Chapter Seventeen

March 18, 1811

The Lake House

Ramsgate

Darcy

Darcy waited impatiently for the post, eager for a letter from Elizabeth. Had they met in 1813? How had it gone? Would she stop writing now that their acquaintance had reached her present? Questions plagued his mind, but above all, he hoped to hear that all was well, and his future self had proposed to her.

The post arrived just before luncheon, and Darcy quickly sifted through the letters until he found one from Elizabeth. Hastily breaking the seal, he began to read.

March 17, 1813

My dear Mr Darcy,

I find I do not entirely know how to write this letter. I imagine this is how you felt when you first realised our communication spanned time, though I write, perhaps, with more despondency than you did then.

You did not come. I waited at Mrs Peacock’s shop for three hours, but you never arrived. It is impossible to know what kept you from our appointment, for you are in the past and have no notion of your future self’s actions. There are many possible explanations for your absence, but the most likely is that you are married and can no longer keep your promise to me. It fits, does it not? Did Lady Catherine not allude to such during my visit to Rosings Park in the spring of 1812? You are a gentleman of worth, capable of securing any lady’s affections when you put forth the effort.

It is best that we cease our communication entirely, for to continue would only prolong the agony I now feel. I release you from any obligation you might have felt, as you have so eloquently expressed your sentiments in past missives. We must both move on and seek our happiness in our own time.

Before I close, I must take this opportunity to speak from my heart, for I may never get another chance. Almost from the first letter, you fascinated me. Piece by piece, word by word, I lost my heart to you until it was irrevocably gone. How cruel of fate to grant me the exquisite felicity of loving you only to snatch it away before we could begin a life together? I love you, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, not for your name or your social status, but for your kindness, your compassion, your attentiveness, and your dedication. I love you for your commitment to your sister, for your sense of honour and duty. I love you for allowing a silly country girl into your life and treating her as your equal and as an intelligent human being. I love you, and I will never feel such depths of emotion for another.

Be happy, Mr Darcy, for me, and for yourself. Find joy in your life and in fulfilling your responsibilities. And when you meet the lady who eclipses me in your heart, embrace her fully and do not delay.

I, too, must find another. Until now, I have stubbornly resisted the attentions of a certain man. Perhaps I was too dismissive of him because I filled my heart with you. Though I have no intention of encouraging Mr Blandishman, I now see that if I were to be courted by anyone, I must first let go of the past. No doubt I will find someone suitable if I allow myself the opportunity.

Since writing the above, I have learned that Jane and Charles’s lease ends in July and will not be renewed. My brother mentioned that the family wishes to use the Lake House this summer, and so we must depart. As I am at their disposal, I imagine I will accompany them back to Netherfield Park. It has been nearly a year since I have seen my family, and I welcome the reunion.

Do not despair, Mr Darcy. I will be well. When you bring your family to the Lake House, share with them all that you once shared with me. Retrieve the snuff box, tell its story, and return Miss Darcy’s music to her. Above all, remember me as you sit amongst the lavender.

Adieu,

Elizabeth Bennet

Darcy raked a hand through his hair, panic rising within him. He had not come. But how? What had kept him from her? Elizabeth’s letter sounded so final, but surely, she could not mean what she said. Could she? Was this truly the end?

He hurriedly grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and penned a reply, his hand shaking as he sealed it sloppily. In his letter, he begged her to reconsider, to not give up so easily. Any number of incidents could have kept me away , he wrote. Perhaps I forgot we had changed the date and did not plan to arrive until April.

But no answer came.

A week passed, and Darcy wrote again, his desperation growing. Still, nothing. By the first of April, he sent yet another letter, his hope slipping away with each passing day. Time stretched on, each hour feeling like a lifetime. The silence from Elizabeth was unbearable.

Darcy poured over her letters, each word becoming an obsession. Her last letter haunted him the most. She hinted at giving another man a chance to win her heart. No, it could not be! He had to stop her.

A letter arrived from his friend Charles Bingley in mid-April, containing an invitation to join him at his brother-in-law’s estate in Surrey. Darcy was in the midst of composing a reply to decline when Georgiana approached him.

“Who do you write to, Brother?” she asked, her voice tinged with a tentative curiosity, as though she feared provoking a sharp response.

“Bingley,” he replied, glancing at her. “He invites me to Surrey for a few months. I am declining.”

“Why ever for?” Georgiana’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You are not happy here; that much is clear. You have been distracted and distant since mid-March. I can scarcely persuade you to speak, let alone smile or laugh.”

“When did you become so observant?” he teased, though with little conviction.

“Go, Brother,” Georgiana urged gently. “Mrs Younge is here with me, and I am perfectly content to stay here at the Lake House. If it will lift your spirits, I am all in favour.”

Darcy frowned, weighing Georgiana’s words. Consumed by the misery of Elizabeth’s silence, he failed to realise how his melancholy had affected his. “Very well,” he said at last. “But I shall return in time for your birthday.”

Georgiana leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I hope Surrey brings you some resolution to your troubles,” she said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Poppet,” he replied, managing a small smile.

A letter to Bingley was promptly sent, arranging a place where they could meet and travel the remainder of their journey together. Three days later, Darcy bid his sister farewell, reminding her to write weekly, and boarded his carriage.

He met Bingley in London, and his friend’s cheerful disposition instantly began to lift the weight of Darcy’s depressed spirits.

“How do you do, Darcy?” Bingley greeted him as they met at the coaching inn. “It has been an age, has it not? My sisters are eager to see you again.”

Darcy groaned inwardly. He ought to have realised that Miss Bingley would be in attendance, which meant he would have to dodge her clawing advances for the next two months. “It certainly has been an eventful year. I can scarcely believe how quickly time has passed since we were last in each other’s company. Your elder sister has married—has the younger formed an attachment yet?”

“Yes, the Hursts wed in Scarborough around Christmas. She seems content with her lot, which is all a brother could hope for. Caroline has no prospects as of yet, but I am hopeful for the new season. How fares your dear sister?”

“She is well now, though she was quite ill this winter. Georgiana remains in Ramsgate with her companion.” Darcy shifted in his seat, feeling a nagging unease that had lingered since Bingley first wrote in April. What was it?

“Capital! I am pleased to hear it. You know, I have finally decided upon leasing an estate. I am not yet ready to purchase, and I believe leasing will provide me with valuable experience without the commitment.” Bingley grinned, clearly proud of his decision.

“That is a fine idea,” Darcy agreed. “Have you sent out inquiries?”

His friend shrugged. “A few. I was rather hoping to prevail upon you to help me view and select an estate when the time comes.”

“Of course.” Darcy nodded, and Bingley resumed his cheerful chatter. As in the past, Darcy was grateful for his friend’s loquacious nature, which allowed him time to reflect. Unfortunately, his thoughts too often turned to a certain lady from Hertfordshire with exceptionally fine eyes and a rapier-sharp wit. Despite her assertion that he would meet someone else and marry, he knew deep within his heart that he could neither forget her nor forsake her. He briefly considered traveling to Meryton to woo her and win her hand, but Richard’s concerns over what would happen resounded in his memory, preventing him from acting on that impulse.

Even so, Darcy resolved to honour Elizabeth’s wishes that they move on with their lives. He would begin during his time in Surrey.

~

Darcy’s visit to the Hurst estate tested both his patience and self-control. More than once, he found himself tempted to rebuke Miss Bingley for her possessive and shrew-like behaviour. Instead, he sought refuge in secluded corners of the house, doing all he could to avoid being alone with her.

Inevitably, his thoughts would turn to Elizabeth. Both women were handsome, but Miss Bingley’s beauty lacked the warmth and vivacity that Elizabeth’s presence carried. Where Miss Bingley’s words were often sharp and cruel, Elizabeth had always sought to be polite and gracious, even when she found someone’s company disagreeable.

Miss Bingley, however, was relentless. She frequently urged her brother to hasten his search for an estate, so convinced that his elevation to landowner would increase her chances of becoming Mrs Darcy . Bingley always responded with his usual cheer, reminding his sister that he was still waiting for further enquiries.

One morning, as Bingley sifted through his post, he exclaimed with enthusiasm. “See here, Darcy! I believe I have found a promising prospect. My solicitor writes of a house just three hours north of London, available come September. It has been undergoing repairs for the past year and stands empty during the renovations.”

“A prospect so close to London is certainly worth investigating,” Darcy remarked. “Do you not have business concerns in Town?”

Miss Bingley laughed. “Business concerns? No, my brother would never!”

“Do not be ridiculous, Caroline,” Bingley replied. “Even Darcy has business in London.”

Darcy nodded, noting Miss Bingley’s flushed cheeks. Whether it was from irritation or mortification, he could not say.

“What is the name of the place?” Hurst asked lazily from his reclining position on the sofa.

“Netherfield Park.”

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck Darcy. A complete shock gripped him, and in an instant, what had been gnawing at him since Elizabeth’s last letter fell into place.

“Pray, excuse me for a moment,” Darcy said abruptly. “I just recalled a matter that requires my attention. When I return, you can tell me more of Netherfield Park.”

With that, Darcy hurried from the room, making his way swiftly to his chambers. There, he unearthed Elizabeth’s letters from the bottom of his trunk. He began at the first and hastily scanned each one. Not once had she mentioned her sister’s married name—not even in her very last.

Darcy read the line again: I have learned, since writing the above, Jane and Charle’s lease is up at the end of July and not to be renewed. There it was, clear in Elizabeth’s elegant hand—and scattered throughout her previous letters the name Netherfield Park appeared. This was it. Somehow, in his desperation, he had glossed over it. What were the odds that Bingley had leased Netherfield Park in Hertfordshire, married her sister Jane, and unwittingly brought Darcy closer to Elizabeth once more?

A spark of hope flared within him. Could Fate truly be offering him another chance to be with Elizabeth?

Darcy pondered what to do. He had intended to return to Georgiana the next week, but an urgent desire to leave sooner swelled within him. Elizabeth was to quit Ramsgate at the end of July. If he departed tomorrow, he could send a letter to her before she left, explaining what he had just discovered. Perhaps it would give her enough hope—enough to prevent her from considering Mr Blandishman, or any other suitor.

He gathered the letters and returned them to the trunk, calling for his valet to pack for an early departure. Georgiana would not be expecting him, but he was certain she would welcome the surprise.

With his decision made, Darcy rejoined Bingley in the parlour. “I regret to say I must leave tomorrow,” he told his friend apologetically. Cries of protest came from Miss Bingley and the Hursts. Darcy ignored them, continuing to speak to Bingley. “But tell me—what more can you share of Netherfield Park? It sounds promising.”

Bingley launched into a detailed account of the estate, listing its attractions and potential. Darcy listened attentively, offering encouragement. “It seems a fitting prospect for you,” he agreed. “I shall return to London in August. If you wish, I could ride and assess the property with you.”

Bingley’s eyes lit up. “Better still, Darcy, you must promise to be my guest for some months! Your expertise and company would be invaluable.”

Darcy smiled, nodding. “Done. You may count on my presence.”

Miss Bingley looked far too pleased by this agreement, which prompted Darcy to rise. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to my packing. It is a long journey back to Ramsgate, and I wish to surprise my dear sister before her birthday.”

Bidding his farewells, Darcy left the room. The sun was barely rising the next morning when his carriage set off from Hurst’s estate. It would be just a matter of time now. If Elizabeth did not reply to his letter upon his return to Ramsgate, he would see her in September.