While Darcy was dressing, he gave Mercer very specific instructions for that afternoon’s engagement with Christina Caxton.
“I want a light meal served—not something that is going to take all afternoon. After we have finished eating, if Mrs. Aumont does not leave immediately, we shall go into the drawing room. But I do not want to be in there for more than fifteen minutes. I shall tell her I am expecting an important letter, which is the truth, and if she has not left by that time, I want you to come in and tell me the letter has arrived. I do not like deception. But she is an old friend, and I do not want to hurt her feelings. I just want her to leave.”
It was a simple plan that went awry immediately as Mrs. Aumont sent word that she would not be able to join Darcy at the agreed-upon time, but would visit around 5:00, making it more difficult to show her the door after fifteen minutes. Darcy, who knew he was miserable at small talk, would be at a loss as to how to fill the time. There was nothing in the rules of deportment taught to him by his mother and governess that covered former lovers.
He was already on edge because earlier in the day he had gone to George Bingley’s office in hopes of hearing some good news. But George dealt only in facts, and there was nothing new to report about Lydia and Wickham. Darcy wanted so much to write to Elizabeth, but what was there to say? “I am part of the reason your sister is with Wickham, and I haven’t a clue where she is.”
When Mercer showed Mrs. Aumont into the room, he took a deep breath. She was so beautiful. Who could resist her charms? He knew the answer: A man desperately in love with another could, and he gestured for her to sit on the sofa, while he sat on the chair opposite to her. But Christina patted the sofa and asked Darcy to join her. As soon as he sat down, he explained he was expecting a letter from a friend, and once he received it, he would need to leave immediately and hoped she would understand.
“I promise to be brief, and, therefore, let me begin immediately. Yesterday, your discomfort was so apparent that I thought I should not come back at all because I was embarrassed. But I wanted to explain my behavior,” and she looked to him for a sign that she should proceed, and he nodded.
“My husband and I were living happily in a small villa in the south of France when he became ill, and he never regained his health. When he died, I found it necessary to sell almost everything we owned in order to pay the bills. Even with that, I was never able to fully settle the accounts, which made no one happy, including myself.
“Although I am half French, I was known as La Femme Anglaise, and because of the fighting between the French and English, I found a very cool welcome where there had once been a warm one. I was so uncomfortable that I decided to leave France. The farther north I traveled the more hostility I met. I finally called on an old friend who escorted me to the frontier, and I sailed from Ostend. I was so happy to be on English soil, but then it dawned on me. I had not given any thought as to what I would do once I reached England.
“Please remember I have not been in England for ten years, and the first person I thought about was Mrs. Conway because her husband and Mr. Caxton had been political allies and had corresponded for years. She was so kind and offered to provide me with a room. When she asked if I had any friends, I mentioned that I knew you. She said that was fortunate as you and she were good friends, but she knew you to be in the country. Then I remembered your cousin was an earl. So I wrote to him, and he sent a hackney for me.”
“You met Lord Fitzwilliam? Good grief!”
“We spent a lovely afternoon together. I found him to be very amusing.”
“Oh, he keeps his family in stitches.”
“I can easily imagine him to be a thorn in the side of his relations, but he was quite gracious to me. He was very forward in the questions, and I confided in him that I had arrived in England with little more than my clothes and a promise of a draft from my bank, which I have not received. He said that he would help me in any way, except financially, as he was broke. I told him it was my intention to support myself as a dressmaker. My father was a tailor and my mother a seamstress, and basically, I served an apprenticeship under them. As a result, I can sew anything.
“It was then that he made the most incredible offer. He told me that all of his wife’s dresses were upstairs. He explained they were estranged, and he had written to her to come get them. Her answer was that she would not wear anything she had ever worn when she was with him. In an example of supreme understatement, he said, ‘She does not like me very much.’” Christina then stood up and took off her pelisse. “This is one of Lady Fitzwilliam’s gowns, which I have remade with some additional fabric from another. Her dresses were out of style, but the material is beautiful. Is it not?” And she turned around, so he could admire all of the dress.
“It is lovely. You could easily become a dressmaker to a duchess.”
“A couturier, William. A couturier can charge more than a dressmaker, and I already have a commission. Mrs. Conway gave my name to Lady Edgemont, which is why I was late.”
“My sincere congratulations to you, Christina, and now that I have seen your handiwork, I shall certainly recommend you to others. But until you are established, I hope you will accept my cheque as my contribution to the support of an emerging artiste.”
“Thank you, William. I wish I were in a position to refuse your offer, but I am not. As for yesterday, I must explain. Because I left everything familiar behind me, I was looking for a life raft to cling to until I could make my own way, and that is why I came here. But it was so obvious you were uncomfortable, possibly for many reasons, but I am quite sure of one. You are a man in love, but I do not think all is well there. I shall not pry. I will only say I hope that whatever keeps you apart will be quickly resolved. What we had in France remains a lovely memory for me, but it rightfully should stay a memory and I shall speak no more of it.”
At that point, Mercer came into the room to tell his master that the letter he was expecting had arrived, and he went so far as to place a letter on a tray.
“It is all right, Mercer. I can see to it later.”
“Excuse me, sir, but this is the one you have been waiting for,” and he held it up as proof that it really was a letter from George Bingley. Darcy was on his feet and gave a sigh of relief when he recognized Bingley’s handwriting.
“I shall detain you no longer as you have urgent business to see to,” Christina said. “I am just happy you really do need to leave, and it was not because you were trying to get rid of me.” Darcy smiled weakly. “Go on. Read your letter. Mercer can hail a cab for me,” and she held out her pelisse, so that Darcy might help her put it on. “I hope to see you about town,” and she allowed him to kiss her hand, and then she went downstairs with Mercer.
Darcy tore through Bingley’s seal, and there were the words he had been waiting for since he had arrived in London.
Mr. Darcy,
Wickham and Lydia Bennet have been found. They are not married. Despite their having shared a lodging room, it is my belief, based on testimony from the landlady, that she is as she was when she left Longbourn. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner have taken their niece home with them, and a post rider has been sent to Longbourn to advise them of our success. However, Mr. Wickham remains in my custody. I would ask that you come to my offices at your earliest convenience so that we might proceed in making arrangements that will benefit the young Miss Bennet.
Sincerely, George Bingley
By that time, Mercer had returned and poured Darcy a wine. “Lydia Bennet has been recovered and is in the care of her aunt and uncle. Her family will shortly have news that their daughter is safe. Hopefully, no matter what happens from this point on, the worst is behind us.”
“May I suggest a letter to Miss Elizabeth might be in order, sir?”
“Not yet. Not until I have all the information. But at least now the picture of her with tear-stained cheeks at the inn in Derbyshire will be replaced by that of her dancing circles in the gardens of Pemberley,” he said, smiling. “Mercer, please have a hackney out front in ten minutes. Too much time has already been lost,” and he took the stairs two at a time.
Lizzy lay quietly in the dark with her sister beside her in a deep sleep. They had talked well into the night, and she smiled at the memory of how they had laughed about Mr. Nesbitt and his inept courtship. It was a welcome respite from the tension that had descended upon the Bennet household. Surely, it was a sign of healing when one could laugh again. Now, with Mr. Nesbitt out of the picture, maybe it would be possible to remind Jane of Mr. Bingley’s many attributes. She would make no dramatic statements about true love and forgiveness, but rather talk about the times Jane and Mr. Bingley were together and their compatibility and shared memories.
Lizzy did not consider herself to be a romantic, certainly not like the ladies in a novel or a Shakespearean play, as she was much too practical for that. However, she did believe that two souls could come together, so that the one would know if something had happened to the other despite distance or war. With all of her being, she believed she had touched Mr. Darcy’s heart, and if he had stopped loving her, surely she would be able to sense that. But she had no such feeling.
The more she thought about their last time together at the inn at Lambton, the more convinced she was that he had not stepped away from her in disgust. Instead, he had already formed a plan to help find Lydia, thus explaining his hasty departure.
Again, she returned to the time they were together in the stables at Pemberley. If it had not been for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s untimely arrival, he would have kissed her, and she would have looked into his beautiful gray-green eyes and told him that she loved him.
Wherever Mr. Darcy was, she believed he was still thinking of her as she could almost feel his presence. That would not be possible if he had put her out of his mind. No, she had reason to hope, and she would cling to that until proved wrong.