Chapter 1
Elizabeth Bennet awoke early on the day after their dinner at Pemberly. It had been a wonderful evening, Elizabeth thought, Caroline Bingley's behavior aside. As she poured the water in the basin to wash her face, she recalled the events perfectly. She could hardly believe that Caroline had been so unfeeling as to have brought up Mr. Wickham's name in front of Miss Darcy. Of course, Caroline could hardly have been aware of their history. When Mr. Darcy rose from his seat, Elizabeth thought he would physically throw her from the house he looked so angry, but Elizabeth was more concerned for her new friend and had immediately gone to her at the piano to assure her comfort. She was sure she must have turned three shades of pink, his stare was so intense. What had she seen in his eyes? Gratitude? Friendship? Love? Passion? She hardly knew, nor could she account for it. He had certainly changed a great deal since their arrival in Derbyshire. Her own feelings were in such confusion, sleep had evaded her the night before. She stood looking out the window on to the street outside below.
Could it be possible that he still loved her, as her aunt and uncle Gardiner had suggested upon returning back to the inn last evening? Only a truly oblivious person like Caroline Bingley could have missed the particular attention Mr. Darcy had paid to Elizabeth and her relations since their arrival in the area, and her aunt and uncle had immediately questioned her as to the whole of their connection.
"I quite like your Mr. Darcy, Lizzy! And here I thought you disliked him. I hope I am soon to wish you joy!" her uncle Gardiner had chided her as they drove back to the inn.
Elizabeth colored.
"What can you mean, sir!? He is not my Mr. Darcy. I esteem him, and it seems clear that he is a very good brother and master, but such a man could hardly be expected to marry a woman with no connections and no fortune."
"Oh, as if he needed to concern himself with your fortune," her aunt countered. "I believe he is your Mr. Darcy, or very soon will be. I am quite adept, you know, at telling when a person's feelings are engaged, and believe me, Mr. Darcy is a man in love. But you, niece? Are your feelings engaged?"
"It has been a complicated acquaintance from the beginning. I'm afraid between my prejudice and his pride we've never been able to see eye to eye," Elizabeth replied.
"No pride that I can see. He is all ease and friendliness...and what pride he may have I daresay he is entitled to" her uncle offered.
"I think you must be right there, Uncle".
"But that really doesn't answer my question. Come now, is there an understanding between you two?" Aunt Gardiner asked.
"He...he proposed. Last spring. When I was visiting Charlotte in Kent". They looked at her in great astonishment. "He and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were there visiting their aunt at Rosings. You have perhaps hears Mr. Collins go on about his very esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine. Well, that is she, and a very great lady she is too, though her manners are somewhat lacking. I was so surprised by his attentions. I am ashamed to say that I was quite ruthless in my refusal, blinded as I was by Mr. Wickham's lies about his character and his character". Elizabeth lowered her eyes from their gaze, fidgeting with her hands on her lap.
"Mr. Wickham's lies?" they had said in unison.
"Yes. I am afraid I cannot be more explicit than that...but I have it on good authority that Mr. Wickham is not as he makes himself out to be, nor are his charges against Mr. Darcy justified. Forgive me." Elizabeth attempted to explain.
"Of course. But Mr. Darcy proposed!? And you refused?" her aunt probed further.
"Yes. You must not blame me, aunt. I did not love him then, and I could not in good conscience accept him. He was quite put out, and we both said things for which I am sure we are sorry for now...and...but...it doesn't matter now, I suppose" Elizabeth concluded.
"Admirable, my dear. But you surely must have been conscious that in refusing such a man as Mr. Darcy...that was...well...quite unexpected for a young woman in your position. If he was willing to accept your lack of connections and fortune, I would have advised you to accept him" her aunt continued.
"You would have had me marry where I could not love or respect my partner in life? I am surprised, aunt! It is not sound. You would never have acted so yourself" Elizabeth argued.
"Perhaps. But what of today? Are your feelings still what they were last April?", her aunt had asked.
She could not answer with any certainty then, and had spent most of the night pondering this question. She was sure she didn't dislike him as she did them, but did she love him? Did she want him to renew his addresse?s What would she say if he did?
Just then, her solitude was interrupted by a knock on the door. The maid, Betsy, entered.
"If you please, mum. This letter's just arrived for you" the young girl said, handing Elizabeth the letter.
"Thank you, Betsy. Have you seen my aunt and uncle this morning?", Elizabeth inquired, taking the letter in hand, noticing that it was from her sister, Jane.
"Yes, miss. They went walking for a bit of fresh air...towards the church...said they didn't want to disturb you," the maid informed Elizabeth.
"Thank you. I suppose I shall take a small tray in the sitting room here so I may read my letter...if that isn't too much trouble?" Elizabeth asked, growing more eager by the minute to read Jane's letter.
"Very good, miss". Betsy smiled, curtsied and back out of the room.
Elizabeth stood, looking at the clock on the mantle. As Mr. Darcy had handed her into the carriage last night, he had asked, most particularly, if he could call upon her at the inn this morning. They were expected for dinner again at Pemberly that evening, but he had something he wanted to discuss with her. She could well imagine, or perhaps hoped, what that something was. Her uncle's consent secured, this was part of what had kept her awake the previous evening. Did she want him to renew his addresses? She still had time to consider. It was early, well before the appropriate time one might expect social calls. She therefore set down to read her letter.
"Oh, it's from Jane! At last!" Elizabeth thought to herself, noting her sister's hand, though not at all in it's usual, fluid style. In fact, she had written the direction very ill indeed, no wonder it had been misdirected at first.
She began to read.
My dearest Lizzie,
I hardly know how to begin such a letter. I am in such a state of shock and grief. I must be strong and come to the point directly. Our beloved father is dead, Lizzie. Last night, we received a communication from Colonel Foster in Bath, that Lydia was run off with one of his officers. To own the truth, with Wickham. The chaos that ensued can well be imagined. Our mother was taken to such hysterics, she has not left her bedroom since. Our poor father was at once taken by over by a seizure, clasped his heart and collapsed. We moved him to his chamber, and the doctor was sent for immediately. We were told that it was most likely a massive stroke, brought on by the shock, and that there was really nothing we could do but await the dictates of providence. He lived on for another hour or so, and then passed quietly. We are all inconsolable and mama cannot stop worrying that Mr. Collins and Charlotte will descend upon Longbourne at any moment to stake their claim. I know dear Charlotte will ensure her husband waits an appropriate time, but it cannot be long.
And what of poor Lydia? Colonel Foster says they were traced to London and not beyond. They are certainly not gone to Gretna Green, and I begin to fear that he never had any intention of marrying her at all. Oh Lizzie, what ever will will do? What could Mr. WIckham have been thinking in singling out Lydia. One would never have thought her to be in danger of fortune hunters. She is a most ungrateful girl, and I do not believe I shall ever forgive her for breaking our poor father's heart. Forgive me for speaking so harshly of our sister, Lizzie, but I am so dreadfully unhappy. Do I ask too much for you and aunt and uncle Gardiner to make all haste home? We are in desperate need of your sense and our uncle's assistance. I hope to see you before I may even receive a reply.
Your loving sister,
Jane.
Elizabeth could not believe her eyes. He father dead? Lydia run away with Wickham? She began struggle for breath. She stood up to call for someone to fetch her aunt and uncle, but the room began to spin. Suddenly all was black.
