Once in her room and dressed in her nightdress, Elizabeth settled herself comfortably in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and draped a coverlet over her lap. She picked up the large volume of Cowper’s poems and opened it to the first page. She began to read but found it difficult, for her heart still pounded and her mind still reeled from the recent events of the evening.
Looking over at the small table next to her bed, she stood up and walked over to it, opening its one small drawer. She pulled out a book, and from underneath, she picked up several pieces of folded paper. Her recent letter from Jane was on one sheet, and the letter Mr. Darcy had written to her over a year ago consisted of two sheets of paper covered on both sides.
She brought the two letters over to her bed, propped up the pillow and reclined against it. Carefully unfolding them, she reread Jane’s letter first, going over the portion about Mr. Darcy’s visit and how amiable she and the Gardiners had found him. She could now read her sister’s words with nary a concern for Miss Darcy’s heartache, since hearing her account of what had transpired between the two. She also no longer felt concern that Mr. Darcy’s friendship with Mr. Bingley had been jeopardized by his and Jane’s engagement, as he had appeared truly happy for them when he offered her his congratulations the day of the treasure hunt.
When she finished reading Jane’s letter, she slowly turned to the other. She looked at the meticulous handwriting, and knowing who it was from and all that had transpired between them brought about a wave of fluttering deep within her.
Elizabeth read his letter again. She knew not how many times she had read his missive since the day he first handed it to her, but she truly believed that with each reading, it had wrought a different state of her feelings. She found it rather unbelievable that she could now read his justification for separating Jane and Mr. Bingley with a modicum of understanding.
She placed the letter in her lap and lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. He had truly been looking out for his friend’s best interest. Elizabeth could readily concur that Jane did not overtly display her feelings of affection for Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy did not believe her to be in love with him.
She closed her eyes and clutched the letters to her heart. She had been so angry at Mr. Darcy that she had not even considered that the success he had in separating them should have reflected even more on Mr. Bingley’s weakness of character than any power of persuasion he had over him.
She took in a deep breath. Of course she would give Mr. Bingley the benefit of the doubt. He trusted his friend implicitly. He trusted his judgement, his opinion, and his guidance. She had seen the respect that others had for Mr. Darcy and now understood that he was a man who had earned and deserved it. Mr. Bingley had not just carelessly followed the advice of some foolish and thoughtless simpleton, or even someone completely unjust, as she once accused Mr. Darcy of being. She could at least credit Mr. Bingley with the good sense to put his implicit trust in someone of noble repute.
She smiled as she thought of her sister. Yes, she would allow Jane to love Mr. Bingley, despite the fact that she, herself, would find it difficult to love a man so easily swayed. While Jane had a generous and forgiving demeanour, she need not ever know all the reasons behind those months of separation, longing, and wondering.
She ran her fingers over his signature at the bottom of the second page. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She could not prevent a sigh from escaping.
A tap at the door startled her out of her reverie. As it opened, Elizabeth quickly shoved the letters under her pillow. Rosalyn poked her head in. Hands shaking, Elizabeth quickly reached for the book of Cowper’s poems, and she attempted to display a calm demeanour despite the alarm she felt instead.
“Elizabeth!” Rosalyn greeted her cheerily. “I am so pleased you are still awake. May I come in?”
Elizabeth nodded, her heart still pounding.
Rosalyn came over and sat on the edge of the bed. Elizabeth quickly looked down at her pillow to make sure the letters were not protruding, giving them an unobserved little shove to make sure.
She leaned in toward Elizabeth and said in a whisper, “Miss Darcy just informed us that she has some special plans for us tomorrow!”
“Special plans? Did she say what they were?” asked Elizabeth, feeling somewhat disappointed that she already had plans to visit the Ketterlings.
Rosalyn shook her head. “She is to tell us in the morning, but I think we are to go on a journey! Is this not the best news?”
“It ought to be very nice,” Elizabeth assured her.
“This is the perfect opportunity for me. While we are out on our little excursion, I intend to make Mr. Darcy notice me and to convince Miss Darcy that she absolutely cannot abide anyone else becoming her sister in the near future!”
“Convince Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, wariness colouring her features.
Rosalyn tossed her head casually and her lips parted in a rather artful smile. “Perhaps, once we become inseparable friends, a bit of persuasion on her part to her brother will help my cause.”
Elizabeth asked weakly, “How do you intend to do this?”
Rosalyn clasped her hands in her lap and tilted her head. “I shall divide my time tomorrow between Mr. Darcy and his sister. While I am with the one or the other, I shall be gracious, attentive, and most deferential in my words to them.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she listened to Rosalyn. Her brows furrowed as she considered poor Miss Darcy in the midst of Rosalyn’s undivided attention, and Mr. Darcy as he endured Rosalyn’s scheme to secure his affection.
“Rosalyn,” Elizabeth was surprised to hear her voice, and when her friend looked toward her, she took in a deep breath. “Please remember to be your natural self. I believe Mr. Darcy can easily detect artifice. I do not believe he is a man who wants to be incessantly and carelessly flattered.”
Rosalyn waved a hand at her. “Elizabeth, every man appreciates a little flattery! Besides, I have been nothing but myself here. I merely believe he needs to see another side of me.”
“Perhaps,” was Elizabeth’s only reply. Changing the subject, she asked, “Did you learn anything tonight from Mr. Hamilton about chess?”
Rosalyn shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. Hamilton. He is a lively, friendly sort. I would be pretty much taken by him if he had at least some fortune. I wish Mr. Darcy was as witty as he was. Sometimes Mr. Darcy can be so very serious. But I cannot forget his fortune—this Pemberley.” She sighed. “Oh, to be Mistress of it!”
Before leaving, Rosalyn grasped Elizabeth’s two hands. “Remember to pray for me tomorrow that I will have success. Will you?”
When Rosalyn danced out of her room, Elizabeth bit her lip. She knew she could not pray for such a thing and hoped fervently that Mr. Darcy would not succumb to Rosalyn’s attentions. She no more loved him than Elizabeth had loved him at Rosings.
With much agitation, she reached under the pillow and grabbed the letters, quickly placing them back under the book in the drawer in case Rosalyn suddenly returned.
Elizabeth opened Cowper’s book again. She read late into the night, delighting in his poems that were descriptive of scenery, his faith, and even his distress. Several pages seemed smudged, as if someone opened them often to read the verses on the pages over and over. She found herself studying portions that had been underlined and wondered if it had been done by Mr. Darcy himself.
Later that night, after reading many pages of poems, she slowly closed the book. She placed her hand upon it, absently stroking it, as if it were the very heart of Mr. Darcy.
The next morning when she awoke, she sat up in bed, at first wondering whether the previous evening’s time spent in the sitting room had been a dream. When she had at last convinced herself it had not, she began recollecting all that had been spoken between her and Mr. Darcy.
Certainly she had not been of a rational mind to hear his words as he had meant them to be understood. Having earlier that day contemplated that she might possibly love him, she certainly must have misinterpreted what was, most likely, a simple explanation of the game of chess.
She slipped the coverlet off and stood up, walking over to the window. It was grey and misty outside, certainly not the type of weather in which to go walking. She sat down in the rocking chair and again picked up Cowper’s book of poems. In a way she was grateful for the excuse not to go out this morning. She did not feel up to encountering Mr. Darcy. She did not wish to misinterpret more of his conversation and consequently betray her own feelings for him—if she had not already. It was scandalous for her to even consider that he might still have feelings for her. Even if he did, her current situation would prohibit any alliance between them.
After reading through several poems, she walked across the hall to Emily’s room.
She tapped on the door as she slowly opened it. “Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” she replied, stretching out her arms. “It is a most comfortable bed. Do not tell Mama and Papa, but it is far more comfortable than my own!”
Elizabeth smiled. “Mine is most comfortable, as well.” Even with all her thoughts and feelings that had been stirred last night, she had had barely a thought once she had placed her head down upon the pillow. “Why do you suppose that is?”
Emily looked up at Elizabeth with a broad smile. “I heard Mama and Papa say that Mr. Darcy is very fast… fast… fastid…”
“Fastidious?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, that is what Mama said. What does that mean?”
“Well,” Elizabeth thought before she answered. “To be fastidious means that you have a decided opinion about things and will not settle for anything less.”
“Is that good?” Emily asked.
“It can be good if the person’s opinion is reasonable and just.”
“Do you think Mr. Darcy’s opinion is reasonable and just?”
Elizabeth’s heart stirred as she contemplated Emily’s innocent question. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I believe it is.”
At breakfast that morning, everyone came in dressed for church. Miss Darcy announced to everyone the plans she had made for the afternoon, once they returned from services. Everyone seemed pleased with the prospect of a carriage ride through the peaks. The early morning fog was beginning to burn away, and the hope was that by early afternoon it would be a beautiful day.
Mr. Darcy made an agreeable declaration that he had two fairly large carriages for occasions such as this that would hold everyone comfortably. The kitchen staff was even now preparing a meal that would be sent along with them, and plans were to enjoy it at one of Georgiana’s favourite lookouts, an easy ride up the peaks.
Elizabeth admitted to herself a twinge of envy as she heard their plans and for but only a short moment considered cancelling her visit with the Ketterlings. She would not disappoint her aunt, however, and quickly dismissed that idea.
Later that morning, when they arrived at Pemberley Church, Elizabeth watched as Mr. Darcy walked briskly through the churchgoers, greeting many with a simple hello and bow. Georgiana appeared to be more attentive to them, asking about their families and answering their enquiries.
Mr. Darcy seemed intent on moving past these people and getting inside. She chuckled to herself as she recalled his comment when they were at Rosings that he did not feel comfortable amongst people with whom he was not familiar. She wondered how well he truly knew his neighbours.
As they approached the doors of the church, however, he stopped abruptly. The rector greeted him with a fervent handshake, and the two spoke briefly. He then turned, waiting for everyone to join him, and made introductions.
Elizabeth guessed Reverend Grierson to be close to fifty years old. He had a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. As he acknowledged and welcomed each person, he looked intently at them, as if truly caring for them. She liked him already.
Mr. Darcy led the party to the Darcy family pews at the front of the church. He and Georgiana took their seats at one end of the pew, and the others then took theirs. Elizabeth looked up, and from this vantage alone, they had the view of one of many stained-glass windows. It was set deeply into the wall, so it had not been visible from the other parts of the church.
As she was admiring its beauty, Reverend Grierson began the service, welcoming everyone, especially Mr. and Miss Darcy and their esteemed guests. After singing a few hymns, Reverend Grierson began his sermon, teaching on the joy one ought to have if they put their trust in God, when life is going our way as well as when one goes through valleys in life.
As Elizabeth listened to his words, she truly believed he was speaking from experience, not merely extolling the virtues from the Scriptures. She often stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, who was seated in the row ahead of her and at the other end. She wondered whether he had a preference for sermons that prompted self-examination or induced slumber.
He seemed engaged in the sermon, unlike others who were fighting to keep their eyes open and their heads upright. He sat slightly askew, leaning toward the end of the pew, his fingers slowly massaging his jaw in contemplation of the words. An occasional nod and a slight smile gave Elizabeth the impression he was truly listening, agreeing with all the reverend had to say.
After the services, they returned to Pemberley, and everyone hurried to change out of their church clothes into attire more suitable for an outing. Elizabeth, choosing to remain in her nicer dress, helped Emily change and then proceeded to the sitting room to wait for the Ketterlings to arrive.
As she waited, the sound of a carriage approaching brought her to her feet, and she went to the window. Instead of seeing one carriage, she watched as two huge, beautiful carriages, each emblazoned with what must be the Pemberley crest, stopped in front. She noticed Mr. Darcy speaking to the drivers. It was apparent these were the two carriages he had spoken of earlier.
As she stood at the window, Mr. Darcy happened to look toward it, causing her to draw back quickly. She shook her head in frustration, feeling wholly like a young girl with a secret affection. She returned to her chair to wait, reminding herself that indeed, it was a secret, and she could not—would not—tell a soul.
As the others began making their way to the front, she stepped out into the hall and wished them all a pleasant day. She had a great desire to join them but knew she could not disappoint her aunt or the Ketterlings. It was when Rosalyn approached with a cunning glint in her eye that Elizabeth truly wished she could go along.
Rosalyn grasped Elizabeth’s two hands. “Do not forget to say a prayer for me today, Elizabeth.” Leaning in, she gave Elizabeth’s hands a squeeze and released them. “It is a very important day!”
Elizabeth smiled weakly as Rosalyn turned and scurried off determinedly. She let out a long breath and shook her head. She almost felt more pity for Miss Darcy than she did for Mr. Darcy. He could—and would—politely excuse himself if he felt Rosalyn’s presence bothersome. Miss Darcy, however, was still too young and unsure of herself. She would feel that she must endure Rosalyn’s attentions if only because she was her guest and it was her duty.
Elizabeth stepped back into the sitting room and walked to the front window. Rosalyn walked toward one of the carriages, where Mr. Darcy helped her step up. She playfully tilted her head back and said something to him with a broad smile. Mr. Darcy smiled back, but then shook his head. He then stepped out of Elizabeth’s view, but she was quite certain he was not riding in the same carriage as Rosalyn. A short while later, the two carriages pulled away and slowly made their way around the long circular drive. Elizabeth kept her eyes on them until she could see them no longer.
Placing her hand over her heart, she slowly turned and let out a long sigh. Looking up, she found herself face-to-face with Mr. Darcy, who was standing in the doorway!
So stunned was she to see him there, that she cried out, “Mr. Darcy! The carriages have left without you!”
“I had something I needed to attend to. I shall ride and easily catch up with them shortly.” His tall frame filled the doorway, and he leant casually against it. “I doubt that anyone even knows that I am not with them.”
Elizabeth could not prevent the arching of a brow as she considered that most likely one lady observed him return to the house.
“When are your friends to arrive, Miss Bennet?” he asked as he began to walk toward her. She felt her pulse race as he slowly narrowed the distance between them.
“They should be here shortly,” she said with deliberate calmness, in an attempt to veil her clamouring heart.
Darcy walked up to the window and stood next to her, gazing out. “I shall wait until they have arrived to see you safely away.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another.
She allowed a playful smile to permeate her face. “Do you anticipate some harm coming upon me here at Pemberley, sir?”
She stole a quick look up at his profile, noticing a slight upturn of his mouth.
“Certainly not,” he replied. “Nonetheless…”
“Mr. Darcy, truly, you have no need to do that,” Elizabeth protested, turning her gaze out, as well. “It is apparent you have things to do.”
“I should like to meet the Ketterlings all the same.”
Elizabeth was surprised at his words, surprised that he would wish to make the acquaintance of this simple couple from Lambton. Her heart stirred at his expressed wish, but also because there was the possibility he would find them common folk and very much beneath him. Very softly she said, “I am quite certain they will be most honoured to make your acquaintance.”
They stood silently for a moment, and then Mr. Darcy asked, “What did you think of the service this morning?”
Elizabeth turned to him, quite flattered that he would wish to know her opinion. “I enjoyed it immensely. Reverend Grierson gave a very inspiring sermon.”
Darcy turned his face toward hers; his brow pinched, emulating the fervour of his words. “He speaks from his heart, and he knows of what he speaks. When he speaks of joy in the midst of the valleys of life, he knows it all too well. He lost his wife and only child fifteen years ago. Watching him go through that and how his faith remained steadfast spoke volumes to me.”
“That is a grievous burden to bear.”
Darcy exhaled forcefully. “After having a man such as Mr. Grierson as Pemberley’s rector for most of my life, you can see, Miss Bennet, why I was so adamantly opposed to Wickham in his decision to go into that profession.” His voice softened. “I am also grateful that Hamilton did not go into the profession for that same reason. While a good man, he often speaks without first thinking. The navy is better suited for him.”
Elizabeth knew of what he spoke. Hamilton did provoke a very uncomfortable moment at the picnic with his teasing.
It was silent for a moment until Elizabeth added very softly, “And then there is Mr. Collins.”
It was not a question, but he replied, shaking his head fiercely, “Yes, Mr. Collins. Unfortunately, my aunt’s idea of a good clergyman is one who exalts her over the good Lord.” He let out a disgusted breath. “You had every right…”
He stopped abruptly, running his hand through his hair. “Do your mother and three younger sisters remain at Longbourn?”
“No” she replied, her heart pounding as she contemplated what he was about to say. She turned to gaze out the window. With a somewhat shaky voice she replied, “My mother despises Mr. Collins more than she loves Longbourn. They moved in with my Aunt and Uncle Phillips in Meryton.”
Mr. Darcy’s voice softened, and he turned and faced her. “I will say that I am glad he is no longer in the profession of clergyman; however, it does pain me the consequence of that.”
Elizabeth looked up at him and whispered, “Thank you.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and he studied her face, as if searching for some clue to an unanswered question.
The sound of a carriage approaching drew them both to look out the window.
“My friends are here. I must go.”
“Would you allow me to walk out with you so I can make their acquaintance?”
Elizabeth nodded her head slowly, a myriad of feelings that she could not identify welling up inside of her. She was appreciative of his particular attention, even though he was under no obligation to pay such to her and she was totally undeserving of it. “It would be my pleasure.”