The Letter

Chapter 10

Caroline Bingley flew up into a sitting position with her heart pounding. It was just a dream, just a dream, she told herself, her grip tightening on the covers. Loosening her hold, she raised one trembling hand to her chest and placed it over her rapidly beating heart. As pain from another time surged forth through the fresh memory of the nightmare, she closed her eyes tightly and tried to calm her breathing.

Not enough, not enough, echoed through her thoughts. Her body asking for more air was in tune with the voice from the past. With her other hand still holding the covers, she tried to focus on the texture against her skin. Then, she tried to think of the pattern on the material before focusing on the silence around her. The only thing she heard was her own breathing. Slowly, she opened her eyes and climbed out of the bed, moving to the window to open the curtains.

There was something to be said for the quiet country; the absence of activity brought stillness. However, too much of it gave her more time with her thoughts, which only drove her to return to higher society. As she looked out the window, she thought about the contrasting views of the Ton and those of the country, for the latter was much more relaxed. It irked her how they disregarded what had been instilled in her from a young age—how to behave in society.

Her mind wandered to the Bennets and something in her rose at the thought of them reaching higher than they should. Her hand clenched as her mind circled around the fact that, when it came down to it, Mr. Bennet was landed gentry, where the Bingleys were not. Even if she wore the highest quality gown and had superior manners, a country miss was still higher on some levels.

With a grunt of frustration, Caroline turned away and began to pace in front of her bed. It was the same old tale no matter where she went. Her family's fortune opened certain doors for her, but the other girls at school never accepted her. As she grew older and entered society, young gentlemen were drawn to her, but she wasn't considered by those she wanted to notice her—the peerage. Not even her twenty thousand pound dowry could make them forget her connections. It was never enough.

It was as if her family fortune provided entry, but it was in a cage, for she could only view those who moved freely. The sons of the higher positioned gentry did not consider her, either, except for those with reputations as squanderers. Their connections could not make up for the cloud of ill repute around them, and the rest were of too low standing to be considered. As for the daughters of the first circles, those who came out with her, their smiles tended to have a glacial edge to it. Never warm, never truly accepting. If her gown was not up the standards of theirs, they looked down on her. If her gown was more exquisite than theirs, then resentment could be seen in their eyes. More than one condescending look had left a deep mark.

There was a constant cycle of trying to fit in, attempting to be accepted as one of them. Placing her hand on the bedpost, Caroline looked up with determination—she planned to change all of that. If not for her, then for the children she hoped to have one day. The Darcy name, along with its connection to an earldom, would open doors for them that were shut to her. An insignificant country miss would not keep her from all she ever wanted—acceptance.

~P&P~

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in Netherfield Park's breakfast room, feeling the eagerness to leave like a fire burning beneath him. However, when Bingley had heard that he would be absent for an unknown time, he insisted on his friend being nourished for the journey. Not only that, but Bingley woke up much earlier than usual to wish him safe travels.

Darcy watched as Bingley wiped over his eyes again, struggling with the early hour even as he sat there ready for the day. He couldn't help but wonder if Bingley had been half asleep when his valet dressed him.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Bingley. I know that this is not what we discussed, but I will endeavor to return shortly."

The younger man waved his hand to dismiss any concerns. "It is I who must thank you. You have been a great help to me, and I hope you know that you are more than welcome to return at any time. I do hope nothing grievous is pulling you away so soon, though."

"It is more precautionary than critical at this time." Darcy hesitated; he had not revealed all that occurred to Bingley, but his friend knew it had involved George Wickham and that he had endangered someone in the family. "It has to do with last spring."

Bingley straightened and the last hold of sleep slipped away. "Wickham?"

Darcy nodded gravely. "Yes. I fear the situation was not properly dealt with and could affect the future."

"Of course, you must go," Bingley immediately replied.

"Who must go?" Miss Bingley asked as she entered the breakfast room.

The gentlemen immediately stood due to ingrained reaction, though her brother appeared startled. "Caroline, I did not expect you to see you this early. Is everything all right? You like tired."

With a hand halfway to her face, she paused and glared at Bingley. "I assure you I am fine, brother. Now what is this I hear of leaving? Have you finally come to your senses?" She picked up a cup of tea and turned to the table.

"We are not departing from the neighborhood," he began, returning to the plate in front of him. "Though Darcy is. He informed me last night that he has business in London to attend to and will be leaving this morning."

The clattering of fine porcelain filled the air, causing the gentlemen to look at the shaky cup on the saucer as she moved to sit opposite Darcy. "Business in London, you say?" Her voice was as unstable as the cup as she sat it down on the table, and it contained a note of barely suppressed excitement. "How long will you be gone, Mr. Darcy?"

He watched her for a moment, suspecting the direction of her thoughts as she tried to control her emotions. "It is difficult to say at the moment, Miss Bingley." Then, he added to ensure that she had no notion regarding certain settlements, "It could be months."

It worked—the words acted like a drainage trench for expectancy. "Months?" Her voice was slightly louder than her normally trained tone, beginning to climb in the direction of her possibly glass shattering pitch. She quickly turned to Bingley. "Then, we must close the house and depart as well. There is simply no good reason to remain."

Bingley calmly continued to eat, barely looking up as he replied, "Darcy is not the reason why we are here, Caroline. We are staying." Then, he smiled. "Besides, I can think of a very good reason three miles away."

Miss Bingley's countenance spoke louder than words—she did not consider that a good reason. Then, her expression changed to that of a concerned sister. "Perhaps that is precisely why we need to go—distance will give clarity. It would not be right to give sweet Miss Bennet hope, only for your head to be turned by another beauty when the Season comes."

She turned to Darcy. "Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?"

He paused before he addressed Bingley. He had every hope to return as soon as he could, but he also knew he had to consider others—Bingley could not stay so that the house remained open for his return. Furthermore, Miss Jane Bennet had to be considered, for his friend could not simply leave if he had created expectation. Darcy proceeded to respond with caution. "Whether you stay or leave is for you to decide, but I still believe this is an excellent opportunity for you, Bingley. As for the matter regarding Miss Bennet, I agree with your sister to a certain point. Be careful not to create expectation if what you feel will pass."

Miss Bingley turned to her brother triumphantly, her countenance revealing her certainty that they would be leaving. Thus, she began to rise from her chair. "I will speak with Mrs. Nichols and my maid—"

"I said we are not leaving, Caroline," Bingley interrupted her with a firm tone. Then, he turned to his friend. "I hear your concern, Darcy, and it is noted. However, I also know I have never met anyone with a sweeter disposition than Miss Bennet. It is a rarity to discover beauty from within along with outward loveliness. I hope to continue getting to know Miss Bennet."

Darcy nodded at him and stood. "As long as you take care. There is also the matter of her mother to consider—she might feel pressured into accepting your suit."

Bingley appeared stunned by the thought. "Do you think that is a possibility?"

"Absolutely, Charles," Miss Bingley commented with eagerness. However, one look from her brother silenced anything else she wanted to say.

"It is not that I think she is indifferent to you," Darcy began, walking along the table before stopping next to Bingley. "I am merely suggesting that you get to know her, while also finding a way to guide Mrs. Bennet's attention away from you. It will be difficult to see with Mrs. Bennet overhead like a thundercloud."

Comprehension dawned and a shy smile appeared on Bingley's face. "Any suggestions on how I should go about that?"

"While the weather permits, walks to Meryton may present you with what you need." Darcy glanced at Miss Bingley. "I hear her sisters will be visiting their aunt often with the militia present in town."

Miss Bingley's cheeks tinted, and he could not help but add, "Your brother may be right, Miss Bingley; you do not appear well. It would not be advisable for you to travel before you have recovered. I thank you for your hospitality."

With a bow in her direction, Mr. Darcy left the room and Mr. Bingley followed him. "Darcy," his friend called out as they walked through the entrance hall.

Stopping, he turned towards Bingley and saw a severe look on his friend's face. It was not often that the jovial expression wasn't present in some way. "I may not know the particulars, but I hope the problem is resolved speedily," Bingley said.

"Thank you." Darcy nodded respectfully. "If all goes well, I will return soon."

As Darcy walked through the doors and out to the waiting carriage, his hand reached into his coat pocket and he felt the delicate material of a handkerchief. Yes, he would return as soon as he could.

In his other pocket, he carried a letter, though not the one that frequented his thoughts. No, the letter in his pocket was from his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam; he believed he knew how to find Wickham.

~P&P~

Nearly a fortnight after the assembly, Elizabeth stood on a hill overlooking a road in the distance. The early morning chill nipped at her nose and ears, but she did not pay attention to the sensation. With her arms wrapped around her, she stared at the road in hope of seeing Mr. Darcy's carriage departing from the neighborhood.

The early morning brought the ambiance of a dream, as if all that had occurred would disappear in the light of a new day. She relived the moment that Mr. Darcy's hand had brushed the back of hers, almost feeling the sensation repeating, and she held onto the thread to assure herself of its reality. A laugh bubbled to the surface as she remembered the keepsake he had with him. It was the most unexpected gesture, and was it not for the fact that she would feel foolish doing so, she might have counted her handkerchiefs to make sure one was missing.

Having learned about his connections—and knowing the expectations there must be for him—she had enjoyed his company but had not dared to hope for a gesture such as the one he asked for. As the overcast day obscured even the few rays that wanted to break through, her mind wandered to the reason for his departure. It couldn't be an insignificant issue, for he couldn't say when he would be back. With that, she wondered when she would see him again. It was as she had been given glimpse of what could be, and then it was placed at some unknown point further down the path of her life. She would wait. She had hope, and as she held onto it, she wondered what it would have felt like if he had left without a word of promise. Hurt began to drip into a steady stream through her heart, thus she pushed the thought aside with the hope she held onto.

She remembered the moment the previous day, and the cool wind brushed over her lips as if to say the secret should be guarded. No one had noticed the exchange, and she was not inclined to tell them, especially with him leaving. There was a very good chance that her mother would share her hope with the neighborhood—that he left to take care of the marriage settlement papers. Elizabeth did not believe that was the case. She knew there was another reason behind his departure. No, she would have to endure her mother's nerves, which were sure to be unconfined, but she wouldn't say what had transpired. Like the letters in her wardrobe, she wanted to keep this treasured piece to herself. She wanted the memory unmarred, and she did not want pitying gazes if it took him weeks or even months to return.

With that, her mind wandered to the letter she had begun to write the previous night, and she wished she could sit where she was and write; her emotions were in turmoil and giving expression to them through the written word always helped.

Unable to do so at that moment, she kept her gaze on the road in the distance as the words began to form in her heart, waiting to flow with ink onto a page. Though the page was still blank, the words were there.

Dear future husband,

When will you take my hand again and step beside me to dance? You were not there, and in a moment, you appeared and took my hand. Now, I find myself searching, but you are not to be found. Return to me so that we may dance, so I may know if my hand will be in yours for our journey through this life.

Elizabeth

AN: I'm so glad I'm able to share this chapter on the last day of the year. I wanted to thank you again for the amazing response this story has received! Thank you for your part in a very special year. I wish you a blessed New Year! Until next year :)