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Chapter 15
The last of the late afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a golden haze across the emerald walls and spilling throughout the expansive room. This was to be hers for the remainder of her stay in Kent; this room which was larger than Longbourn's dining room, and contained more crystal and candles than Elizabeth had ever seen the likes of in her twenty years in existence.
She languidly sat in the chair overlooking the back gardens with the promise of good company and conversation awaiting her in an hour's time, when the maid came from the dressing room.
"Is there anything else, Miss?"
"No, Adele. I will dress in thirty-minutes."
"Very well." The young girl bobbed a curtsey, and retreated through the servant's door.
Elizabeth waited for her to depart, before alighting from the chair and retrieving her reticule which housed a missive she had been most desirous to read the last several days, but had not felt secure enough to do so. Possibly because Lady Catherine was so near? Possibly because I did not want the loyalty of Charlotte's staff to be tested if they found a letter written to me by the Master of Pemberley?
She uncinched the fabric of her reticule and retrieved the letter, recognizing at once the broad even strokes of his penmanship with her name emblazoned across the front. Oh, Miss Bingley, how correct you were when you flattered Mr. Darcy's hand all those months ago. I have believed myself a good judge of character but am ashamed you of all people recognized the value of this man more than I.
Tracing her own name on the front of the parchment, a wave of uncertainty shot through her at its contents. She remembered them with mixed emotions: first contempt, then shock, and finally shame. Was she ready to revisit the harsh criticism of her family and therefore herself?
It had been a tempestuous moment. To be told you were ardently loved, but that your family was lacking in all that was refined? Even Mr. Collins' sorry excuse for a proposal a month previous had been kinder than Mr. Darcy's. Yet… The words she had thrown at him in a fit of anger stung her. 'Had your father never had a son, Mr. Wickham would have fulfilled the job more admirably.' She shook her head with disgrace, now owning there had been much to the man which she had not understood at the time.
No, Lizzy. You must face the consequences of your…narrow mindedness, and prepare to be chastised once again. Of what you have discovered from his cousins, sister, and even the man himself this week alone, he should be absolved from most, if not all the blame you heaped at his door.
"And, in addition, your dreams have been most enlightening," she whispered to herself. Whether they be dreams or not, in dreams we often see truth where in reality, resentment clouds our judgement. She burrowed back down in the chair before the fire, took a deep breath and began the epistle.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet,
Be not alarmed, my love, that this letter contains any sentiments that last night were so worrisome to you…"
Elizabeth stopped reading, squinting at the strange words on the page. Be not alarmed, my love? What is this? That is most assuredly not how the letter began! Her mind raced at the unknown text, as she began to speak to the empty room. "He talked of his words being disgusting to me. I distinctly remember the word 'disgusting.' What joke could this be?" Her heart began to race, and she read on.
"In the mist of the morning I will face my life's foe; the man who has brought nothing but pain and heartbreak to my world which appears to be the sole purpose of his very existence. However, I have been blessed with the second chance of your love, and I will not throw it away. I know you are concerned with the outcome of tomorrow's duel, but know this: God would not bring us together solely to have me perish..."
A strange feeling began to crawl up Elizabeth's neck.
"…I have loved you from the first moment of our acquaintance, although we may have different recollections as to the particular event. Your kindness to me during my illness, as well as to your sister does you credit. Mrs. Collins truly values your support in her marriage. As we have spoken of, without your presence at the parsonage, your sister may not have found any spark of joy. That is what you have done for me, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. You have brought me joy in every moment of my life which I have known you.
Know that our marriage will not be something we have to rely upon others to find our happiness. We will find it from our mutual respect and consideration. Now that I have reclaimed my heritage and the Darcy name, our children will grow rich in our love and the knowledge of their ancestors.
Yes, my love. Children. A house full of them. I anticipate the day when I wake with you in my arms to the sound of squeals and giggles from our numerous children––sons with my sense of honor and duty, and daughters with your wit, charm, and expressive eyes. I anticipate with longing the moment when you will become mine.
I would, however, beg your forgiveness for my unchecked actions this evening. Although slightly put-out, I am grateful for the arrival of your sister in her husband's study to thwart my ardor, and anticipate an end to this mess with Wickham so we can begin our life together.
You have bewitched me, Elizabeth Bennet, and I am yours, body and soul.
I choose you!
William Darcy (nee Fitzroy)"
A warmth spread throughout her body as her breath caught and the only other sound was the fluttering of the pages as they fell to the floor.
XXXXX
It was a dream. It had to have been; all of it: Bingley's lot in life, Georgiana's marriage to Wickham… Elizabeth's love. I am the only one to remember; the only one who was so affected. "William Fitzroy did not exist."
But who is to say what is a dream and what is reality anymore? He leaned back and was swallowed by the down pillows as he stared up at the intricate patterns of gold cherubs gracing the ceiling in his room. He hated those cherubs. He hated this room. It was the room Lady Catherine always prepared for his arrival. Because it is the room closest to Anne's.
As much as he was disgusted by the routine machinations of his Aunt, today's machinations by his cousins left him jubilant. Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, was here at Rosings. She had moved into the green room; a room which his Aunt had redecorated for his own mother seventeen years before; a room which was only four doors down from his.
The irony of her placement in the house was not lost on him, and he was grateful for the work of his cousins and sister, although he was certain his Aunt would find their actions reprehensible. She was still set on him proposing to Anne and combining the two estates. But, if there was one thing his experiences this last week had taught him, he was no longer a man bent on duty to those outside of himself. I will do all in my power to constitute my own happiness without reference to others so wholly unconnected to me.
Darcy had never believed himself to be a man to do other's bidding. I am a man in possession of myself, my property and my holdings. I am not required to consider anyone's wishes. He hit his fist on the counterpane to emphasize his point as he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. But the truth was not an actuality. His removal from the parsonage had been against his wishes. He had told himself he had acquiesced due to the strain his Aunt Catherine was most assuredly placing upon Georgiana. Yet, was that in truth? Did he truly allow himself precedence? How long had he avoided the issue of his alleged betrothal to Anne to keep the peace with his Aunt? How long had he avoided any communication with Anne hoping to not give her false hopes?
You arrogant fool. Who is to say Anne desires your attention? He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rang for Briggs. If your ability to judge the desires of women is based on the response from Elizabeth, you have misled yourself, and wasted years in cowardice towards a cousin whom you once valued as a friend. Yet, ignoring that, you allowed her to flounder under the insatiable scrutiny of a mother who only wished to have her own desires without considering those of the principle parties involved. In the last several days he had lived a lifetime, and within that lifetime, he had learned what he truly valued. And I will fight for what I value and want no matter the cost.
The door opened revealing his man Briggs with newly polished boots. "Yes, Sir?"
"I would like to dress and join the others downstairs." His statement was met by silence. "Briggs?"
"Yes, Sir. It is only…"
Darcy pursed his lips. "Briggs. I have known you since you were a boy. Your service and loyalty to me has been invaluable. However, I am a man who likes my way. I will not remain above stairs when others…whom I wish to converse with are in…"
"…The saloon."
"The saloon. Is that understood?"
Briggs cleared his throat. "Would you like your green or blue coat?"
"The blue," Darcy said, nodding and standing, his limbs shaking their protest. Walking across the room to look out the same window he had gazed through a little over a week before, he sought out the lights of the parsonage. There were none winking through the trees to propel his dreams towards the woman he was determined to win. Yet, he was no longer reliant upon chance. I promise you, Elizabeth. I will do all in my power to change your opinion of me and win your heart.
XXXXX
Anne de Bourgh gazed around the room with her eyes resting on her cousin Richard. How real my dreams have been. A life without him would be unimaginable. But, that is what her life would entail if Lady Catherine had her say. The air was awkward. Darcy was an excited puppy, barely maintaining his control under the surface. But Miss Bennet? How strange. She is like a frightened bird, ready to fly at any moment, avoiding Darcy at all costs. She and Georgiana have played for the last three-quarters of an hour. And Darcy, like the rest of us, is confused as to her avoidance.
Anne's eyes caught Colonel Fitzwilliam's who shrugged his shoulders and raised his brows in question. She quickly responded in kind, then turned when her cousin cleared his throat.
"Are you will, Darcy? You have had quite a strained week."
"I am well, just only…confounded," he said, observing his sister and Miss Bennet.
"Yes. I imagine you are. This is not the outcome I believed would occur when the invitation was extended."
He shook his head. "There should have been no expectation for the invitation. I may have misjudged our recent conversations. She owes me nothing." His voice was barely above a whisper, and was only interrupted by the sound of the piano ceasing and Fitzwilliam's thunderous applause.
"Well done, you two. Now, come sit here and I will pour you each some spirits. Georgiana, you will have a glass of sherry to celebrate your brother's increased health."
The ladies stood from the piano, and laughed their way to the setee and chairs.
"Georgie, you come sit by me. I want to hear all about your new Italian tutor," Richard said, patting the seat next to him. "I think we are wasting your time on such a weasely little man, but Darcy says he is the best.
"Miss Bennet, do not sit in that chair. It needs to be re-sprung. Come and sit next to Darcy. I know he seems surly, but he is just out of practice in conversing with people. This will be a good exercise for him. Weston," Richard said, shouting at the footman by the door. "Please remove that chair and have it repaired before it is returned to the room." He waited until the servant had retrieved the furniture before turning back to the group. "Now, are we not a merry party?"
Anne smiled, trying to ease Elizabeth out of whatever odd temper she was in. "How do you find your accommodations, Miss Bennet?"
"They are delightful," she replied with a genuine smile. "The shade of green reminds me of the forest in the spring time when the bluebells have sprung up in the woods."
"They were my mother's favorite," Darcy said softly, obviously afraid to startle her. She looked quickly at him when Georgiana continued. "And the desk was Mama's. Aunt Catherine bought it for her when she and father came to visit after they were newly married."
"Yes, it was kept in the dowager house after Aunt Anne died because it pained my mother too much to see it," Anne said. "But she recently brought it back into the house and restored the room as it was before Aunt died."
"The whole room is lovely." Elizabeth looked up again, and quickly lowered her eyes at Darcy's intense gaze. Her cheeks began to pink, and Anne was certain Elizabeth was going to excuse herself to bed when there was a knock at the door.
"Come," Richard said. His frustration at the situation was evident in his tone, and the footman was taken aback by the ferocity at the normally genial man.
"Pray, forgive the interruption, but a man from the parsonage just brought this for Miss Bennet."
"For Miss Bennet?"
"Yes," he said extending a package towards Elizabeth. "It seems it was discovered having fallen behind a dresser in one of the upstairs rooms."
"I do not recognize it," Elizabeth said, reaching for the package.
"Maybe Mrs. Collins bought you a Christmas gift?" Georgiana asked.
"Should I open it?"
"By all means," Richard said, before taking a drink of his wine, and leaning over to Anne. "We must have some form of entertainment," he whispered with a huff.
A nervous tittering came from Georgiana as Elizabeth began to undo the string of the package. "I cannot imagine what it is," she said, glancing up as her fingers moved to untie the knots. "Charlotte and I have not exchanged gifts since we were children."
The paper fell away and Elizabeth gasped. "It…is…lovely." She lifted the white silk shawl with lavender and pale-yellow ribbons embroidered throughout to form flowers and rose buds along the edge. "But, Charlotte could not have…"
"That is from Madame Claudete's," Georgiana exclaimed, reaching over to finger the shawl. I have a similar one with pink and green ribbons. How beautiful it will look with your hair."
"But…there must be some mistake."
"It had your name on the package, Miss Bennet. I am certain Mrs. Collins would wish you to enjoy the gift and not feel despondent about it."
"Yes. And she will not return for some time, so you cannot ask her motive. If I was a woman, which I am not," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, with a twinkle in his eye. "I would wear it with all my finery, and parade like a peacock."
"It is lovely," Elizabeth said, fingering the ribbons.
"Try it on, Miss Bennet. It will look perfect with your coloring!" Georgina said clapping her hands.
As Elizabeth swung it around her shoulders, Anne glanced sideways at Darcy who looked as if he had seen a ghost.
XXXXX
"I cannot abide in this condition any longer, Briggs. You must send word to the stables to saddle Ulysses."
Darcy had had a restless night's sleep and could not reconcile himself with the events of the previous evening. Elizabeth's ignoring him was the least of his concerns. It was the appearance of the shawl…the one he had purchased for her from Bingley's store in the other life that had him flummoxed. How had it been at the parsonage if that life did not exist?
He needed to ride, to escape this life which he had not chosen and remind himself of the blessings which remained. "I understand if you are hesitant to go against Richard's orders, Briggs. But as he has already left this morning for business the next town over, I will either expect your help, or achieve my goals without you." Watching his loyal servant falter in his decision, Darcy added, "I wish to remind you that you are in my employ and not the Colonel's."
After only a brief minute more, Briggs nodded. "I will let the groomsmen know, Sir."
Darcy nodded. "Also, send up a tray. Just coffee and toast." Briggs nodded and left, leaving Darcy to begin his daily preparations. It is still early enough that no one will be down to break their fast, and even if they were, I do not wish for company.
He chuckled to himself at the lie. "Not true," he said throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing. There is only one whose company I desire, but she will avoid me at all costs. He picked up the paper and glanced at the headlines before depositing it back on the table and walking to the wash basin. Looking at himself in the mirror, he splashed water on his face, and ran his hands through his unruly curls. Our children would have a mop of curls. He snapped back from the thought and ruefully shook his head. It is not meant to be, old man. She made it clear last evening that whatever feelings might have begun to bloom at the parsonage, are gone. As has happened to others before you, your nurse maid developed a tendre because of your illness. Now that you are well, she has realized her folly.
He allowed the returned Briggs to dress him for riding and he quickly took a bite of his toast and a swallowed his coffee. I will burst if I cannot escape this room and thoughts. He maneuvered down the stairs and out into the crisp winter sunlight where he alighted Ulysses. "Let us go, old boy. Take me far away from the ghosts haunting my thoughts."
The ride had not been hard. As if sensing his master's fraility, Ulysses did not obey when encouraged to run. Instead, he stayed at an even pace which still allowed the wind to blow through Darcy's hair and almost dislodge his favorite beaver.
Darcy came up to a slow walk, when after a moment's meandering he realized where Ulysses had lead him. He dropped to the ground and stood there holding the reins, as if he concentrated, Elizabeth would materialize holding his letter.
"That blasted letter. How could I have given her something so damnable?" He walked along the road, taking a small side trail towards a meadow. "First I insult her family, and tell her I loved her against my will and better judgement, then compound the slight by writing it all down on paper?" He shook his head. "I hope she has burned it, or forgotten the contents in the last week's mishaps," he whispered to Ulysses."If I were any type of gentleman, I would ask her forgiveness when next I saw her."
The trail ended at a fallen tree. When he raised his eyes from the ground, a pair of brown ones stared back at him in shock.
XXXXX
She watched him approach, mumbling to himself, hoping he would not see her, and instead would continue on down the smaller path at the fork which would lead back to the road. Luck was not with her, and his steps brought him closer to her spot on the bench. She had known it was folly to come out this morning; to sit in the same location she was in the day she had found him.
Last night, her emotions were nothing if not distraught. Finding that letter, the letter which was most certainly not the one Mr. Darcy had given her on that fateful day last week, had thrown her world into a tumult. She could not look at him during dinner, nor afterwards in the music room. He had seemed so eager to converse with me, but I could not remedy where that letter had come from. 'His' words of love had undone me. Her cheeks grew warm at the mere thought of the words. No, it was quite the opposite of what I had steeled myself to expect upon the letter's second reading. That so much feeling resides inside the breast of the man who I have always believed so cold?
And now she watched him, holding her breath for the moment of discovery. Then it came.
"Elizabeth!" he said, his eyes meeting hers. His ability to speak ceased, and he could only stare.
"Mr. Darcy."
"Forgive me. Miss Bennet. I…um…Have you been enjoying the sunshine this morning?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at his attempt of conversation during his obvious discomfort. "Yes, I have. Only yesterday I was worried I would be unable to see these woods again, but am grateful to Miss de Bourgh for her kindness in extending the invitation."
"Yes." He let whatever thought he had hang in the air, before replying. "I was only just walking towards the meadow. Beyond is 'old Rosings.' Would you care to join me?"
There was a thinness to his voice; a strain Elizabeth did not recognize. After only a moment's hesitation, she replied, "I would be happy to. Mr. Darcy." She stood and gathered the shawl about her shoulders. Glancing up, she saw his attention directed at the garment, and allowed the edges to hang over her wrists. "Is it not lovely?"
"It is." He raised his hand indicating which direction to walk. Elizabeth set out and continued to keep the conversation going.
"I am still in awe of Charlotte's gifting it to me. It is beyond the scope of what I would have expected of her."
He only nodded.
"She is a dear friend, and knows me so well. These are two of my favorite colors. The lavender and buttercream blend so well, and the ribbon roses are just lovely."
He smiled and continued to walk.
"I have enjoyed making Colonel Fitzwilliam's company," she said, hoping the change in topic from fashion to his family would allow for a more animated discussion.
"Have you?" Once again, a peculiar look crossed his face.
"Yes. It must be delightful to have such a bond with a cousin. You have met mine," she said, with a wry grin. "I am certain you recognize your lot in life is much better than my own."
She was surprised to hear him chuckle at her sally and she began to relax even more, finding it easier to not only be in his presence, but to ignore the letter weighing heavily in her pocket.
"Yes. Richard is the best of men," he said, walking beside her. "Our youth was spent in pursuit of all avenues of fun and lightheartedness. I do not know where I would be in life without him."
A strange sound caught in his throat, and she turned to look at him. "I am certain you have had many unforgettable adventures. And the colonel seems to me to be one who has always had a daredevil attitude. How he survived childhood is beyond me."
Darcy chuckled. "And beyond his mother as well. But, we did not attempt too many overtly dangerous activities. It was not as if I convinced him to jump off a cliff strapped to Da Vinci's flying machine."
He body jerked to a halt, and she turned on him, her mouth agape. "What did you say?"
He stopped walking, and gazed at her before seeming to realize what he had said. A visible change occurred, and he began with a question in his eyes. "I was making a comparison to the flying machines of old. Have you any experience with…flying machines, Miss Bennet?"
She could not place the sound in his voice. Hope? Fear? She knew not what. But, she was aware of his intense gaze. "No. I myself have no connection to flying machines, but my father…my father has." She allowed her sentence to trail off and glanced up, meeting his gaze.
She shuddered and he reached up to straighten the shawl around her shoulders. His hands stayed at the end of the fabric. "Miss Bennet…"
"Yes, Mr. Darcy?"
"Within this last week, I have felt as if I have lived a lifetime. A lifetime of loss, and discovery. I am uncertain who I am anymore."
"I believe you are who you have always been."
"Heaven forbid you believe that," he said, dropping her shawl and walking away with quick steps. "If that be the case, there is nothing in my power to change your opinion of me."
"You are wrong," she said, stopping him in his tracks.
"I am wrong?" He asked, turning to her and stepping forward. "What have I to recommend myself? Insults? A taciturn disposition? An Aunt who has descended lower than any relative I have accused you have having?"
She shook her head, her curls bouncing, and she reached into her reticule and withdrew the letter.
"I should not have written that," he said. "Forgive me for the degrading of your family, and the disservice I performed to your sister. I plan on immediately writing to Bingley to make things right."
"Thank you," she said softly, lowering her gaze. "Although I am grateful for your words, and more so for your actions on behalf of my sister, I do not find this letter repugnant."
He stepped back, and cocked his head at her. "Truly?"
She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. "No. I find it very…heartwarming."
Darcy was confused and attempted to modify his confusion when she finally glanced up at him. "I do not understand. This letter was the most ungentlemanly missive ever written. After contemplation, I agree with your estimation of my person. There is nothing I did to show good character at all. You are being much too generous with me."
She lowered her eyes, and extended the parchment to him. She exhaled slowly as she felt the linen paper slide from her fingers and heard him unfolding the pages. "Please read it aloud."
"Miss Bennet?"
"Please, Mr. Darcy…"
"Very well," he said, agitation in his voice. He cleared his throat, and began, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Be not alarmed, my love… that this letter contains any sentiments that last night were so worrisome to you…"
It took only a moment for him to gasp, and it was then she knew he realized what he held.
