Charlotte exclaimed over the injured hand when she saw it and in short order had it well wrapped, with a soothing salve inside the bandages. Elizabeth was bemused by the attention given to such a trifling hurt.
"You mustn't fuss over it so, Charlotte, it is really nothing," she told her friend affectionately. "And it is no more than I deserve for being so careless."
"Shush, do not let Mr. Collins hear you say that," her friend answered. "I have told him that your injury unfortunately prevents us both from attending Lady Catherine at tea this afternoon. He, of course, will still be going, but he feels certain that her ladyship will forgive your absence on this occasion, given the circumstances."
"In that case, you may tell him that my hand was much more badly hurt than I had first thought, and it is possible I will not be recovered for several days."
Charlotte asked Elizabeth exactly what she had tripped over, and Elizabeth described the obstacle and its location.
"You were quite a ways from the parsonage, Lizzy. I have rarely gone so far myself. "
"The woods and fields are very pretty at this time of year, Charlotte. It is impossible not to admire them each day."
"But you were not looking at them when you tripped, were you? Something else had your attention."
Elizabeth looked at her friend sharply and Charlotte met her gaze evenly. "If I were to say that your mind was distracted by thoughts of a certain gentleman from Derbyshire, would I be correct? Or do I ask too much?"
A feeling of lightness and relief came over Elizabeth at her friend's perceptive insight. It would never do to talk about Darcy to almost anyone else. Truthfully, it was a secret she felt she would have to carry on her own even after returning to Hertfordshire, for she would struggle to tell Jane about her conversation with Darcy without bringing up Bingley's name. But since Charlotte had already guessed something amiss, and Elizabeth was assured of her discretion, she had no fear in confirming her suspicions. Still, she would not make it too easy.
"You know I have no affection for Mr. Darcy, Charlotte, so why would you think that my mind is preoccupied by him?"
"You have not been yourself at all for the last two days, Lizzie, wandering off by yourself at the slightest opportunity, and not carrying on your usual conversation. And then my maid told me Mr. Darcy called here the other night when you were home with a headache and Mr. Collins and I were at Rosings."
"Your maid is correct, and so were you, when you said that Mr. Darcy might have an interest in me."
Charlotte's face brightened. "Did he declare himself? I should so like to see you happily settled."
"Then you may be content, for I am happily settled to be without him."
"Lizzie! Do you mean to say that you turned him down?"
"With no regrets whatsoever. I wish you could have heard his proposal. You would not blame me at all for refusing him."
Charlotte listened carefully as Elizabeth described Darcy's insults to her family, but she was not as entertained as Elizabeth had expected her to be. "Elizabeth, have you no idea of the compliment he paid you by making his addresses to you? He is a man of great consequence. "
"Oh, I felt very complimented indeed! Rarely have I been so insulted and complimented at the same time, in fact. I wish he had flattered me more by insulting my aunts, uncles, and cousins as well as my parents and sisters. Perhaps then I would have fallen at his feet in gratitude at his offer. He expected nothing less."
"I am sorry that he was not more fluent in his affections, but I have never heard anyone here criticize his character. He is quite the gentleman. You are not likely to ever receive such an offer from such a man again."
Charlotte's words were so similar to those used by Mr. Collins in his failed proposal that Elizabeth had to hide a smile.
"You know he and I would never suit. I could not make him happy, nor he, me."
"Happiness in marriage is a matter of chance, Lizzy. When two people come from similar backgrounds and want the same things in life, and they spend so much time together in the same household, with all the normal intimacies involved, affection will develop over time."
Elizabeth longed to ask her friend if she had yet discovered this affection with Mr. Collins, but she would not bring up such a delicate topic. Instead, she said, "Your idea of marital happiness is very different from mine, Charlotte. You make it sound more like an inevitability then a matter of chance, though we both know many unhappy couples. I am not content to take a chance, as you say, and hope that I will come to love my husband over time. Such an irretrievable step should be taken with at least a little likelihood of success."
"So this is what you have been brooding over the last two days? Have you regretted your answer at all?"
"No, but I have regretted some of the things I said to him when I refused him, and especially how I said them. I have yet to tell you about the letter he gave me the next morning."
"He wrote you a letter!" Charlotte's face showed her amazement.
Elizabeth described what Darcy had written about Jane and Bingley, and there, Charlotte had the satisfaction of being able to point out that what she had said about Jane previously was correct.
"If only she had known then what she must learn now!" Charlotte said, not without sympathy. "A lady must always express more than she feels, so as to encourage the gentleman along the way. I hope that she will be more demonstrative next time."
"I doubt there will be a next time, Charlotte. Jane was quite attached to Mr. Bingley. I wish that well-meaning friends from Derbyshire would allow their intimate friends from Hertfordshire to determine such things on their own. Bingley needed no guidance from his friend at all, and Mr. Darcy and his sisters should not have interfered."
"You cannot completely blame Mr. Darcy there, Elizabeth. If he had not interfered we may be certain his sisters would have done so, probably with the same outcome. And Mr. Bingley himself is to blame, for allowing himself to be influenced to such a degree. He ought to be his own man."
"I believe there is blame enough for everyone involved to share, Charlotte, and plenty left over."
Charlotte asked about Wickham and Darcy. "What did Mr. Darcy have to say about your friend in the militia? Or did he even address the situation?"
"He addressed it at great length. And this, Charlotte, is what has been most vexing to me. I am afraid that I allowed my own pride to be injured so much by Mr. Darcy's comment about me last autumn, that I was completely blinded by Wickham when he claimed to be injured by Mr. Darcy as well."
With the greatest curiosity Charlotte urged Elizabeth to tell her the whole story, which Elizabeth did, omitting the part about Darcy's sister. He had not given her permission to relate anything about Miss Darcy to anyone, and she could not help but feel that advertising the poor girl's folly would be a cruelty as great as what she had already endured.
"And do you believe him, Elizabeth? Do you now think Wickham was to be blamed, and Darcy completely innocent?"
"I am afraid that I do. Their stories coincide completely right up until one detail. Both agree that Wickham was a favorite of the old Mr. Darcy, and that he was sent to Cambridge by that man and given every possible advantage. They agree that the old Mr. Darcy's will left a living to Wickham, and that Wickham did not get it. But they disagree as to why. Wickham says that Darcy disregarded his father's will and gave the living to another; Darcy claims Wickham turned the living down in lieu of three thousand pounds, which he then squandered away."
"That does not sound like a detail, but like the heart of the whole matter. How are we to know which version is true?"
"I do not see how Mr. Darcy could disregard his father's will," Elizabeth said slowly. "Surely Wickham would have had an avenue of redress if he did. And Wickham did say that the living was left to him on some sort of condition, which he did not name. Besides all this, Mr. Darcy did tell me that I could apply to Colonel Fitzwilliam to have every detail confirmed."
"Then you may depend on it, Mr. Darcy's version is the real history. Poor Mr. Darcy, to be so maligned by Wickham at every turn! And then to have you, of all people, bring up such accusations to him as well, when he most hoped to win your hand. I hope you were temperate in your response."
Elizabeth looked away momentarily. "I was not temperate at all, Charlotte," she said in a low voice. "I let my temper get the better of me and spoke rashly about things that I did not know about at all. That is the worst part of all."
"But you do not regret your choice?"
"Not at all! He was still as ill-tempered a man as I have ever seen. He may behave in a principled way, but he does not speak that way! Allow me to let you read how he started his letter to me."
Charlotte gave her consent, and Elizabeth retreated to her bedroom upstairs to find the letter and return with it. Charlotte waited patiently for several minutes, until the sound of heavy furniture being moved overhead motivated her to follow her friend.
"Lizzy, what are you doing?" Charlotte asked, taking in the sight of Elizabeth bent over looking between the dresser and the wall, with the dresser pushed out a little ways. "You will hurt your hand again if you are not careful."
"Who cares about my hand? I cannot find my letter!" Elizabeth exclaimed, pulling back from behind the dresser and bending over to look under the bed. "At least, I cannot find all of it. I put the letter and the envelope here on the dresser when I changed after my walk, but one of the pages, the very first one, is missing." And she actually lay down on the floor to put her whole head under the bed. She pulled back out again after a moment, shaking her head in frustration.
"I'm sure it's here somewhere," Charlotte said with some amusement. "Did you put it in your pocket?"
"Yes, the pocket of my spencer, when I was out walking. But my spencer is not here."
"I had Sarah take it to be washed, along with your dress," Charlotte said apologetically. "Let me call her."
Sarah, when she came to the room, was also apologetic, but she was quite firm that the pockets of Elizabeth's spencer had been empty when she took the garment to the laundry. She helped Elizabeth and Charlotte examine every corner of the room, and they also searched the first floor areas where Elizabeth had been, without success.
The mystery was not solved until Charlotte asked, "Did you happen to drop it anywhere?" and Elizabeth suddenly made a sound that was half laugh, half a sound of dismay.
"Of course! I dropped the letter, all the pages and the envelope together, when I fell outside! I thought I had picked them all up, but obviously I overlooked a page."
"Then we must go now to get it," Charlotte said, beginning to move towards the front door. "It would not do to have a stranger read correspondence between you and Mr. Darcy, no matter how innocent it may be. Is your name on it? Is his?"
"It was addressed to me, it said my name at the top. I cannot remember if his name was on it at the beginning, or just at the end. I paid no attention to the heading, I was so taken with the rest. Charlotte, who would find that letter and read it? And would they know who I am?"
"Let us hope we do not find out," Charlotte answered in some dismay, opening the front door just in time to see raindrops beginning to fall. The sky had turned threatening; rain looked likely to start soon and continue for some time. Determinedly, the two ladies donned their outdoor clothes and umbrellas, and Charlotte followed Elizabeth to the offending tree root. But no letter was to be seen. After several minutes of frustrated searching they were forced by the increasing rain to return to the parsonage, where Elizabeth sat down rather helplessly on the nearest divan.
"I suppose I shall never see that page again. I can only hope that nobody else does either."
"You wanted me to read the first page in order to see his manners for myself," Charlotte reminded her. "Is his manner as offensive in the rest of the letter?"
Elizabeth forced her mind away from the missing page. She hesitated to let Charlotte read the rest of the letter because of the sections involving Miss Darcy. Charlotte already knew the contents of everything concerning Wickham. "His manner is much better by the end of the letter," she said carefully.
"But you do not wish me to read it?" Charlotte asked gently.
"I am sorry, but Mr. Darcy also confided in me in one other matter that pertains to Mr. Wickham. He gave me information which could be hurtful to another person's reputation, and he did not give me leave to share it. I prefer not to break that confidence."
"He confided something so sensitive with you, after you had turned him down and falsely accused him? My dear Lizzy, I think he must be very much in love with you. He could have walked away from you entirely, but it was clearly important to him to regain your good opinion."
"That was his pride speaking, Charlotte, nothing more. I pray you do not read more into it than there is!"
The next morning Elizabeth awoke to the sound of rain still pouring steadily outside, creating a muffled, soothing rhythm of gentle tappings all around. The chimes of the clock downstairs told her it was past time to rise and go to breakfast, but she had no desire to get up just yet. She and Charlotte had stayed up late the night before, taking advantage of Mr. Collins' absence from the parsonage to talk over everything with Darcy again and again. Mr. Collins had only returned from Rosings shortly before they retired, and now, with the rain keeping him indoors, he would be sitting downstairs in the breakfast room, tediously repeating every detail of the conversations and activities of the night before. For that recital, she could gladly wait all day, and so she stayed underneath the warm blankets, enjoying the relaxation that comes from a complete lack of obligation to do anything meaningful at all.
Suddenly she twisted her head, then sat up in order to hear better. A carriage had definitely pulled up to the parsonage door, and somebody was rapping loudly at the entry. She thought it must be something rather particular to bring someone calling at this time of the morning, before visiting hours had fairly begun, and in the poor weather. Elizabeth could hear the sound of several sets of feet moving about on the first floor, and the front door opening and then closing firmly. A strident female voice saying her name made her eyes widen in surprise, but she hardly had time to react, for already Charlotte's footsteps were climbing the steps, and a moment later she knocked and opened Elizabeth's door simultaneously.
"Lizzie, Lady Catherine is asking for you at once in the drawing room. She will absolutely not tolerate any delay, no matter what the hour. I am afraid," she added with alarm, "we now know exactly where the missing page of Mr. Darcy's letter may be found."
This story copyrighted 2015 by Elaine Owen. No copying or publication without author's permission.