Something to Think Of, page 11
His voice trembling, rivaling his hand, Collins asked, “Mr. Darcy, sir, would you believe me if I told you I stumbled across this accidentally and I was just on my way to Rosings to give it to you personally before you took your leave?”
“No!” Darcy said, unceremoniously snatching the letter. “No, I do not believe you.” Then, after a brief perusal, he tucked the letter inside his own pocket. Darcy had never been generous in his opinion of William Collins. However, he never supposed the vicar capable of committing theft.
“Why you would wish to make an enemy of me is beyond comprehension.”
“No, sir. You misunderstand me. I only meant to protect you and my cousin.”
Darcy glared at the silly man.
“Why—I…” Collins continued, “As my cousin was here in Kent under my protection, I considered it my duty to make certain that she was not bringing scandal down upon herself. I assure you, sir, that I would never have willingly exposed your family to derision.”
Darcy scoffed. “On the contrary, I understand you perfectly well. I rather suspect your motives were more self-serving than benevolent.”
“You are angry, and rightfully so. But I believe your anger will cease when you hear all I have to say. Then, indeed, I believe some semblance of gratitude on your part will be warranted.”
“Gratitude?”
“Indeed, I, for one, congratulate myself.”
“What are you going on about, man?”
“I speak of the terrible scandal that has befallen Miss Elizabeth’s family. Her youngest sister, Miss Lydia, has left all her friends. By all accounts, she has eloped, throwing herself into the power of—of Lt. George Wickham. They were said to have gone off together from Brighton. There can be little doubt of the man’s true intentions. The girl has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to marry her. She is indeed lost forever.”
Darcy listened as Elizabeth’s relation continued speaking of the incident.
Grieved and shocked, he asked, “But is it certain—absolutely certain?”
“Oh, yes!” Collins exclaimed with energy and resumed conveying the details as best he understood them. His source, of course, was his wife, and her source was her mother, Lady Lucas, whose source was everyone who knew anything in Hertfordshire.
Lowering his voice, the parson said, “There have also been reports that young Lydia may have stolen away of her own volition, believing herself to be in love.”
“And what has been done? What has been attempted to recover her?”
“My cousin Mr. Bennet went to London to beg his brother’s assistance. But nothing can be done. I know very well that nothing can be done as Lydia is undoubtedly living in sin. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? The Bennets have not the smallest hope. It is in every way horrible!”
Darcy had heard enough. He was gone directly.
Amid all the confusion and uncertainty at Longbourn, Stanford Hemmingsworth proposed to Jane, thus offering her hope despite Lydia’s situation and the horrendous scandal because of it.
He loved her too much. He had built his whole world around her. He did not mean to lose the love of his life and all his hopes for his future felicity on account of the actions of a foolish, selfish girl who cared for none other than herself.
Jane voiced her reservations. “How can I possibly say yes when my family’s reputation is ruined? I dare not. I will not bring scandal upon your family.”
“My dearest Jane, I love you. Indeed, no one is loved more than I love you. No one is wanted more. Whatever you do, do not say no. Say you will think about it.”
“I will be thinking about it. I shall think about it every minute of every hour of every day. But—I…”
Hemmingsworth looked deeply into Jane’s eyes. “Please—no buts… I am as devoted to you as I can be. I will not let you go.”
“But what of your family? How can they want to have anything to do with us after what Lydia has done? Surely they will never forgive me. You must not risk the loss of everything you hold dear. Do you think society will ever want to have anything to do with you should Lydia never be recovered and her reputation—our family’s reputation—remain in tatters?”
“I do not care about society. My family loves you. They would not want or expect me to forsake you.”
Jane smiled. Her eyes sparkled. Mr. Hemmingsworth had offered her a modicum of hope amid a raging storm, and her affection for him increased a thousandfold.
Chapter 20
Sense of Honor
Lydia was discovered and recovered by way of her marriage to none other than Mr. Wickham himself. And now the newlyweds had descended upon Longbourn—two lovers as happy as could be with nary a care or a morsel of remorse between them.
The Bennets ought to have been happy with this turn of events, and indeed most of them were. However, Elizabeth most certainly was not—she was horrified and disgusted. She could not wait for the Wickhams to be on their way.
One morning, soon after their arrival, while sitting with her two elder sisters, Mrs. Wickham said to Elizabeth, “Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by when I told Mamma and the others all about it. Are you not curious to hear how it was managed?”
“No—not really,” replied Elizabeth. “I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.”
“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off.”
Lydia began speaking. Indeed, she talked and talked, but nothing she said would pierce Elizabeth’s determination to ignore the silly girl. That was until she heard Lydia mention the one person who was sure to animate her older sister—Mr. Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth in utter amazement.
“Oh, yes! He was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”
“If it was to be a secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”
“Oh! Certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity, “we will ask you no questions.”
“Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry.”
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth forced herself to put it out of her power by running away.
However, to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her sister’s wedding.
Elizabeth was too curious a creature not to wish to know more. She was too rational a creature to suppose that if what Lydia had said was true—that Mr. Darcy had helped to bring the marriage about and in so doing been the means of saving the Bennet family’s reputation—he had done it all for her.
Needing answers to her questions, Elizabeth set off to write to her aunt in town. Surely her aunt would know, and then Elizabeth would know too.
She began the missive with all the usual civilities before addressing her most pressing concern:
“You must comprehend my eagerness to know how a person unconnected with any of us—a comparative stranger to our family—should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy Lydia seems to think necessary. And then I must endeavor to be satisfied with ignorance. Not that I shall, though. My dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honorable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.”
Jane’s delicate sense of honor would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall. Elizabeth was glad of it. Till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.
She received an answer to her letter soon thereafter. She hurried into the little grove where she was least likely to be disturbed. She sat down on the bench and prepared to be happy, for the length of the letter convinced her it did not contain a denial.
Indeed, there was no denial. On the contrary, it was precisely as Lydia had said. Mrs. Gardiner confirmed in her reply that Mr. Darcy had certainly done everything. He discovered the couple, paid off Wickham’s debts, attended the wedding, and paid for Wickham’s commission in the north.
Elizabeth was now at liberty to think all Mr. Darcy had done, he had done for her, but why had he done it? She had every reason to believe she had lost his good opinion when she forfeited his trust. And he had not returned. Surely any future path must lie through him.
This longing she suffered was not new to her, for it had been coming on for a long time. She honestly felt that she loved Mr. Darcy, and now more than ever before. Surely such tender feelings on her part must not be in vain.
Chapter 21
Her Maternal Feelings
Jane hated the idea of disappointing Mr. Bingley. But what was to be done? She could not tell her heart what to do. Even if she could, she could not persuade herself into believing the feelings she had for her former suitor could be compared to what she now felt for Mr. Hemmingsworth.
Her former suitor indeed, for that is what he was—had always been since the moment Mr. Hemmingsworth came into her life.
Mr. Bingley was my first love, she silently considered. But, perchance, that is all he was ever meant to be. A first love. For if he was meant to be my only love, then why does my heart despair at the thought of being parted from Mr. Hemmingsworth?
For some time, I have known I can get along perfectly fine without Mr. Bingley. I do not know that I would ever wish to find out what it is like to get along without Stanford. But what if I were to lose him? What a shame it would be if it was because I failed to show him my true feelings.
Experience had proved a good teacher. What she had found with Mr. Hemmingsworth was genuine love, constant love, mature love. The kind of love she deserved with a man who had filled all the emptiness inside her and given her life a new purpose.
On the heels of Bingley’s retreat, Jane stole away for a private tête-à-tête with the true object of her affections—Stanford Hemmingsworth.
She insisted he ask her to marry him again. He did so with alacrity. Jane was to be his wife. On this happy occasion, the two lovers confirmed their long-suppressed desire for each other as violently as a newly betrothed couple could be supposed to do.
At length, the temporary cessation of their passions was absolutely necessary. There was too much to say and too much to do, starting with sharing their happiness with their loved ones.
Happy for all her maternal feelings, Mrs. Bennet knew precisely how to act. In no time at all, a lavish dinner party with all her friends and neighbors got underway at Longbourn. Even Mrs. Hemmingsworth could not refuse the invitation. She had always loved Jane, and now she loved her even more.
Elizabeth could not have been happier for her sister. At last, Jane had found the love she so richly deserved. Yet, even so, she was unequal to the festive air inside the halls of Longbourn for more than a little at a time owing to her own situation, so Elizabeth made her way outside.
Mitchell Hemmingsworth found her in the garden, gazing into the night sky. It was awash with endless galaxies, a brilliant spectrum whirling infinite miles away. The moon above gleamed down on her. There could be no doubt of where her thoughts tended. The love of her life seemed just as distant.
“Are you wishing on a star, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, draping a light shawl over her shoulders and adjusting it just so.
Elizabeth half-smiled. She said nothing.
“It is rare to find you at a loss for words, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Are you done?” she finally asked.
Mitchell shook his head. “I will not always be around to suffer such abuse, you know.”
“Does that mean you have resolved to join the military?” Elizabeth asked.
He nodded. “Will you miss me?”
“I think you know the answer to that question, sir.”
“I think I would like to hear it.”
Elizabeth sighed wistfully. “All the time. Always.”
The gentleman had no answer to that. Instead, he said, “He will return to Hertfordshire soon.”
“If only I shared your optimism.”
The reasons for Mr. Darcy not to return were diminishing by the day. Yes, he had been the means of saving her family from ruin when he discovered Lydia and forced Wickham to marry the silly girl, but to be the brother of such a man. It was inconceivable.
“You can always take matters into your own hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“London is but a few hours away. Go there and let it be known you are in town. No doubt, he will come to Gracechurch Street once he knows you are there.”
“My relations travel in such different circles than his. I cannot imagine how it could be done.”
“Then go to Grosvenor Square—”
Elizabeth gasped. “I cannot possibly do such a thing. Just how bold do you think I am, sir? I fear there is a stark difference between optimism and recklessness.”
Mitchell shrugged. “Perhaps a healthy mixture of both is what is called for.”
“Sir, I shall not go to London in the hope of seeing Mr. Darcy.”
“Then write a letter to him.”
“I do not know that I can do that either.”
“Why in heavens not?” he asked daringly. “And do not dare mention the impropriety of a single person writing to another single person of the opposite sex. That is, after all, how this whole thing started, is it not?”
Chapter 22
In that Manner
All of Mitchell Hemmingsworth’s insistence that Elizabeth should take matters into her own hands by going to town, fortunately proved for naught. Mr. Darcy returned to Hertfordshire, came directly to Longbourn, and discreetly prevailed on Elizabeth for a private audience when he could do so.
The following day found Darcy and Elizabeth at their usual place, bright and early at sunrise. Words were inadequate to express how either of them really felt being together again, but some conversation was essential. Mr. Darcy needed to account for his sudden leave-taking.
“I went to Kent thinking my sister was living at Rosings because she was forced to live there,” he explained at length. “So I was more than a little disturbed to learn she wanted to live there, knowing my neglect may have been the impetus for her sentiments.”
Elizabeth deemed it necessary to explain what her feelings had been in the wake of his absence. Finally, and at length, she confessed, “I thought you despised me for mishandling your letter.”
“Despise you?” Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth in his arms. He could not have stopped himself from doing so, even if he tried.
“Oh, you of such little faith. Whatever am I to do with you? Do you know nothing about me at all?” He leaned closer and kissed Elizabeth softly on her forehead. He whispered in her ear, “When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with you forever.”
Holding Elizabeth in his arms that way was something he had never done before—not like that. He held her as only a lover would. It felt right. The time had come for a second proposal, for he never wished to be parted from her ever again.
He kissed Elizabeth again, this time on her cheek and with such tenderness.
“Surely your feelings for me are not the same as they were last April. I have repeatedly avowed my love for you, and I have done everything in my power to prove myself worthy of you. Pray, say you love me. All the love I have in my heart is waiting for you. Say you will be mine.”
“Yes!” Elizabeth said softly and without hesitation. “I love you, Mr. Darcy, with all my heart and soul.”
He smiled. “You cannot know how much I have longed to hear those words!” He hugged Elizabeth close. “However, at such a time as this, my happiness is best conveyed with actions, not words.” He kissed her on the corner of her mouth. He loved the taste of her lips. Oh, how he wished to kiss her properly. “You do trust me?”
Experiencing all the sensations of the moment, Elizabeth nodded.
Darcy took a few steps back, gathered Elizabeth by the hand, and began leading her to a more secluded spot—one in which they might remain in privacy for hours to come. Soon enough, he was kissing her in a way he had never done before.
Elizabeth lifted up her arms to give him better access to her body. Mr. Darcy’s hands moved lower and lower to cup her derrière. He pulled their bodies closer together. Elizabeth knew and understood he was in her power, and she was in his as he continued to kiss her. The magnitude of his love was made apparent by the depth of his kisses, the lingering touch of his hands, and their bodies pressed close against each other. And they went on in that manner for a while.
Darcy’s kisses became more and more ardent. Finally, he stopped to catch his breath as he rested his forehead against Elizabeth’s, trying to control his ardor. This reprieve did not last very long—how were two lovers who ached for each other as they did to do otherwise? They could not get enough of each other.
Not all that transpired between Darcy and Elizabeth comprised making love—some conversation must be enjoyed and eventually a light repast. Having anticipated their needs when they met at their particular place so many times in the past, doing so that morning was second nature to Elizabeth. The basket she had brought along was filled with a fragrant mixture of apples, pears, oranges, strawberries, and grapes, cold ham slices, cheese, and baked bread. Darcy and Elizabeth found themselves too hungry to ignore the food she brought along. They shared their meal, at times feeding each other, finished with passionate kisses, and then got up for a walk.
They walked on without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said for attention to any other objects. At length, the sun high above the sky reminded them that Elizabeth had stayed away too long. Surely her family would wonder where she was by now. It was time to return to Longbourn, only they returned together, hand in hand—intent on sharing their joyful news.
