The Unforgettable Mr. Darcy

Jane was silent for a moment. “Well, the part about being married was a lie, but the way he felt about you was not.”

No, but… “I do not wish to become his wife because it is familiar and comfortable.”

“That is why you did not accept his offer?”

“Yes…and…I…must discover how I feel about him—even when I am not in his presence. When I do not think of him as a husband. Before France I disliked him so intensely, and now he wants me to tie myself to him for life. Sometimes I want that, but do I want it because I am simply accustomed to thinking of him that way?”

“Oh, Lizzy…”

“It is all a muddle, Jane. I do not know my own mind. When has that ever been true before? My wit has always been the one thing I could rely upon. I suppose I grew a little vain about it. My mind has been betraying me for weeks…and it continues. I cannot decide…I do not know what I think…and I cannot understand why I feel this way.”

Jane stroked Elizabeth’s hair with calming hands. “I am certain all you need is time. You will sort it all out given time.”

“I wish I had your faith,” Elizabeth murmured.

Jane enfolded her sister in her arms, pulling her close. Surrendering to Jane’s caring warmth, Elizabeth allowed herself to cry.

Chapter Twenty

Life at Longbourn quickly returned to normal. Everyone in the neighborhood came to visit the Bennets to marvel at the daughter who had “returned from the dead,” and Elizabeth was compelled to recount her story time and again. She was touched to learn how many people were genuinely joyful at her return. The tale was even written up in a London paper, although the article got most of the details wrong and made no mention of Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth’s father took her into his study the day after her arrival and demanded a fuller account of her travels. She shared many details, but she did not tell him about believing herself to be Mr. Darcy’s wife or sharing his bed. Her father was quite troubled enough at understanding they had traveled together unchaperoned and expressed concern about Elizabeth’s reputation should that part of the story become widely known. However, he did not suggest that they seek an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy. Perhaps he believed she still disliked the man and would not care to marry him.

Elizabeth said as little as possible to her mother about Mr. Darcy; fortunately, Mrs. Bennet was too preoccupied with her family’s fame to recognize the marital opportunities afforded by her daughter’s misfortunes.

If Elizabeth became a little quieter after her return from France, few noticed, save Jane and her father, and they ascribed it to the demands of recovering from the traumatic experience. However, Elizabeth found that her thoughts were not occupied with France or her experiences there; instead they returned again and again to Mr. Darcy.

In the midst of needlework in the drawing room, she would suddenly muse about what he was doing at that moment. Was he thinking of her? Had he changed his mind about her? Or she would be walking along a lane and realize that she was imagining what it would be like to show the place to Mr. Darcy. Would she ever have such an opportunity?

Mr. Bingley had been in London on business, but he arrived at Longbourn a few weeks later, very happy to learn of her return. It was the work of mere days before he finally proposed to Jane, an offer he would have made earlier if the family had not been in mourning. Jane graciously accepted, and the family enjoyed a new source of happiness. Elizabeth, for her part, was pleased to share some of the family’s attention with her sister.

Still, the happy event provoked an unanticipated sense of melancholy in Elizabeth. The news of her sister’s engagement—presented at dinner—had been neither unexpected nor unwelcome, and yet Elizabeth could not escape a persistent sense of sadness.

After dinner she took a stroll in Longbourn’s garden. In the early September weather, everything was yet very green, but Elizabeth found herself unable to enjoy the beauty. As she sat on a stone bench, she found her thoughts turning yet again to Mr. Darcy.

What was he doing at that moment? Perhaps he was dancing at a ball or entertaining guests at a dinner party. He might be enjoying the attentions of a woman who likely was prettier—and surely wealthier—than Elizabeth. What if her caution caused him to lose interest? He might decide he did not want a wife who was so inconstant.

Such thoughts made her eyes burn, and she gritted her teeth. I will not weep over this!

The slip of paper was never far from her mind; she had carefully preserved it in her reticule, although she had no intention of employing it. He had declared his feelings to be immutable, but how could he be sure? On his way home to Pemberley, he might have encountered a woman who completely erased Elizabeth from his mind.

Simply picturing such an event cut into Elizabeth like a knife.

The sound of gravel crunching caught her attention. Jane approached cautiously, as if stalking a wild animal that might bolt. Elizabeth was tempted to laugh; surely she did not appear quite so nervous.

Jane extended her own handkerchief to Elizabeth as she took a place beside her on the bench. Elizabeth took it gratefully and wiped her eyes. No tears had escaped down her cheeks, but her eyes were brimming.

“I would not have accepted Mr. Bingley’s offer if I thought it would cause you pain, Lizzy,” Jane said softly.

“Your engagement does not cause me pain—quite the opposite. I am very pleased you are marrying him, and I wish you happy.”

“So these are tears of joy?” Jane teased gently.

“No.” Elizabeth breathed out a laugh. “I…do not know precisely why I am sad. You would do best to ignore me.”

“Do you miss Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes, of course. I do not believe I realized how much I missed him until I saw you with Mr. Bingley. You are so happy together!” Stupidly her voice broke over this declaration.