Here is the second part of Part 3, Chapter 2 – now from Elizabeth's perspective. One final bit to come (it was supposed to be a shorter one, but is actually just as long – I still have to do a read through/edit and should be able to post this weekend - maybe Good Friday) .
Regards,
Stephen
P.S. I posted this without my usual read through/edit, so discovered a large number of silly, if minor errors. As a result I've reposted it rather than try to correct it.
.
Part 3: Reflection, Chapter 2B
Elizabeth woke from her mid-afternoon sleep with a headache that was worse than before resting. She remembered Charlotte coming in and going again, and that would explain why she had a comforter draped over her. She felt sore and stiff from sleeping in such an odd position, and was still fully dressed.
The events of this morning left her mentally and emotionally drained. Her heart was feeling a jumble of emotions; she was still very angry, offended, but also saddened, disappointed, frightened, while also feeling bereaved, like she had lost a friend. But there was this nagging feeling that she had made the wrong decision but for all the right reasons. But she had been right to say no. Hadn't she? The terms of Mr Darcy's offer were insulting, but the pain she felt was far more than from just that, she'd been insulted before, called far worse, received far worse offers, in fact very immoral offers before, by worse men. And yet each of those she had brushed off as small minded people being nasty. But he was just another one of those, wasn't he? No, no need to question it, she was right about him, and always had been. Or had she? Was she?
The memories of what had occurred came back in a jumble in her mind, and the throbbing of her temple meant she could not focus long enough to sort it out into a coherent order. However Elizabeth realised that she had, in a moment of real anger, blurted out the secret of her shame and of Amy-Jane's parentage. This both disgusted and frightened Elizabeth. She felt physically sick. And now Richard and, oh no, Georgiana would know soon enough. Maybe that was why she felt like she had lost a friend, as she very likely, with a stupid, stupid comment, aimed to wound Mr Darcy, it had reflected and will now cause far more damage to herself. She had felt like she was getting very close to Georgiana and now all that was ruined. Elizabeth was in the process of working herself into a worse state when Charlotte popped her head around the door.
"How are you feeling dear?" Charlotte asked in a soft voice.
"Not that well." Elizabeth replied in the same quiet tones.
"Worse than before?"
"Yes."
"Feel up to dinner?"
Elizabeth shook her head, but the motion caused her to wince.
Charlotte must have noticed, as she continued, "Never mind. Maybe I can make a little chicken soup?"
Elizabeth made a face at the suggestion.
"No problem. I'll be back up with some tea. You rest." Charlotte said this as she walked to the window and closed the curtains. Elizabeth felt a little better already. As Charlotte went to open the door she turned back to say, "Best you prepare for bed while I get the tea".
After Charlotte had left, Elizabeth got as far as sitting up and removing her stockings and her dress, but she just could not muster the enthusiasm to do any more. She wanted to just crawl up inside herself and make the world disappear. So she lay back onto the bed and curled into a ball facing the wall. The tears came, silently, without Elizabeth knowing really why was even crying. She was still curled up like this when Charlotte came back in with the tea.
"Come on Lizzie, this will not do. Stand up."
Elizabeth stood reluctantly, tears running down her face. Charlotte pulled a much washed handkerchief from her sleeve and tried to dry them. "Shh dear, it will be alright."
"Oh Charlotte! It won't!" Elizabeth almost collapsed in her friend's arms. Elizabeth knew she had a wonderful friend, as Charlotte just hugged her in return, not asking the questions Elizabeth knew Charlotte would want to ask, but she was not prepared to answer. At least not now. Maybe later, much, much later. The warmth and connection, the love from Charlotte's embrace was, in time, able to stop the flow of tears.
Charlotte must have sensed the change. "Now Elizabeth, it will, given time. You just need to trust that."
Elizabeth couldn't, just right now, believe it. But a small voice inside her head reminded her of how she felt going on 5 years ago, and how much different she felt just a few days ago. While calming down, Elizabeth stood there passively and let Charlotte remove the rest of her clothing and help her into a night gown. Charlotte's fingers running through her hair plaiting it for bed was soothing. It reminded Elizabeth of her and Jane doing this to each other all those years ago, when the world was a smaller, nicer, safer place and the future seemed boundless. Her equanimity had mostly returned when Charlotte gently pushed her so she half fell back to sit on the bed.
Not willing to be treated as a complete invalid, Elizabeth got herself the rest of the way into bed, turning to find Charlotte handing her the cup of tea with a smile.
"There, that's much better. Drink your tea. Oh, it has willow bark extract in it, so it could be taste a bit odd."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Now drink up. All of it, mind."
Elizabeth noticed that Charlotte deliberately stood there and watched her drink it all before retrieving the empty cup. "Want another?"
Elizabeth shook her head. She felt exhausted. All she wanted to do now was sleep. But before that, one thing first now she felt a bit better. "Charlotte, can you have Amy-Jane come up after her dinner?"
"Are you sure you are up to it?"
"Please Charlotte."
"Sure. But not long. You will do her no favours by allowing her to make you worse."
"Yes mother."
With a chuckle Charlotte gave her a quick hug, before leaving and taking the cup downstairs.
It was not long after that Elizabeth heard Charlotte tell Amy-Jane, as they climbed the stairs "Now Amy-Jane, your mummy is not feeling well. You need to be a good girl and be nice and quiet." To which her daughter replied, "I can do that Aunty Charlotte, quiet as a mouse."
Of course, Amy-Jane's resolve to be quiet lasted only as long as entering the room.
"Mummy!" Elizabeth winced at the sound, then braced for the arrival of a 5 year old missile.
Charlotte started to tell her off "Amy-Jane! You …" but Elizabeth held up one hand while she hugged her daughter fiercely with the other. This was exactly what she needed, the complete unconditional love of her daughter. A few moments later Elizabeth realised that Charlotte should be included too, so gestured her over to join the hug as well. Which she did. This sent the feeling of confusion packing, but not, as Elizabeth hoped, the headache. In a little bit, she manoeuvred Amy-Jane to sit on a spot next to her at the head of the bed, and got her daughter to tell her about her day, with assistance from her 'Aunty Charlotte'.
Amy-Jane was chatting away when Charlotte silently indicated that they should leave. Elizabeth mouthed 'no' in return. Charlotte shook her head, and indicated they should leave again. Reluctantly, realising at that moment how unwell she felt, Elizabeth told her daughter it was time for mummy to go to bed, but she'd listen to the rest tomorrow. Amy-Jane looked a little worried, but brightened after her mother gave her a hug, said goodnight and she let herself let her be led away.
As Charlotte ushered her daughter out of the room, Elizabeth collapsed back on her pillow, exhausted, with her head pounding, not sure if she had been able to wait at least until after Charlotte had properly exited the room or not. She looked over at the second cup of tea that Charlotte had left on the dresser by the bed, but could not be bothered to reach over and get it. So it was in this frame of mind, Elizabeth drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Several times that night Elizabeth woke in a panic, having fragments of some confused dream that she had said yes. Each time this quickly subsided as she remembered she had definitely refused.
Then once, after a very weird dream, where Mr Darcy appeared as the hero, she woke frantic, that she had refused him. And felt distinct disappointment when she recalled that she had. It was only after she worked through her refusal, and all the various reasons for it, that she was able to overcome the feeling of disaster that accompanied knowing she had refused.
The morning bought no more relief for Elizabeth's confusion. There were the various fragmentary memories of the dreams of the previous night, particularly the very real feeling of disaster, for refusing Mr Darcy, that persisted for some time and compounded the bewildering range of contradictory emotions she still felt.
Well, at least the headache has mostly gone, thought Elizabeth, as she got up and dressed to face another day. However, that did not last long as it returned as she dealt with her daughter over breakfast. Amy-Jane was normally a well behaved child, was regrettably particularly effervescent this morning, maybe picking up on her mother's own confusion. But it was not that bad, and Elizabeth was determined not to let it ruin her day. She thought it might be good to take her daughter for a walk to just outside town, which would give Amy-Jane a chance to run her fidgets away, and herself time to resolve everything she was thinking and feeling. It surprised her that Charlotte was still intending to go to the Darcy's, but Elizabeth didn't know how to go about asking if Mr Darcy had banned either her or her daughter or all three of them. She supposed the best thing to do was to wait and see how Charlotte got on, if they all were banned, Charlotte could join them on their walk.
It was while Charlotte was preparing to go to the Darcy's, about mid to late morning, that Elizabeth felt a very peculiar feeling, like someone was staring intently at her. The feeling persisted as she looked around the parlour, but saw no one. Mrs Carter was off at the market, and Amy-Jane was playing with her new doll near the fireplace. Checking, Elizabeth found there was not anyone in the hall. Charlotte, the only other person in the house, was still upstairs. Returning to the parlour, she felt a discomforting prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck that increased as she moved towards the window.
Stopping just before the window, feeling very apprehensive, Elizabeth looked out. The view was nothing out of the ordinary, several of her neighbours were outside at the time, but nothing else. It was the movement that she noticed, as a rider on a large chestnut horse, who had been sitting there at the intersection at end of the street, where it met the seaside boulevard, turned and rode off at some speed.
The feeling abruptly stopped. I was just being silly, thought Elizabeth. But it had left her feeling weak and a bit shaky, and she had to sit down.
It was at this moment that Charlotte walked into the parlour. So, regardless of how much Elizabeth insisted she was not feeling ill, Charlotte did not believe her, and Mrs Carter, who had returned, agreed. In the end, Elizabeth conceded defeat, and let her friend send her to bed for the day, while Aunty Charlotte took Amy-Jane off to the Darcy's with her, to give her 'some much needed peace and quiet'. But, resolved Elizabeth, even if I sleep until luncheon, I will go for the walk to clear my head, even if it is without Amy-Jane.
So it was after a short nap, and a quick, early lunch that Elizabeth left the house and walked along the seaside boulevard, deep in thought. At the point where she would have expected to head north to the little meadow that Amy-Jane enjoyed playing in, Elizabeth chose to continue east towards the lighthouse instead, as the clouds, a long way to the north, didn't look like they'd spoil the walk, and she could almost be guaranteed the solitude she desired on the cliff side path.
As Elizabeth meandered along the seaside path she focussed first on getting a much clearer understanding of what had transpired that yesterday morning. By the time she had reached the lighthouse it was in, a still slightly vague, but now coherent order; from Mr Darcy's hapless, downright insulting proposal, through his twin solutions to non-existent problems, her reply, where she gave as good as she had got, the funny bit about Jane being mercenary because she cared for someone else other than Charles, her pointing out his own hypocrisy and finally what she was most embarrassed about, blurting out the truth about Amy-Jane. And to him, of all people.
Unwelcome with this flowed his parting. What was it he said? "Forgive me for bothering you. You have my best wishes for your health and happiness." She had expected further insults, at least that was what had happened with all the other gentlemen when she had turned down their unwanted propositions. Many, she thought, didn't really mean it and so would not have been that disappointed in her guarding her remaining virtue. Yet with Mr Darcy she'd utterly dismissed his marriage proposal – it was not, as she expected, an immoral proposal – here Elizabeth must, however reluctantly, admit he had offered her the protection of his name and was willing to risk his own standing in the world (however he planned to disguise it) due to the strength of his feelings. He should have been livid. In her experience, rich gentlemen, being thwarted, tended to become nasty (or nastier), many needing Mr Hawker's own special way of discouragement before they finally took no for an answer.
But he did not own up to his actions, though he was usually so very honest, at time to his detriment. Elizabeth recalled how indignant he was of being so accused. Yet was it not that gentlemen, once found out, had a perverse sort of pride in their animal natures, regardless of how much they initially hid it. What was it he had said? It was something along the lines of; "I know I cannot say anything you would believe about me, but for your sake, ask Richard or Georgiana about how I act compared to the Viscount. I am not him." Why did he, could he, think he was any different than his cousin? But all the evidence said he was, indeed, just another immoral gentleman, as they all were. In addition there was the very final moments before he left, pausing at the parlour door, in side profile with slumped shoulders, his head turned her way, defeat written into his face and body, saying "Goodbye and God bless" before turning away again and leaving for good.
She stood at the cliff's edge looking out over the sea for a long time trying to reconcile what was almost two different Mr Darcy's. This confused Elizabeth. It did not fit. Certainly a gentleman that was willing to treat other women, those of her status so casually, they would not be polite to one that rejected him so adamantly. Could she have miss judged him? She was always right with her judgement, well apart from the Viscount, but that was 5 years ago, and she'd lived a lot since then. Look at that nasty Mr Wickham. Even Richard made it clear what he was like and desired, even though she had spotted that from the start.
No, there was no way her opinion, formed that very first day could be wrong. Elizabeth thought of all the evidence that she had about what Mr Darcy really was like – you could not argue with that, could you? Although there were times, actually quite a few times, when he seemed different, almost a perfect gentleman, intelligent, erudite, honest and honourable to a fault, even, at times broad-minded and willing to listen to reason, flexible enough to change his mind when presented with a better argument. No, it was all a facade – obviously to try to get her to like him enough to accept his proposal. It was lucky she had learnt of his true nature accidentally. Elizabeth wondered what if she hadn't been so lucky. Would she, could she have accepted him? No there was just not enough to like, let alone love, in the man.
Looking around Elizabeth noticed the clouds to the north had crept south while she stood there, lost in thought, while the winds had also strengthen considerably. Staring north for only a short time, Elizabeth realised that she better hurry back before the rain, that the clouds heralded, arrived.
The rush to return to Ramsgate precluded any further thought to the quandary that was Mr Darcy. But she had left her return too late. The rain, well in advance of the clouds, being blown by the ever stronger wind, fell in large fat droplets, before she had even reached the outskirts of Ramsgate. With no protection from the elements, having neglected to bring anything other than a shawl for warmth, Elizabeth was soaked through in a matter of minutes.
It was as a rather wet and bedraggled waif that Elizabeth entered the front hall. Mrs Carter rushed to her side, tut-tutting and scolding her as if she was a child, and rushed her upstairs to change. Then, once in dry clothing, sat her in front of the fire, now blazing with coal they could not afford to squander in this manner. But all of Mrs Carter's precautions were to naught, as Elizabeth succumbed to a head cold that sent her to bed, one that persisted for several days.