this is hopeless. He must marry her, otherwise his reputation will be forever destroyed.”

“That was indeed her intention, and she pressed Fitzwilliam relentlessly. Yet he summoned up the courage to approach me just before marrying her.”

“And he did not marry?” she asked, remembering that once Mrs Barstow had told her that hope would die only when he came out of a church married to another woman.

“No, he postponed the wedding, much to her despair.”

“Still…I do not understand what can be done,” Elizabeth said, frustrated by her limited knowledge of such matters. “He is guilty of…of… That cannot be denied!”

Elizabeth concealed her eyes. In Bath, she had believed she would never see him again and had lived with that realisation ever since. She still had no hope, yet she wanted to hear the end of that dreadful story. He was, after all, the love of her life, and Mrs Barstow had just told her he felt the same about her. They were both prisoners of love in that terrible circumstance.

“Look at me, my dear,” Mrs Barstow said. “Have confidence in me and let me finish the story.”

Elizabeth nodded, and the older lady continued.

“I am telling you it was fortunate that he agreed to speak to me. I am certain he did so only because he was desperate for someone to talk to. When he came to me, he was ready to marry her, and he was incapable of facing that horrible situation alone. Yet speaking to me changed his perception of what had happened. Being an honest gentleman, he had decided to do what was honourable and marry her no matter what had happened that night. As you said, he considered himself guilty and was ready to pay for the consequences. But I had another idea—I implored him to postpone the wedding, and he agreed.”

“Still…” Elizabeth murmured, on the verge of deep despair.

“I rushed to see Lady Matlock and told her what was about to happen if we did not intervene. Then I came here directly to talk to you and let you know the truth.”

“Intervene?” Elizabeth asked, petrified, lost in a story she did not understand.

“Yes, intervene. I am not ashamed to say this. Fitzwilliam made a mistake, but he does not have to pay for it with his life. Lady Matlock has influence in London, and we wanted to know more about this Lady Amelia. At the same time, we both knew all the tricks these ladies use to catch a husband. In most cases, a child arrives after nine months. But one of the more cunning tricks employed by ladies is to convince an unsuspecting husband or suitor that his child arrived prematurely. They fabricate an accident or mishap that caused them to labour early. But this will not work in her case. We convinced Darcy to inform Lady Amelia that he would not recognise the child if she gave birth before the usual time. We truly believe Fitzwilliam is right—he was in love with you and could not have even contemplated such a relationship with that woman. The child is not his and was conceived before that night in January. That was a real blow for the lady.”

“Oh! And she accepted this?”

“She threatened to ruin his reputation if he refuses to marry her. But this is a world governed by men, and very little can tarnish a gentleman’s standing. She believed Fitzwilliam to be easy prey…and he would have been, had you not crossed paths with him in Bath. What occurred between you two in London and Bath offered Fitzwilliam a glimpse of the life he could have with you.”

“What can I do?”

“I spoke to your aunt and uncle, and you will travel to the Lakes.”

“No!” Elizabeth replied, shaking her head with vehemence.

“Please have confidence in him. The child will come early, and her plans will be revealed. Please have confidence in your aunt, Lady Matlock, and me. We are not unscrupulous ladies. I told you what happened because we know who Lady Amelia is and what she is capable of. But even more importantly, we do not want you to suffer or put you in any horrible situation.”

“Where is that woman?” Elizabeth asked .

“You must not care about her—she will never be around you. You will not stay at Pemberley or see Fitzwilliam unless you decide otherwise. The Matlocks own a house near Lambton that is empty and ready for you.”

“No,” Elizabeth answered, still harbouring doubts and resentment. “This is not a circumstance in which to insinuate myself…it is dishonourable—it is wrong!”

“Please, Elizabeth. You have my word that nothing dishonourable or wrong will happen to you, and if you are truly uncomfortable, you need only spend one night in the area, then travel to the Lakes.”

“But why should I even take this journey? It is not an easy situation. There is a child involved.”

“I know, but as I told you, we do believe the child is not his, and lying to a man about a child is a capital sin. I understand that sometimes a lady may decide to…be with the man she loves before matrimony and offer him her virtue. I do not deem that a sin. It may be unwise but certainly not sinful. If it results in a child, they must hastily wed. But this does not apply to this particular lady. Please believe me when I say I would be the last to intervene if that were the case. A lady who truly loves Fitzwilliam would be acceptable in any circumstance, but she does not love him. I still hope to prove that the child is not his, and all I am asking is that you make the journey, as I asked him to postpone the marriage.”

“A pointless journey!” Elizabeth exclaimed; truly she did not see how someone could prove the child was not his.

“It is a small chance…but you cannot quit until we are certain—please,” Mrs Barstow implored her with tears in he r eyes, making Elizabeth realise that no matter how difficult it was for her, for him it was a tragedy, for it involved living the rest of his life with a woman he hated.

“I need time to ponder this,” Elizabeth finally said, and Mrs Barstow admired her response. It illustrated Elizabeth’s strong moral character.

“Of course, my dear. Reflect.”

“We have already changed our plans and decided to go to the seaside, to Lyme Regis. It would be so strange to change them again.”

“Do not worry about that. Your aunt will know how to convince Mr Gardiner to go where you decide.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said surprised but at the same time slightly reassured, as her aunt would never allow her to be involve her in a horrible circumstance.

???

“Would you like to talk to me?” her father asked.

Elizabeth wondered what he knew, having observed him engaged in conversation with Mrs Barstow during dinner at Netherfield, where she had stayed for a night before returning to London.

“You once advised me to pursue love instead of falling into it—”

“Indeed!” Mr Bennet replied, his usual smile tinged with affection yet retaining a hint of sarcasm.

“Why is it that men possess all the privileges in the world, and nothing can tarnish their reputation, while women are forever ostracised for the slightest indiscretion?”

“It is a valid question, my dear, and one that lacks a logical answer, unfortunately. These irrational and unjust rules reveal the inequities of our society. If your question pertains to whether you have the right to challenge the rules that men routinely flout, my answer is an emphatic yes, as long as it does not harm you. Disregard the version of morality that men have constructed solely for their benefit. Do as you please but be cautious not to hurt yourself or your reputation.”

“So, you believe I should go to Derbyshire?” Elizabeth asked, looking into her father’s eyes.

“Yes, you like travelling and encountering the unknown,” Mr Bennet said. “And Mary will stay at home with us and Jane.”

“It is not about travelling this time,” Elizabeth said with courage.

“I know, my dear. It is about encountering the unknown.”

“Even if there is nothing at the end of this journey for me?”

“Yes, you are strong. I am not afraid that you will break if at the end of the road is…disillusion or pain.”

“Then why should I go?”

“Regret is much more destructive than pain,” he said.

“Unfortunately, you do not know the whole truth, and I wonder whether you would agree if you knew.”

“For me, it is enough that Mrs Gardiner makes the trip with you. She is the proof that nothing dishonest or shameful will happen to you. ”

Elizabeth nodded, planted a kiss on her father’s forehead, and left the library.

On the morning of her departure with the Gardiners, Mr Bennet escorted her to the carriage. Amidst the noise of her family bidding her farewell, he whispered, “Promise me just one thing. If Mr Darcy asks for your hand, simply say yes, and contemplate your decision after marriage.”

Elizabeth remained silent. Dissatisfied with her response, Mr Bennet compelled her to look into his eyes and fervently stated, “Promise me, Elizabeth Bennet!”

And she replied, “I promise,” her solemn commitment to her father devoid of any hint of mirth.