Chapter Nineteen

Thomas' words lodged firmly in Elizabeth's head over the next few days. She often tried to shake them out by going for a gallop on her mare, Jetty, but this only reminded her too much of the few rides she had taken with her cousin, or by immersing herself in a very difficult book of which Mr Bennet would have approved, but her mind only drifted to the subject. She tried to socialise even more, and to busy herself with helping in the wedding plans, but she tired easily, and would go to bed early on the insistence of the others, and there, she would lie and think about him.

The problems with ignoring Darcy's past were as follows: he was not the morally outstanding man she had believed him to be. She could not definitely trust him to be faithful to her after this. She could not necessarily be sure of anything about him that she had believed to be true. She could finish off even more miserable than she was now.

The benefits, also, were as follows: he loved her now. She knew she loved him. There was no question about it; she could marry no other. She couldn't imagine not being happy with him. They were meant to be together, like Thomas and Georgiana, like Jane and Bingley – no! Even more so! If she did not marry him, she would descend into bitterness and dullness, for the rest of her life. She yearned to be happy again. She could not be so without him. It was foolish to let such a thing come between them.

Every time she considered the subject, she started off with the most sensible reasoning supporting why she could never marry Darcy, and finished with a rush of emotions that sat somewhere between desperation and exhilaration, convinced that somehow, she had to get him to propose again.

This went on and on until one day… she could take it no more. She made her decision. She had to marry him. Even while she felt the first gust of elation at her choice, however, she began to worry how on earth she could orchestrate it.

She had to formulate a plan.

Dear Mr Darcy,

I am very sorry if my letter inconveniences you in any possible way…

Dear Cousin Darcy,

I am sorry for any inconvenience you may encounter…

My dear Cousin,

I…

I am very sorry…

I need to ask you if you can do something…

Dear William,

I love you. Please come back…

Elizabeth thought, pausing to sigh, that given the circumstances, she was doing pretty well at only filling one wastepaper basket with discarded letters so far. She heaved another sigh and returned to the paper in front of her. This time she would make a real effort to do it, and to do it right.

Dear Mr Darcy,

I am sorry to inconvenience you, as I know you are very occupied at present with your business, but I need to ask you if you will please consider returning to Matlock for a day or two as I have something I need to tell you that I would prefer not to communicate by letter. I will be in the yellow morning room at Matlock each day this week and next, from one o'clock until three o'clock.

Yours truly,

Elizabeth Fitzwilliam

She did not know what he would think of her. It was very improper, to be sure. She did not want him to think that she was improper. But something inside her made her suspect that perhaps – perhaps – he wouldn't think about propriety at all. She hoped.

The next problem to consider – besides making herself send the letter – was how she was going to tell him. It was a good thing this hadn't occurred to her while she had been deliberating originally over whether to marry him or not, or she probably would have abandoned the whole plan in fright, but now… Elizabeth had given way, and she was determined that nothing was going to change her decision now. She felt a quickening sense of excitement as the hours went by, but now she pondered with growing fright what exactly she was going to say to him.

He was so proud. She hoped he would even come to start with. But it wasn't as if she could just saunter up to him and say, "I love you and I am now willing to pass over the fact that you are a wicked, immoral person, so please marry me." What would he think of her! "I think you are very immoral and I didn't want to marry you because of this but now I have decided that I don't care about morality so I will marry you." She would look just as bad as him. Besides that, it was exceedingly improper and rude for a female to have any awareness of such things.

She didn't want to lie. But the only thing she could think of saying so far, that offended nobody and might sound halfway plausible, was that she had realised she loved him after he left.

It was going to be humiliating no matter how she decided to do it, in the end. But she knew it was worth it.

She went to bed that evening, a week after Thomas' conversation with her, resolved on sending the letter the next day with the servant who went between Pemberley and Matlock weekly. At the earliest, he would be with her the day after that. She could think about it over those two days.

It was difficult to sleep that night.

Elizabeth woke up early the next morning. She lay in bed, soaking up the sun for a while, feeling strangely calm. Not being one to lie abed for hours, she was soon up, by the big window-seat, untying the curtain sashes and throwing the big windows open. It was a beautiful day. Thomas and Richard waved at her cheerfully from below, as they walked across the lawn holding their rods after going for an early morning fish. She waved, grinning, and hung out the window. "Good morning!"

"Morning, Lizzy!" shouted back Richard. "We got two big trout!"

"Well done!" she cried back.

They waved again and went into the house from the kitchen entrance, no doubt to surprise the cook. Elizabeth gazed out the window, taking deep breaths and enjoying the slight chill of the air contrasted with the cosy warmth of the sun. Quickly she made up her mind, and ran to put some clothes on and do her hair. She was downstairs shortly after, leaving an envelope on the pile of letters in the entrance way to be sent to Pemberley, and out the door a moment later, making her way to the river. She wore an old dress from Longbourn times with a cheerful sunbonnet and a blue ribbon, and there was something very liberating about striding along the path, through the woods, feeling like her future held some hope in it again. She had not allowed herself to think about the enormity of putting the letter on the pile as she did it, only to enjoy the feeling she had from being free of it, and look forward in anticipation to the time when he would come.

She sat down on the bank of the river when she came to it, pulled off her boots and sank her feet into the pebbles at the bottom of the river, taking a peculiar pleasure in the feeling. She could have sat there for hours, watching the swallows sweeping the woods and the sun reflecting on the water and the occasional fish darting down the current. But she roused herself after what seemed like too short a time; the family would already have breakfasted, and she had not left any note of her whereabouts. Reluctantly she put her boots back on, and wandered back to the house. She wondered when the messenger would leave for Pemberley, feeling that nervousness begin to seep back into her. Hopefully, soon. Then he would get it sooner, and then, the sooner he would come. She laughed as she realised what her appearance must be right now – her sunbonnet was half on, half off, her hair was a bird's nest, her dress was damp. She was dishevelled. She would have to tidy herself up after breakfast; the family wouldn't care, but from now on, she would have to be more careful. It occurred to her then that until he came, she would be living in constant fear. She hoped he would be quick to respond.

She came up to the main door of the house, meaning to go immediately to the breakfast room, opened it, and froze.

Mr Darcy stood by the pile of letters, deep in thought. She saw her letter in his hand, and thought she was going to faint, just as he looked up and saw her. He stiffened suddenly, and Elizabeth closed her eyes as she felt her head swim. He was beside her in a second, holding her up. "I think you need to sit down, Cousin." He led her to a chair.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He stood back and regarded her cautiously. She didn't dare look at him, her heart racing. All she could think was, 'I wish I could tidy my hair!' Just as she could sense his mouth opening to say something, and as she tensed herself ready to listen, Georgiana came into the foyer. "Oh, there you are, Elizabeth!" she said cheerfully.

Elizabeth turned to Georgiana in relief. It felt awkward to speak. "I am sorry I am so late; I went for a walk and lost track of time."

"We thought it must have been that," laughed Georgiana. "You had better go in and have something to eat, you must be famished. And then I need your help with something."

"Actually, I think I must have lost my appetite. I will help you now."

"Oh, good. Sorry to tear her away from you, William."

Elizabeth almost smiled, it was so incongruent an idea with actuality. Darcy mumbled something, and strode off into the breakfast room. Elizabeth took a deep breath and followed Georgiana.

"Isn't it nice to see William!" beamed her companion. "It was so kind of him to come. I asked him to, you know, several days ago, because there were a few things we need to discuss about the wedding, and I didn't want to be fobbed off with a letter, and so I asked him to come in such a way that he couldn't get out of it. Poor thing! He is so good to me. He must be very busy because I think he really didn't want to come, although he is too polite to show it. I think he will be glad now that he is here."

Elizabeth made a non-committal answer, trying not to blush. "What do you need help with, Georgiana?"

"Oh, I need you to help me go through these lists of people and fill in their names on invitations. Jane said you can do proper calligraphy, is that right? Yes, so can I, so Aunt Cecilia suggested we do it, rather than a hired person. Is that fine with you?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Lizzy, you're such a great help!"

Elizabeth had no idea what to do. It looked as if she was to be caught here all morning writing invitations, while Mr Darcy was at large somewhere in the house. She made her way through each invitation, writing each name slowly and carefully while Georgiana chattered away beside her, all the while wondering how she could somehow see Mr Darcy alone, and, if she managed it, what on earth she was going to say. Nothing amazing presented itself; she began to despair.

It was just as she was writing Lady Catherine de Bourgh's name that she pricked up her ears at something Georgiana was saying. "I'm so happy, Lizzy," she said fondly. "Do you remember that discussion we had about Thomas? It was that evening that I first realised how much I love Thomas." She giggled. "I can't believe we'll be married in less than a month!"

"No, I don't remember. What discussion was that?" asked Elizabeth, with a small smile. Georgiana had not left the topic of Thomas for the last hour.

"It was when that horrible column came out, about William and Thomas. We were in the music room, I remember. I was so upset that that woman had said such nasty things about Thomas being a snob and I told you, and you said that I shouldn't worry about it."

Elizabeth's forehead wrinkled involuntarily. "About Thomas?"

"Yes, but I said that even if he did behave like that sometimes – which he doesn't! – no one had the right to say anything about it anyway. I was so angry about it! I remember I went to my room after you got your headache and I suddenly realised--"

Georgiana's voice floated off into oblivion as Elizabeth experienced the most blinding revelation of her life. If Georgiana had been talking about Thomas, she had therefore not been talking about Darcy, and she had not been saying Darcy had illegitimate children, and Darcy deserved nothing of what she had suspected of him! Her heart pounded; she winced. "Oh!"

"What is it, Lizzy?" asked Georgiana, instantly concerned.

"N-nothing, Georgiana… listen, I am going to have to go… I've forgotten something… I am sorry!"

"No, no, there's no need to apologise," began Georgiana, but Elizabeth was already out of the door.

She pounded along the passageway and down the stairs, feeling thoroughly foolish and hysterical, and overcome by a nervous kind of elation. She ran into Thomas in the entrance way, who almost toppled over. "What's the hurry?" he asked her with a grin.

"Where is Darcy?" she said, trying not to shout, and to appear calm.

Thomas shrugged. "I don't know. Last time I saw him he was at the stables. Good luck." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and hurried outside, around the house, and into the stables.