Elizabeth woke early from a dream where Mr. Darcy strode into the house before breakfast. He proposed. They kissed, and as she held him desperately, Elizabeth awoke.
Elizabeth sat up, her heart beating hard. The light which snuck around her curtains proclaimed that it was an hour past dawn at most. The air in her room made Elizabeth shiver from the cold. She hopped out of bed and quickly grabbed her woolen robe from where it hung. She shoved her feet into her warm furred slippers and left her room.
Last night Elizabeth had been certain he would leave her behind. But now, in the light of morning, her body tingling from her dream, Elizabeth believed he would come and ask her to marry him.
He had been so tender after she had started crying. They had smiled at each other; he kept looking at her.
He wanted her.
Surely he would come.
Elizabeth sat on the red velvet sofa in the drawing room, and she had an easy view of the swinging pendulum clock that said the hour was seven o'clock. She watched the road to Longbourn through the window. When he came up, she would see him.
A bird landed on the window sill and chirped. The light grew, and the sky was cloudless.
Because she did not stir up the fire, Elizabeth was cold despite her warm robe. Some instinct would not let her move. She sat in an inelegant posture with her feet on the sofa and her arms around her legs. Darcy would be surprised when he came to find her the only one awake, and in her nightclothes, like when they had kissed.
Elizabeth waited.
And waited.
The clock let out a tinny bell that proclaimed it was eight. The long arm continued to swing back and forth.
She was stiff and cold, but Elizabeth did not move. The reasoning part of her brain screamed at the idiocy of how she behaved. Mr. Darcy perhaps could not bear to see her cry without trying to comfort her, but when he woke in his chambers she wouldn't be there crying. Instead of her, he would think about his money and his uncle and prudence.
Every flight of birds made her heart leap, because he had startled them riding up the road.
She waited.
As another hour passed and it neared nine o'clock, Elizabeth contemplated the previous night. What had she done wrong? Was Mama right and her wild manner put him off? She should have kissed Darcy in front of everyone. She should have told him again and again that she loved him.
The bell rang for nine o'clock; Elizabeth slumped and began to cry. The rational part of her brain now argued with her emotions. Maybe he is still asleep, like the day we left Netherfield. Elizabeth's emotions were not comforted. If he were to come at all, he would already have done so.
The servants were now moving about, but the rest of the family still slept after the long night at Netherfield.
Elizabeth blinked her eyes tiredly and stretched out on the sofa into a more comfortable posture.
She'd fallen into a light doze when Jane shook her awake. Her sister was bright eyed and dressed in a morning dress. "Whatever are you sleeping down here for, Lizzy? Go upstairs before Mama sees you." Jane whispered, "Mr. Collins is still here — I saw him awake."
Elizabeth ran to her room and dressed for the day.
Mr. Darcy certainly would not come. He was probably halfway to London by now.
Once Elizabeth dressed, she went downstairs and joined everyone at breakfast. Mr. Bennet was not present, as he had taken to eating breakfast in the library to avoid Mr. Collins. After she quickly gulped down her rolls, cake and a cup of tea, Elizabeth returned the drawing room. Part of her stubbornly hoped Mr. Darcy would come to call.
Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were also with her when Mr. Collins entered the room and begged that he might have a private audience with Elizabeth.
Mrs. Bennet eagerly agreed to Mr. Collins's request. Elizabeth's mind had focused so strongly on Darcy that she hadn't realized she was the object of Mr. Collins's interest.
It was a sick joke that she would receive an offer of marriage this morning.
Mr. Collins spoke at length. Prompted by a depressed curiosity, Elizabeth did not interrupt him. He dwelt on the advantages of his situation and the value she would gain from coming under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth fantasized about Mr. Darcy throwing the door to the drawing room open and pulling her into his arms.
Mr. Collins continued his oration: "As to matters of fortune I am completely indifferent. I know you may never have more than the one thousand in the four percents settled upon your mother, and that you shall not receive that until her decease. I assure you no ungenerous reproach will pass my lips once we are married."
He was indifferent to fortune. So Mr. Collins was superior to Mr. Darcy in one respect. "Mr. Collins, I am honored by your proposal, but I shall not marry you. I will not."
"I do know," Mr. Collins replied with a wave of his hand, "that it is the practice of elegant females to often refuse a man they secretly intend to accept on the first, or even second application so as to increase the love of their suitor through suspense."
Maybe Darcy's alternation between warm and cold behavior was intended to increase her affection through suspense. Was that a common practice among elegant males?
Elizabeth giggled inappropriately. Hysterical tears were near the surface.
Mr. Collins crossed his arms. "Miss Elizabeth, an offer of marriage is not a matter of amusement. You should take this more seriously. I shall tell your estimable mother the happy news."
"I assure you I will not marry you. I will only marry a man who —" Elizabeth's cheeks and eyes were tight, and a lump was in her throat. She would start to sob uncontrollably soon. Elizabeth fled the room and the house.
She found a bench in the woods and curled up on the weathered wood. She sobbed in the cold.
A few minutes later Elizabeth heard her mother's shouts demanding she appear. Elizabeth ignored her.
She didn't have a coat and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold. She was not near cold enough to face Mama. The leaves had fallen, and she sat in a spot the sun shined on through the bare branches. The calls of birds competed with her mother's occasional shrieks from the house.
A laden cart clattered along the road through the village.
Elizabeth looked up at footsteps. Jane walked to Elizabeth's bench holding out her pelisse. Elizabeth smiled and shrugged into the coat before wiping off her face with a handkerchief.
"Lizzy, what's the matter? This isn't like you. Mr. Collins and Mama should not make you cry. Is it Mr. Darcy? He showed you every attention last night."
"He isn't coming. I know he is not. When he was alone he remembered his debts and how I am poor, and he won't come back. If he was going to make an offer, he already would have called."
"Do not be absurd — he loves you. I saw it in how he treated you last night; of course he loves you, anyone would. You are so bold and clever — I am sure he shall come. Perhaps he is asleep, or perhaps he needs to wait a few days to place his affairs in order. Mr. Darcy admires you too much to leave this region without making an offer."
Elizabeth sniffled. "Do you really think so?"
"Of course, I do. Don't be so sad — was that why you slept on the couch? Did you hope he would ride up early in the morning?"
Elizabeth blushed and nodded.
Jane took her sister's hand. "Let's go into town and see if there is any news. It will make you maudlin to wait about here. Besides, we want to avoid Mama until she calms."
The two girls walked through the woods until they reached a road on the far side that let them walk to Meryton without being seen from Longbourn.
Elizabeth said, "I do not think he will. He admires me, but he needs money. He is too committed to clearing his debts. Oh, I should have told him how ardently I love him. Maybe then he would have promised…"
"He saw how you love him. He must have. Do not worry so. Everything will turn out right."
When they entered town, they saw Miss Bingley who stood next to the Bingley's handsome chaise. A team of four dappled horses was attached to the carriage, and all of the footmen and coachmen were gathered around it.
Miss Bingley's eyes lit up when she saw Elizabeth and Jane, and she hurried to speak with them. Miss Bingley wore a coat with a rich fur lining and a deep orange dress. Her expression was like that of a cat batting at a trapped mouse. "Good day, good day. Is it not a good day, Miss Elizabeth? Have you heard the news? Mr. Darcy has left for his estate."
Jane gasped. Elizabeth was settled and cold. Rather than a shock, it was a confirmation. She'd known all along.
"Yes," Miss Bingley studied Elizabeth with a biting intensity. "He fled early this morning before anyone was awake. The stable boy said he waited out with the horse for an hour, and he was gone the instant it was light enough to ride. Methinks it was like Darcy wanted to flee someone. There was somebody whose presence he simply could not bear."
Something snapped in Elizabeth. "It was your stench. Caro dear, no one tells you, because they are too polite, but you exude a foul odor." Elizabeth waved a hand in front of her face. "The shock is not that Darcy fled your stench, but that anyone remains in it."
Jane said in a shocked voice, "Lizzy!"
Miss Bingley looked at her with a vicious snarl. Jane had clapped her hand over her mouth and looked at Elizabeth wide eyed.
Elizabeth pointed at Miss Bingley, "She abandoned all pretense of respectability first. She offered me a thousand pounds if I would flee Hertfordshire and not interfere with her design upon Mr. Darcy."
"And you should have taken my money. I told you that you had no hope. And now you have nothing. If you had listened to me, you would have the money, and I would have been able to marry him. Be unhappy now. I want to see you cry. Cry for me."
Jane now stared agape at Miss Bingley.
"Caro dear," Elizabeth replied sunnily, "You never had any hopes. You forget the foul stench you exude. Darcy did not need my help to be repulsed by you."
If Miss Bingley so desperately wanted her to be unhappy, Elizabeth would throw herself off a cliff before she cried in the presence of her rival.
Miss Bingley growled. "You'll regret this. You will." She thrust her fingers in Jane's face. "I shall destroy your mercenary design on my brother. I know you only pretended to be sick so your sister could throw herself at Mr. Darcy like a halfpenny whore. Well, I'll stop my brother from ever returning to this dirty little town. And you shall cry too."
Caroline Bingley strode to her carriage. The footman hurriedly opened the door, and before she entered the carriage, Miss Bingley cried out, "To London. My brother's house. And fast."
The carriage hurried away, the compartment bouncing up and down on the springs.
Elizabeth and Jane stared at each other. Jane said, "Heavens, I am not sure Miss Bingley is entirely well."
Elizabeth giggled.
"I was certain she was my friend." Jane shook her head slowly. "You were right; I should not have trusted in Miss Bingley's affection. She is quite enraged with jealousy."
"Oh, Jane. I may have harmed your position with Mr. Bingley. I should not have insulted Miss Bingley in that manner. It was not ladylike or polite — I was viciously angry."
Jane frowned and pulled at her glove. "Oh my, I do hope — even with his sister so set against me, I do hope I shall see Mr. Bingley again."
Her sister worriedly gnawed at her lip, and Elizabeth darted quick glances between Jane and the ground. Had she destroyed her sister's hopes as well as her own? Last night Elizabeth had comforted herself with the belief that at least Jane and Bingley would make a match of it.
Elizabeth said, "If Mr. Bingley does not return, it will be because his sister told him a lie. I shall find him in London and try to speak with him. This is my fault. I will not let my selfish pique destroy your happiness."
Jane grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "Let us return home. Mayhap, Mama has calmed. We have heard enough news in town. Lizzy, it is not your fault. Miss Bingley makes her choices and had decided before we spoke to go to London to discourage her brother — her trunk was attached to the back of the carriage. If Mr. Bingley listens to his sister, it means our affection was not sufficient, and I shall understand. It would be improper to chase after Mr. Bingley if he chooses to withdraw."
"I should have chased Mr. Darcy when I had the chance. I should have told him everything in my heart — how much I need him. Proper and improper are barriers to affection and companionship. I will never again let them stop me."
Mr. Collins had left with Charlotte Lucas when she called while Elizabeth and Jane were in Meryton. Mama, however, had not calmed down, and she yelled at Elizabeth for a full ten minutes about letting Mr. Collins escape.
It was a sullen group that evening. Both Elizabeth and Jane were anxious about Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth could not stop asking herself what had been so wrong with her that Mr. Darcy left.
It was absurd to think the problem was with her, and Elizabeth knew it. Mr. Darcy loved money more than her; it was that simple. A very ordinary, usual thing.
The memory of Miss Bingley's desire to see her cry kept Elizabeth from turning maudlin. She would not give Miss Bingley the satisfaction.
The next morning Mr. Bingley returned early and asked Jane to marry him.
Everyone was very happy, and Elizabeth did not let herself become envious. Later that day Elizabeth asked about Miss Bingley.
"Caroline? She won't be returning." Bingley rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't know what all she said to you, but I apologize for it."
Elizabeth smiled at Bingley. "I was insulting in return yesterday."
"You had perfect excuse for it. She is terribly jealous of you. And Darcy — stubborn fool — maybe he'll come around someday, but once he gets an idea in his mind… It is blasted hard to get it out."
Elizabeth felt the hurt again.
"Forgive me." Bingley patted Elizabeth on the shoulder. "I can well imagine how it hurts. I was frightened Jane might refuse me. I should not torment you with talk about the matter. Darcy likes you enormously, but he dislikes doing things to please himself even more. A fool — but Caroline, you asked about her. We argued, and I do not plan to speak to her for at least a year. I'm done supporting her; she can make do with her own fortune. She hates you and Jane, and even if Caroline apologizes, I shall not trust her. Louisa agrees with me completely. She is almost as frustrated with Caroline as I am."
Over the next weeks Elizabeth kept herself busy and mostly happy. It did hurt, but she was not made for misery. Besides, Miss Bingley's sole consolation was that she imagined Elizabeth was wretched. It delighted Elizabeth to know she was wrong.