38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

July 4, 1812 Pemberley Elizabeth

S he paced her room, fury radiating off her. How dare he! Her thoughts whirled around the injustice of a husband who felt free to invite an entire party of unrelated guests to a house of mourning without informing his wife, while the mistress of the house was censured for asking her widowed and pregnant sister to live with them.

The occupants of the house had gone to their chambers until dinner. Jane had requested a tray be sent to her rooms later, and Elizabeth could not blame her for wishing to eschew the presence of the Bingleys and the Hursts. Elizabeth, too, did not wish them here. Now, she walked the floors of her chambers, waiting for her husband to appear.

He came through their shared sitting room, tapping on her door before opening it and coming through the doorway toward her. After having given rein to her more volatile emotions the last half an hour, she whirled on him angrily, all thoughts of moderating her words gone.

“How dare you!” She voiced her earlier thoughts aloud.

“Let me explain,” he said desperately, trying to take her hands.

“After all that has occurred, a party of guests appears—people I know and had no notion they were to invade the house I only arrived at yesterday! Did you not think I wished to know? I could have warned Jane. She is distraught!”

“I forgot I issued the invitation. In the rush of the last two weeks, it slipped my mind. I, too, would have written to warn Bingley. He was most discomposed to find your sister here. Against my advice, he intends to speak to her. I warned him—”

“ Against your advice?” His wife repeated acidly. “Your advice led to her heartbreak to begin with!”

“What do you mean?” His confusion appeared genuine, and Elizabeth wished to hit him until he understood.

“Jane would have never married Mr. Collins had she not been put in a position where she could not refuse!” Elizabeth cried. “And you confess that even now you would try to persuade your friend away from her. It is not to be borne. Your officious behavior must cease. You do not know everything.”

“Your sister married the first eligible man to make her an offer,” Darcy snapped, his pleading expression melting into a haughty mask. “I observed her most closely at the Netherfield ball when your neighbors made it clear that a proposal was expected. She wore the same pleasant, placid smile the entire evening, whether she spoke to Bingley or other friends.”

“A lady is not meant to display her feelings until an offer is made. Would you have her latch onto his arm as Miss Bingley does to yours?”

He shook his head. “Even if I did not see that evening, her actions betray her intentions. Bingley had not been gone a week before she had become betrothed to Mr. Collins. They married less than a month after the ball. Are these not the actions of a mercenary woman?”

“They are the actions of a woman placed in a precarious position. She had to choose. Marry Mr. Collins to ensure that our family did not suffer upon our father’s death, or wait for Mr. Bingley, despite having received word from the man’s sister claiming he had left the area for good.We now know he would have never returned. Jane chose the first path, marrying for love of her family, knowing full well that she would never love Mr. Collins as she loved Mr. Bingley.”

He scoffed. “How convenient that she now has another chance to ensnare my friend. Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, have you feigned knowledge of the visit? Did you ask Mrs. Collins here knowing she would once again be thrown in the path of Mr. Bingley?”

“Do not impugn my honor, sir! The only thing that I have done that did not hold true to my natural character was marry a man with such selfish disdain for the feelings of others! You destroyed the happiness of a most beloved sister, and yet this is not the only matter for which you refuse to be held accountable. It seems you are set on ruining people’s lives—have you not done the same with Mr. Wickham? How I have debased myself! I allowed myself to be convinced that you and I could make a happy future together, despite your strong objections to my family—to the very people whose love and kindness shaped the woman you claim to be ardently in love with! What was I thinking, accepting the hand of a man who held such contempt for everything and everyone I hold dear?”

She stopped speaking, her chest heaving with anger and her breathing heavy. Her husband’s expression looked frozen, and though he looked in her direction, it seemed as if he stared right through her.

“You have said quite enough, madam. I quite comprehend your feelings. I have only now to be ashamed of what my own have been.” He bowed crisply and left the room through the sitting room once more, leaving her alone.

Furious, she went to the bed and sat, grabbing her pillow and screaming into it. She had not precisely told him that she had married him for mercenary purposes, but it had been implied. Surely, he understood her words and now painted her with the same brush as Jane. I deserve the appellation of fortune hunter. Not Jane. How very ironic that he applied the phrase to her and not to the woman he deigned to marry.

As she calmed, her thoughts wandered to every interaction, every disagreement she and Darcy had had since their marriage. How much had she contributed to the discord with her stubborn refusals and prejudiced thoughts? Before, these arguments had concluded and she had been left feeling angry at him. Now, it was quite the opposite.

I cannot bear to have him think ill of me, she realized. What he thinks of me matters… did he not say that his good opinion once lost is lost forever? Oh, what have I done?

Elizabeth wished for happiness in her marriage. Indeed, she believed whole-heartedly that such was possible, and that she and Darcy were very near to achieving that state. Our arguments seem so inconsequential when they are over, she thought.

She must apologize and make it right with him. Despite his officious interference, she had grown to care for him. She could not leave things as they were.

Dinner was a tense affair. Miss Bingley rambled on and on about London, their journey north, and the latest fashions. Mrs. Hurst spoke to her husband in hushed tones. The rest of the party was largely silent. Georgiana had dined in her chambers with Mrs. Annesley. Jane had dined upstairs, too, leaving Elizabeth alone on the field of battle.

Mr. Bingley spoke kindly to her at one end of the table, though her attention was divided between him and watching her sullen husband at the other end. After the meal, Elizabeth claimed a very real headache and begged her guests to forgive her for leaving them for the rest of the evening.

“It is no trouble, Mrs. Darcy,” Miss Bingley simpered. “We will keep your husband company. We are old friends, after all. But I must say, I did not expect a hardy country girl to succumb to something so trifling as a headache. Do they occur often?” Her saccharine smile churned Elizabeth’s stomach.

“I assure you, Miss Bingley, that my wife is the picture of health. If you wish only to speak vitriol, please keep your remarks to the weather.” Darcy’s jaw tensed, and he frowned in displeasure.

Her husband’s defense surprised her, and she gave him an appreciative smile. He did not see it, faced as he was toward his— their guests.

She retired directly, dressing for bed and crawling under her coverlet. She pulled the curtains around the bed for extra darkness and closed her eyes, praying that tomorrow would be a better day.

Jane

Despite a restless night, Jane rose early, leaving the house to stroll the gardens. Pemberley had provided her peace when she needed it, but now that feeling felt illusive. Hand resting upon her stomach, she walked beneath the roses that climbed a trellis over the pathway. She came to a bench that faced east and sat, waiting for the sunrise.

“Mrs. Collins.” His salutation startled her, and she whirled to face him.

“Mr. Bingley.” Proud of her neutral voice, she smiled and nodded before returning her gaze to the rising sun.

“May I join you?” he asked.

She shrugged, feigning indifference.

He came toward her and sat on the bench beside her. “Pemberley is lovely during the summer,” he said casually when she did not speak. “I have not seen a sunrise here for some time. I expect it will be as lovely as the last I witnessed.”

“Indeed, sir.” What does he mean by making small talk? She wondered if he had sought her out or encountered her by accident.

He cleared his throat, waiting for her to say more. When she did not, he continued. “Mrs. Collins, I am afraid I must be blunt. I cannot go any longer without knowing your heart.” He paused and fiddled with the button on his jacket. “When I left Netherfield, I fully intended to return. I wished to… well, it makes no difference what I wished then. But I did not abandon you because I felt nothing for you. I allowed myself to be persuaded away and did not follow my own heart. I must ask for your forgiveness.”

“I forgave you long ago, sir,” she replied after a moment’s consideration. And she had. It did no good to hold ill feelings toward him.

“Then may we be candid with each other?”

She nodded at him to continue.

“Why did you marry so soon after I left?”

She turned to look at him, regarding him with a serious expression. “You have no right to know the inner workings of my heart,” she said, “but I promised candor, and so I shall give it.” She drew a deep breath and continued. “After you left to see to your business in London, I was full of hopes and dreams. Then, the day after your departure, Miss Bingley sent a note, farewelling me and my family and insisting that you were off to town with no intention to return. She intimated that you would be much in the company of Miss Darcy and that… she said she hoped she would soon be able to call her sister.”

Bingley spluttered and Jane held up her hand to silence him. “Let me finish, sir, for I do not wish to repeat myself. Elizabeth convinced me to wait, you see. She was so certain that Miss Bingley wrote in error. Somehow, my cousin learned that Netherfield had been closed and cornered me in the sitting room at Longbourn. I shall not go into detail, but throughout the course of the interview, I learned pertinent information that pushed me to accept him. As my father is now dead, I am certain you can guess the nature of the knowledge I gained.”

She sighed and reached out, tugging the petals off a hanging rose. “Mr. Collins did not wish to wait. Had you returned, I would have cried off. I did not love my husband.” Her hand rested on her stomach, and she stroked it tenderly. “I do not regret the child I now carry. I already love him or her fiercely.”

“Would that I could turn back time!” Bingley cried. He took her hand, but she pulled it away. “What must I do, Miss— Mrs. Collins? I know you have some time left in mourning, but after…”

Jane smiled gently. “I appreciate your sentiments, sir, though I must decline. You see, one blessing of being Mrs. Collins was that I learned what it means to be tied to a husband whose first loyalty is to another. You relied on your family and friends to know your heart and my feelings when you ought to have given that loyalty to me. I will not marry again if I am not first in my husband’s heart.”

“I love you!” cried Mr. Bingley. “I beg you, give me the chance to prove it.”

“I do not doubt that you love me, sir. I only question whether you love me enough to forsake all others. To cleave unto me as your wife and help meet. Until I know for sure, I could never consider your suit.”

He hung his head, and then his posture straightened with purpose. “I shall prove it to you,” he swore.

“That remains to be seen, sir. I am in mourning for the next year, and so cannot entertain your suit, regardless of whatever decisions you mean to make.”

He nodded and stood. “I shall prove myself to you, madam,” he repeated. “The day you leave your mourning clothes behind, I shall be at your side, begging for a courtship. Until then, I shall endeavor to prove myself worthy of your heart.” He bowed and then turned away, striding down the garden path toward the house.

I can only hope he succeeds, Jane thought. She did love him, and it would give her great pleasure to leave the name Collins behind forever. She stroked her stomach again. Perhaps not completely behind.