7 – Beginnings of a New Day
A/N: Once again, I apologize for taking so long in writing this chapter. It really wasn't my intention to take this story this far, but your comments have inspired further ideas. Thank you one and all. eb
The usually welcomed morning light that filtered through her window was a cursed reminder of the sleeplessness Elizabeth had endured until seemingly a short time before. She rose with a groan, wishing she could sleep more but knowing her body would not allow it.
Jane had already risen, sitting in front of the mirror styling her hair – prodigiously so, thought Elizabeth. She watched in silence as Jane continued arranging her hair, seemingly unaware of her audience.
"Jane, it is of no use," she said with seeming resignation, "you are already beautiful and he is already in love with you." Jane caught her sister's reflection in the mirror and saw the mischievous smile on her face.
"Lizzie," she said with a playful huff, "I just want to look pleasing when he arrives," and then, turning toward her sister, she corrected herself, "when they arrive." Pausing momentarily to view Elizabeth's face, she asked, "Should you not also be rising for when our guests come to call this morning?"
Elizabeth drew her knees up and rested her chin on top while rolling her eyes at Jane. "I fear my lack of sleep will make it impossible to look pleasing to anyone this morning." She strained to look over Jane's shoulder in the mirror and was aghast to see how right she was. "Oh no," she gasped, "it is worse than I feared."
Jane rose with a succoring smirk on her face. "Come, Lizzie," she said, nestling behind her sister and bringing her to her feet. "We have much to accomplish if we're to make you presentable this morning. First," she said, pushing her toward the water closet, "finish in there and then we shall go about bringing forth your natural radiance." Lizzie grimaced but followed her sister's admonition.
In but a half an hour's time, the two eldest Bennet sisters were descending the stairs, making their way to the breakfast table. While Elizabeth still felt the strain of a sleepless night, Jane was contented that no small children, horses, or visiting gentlemen callers would be frightened away by her sister's appearance.
As they entered, a lively discussion between the three younger sisters was raging which their father quietly observed. Having been given only the necessary details of the previous day's events involving their sister, Messrs Bingley, Darcy, and Wickham—as well as an unknown gentleman—there were still many opinions they felt still needed expressing. Upon seeing their elder sisters enter, however, conversation came to an abrupt halt. The silent admonition from their father warned them of severe rebuke if they misspoke around Elizabeth.
After serving themselves at the side, Jane and Elizabeth both seated themselves at the table, with Elizabeth sitting to her father's left.
"Did you sleep well, Lizzie," he asked, placing his hand on hers; she raised her head to answer, but Jane took the responsibility for her.
"She slept rather fitfully, Papa." Elizabeth's deadly glare at Jane was met with playful defiance. "Lizzie experimented with several sleep positions before she was able to get some rest."
Mr. Bennet squeezed Elizabeth's hand in comfort. "I'm sure it is to be expected after such a tumultuous day," he said in consolation. "You will sleep when your body tells you it must."
Their breakfast ended with light and decidedly less animated conversation than their usual with all headed off to tend to their various responsibilities.
Mrs. Bennet had remained in her chambers, still attempting to settle her nerves from the previous day. That her husband had spoken to her quite candidly about her treatment of Elizabeth—and had apprised her of the events of the day as well—had caused a sullenness to descend upon her was a factor in her seclusion. Never had he spoken to her in such a manner; yes, he had been firm in his words to her on previous occasions, but usually there was some anger accompanying it. This time was different, as he was firm but accompanied by a gentle plea for her compassion; thus her need for quiet contemplation.
She pondered on her second daughter greatly. How was it that she had been blind to Elizabeth's qualities that had made her the focus of the attentions of Mr. Wickham, a Duke, and now, it seemed, the haughty and austere Mr. Darcy (with his 10,000 a year). Jane was acknowledged by all to be beautiful, but Elizabeth – perhaps she needed to reconsider her.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was keeping herself busy in the stillroom. As she had agreed with the admonition not to stray far from home, she needed an activity to keep her hands and mind busy, otherwise further reflecting on yesterday would continue. And, if she were honest with herself, Mr. Darcy had said he would come by today, Jane had confirmed to her. It would not due for her to be sitting as though she were waiting hopefully for his arrival.
As her father had been complaining of stomach discomfort, Elizabeth decided to grind burdock root to ease his suffering. Setting to her task with mortar and pestle, she focused fully on what lay before her. Her attention was so taken that she was completely oblivious to any movement or activity about her. It was not until she heard a voice directly behind her that she was aware she was no longer alone – and it startled her.
"You seem most intent on your grinding, Miss Bennet."
She wheeled around with a startled cry and stood transfixed by her visitor. Gasping for breath while holding her chest, she was finally able to speak.
"What are you doing here, Mr. Wickham?" Had she not still been struggling for breath and her heart pounding furiously, she would have had a much sharper rebuke for him.
Wickham sauntered closer to her, his face a colorful array of bruises as a result of his 'reminder' from the duke. In contrast, his stance had assumed a cockiness that Elizabeth had not remembered. Whether that was usual for him and she had not noticed, or, now that she knew his true nature, she was viewing from a different perspective, she was not sure.
"I came to see if you were well this morning," he replied, stopping no more than two feet in front of her. Elizabeth braced herself against the workbench behind her before responding.
"I was fine, sir, until you frightened me." She realized she still had the pestle in the hand behind her; her grip tightened on it, still looking at Wickham intently. "You seem to be doing well, sir, for someone who fought valiantly, defending the honor of an ungrateful young lady."
His smirk nauseated her. "Yes, well, Miss Bennet, I've had worse." She was stunned by his admission, as though it was a common occurrence. Her breath nearly recovered, she was now glowering at him.
"Why did you lie? Is it your custom to make a stressful situation even more so?" She tried not flinching when he found amusement in her question.
"I believe my version prevents anyone who knows differently from saying so, does it not?"
Now recovered from her shock at Wickham's sudden appearance, Elizabeth was ready to do battle with him.
"Are you not able to be truthful in anything, Mr. Wickham?" Her question caught him off guard. "Are you so well practiced in deceiving that it is the only thing you can speak? Lies?"
Wickham straightened himself before her, attempting to use his height to intimidate, but Elizabeth had no intention of backing away from her adversary.
"You have been talking to Darcy, have you not?" He asked the question though both of them knew the answer.
"Of course we have spoken," she stated matter-of-factly, "but it was his actions yesterday that forced me to see that my first impression—fed by your lies, Mr. Wickham—was totally in error." She paused to take a deep breath. "Something I was ashamed to admit to myself and to Mr. Darcy."
Wickham's eyes were getting dark with anger. Elizabeth hoped he would flee in his rage but was preparing her grip on the pestle in a firmer hold, in case she needed to defend herself. She thought of crying out for help, but as she was unsure of how near the rest of her family was, she was concerned Wickham would react and no one near enough to come to her aid. For the moment, their eyes were locked in a silent duel.
"May I assume, Miss Bennet," Wickham started slowly, "that you are now in love with Darcy?"
"That is not for you to assume," she quickly answered, "but my feelings have greatly changed from what they were." She weighed the effect her response was having on Wickham before she continued. "But my feelings are mine and mine alone and only to be shared with whoever of my choosing. And since I have no plan to share them with you, there can be nothing more for us to say to each other."
Wickham seemed shocked by what he interpreted Elizabeth was saying. To end all doubt, she made it clear. "You must go, sir. Now."
Wickham tried to resume his intimidating stance over Elizabeth; he broadened his shoulder and lifted his head, staring down his nose at her. "I believe I will leave when I have had my say, Miss Bennet."
"That is most ungentlemanly of you, Wickham," said a voice from the doorway. Both Elizabeth and Wickham looked up to see Darcy advancing with his walking stick up, ready to act as a weapon. Wickham realized quickly that any action on his part would be taken as a threat and he was not fully prepared to defend himself. Stepping back toward the door and away from Elizabeth, he indicated his surrender.
"Well, Darcy, I see you are again to play the valiant knight." He hoped to get a rise from Darcy, but his barb was a clumsy one.
"I would gladly slay any dragon that threatened a lady," he paused for emphasis, "George."
As Wickham continued his retreat, Darcy shifted his stance so that he stood squarely in front of Elizabeth as a human shield. Wickham stood in the doorway, but tried one last taunt.
"I bid you both a good day," and then fixing his gaze on Elizabeth, "until we meet again." And he was gone.