The Lost Letter: A Pride and Prejudice Variation, page 8
Their reception at home was warm. Mrs Bennet delighted in Jane’s enduring beauty, and more than once during dinner, Mr Bennet voluntarily remarked to Elizabeth, “I am glad you are returned, Lizzy.”
“As am I,” murmured Mary, seated at dinner beside Elizabeth.
“We shall have a long conversation tomorrow.” Elizabeth smiled at her and continued speaking in that low tone to show the others that she had secrets with Mary. “Aunt Gardiner has invited us to go to London in June.”
“Us?” Mary asked, surprised and happy.
“Yes, my dear. You and me, as Jane declined the invitation.”
Chapter 12
London, end of June
The colonel encountered Miss Elizabeth in his mother’s parlour a week before Lady Matlock’s ball, and he did not need any more proof to convince him that his cousin and Miss Bennet were destined for one another. All that had unfolded in the last months had led to that conclusion; for what other reason could be assigned to the ‘trouble’ fate undertook in bringing them together in the same room three times? First in Hertfordshire, then in Kent, and when the colonel discovered that Miss Bennet’s aunt was an acquaintance of his sister-in-law, he conceded that mere coincidence was an insufficient explanation and that it was their destiny.
He approached Miss Elizabeth with visible discomposure, yet after a gracious curtsey, she met him with a smile, harbouring no resentment.
As he began to apologise for his indiscretion, Elizabeth spoke warmly. “Pray, Colonel Fitzwilliam, there is no need for such formality between us. Our previous conversation was amiable, and the information you imparted was spoken in good faith.”
“Yet I maintain you did not need to be privy to such matters.”
“Rest assured, your cousin elucidated the situation to me in full,” she said, yet her voice betrayed none of the great ire she had initially harboured. No matter how deeply Mr Darcy had offended her and her family, she wanted to keep what had happened between them secret. Besides Mrs Gardiner, no one knew what had happened at the Parsonage.
“I am sorry,” the colonel murmured, genuinely affected by his cousin’s lack of discernment in expressing his affections. “I had not thought such misjudgment possible, but of late, I have come to realise that even honesty, when applied without discretion, may prove a mistake.” He attempted a smile, infusing a warm tone into their conversation.
“What can one say, Colonel Fitzwilliam? I am inclined to concur with your sentiment…in general. However, in my own case, I prefer candour, even if it hurts, for it protects me from unnecessary mistakes.”
“Miss Bennet, people are wont to change.”
“I have rarely seen that happen, but I shall concede upon witnessing convincing evidence.”
“At times, it is not a matter of changing one’s disposition or behaviour—a mere shift in perception may be enough to alter one’s view of a circumstance…or a person.”
Elizabeth understood the colonel’s implication; oddly, it echoed her recent ruminations. A peculiar notion invaded her mind: knowing she would visit Lady Matlock, she imagined Mr Darcy apologising for his disparaging remarks about her family and the distress inflicted upon Jane. She was ready to accept his contrition if he recognised that he might have misjudged some members of her family. Yet she dared not confide such musings to her aunt, who interpreted everything in a somewhat positive manner and certainly would have imagined that she had also changed her opinion of the gentleman in question.
Two months after that disastrous proposal in Kent, she would have welcomed Mr Darcy’s apology had he contrived to arrange a final meeting between Jane and Mr Bingley, regardless of what the result of that meeting might be.
∞∞∞
Engrossed in observing the colonel, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of interest to Lady Matlock.
She had liked Elizabeth and her sister Mary even before speaking to them. Still, when her second son engaged Miss Elizabeth in spirited conversation, her attention swiftly turned to that young lady.
Miss Elizabeth was intelligent and cultured—an independent woman raised with steadfast principles of honour and virtue. She was a unique lady, who would become a devoted yet vivacious wife. Regrettably, Lady Matlock’s second son was obliged to marry a lady of means, and she discovered that the Bennet sisters possessed no dowry.
As they were preparing to leave, and once again the colonel approached Miss Elizabeth and talked to her in a friendly way, Lady Matlock began to suspect that her son was in love with the lady, and her motherly heart shrank in pain. She was sorry if he was in love with her, but a marriage was impossible. Yet, knowing her son well, she restrained herself from making any comment in that direction.
The remainder of the afternoon weighed heavily upon her, oddly feeling she was like her husband’s father, who had opposed the marriage of her eldest son to Esther. But in Andrew’s case, it was merely the obstinacy of an era, of an aged earl who aspired to see his grandson married to a duchess, harbouring grandiose visions of prestige, imagining himself allied with London’s most illustrious family.
For Lady Matlock, it was a grievous burden to steer her son towards a lady of means who could secure him a situation similar to that which he was accustomed. Despite their efforts, the Matlock estate yielded but a modest income, sustained chiefly by the management of the Darcys and, later, Esther’s father. Without a wealthy spouse, her youngest son would be consigned to the life of a military officer, which was so far from what he was accustomed to.
∞∞∞
“But you supported me following the death of the late Lord Matlock,” Esther lamented, having taken a liking to the Bennet sisters.
“Yes, but Andrew’s circumstances were different. He was an heir, and besides, do not dismiss the fact that your father assured Andrew of his intent to enhance the efficiency of the Matlock estate.”
“But my father’s proposition came later, when Andrew and I were already married.”
“I do not remember all the circumstances, but that made my husband receive you more benevolently.”
“Oh!” Esther exclaimed, visibly disheartened.
“Pray, do not look so crestfallen. Life is primarily about fortunes and estates, and Richard, as a younger son, alas, cannot avoid that reality.”
“Yet he appeared quite fond of Miss Elizabeth.”
“I observed them talk and smile as if they were alone in the world,” Lady Matlock said, her anguish laid bare.
“You wanted to meet Mrs Gardiner. When I invited her, I was far from supposing you would also receive her.”
“Oh, my dear. Do not see it as some kind of mistake. I am far from regretting having known Mrs Gardiner and her nieces. Yet I could not imagine that Richard had already encountered Miss Elizabeth in Kent and fallen for her.”
“But Miss Elizabeth is so accomplished.”
“Indeed, she is. And her sister Miss Mary as well. Yet sadly, they lack a dowry of five thousand pounds, which you possessed, and a father like Mr Balfour. On the contrary, it appears their estate is entailed, and upon Mr Bennet’s death, his daughters will inherit nothing.”
“And what will you do? Oppose the match?”
“It will not be necessary. Richard is a rational man. He comprehends the harsh reality of a second son’s fate. Let us proceed with the ball, and after that, he will leave for Scotland for the summer, where he has received an important commission. Distance will likely assuage his sentiments, and I am sure Miss Elizabeth, as accomplished as she is, will find a suitable husband to care for her.”
Chapter 13
The colonel entered the library like a raging tempest, causing Darcy to leap from his armchair.
“Enough!” bellowed the colonel in a terrible voice. “Steve and two of your tallest footmen will arrive in precisely ten minutes, prepared to convey you by force, if necessary—”
“Richard!” interjected Darcy in an effort to placate his cousin.
“Do not ‘Richard’ me!” he commanded as he might his soldiers. “This has endured long enough. Georgiana arrived at our house this morning, distraught, weeping in Mama’s embrace for an hour, as she did not know what was happening to you. The poor girl feared you were still angry with her.”
“What… Why?” asked Darcy, visibly confused.
“Because you hardly speak to her, you avoid her company and are away from home all day long. And when you are at home, you are locked in your library. Georgiana is filled with fear, and even if you suffer or have problems, you must confide in your sister, tell her what is happening, not let her take the blame for your state.”
“You know the reason.”
“Indeed, but she does not. You need not divulge the entire tale—merely say that you are troubled by a personal matter that has nothing to do with her. On the contrary, you were so proud of her behaviour. Do not forget she came to you to confess Wickham’s intentions. Today she is staying with Mama and Esther, but tomorrow, after the ball, you will have time to speak to her…and even try to tell her some of your dilemmas. You might be surprised how much she has grown up.”
“I agree. I made a mistake. I shall speak to her. However, you do not need three men to make me do that,” Darcy retorted, a glimmer of his former sarcasm returning.
“The men will come for a separate purpose. They will help prepare you by force—”
“If need be.” Darcy smiled faintly.
“Precisely, if need be, by coercion, for Mama’s ball.”
“No! Absolutely not!” Darcy resisted, sinking back into his chair. “I refuse to attend!”
“Do you understand the notion of ‘by force’?”
“I do, but I doubt anyone could compel me.”
“And you would be mistaken. Steve is so concerned for your well-being that he is prepared to heed my orders.”
“I shall dismiss him!” Darcy declared calmly.
“I assured him Mama would secure him a better position.”
“Scoundrel!” Darcy exclaimed.
“Simpleton! I expected better of you.”
“I blew it, did I not?” Darcy uttered with such anguish that the colonel nearly yielded to the urge to offer solace. Yet, he restrained himself. His cousin required admonition, not comfort.
“You did indeed, and if you disclosed half to Miss Bennet of what you confessed to me, I marvel at your survival, knowing what she is like.”
“So you advocate deceit,” Darcy accused him.
“In circumstances like yours, I advocate discretion and relative silence.”
“Silence is but another term for deceit.”
“Absolutely not! Discretion is a means of sparing needless offence.”
“Disliking her mother and sisters is not an insignificant matter.”
“I concur, yet you should have first declared your sentiments for her, not her relatives. They may differ significantly from your perceptions or, as in Lady Catherine’s case, one may come to love a person with many faults just because that is how family works. What is your plan…for the future?”
Darcy’s silence conveyed much. He had deeply pondered the matter during the days he had spent in the library.
“Do not use silence with me,” jested the colonel.
“I am not. Firstly, I must speak to Bingley and finally tell him the whole story. Our encounters in recent months have been like two strangers finding themselves together in the same room—”
“That is the best decision. Tell him the whole truth, and do not let your friendship be affected.”
“I agree. I must find the right tone of sincerity and admit our mutual misjudgments—mine for offering unsolicited counsel and his for acquiescing rather than pursuing his own desires. Then I shall tell him I proposed to Miss Elizabeth. It is the only way to rekindle our friendship. How did you find him?”
“Changed. Less buoyant.”
“Yes, that was also my impression, and I was sad to discover that new Bingley. His joviality defined him. I pray it is not irretrievably lost.”
“It is commendable that you grieve for him, yet I believe you must harbour deeper remorse for your ill-conceived proposal to Miss Bennet.”
“I do. My opinion of her family remains unchanged. However, I concede it was a colossal misstep to show my aversion to them rather than my affection for her.”
“I trust so,” tittered the colonel, his satisfaction filling the room, dispelling the melancholy that had pervaded it until then.
∞∞∞
“I am making plans. I am not a man to give up at the first obstacle,” Darcy said in the carriage taking them to the Matlocks’.
“You need to reflect on why you so violently despise her family—”
“The lack of any elegance? Openly displaying their plans to catch a husband no matter what?”
The colonel refrained from answering. In the semi-darkness, Darcy looked so detached from reality that his voice sounded like he was making an inward reflection rather than a confession. So the colonel kept silent, aware of what was awaiting Darcy in the ballroom; his cousin did not have very much time to make plans. Obliging him to be spontaneous could be a better plan than anything he could think up by himself.
Chapter 14
“You are aware that Mr Darcy will be at the ball,” Mrs Gardiner ventured with a certain hesitancy. She did not know anything about her niece’s recent sentiments; they had whiled away their time in careless merriment—frequenting theatres, embarking on leisurely strolls along Oxford Street, and visiting Madame Minette, who had diligently crafted a small yet comprehensive wardrobe for Elizabeth and Mary.
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth, though her tone betrayed no particular sentiment.
“Lizzy,” Mrs Gardiner began, her voice still marked by hesitation, causing Elizabeth to turn to her in surprise. She had not known her aunt to falter in speaking the truth.
“Will you follow some advice, even though it may not please you?” Mrs Gardiner asked.
“I cannot promise to do so without knowing the nature of your counsel,” Elizabeth replied, and Mrs Gardiner nodded.
“I implore you, for this evening, cast aside all thoughts of the past—your family, Jane, the events at Netherfield or in Kent. Enter as a young lady prepared to enjoy herself in one of London’s most refined houses.”
“Yes, I can do that,” Elizabeth responded with joy.
“That is not my advice,” Mrs Gardiner remarked with a smile at Elizabeth’s eagerness.
“Please, if you engage in conversation with Mr Darcy, refrain from mentioning the past, your family, or Mr Bingley. Save such conversation for another occasion.”
“Will there be another occasion?” Elizabeth asked.
“I am entirely certain there will be.”
“I shall try,” Elizabeth murmured, and it was far from what Mrs Gardiner had imagined would be her response.
The distance in time and space from that room in the Parsonage appeased her fury and soothed her stubbornness, making her acquire a composure that she had never possessed before. She had previously been prone to vocalising her innermost feelings with an unreserved frankness, which made it easy for everybody around to see her state of mind. However, in her attempt to make Mary change, she suddenly found herself adapting to the advice she had given her sister.
She could not help but feel a twinge of shame upon reflecting on her response to Mr Darcy’s proposal—not so much in substance but rather in manner. She would have preferred to rebuff him with icy hauteur, embodying the dignity of a queen, rather than succumbing to the fiery indignation of a fire maiden who had cried her anger, exposing her innermost thoughts in the most undignified manner.
“I do not relish meeting him, yet I must see him face to face,” Elizabeth finally admitted to her aunt, echoing her secret ruminations. “An apology is due for my previous lack of grace in…conversation.”
Occupied with inspecting her attire, Elizabeth did not see her aunt smile—a smile that harboured within it the hope that the tale between that gentleman and her niece was not yet concluded but merely in its infancy.
This was a thought nobody dared to voice, not even her aunt. Elizabeth evaded each discussion regarding her present sentiments towards Mr Darcy. And that could be explained only one way: Elizabeth Bennet was uncertain of what was happening within her own mind or soul.
She wanted to hate him, but each time she looked within herself, she did not find that vehement feeling that made her shout that she would never be his wife. She wished fervently to be wholly on Jane’s side, but the truth was that after more than a half year, Mr Bingley had still not arrived on a white horse to apologise. And that had only one explanation—he did not love Jane enough to fight the world—or himself—for her, like Mr Darcy had. And then there was Mrs Bennet and her faults. But about her mother, she simply refused to think more.
∞∞∞
“Do you suppose she has changed her feelings towards that gentleman?” asked Mr Gardiner when his wife murmured her dilemma, waiting for the girls to finish their preparations. Although they shared all their secrets, Mrs Gardiner hesitated to disclose the whole truth this time, for refusing a gentleman of Mr Darcy’s stature was a grave misstep in the eyes of her husband. Thus, she altered the narrative slightly, informing him only of Elizabeth’s rejection of his courtship.
“Elizabeth is unlike any other young lady of our acquaintance. She is not interested in gentlemen such as Mr Bingley or the other suitors she has encountered in Hertfordshire or among our acquaintances. No, she requires a man of maturity—one who opposes her rather than showering her with constant displays of affection.”
“Indeed, but as you told me, this gentleman aroused her anger in a manner none had before.”
“Exactly so! And when that tempest of anger dissipated—”
“Did it, truly?” Mr Gardiner asked, interested, for he constantly struggled to comprehend the intricacies of the feminine heart.
