34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

June 19, 1812 London Elizabeth

C harlotte’s engagement breathed new life into Elizabeth. Her profound joy at her friend’s good fortune at having found love pushed Mrs. Darcy to further investigate her husband’s laudable qualities.

The next two weeks were filled with engagements, giving her ample opportunity to do so, and she enjoyed most of them. In between soirees and card parties, Darcy took her to the theater and the museum. Georgiana accompanied them, and they were a happy party. With each passing day, Elizabeth found something else to admire about her husband. He still behaved with commanding carelessness occasionally, but his admirable qualities far outweighed his poorer ones.

On one such outing, they had the displeasure of encountering Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst again. Both fawned over Georgiana and Mr. Darcy while steadily ignoring Elizabeth. She would not have minded, except her husband did nothing to defend her once again. Feeling hurt, she asked him about it late that night when they were alone in their sitting room.

“Why did you leave me to Miss Bingley’s barbs?” she asked. Her evident distress diverted his attention from his book to her, and he closed the volume, setting it aside on the table in front of the settee.

“I do not know what you mean,” he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

“They—she and Mrs. Hurst—ignored me completely. When they did refer to me, it was to mention my country manners or imply that I am out of my depth in town. Yet, you said nothing.”

He frowned. “Their words mean little, for they are not true. I saw no need to say anything.”

“Your silence implied your agreement with what they say.” Elizabeth struggled to speak patiently. “Surely, you see it!”

“I do not.” He fell silent, and Elizabeth did not speak. She could see that he seriously considered his words. His gaze was far away as he stared at the rug in front of him.

Finally, he spoke. “You say that when I say nothing in protest, Miss Bingley believes I am of an accord with her. I have never considered it to be so; I openly agree when I am of the same opinion and keep silent when I am not. My father taught me that confrontation and contention do not produce fruitful results, and so I have sought to avoid both. Does this idea extend to other situations? How many have considered my thoughts aligned with their own in similar circumstances?”

Elizabeth watched him, amazed that he had never seen it. “You are not blind to social niceties, though I believe I can comprehend where you erred. You once said you cannot catch the tone of conversation, nor express interest in concerns, with those you associate with. It is possible that this deficiency—pardon my calling it such—also extends to this…problem.”

“How am I to learn?” He seemed rather perplexed, and Elizabeth smiled.

“Practice, my dear husband,” she replied, tapping his hand with her finger to emphasize her point. “Ladies are taught to sling subtle barbs and insults when socializing. It is a fine art, and one that I abhor. A good place to begin would be to counter comments about me with genuine compliments.”

“Has this happened more than on just this occasion?” His genuine supplication and distress on her behalf warmed her heart.

“Yes,” she replied honestly. “And I was hurt when you did not defend me.”

He closed his eyes, concentrating. “Mrs. Timmons,” he said, opening them. “I knew she probed for information, but I could not comprehend her meaning.”

“She implied that I had entrapped you.” Elizabeth smiled at the memory now; it had lost its sting weeks ago.

He frowned again. “You were not there.”

“I was. You were looking for me, and I had taken a seat near a window. That conversation was but ten feet away.”

He turned and looked at her, taking her hand in his and holding it in his lap. “Forgive me for not seeing the insult and mitigating it.”

Smiling, she stroked his face with her free hand, rubbing the scruff on his cheek with her thumb. “I am not wounded anymore,” she whispered. His free hand came up and clasped hers, his eyes closing. He turned his face and kissed her palm, causing Elizabeth’s heart to skip a beat. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. I do not deserve you.”

He released both of her hands and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into his lap. She tilted her head and leaned it against his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head and traced patterns up and down her arms. She grew warm and comfortable, closing her eyes and luxuriating in his caresses. He began to kiss her in earnest, beginning with the top of her head and moving down until he found her lips. The gentle plying of his lips became more intense, and Elizabeth soon lost herself in his affection.

Sometime later, they held each other, neither speaking. Elizabeth reflected on her husband’s tender care, pleased that she had the love of such a gentle, compassionate man. I am coming to love him, she told herself. Indeed, she was well on the way to being completely, irrevocably in love with her husband. Perhaps instead of leaning toward disgust and hate at any provocation, I should simply talk to him. She chuckled. What a novel concept!

The morning of June 19th dawned clear and bright. London was hot, and Elizabeth longed for the end of the month when they could escape to Pemberley. She came down to breakfast, eager to greet her husband, as memories of the night before caused her stomach to flutter.

“Good morning, my dear,” Mr. Darcy greeted her as she came in, standing and assisting her into her chair. “How did you sleep?”

She blushed. “Very well, thank you. And yourself?”

They made small talk with Georgiana as they ate, and Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt her husband’s foot press gently against hers. She glanced at him, and his lips turned up in a small smile. Thoroughly distracted, she missed Georgiana’s question and was forced to ask her sister-in-law to repeat it.

Hodgens entered the room amidst laughter, and Elizabeth stilled at the serious look on his face.

“Hodgens?” Darcy asked. “What is that?”

“An express has just arrived for Mrs. Darcy, sir.” He turned and offered her the letter on the salver. Elizabeth’s chest seized as she noted the black edging on the carefully folded missive. Hand trembling, she took the letter and noted Longbourn’s seal on the back.

“No,” she whispered. She quickly broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

Dear Lizzy,

I write at the behest of our mother, who is currently in her room and insensible due to her grief. Our father died during the night, and she is overwrought. Please come as soon as you are able.

Your sister,

Mary

Sobs came as she read, and the paper dropped from her hand to the table in front of her. Strong arms came around her, pulling her from her chair and into Darcy’s chest. Overcome, she collapsed, and he caught her before she hit the ground, scooping her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She barely registered their journey to their chambers, where he took her to their shared sitting room, holding her on the settee as she cried. After what seemed hours, the tears slowed and then stopped, and she stilled, her cheek against her husband’s damp jacket.

“I knew he was ill, but I thought there would be more time,” she confessed.

“My father’s death was sudden, too.” His chest rumbled as he spoke, and he stroked her back lovingly. “One day he was hale and healthy, and the next he collapsed in his study, never to wake again. I remember it all too well.”

“Can we go?” Elizabeth asked.

“Of course. I shall have the carriage readied. We can be gone in an hour.”

She glanced at the clock. It was almost ten o’clock in the morning. They could be in Hertfordshire before dinner. She nodded, pulling away reluctantly. Jane will come, she thought as she directed Smith to pack her trunk. Darcy kissed her gently and promised to be ready to depart when she had completed her preparations.

Smith completed the work expeditiously, and the three Darcys were aboard the carriage and on the road to Longbourn before noon. When they arrived at four o’clock, only Mary waited to greet them. The middle Bennet sister had already donned black apparel, and the color made her look pale and almost gothic.

Elizabeth flew out of the carriage before it had rolled to a complete stop, wrapping Mary in a tight embrace. Stoic as she tried to be, Mary could not prevent her tears from falling. “Oh, Lizzy,” she cried. “Everything is changing. I cannot bear it!”

“I am here.” Elizabeth spoke with fervency. “I shall see you all taken care of.”

Darcy and Georgiana joined the sisters as they went inside. Kitty and Lydia came out of the parlor, both in black and both behaving soberly, much to Elizabeth’s surprise. Lydia seemed very young as she hugged her elder sister, trembling against her chest.

“I do not want to live with Mr. Collins, Lizzy,” Lydia murmured. Elizabeth made no reply, simply hugging her sister tighter.

“All will be well,” she promised. “Is Mama still in her room?” Elizabeth turned to Mary for her answer, and she nodded.

“Our mother does not wish to be disturbed. I have contacted the undertaker and made the arrangements. Papa has been laid out in the drawing room–Mrs. Hill is sitting with him”

“Have you sent an express to Jane?”

Mary nodded again. “She will not be here in time for the funeral, I am afraid. It will take her two days to come from Kent.”

“Mr. Collins will be eager to take possession of Longbourn.” Kitty spoke emotionlessly, though Elizabeth knew her words to be true.

“Never fear. We shall take care of everything.” Mr. Darcy’s entrance to the conversation warmed her heart. He is very good. Though he had disdained her family, he proved his worth again by declaring openly that he would not let them suffer.

She took his hand and squeezed, smiling when he turned to meet her gaze. “I am tired,” she confessed, turning back to Mary. “Our trunks should be in our rooms by now. Where have you put us?”

“In Jane’s old room,” Lydia spoke up. “It is the largest in the family wing, besides…besides…” Lydia choked on her words, tears falling from her eyes, and she turned and fled the room.

Elizabeth wondered if her tears were of genuine sorrow for their father, for Lydia had never been close to him, or if they were due to the change in circumstances that now approached. Shrugging mentally, she led her husband to their chamber and directed Georgiana to the door next to it, where she had spent her childhood years.

Dinner was subdued, and the atmosphere was depressing. Everyone but Georgiana had dressed in black, but even she wore gray to honor Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth was touched by her new sister’s compassion and thanked her with a fierce hug. That night she cried herself to sleep in her husband’s arms. It ached to know that her father’s chamber was just down the hall, and that he was not in it. Instead, she and her sisters took turns sitting in the drawing room, keeping watch over him until his interment.

The next morning, they accepted condolence calls from their neighbors. The entire process exhausted her, and Elizabeth felt unaccountably irritated at the number of people coming and going from Longbourn. She wished to be alone with her family—- alone in her misery. Later as they dined, the bell rang, and Mr. Hill brought in an express. He looked distraught; Hill had never been as stoic as butlers were wont to be.

He brought it to Elizabeth, hesitating between her and her husband as if unsure who to hand it to. Darcy gestured to her, and she took it, thankful for his consideration.

“It is from Hunsford!” Panic filled her as she noted the black edging. Her sisters gasped in unison as they, too, noted it. Elizabeth hurriedly tore the seal and read aloud.

Dearest Lizzy,

I am sending this express to Longbourn, where I assume you have gone after receiving our family’s missive. I am afraid I am unable to come to you at this time. You see, Mr. Collins has died, and I must attend to things here.

I will write more tomorrow when I have time to think.

Yours,

Jane

The silence in the dining room was deafening. Then, chaos erupted.

“Mr. Collins, dead? Who is to inherit now?” Lydia cried far too happily.

“Where shall we go? What shall we do?” Kitty said simultaneously.

Mary simply gaped, unsure how to respond.

“Quiet!” Elizabeth said, calling their attention to her. “I shall inform Uncle Phillips tomorrow. Jane is expecting, as I am sure you know. Her babe is not due until September. Until we know if she carries a son or not, the state of the entail is uncertain. If she has a boy, then he will inherit when he comes of age.”

“Then Jane will come here! We are saved!” Lydia bounced excitedly in her chair.

“Enough, Lydia. Two men have died. It is not right to rejoice in death.” Elizabeth chided her sister gently. Secretly, she, too, was glad that Jane was free of a life attached to their cousin.