Author's Notes: Why Hello Again!
I hope everyone has continued to stay safe and healthy since the last installment! Finals finished last week, and summer classes don't begin until the 18th, so I had a bit of time (and inspiration!) to squeeze in more writing.
I'm pleased to hear that the timeline/summary I provided in my last chapter was helpful for so many readers. Quite honestly, it was extremely helpful for me to get things in order as well. If you skipped it last post, I would highly encourage you to look it over if you have any confusion.
Last chapter, a few commenters made posts regarding the end of this story. I'd like to assure you all that while we're chugging along, we aren't quite there yet. I believe I'll need at least another 10 chapters to wrap up this mystery properly and give our characters the HEA they deserve.
And Now, a chapter that many readers have long anticipated. :)
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"If you please, ma'am, there is yet another gentleman caller demanding an audience with you on urgent business."
Elizabeth looked up from Forelli's ledger book with a crease in her brow. As a gentleman's daughter, she had been raised to follow the rules of propriety with a strict adherence. It seemed that many men in London had not been similarly brought up, or perhaps did not think that such courtesies were to be extended to a mere actress. Despite removing the knocker and dressing the windows in black, the callers had been persistent in plaguing her during her bereavement. Elizabeth had never been so eager to escape Town and was looking to the day she could depart to the cottage Lady Matlock had so graciously loaned her with impatience.
Still, in London she currently remained, and there was no sense in putting off yet another merchant who must be dealt with. Tradespeople relied on patrons paying their debts in a timely fashion, and the posthumous debts were a stressful thing to carry. With Forelli properly buried, Elizabeth was able to put aside her melancholia enough to greet these new challenges with a closer degree of her typical equanimity and good humor. The comfort that Darcy had provided in his clandestine letter had bolstered her spirits, and the recommendations his secretary provided for reputable men of business had proven to be invaluable.
After her Uncle Gardiner had called, upturning the life she had built in London in the most unexpected of ways, Elizabeth had realized that she did need the guidance which Darcy had provided from a distance. Forelli's attorney was kind and respectful but did not have the influence or energy she would need in order to fight in the courts to gain guardianship of her sisters. Her Uncle had been frightened by what she intended to do to remove her sisters from Longborn, and she had yet to divulge her entire truth to him. She knew that he meant well, that he had always meant well, but Elizabeth needed more than good intentions on her side…she needed power. Alone, she had very little…but the relationships she had cultivated in Town could give her an advantage over a middling country squire like Collins.
Darcy's letter, his good intentions, had comforted her in a way that no one else could. She had many so-called friends in London, but none who understood the inner workings of her heart. This emotional isolation was her own doing, determined as she was to avoid discovery, she had never allowed herself true vulnerability with any of her London friends. An acquaintance who may claim an intimacy with Adelaide Bernard was simply an unwitting actor in another play. Yet Darcy, silent and watchful as he often was, had seen through the role to the woman beneath. He had seen Elizabeth – had loved her once, even if he never knew her name. He understood how much she was hurting and knew what help she had needed.
With a tired smile, she extended her hand to accept the card from the maid standing at the threshold of her study. The young girl dipped into a curtesy and stepped forward to present the card.
Elizabeth's slender fingers grasped the heavy cardstock, drawing it before her to make out the details. As her eyes landed on the elegant script, she felt her body tremble. The card read:
Mr. Fitzwilliam A. Darcy
This was no tradesman, come to air his grievances and make demands. The Master of Pemberley had arrived on her doorstep. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man she once claimed as the very last she could be prevailed upon to marry, was seeking an audience with her. Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had not forgotten her after nearly two years and a dozen insults, was waiting on her pleasure. Fitzwilliam was here!
Her heart pounded in her chest and she was sure that the poor maid could see her embarrassment...excitement…agitation, written across her face as plain as day. After all he had done to help her through this trying time, she could not refuse him. No, she dared not. Indeed, she had no desire to refuse him anything! Did her heart pound with nerves, or was it dancing with ebullition? She had long forgiven the insulting nature of his proposal, and remembered his attentions with warmth, if not regret. It had been many months now that she had recognized that Darcy was the only man she had known in both temperament and morals who would have best suited her as a husband. During the trials of the past month, she had come to realize that she had fallen in love with the memory of him. She may wish to deny the nature of her feelings, but she could not lie to her own heart. She longed to see him.
And now he was here.
The maid shifted her weight, waiting for her mistress to give instruction. Seeing that Miss Bernard was quite preoccupied with her thoughts she spoke in a timid accent, saying, "The gentleman was unsure if you would wish to receive him ma'am, and asked me to relay to you that he comes bearing news from Hertfordshire."
Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth's dancing heart sank to the depths of her stomach. Mr. Darcy came to call with news of Hertfordshire. That he knew to say such a thing to her maid, that he felt these were the words to say which would gain him an audience with Miss Bernard, clearly demonstrated that Elizabeth's fear had come to pass. Ever since the start of the Small Season, when she had learned that Darcy spent the autumn in Hertfordshire from his cousin, she had worried that this day would come.
Darcy had many qualities which Elizabeth admired – his keen intelligence chief among them. Clever Mr. Darcy, taciturn by nature, often watched society rather than participate in it. However, Elizabeth had deduced quickly that as Darcy was a guest at Netherfield Hall, there would no way to avoid an introduction to the family of Longborn, the principal seat in the area and Netherfield's closest neighbor. A quiet, observant man, ensconced in the country with little entertainment, could hardly be blamed for taking notice of the similarities of her sisters' features to her own, and allowing his imagination to run wild with possibilities.
There was nothing for it. Elizabeth knew that she had been found out. Denial would be in vain – Darcy was too smart a man to reveal his hand unless he knew that the truth of what he spoke was irrefutable. She could only hope, hope with all her heart, that the same intelligence which Darcy had used to discover her would also guide him to shield that knowledge from others. If he had observed enough of the Longborn residents to find her face amongst her sisters, surely, he must have observed the characteristics of other members of that house.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, letting it exhale slowly through her nose. "My courage rises with every attempt to intimidate me." She reminded herself. Out loud she addressed her maid, her voice catching as she spoke. "Thank you, Sarah. I will receive Mr. Darcy here. We are not to be disturbed."
"Very good, ma'am." Came the obedient reply.
As the girl removed herself in order to fetch the caller for her mistress, Elizabeth rose, her hands brushing imaginary lint from her black bombazine morning dress. She turned toward the window, which looked over a small courtyard attached to the property. The torrent of rain which had besieged southern England the past week or more was but a memory – the November sun spilled from the courtyard and into the study.
Her feet tapped, ready to run. It was the same sort of anticipation which besieged her whenever the curtain rose for the first time on one of her productions. A wild, restless energy; both terrified and exultant. She took in one calming breath, and then another, feeling her belly swell and then shrink with each motion in the manner she learned as an actress. These actions calmed her, if only enough to turn and face him as he entered the study, the maid announcing him softly.
She turned sharply on her heel at the sound, her knees dipping into a cutesy of their own accord. He returned her acknowledgement with a bow of his own, and then rose to meet her gaze.
He stood before her, awash in the glow of the afternoon light. It could hardly be possible that he had grown taller and even more handsome than when they had last met in April '09, yet such it was to Elizabeth's eyes. Perhaps, having finally allowed herself to acknowledge that she was in love with him…had been falling in love with him even when she rejected his offer of marriage, her eyes finally opened to his true beauty. Oh, she had always considered him handsome, for who would attempt to deny it? But never before had she drank in the very sight of him. He was taller than most men and held himself with proud bearing. His dark hair shone with healthy luster, his jaw was strong and his chin noble. His eyes were locked on her face, rich, warm brown pools arresting her with the power of a thousand untold emotions. The passing of time had not aged him in any significant way – he was the picture of healthy, masculine, beauty. Vaguely, Elizabeth thought that she would have given anything to sketch him, so that she might carry the memory of such beauty with her always. She was still the artist's protégé, even then.
As captured as they were by the power of the other's gaze, several long moments passed before either could find their words. It was Darcy who broke the spell, the warmth of his tone bringing greater meaning to perfunctory words.
"Miss Bernard," he said, "I apologize for making demands of your time whilst you are in mourning. I assure you I would not presume to do so, was my business not a matter of some delicacy. I hope you have been well."
Another breath in, another exhaled. Elizabeth attempted to school her features into a picture of serenity, and answered him with a reasonable degree of calmness, saying, "I am perfectly well, I assure you. Signore Forelli had many years to prepare for his death and has made this sad business as simple for me as he possibly could."
"I am glad to hear it. Very glad indeed."
With only the slightest trembling of her hand, Elizabeth gestured toward the seat across the desk from her own. "Will you not sit, Mr. Darcy?"
"Thank you," he replied stoically, following her instruction.
Elizabeth followed suit and folded her hands together on the desk primly in order to quell their shaking. She searched his handsome face, wondering what he must be thinking, how he would begin, what he knew. There was one way to find out…
"Sarah informed me that you bring news from Hertfordshire when she presented your card. I wonder what you mean to tell me."
There! Elizabeth watched Darcy's countenance come alive with surprise. Whatever he had anticipated happening during this meeting, it had clearly not been for her to introduce the topic. Were they to dance around with pleasantries when there were real matters to discuss? Elizabeth, hardly patient by nature, could not bear another moment of waiting now that the moment was here. Her anxiety was simply running too high to suffer through the game of manners.
"I have much news from the village of Meryton, which I believe will be of interest to you, Miss Bernard. Some I will convey to you by my own words, but I also come bearing a letter from Miss Mary Bennet, of Longborn, whom I believe is known to you." He reached inside his jacket to retrieve a thin envelope and extended it to her.
Elizabeth reached for the letter, the tips of her fingers brushing against Darcy's own as she took it from him. She tried to ignore the shiver the brush of his hand sent up her arms. His dark eyes locked on her famous hazel orbs with a powerful intensity. "Would you prefer to read your letter now in my audience, or would you prefer to examine it in privacy?"
A sorrowful laugh escaped Elizabeth's throat. "Come, Mr. Darcy. I hardly think there can be much that remains private between us, having delivered this missive to my care. If you would prefer my reading the letter before we continue our interview, you may wait while I read. It is my own preference that you could perhaps enlighten me as how such a message ever came to be before I peruse it's contents, however."
"I am happy to oblige you, madam." Came the grave reply. "I wonder at the best place to begin."
With more confidence than she felt, the lady answered him with a fresh retort. "Most stories are best told from the beginning, I believe."
Darcy smiled ruefully, his dimples flashing for a brief moment. "Very true, Miss Bernard. Yet the beginning of this story is not mine to tell. I can only give you my account from when I first entered in this plot, at the Michaelmas Assembly in Meryton Village."
Her speaking eyes narrowed with some small suspicion. "Pray continue, sir."
"I had come to Hertfordshire in the company of my friend, one Charles Bingley, who had decided to lease an estate and asked for my assistance in helping him settle into his new role. We had been at Netherfield for little more than a week before we attended the assembly in Meryton. I believe I may comfortably say that you know me well enough to imagine how I must have behaved in such a venue, full of persons wholly unknown to myself. Uninterested in dancing, I was content to observe the locals and keep my eye on Bingley. During this assembly two young women were brought to my notice. One was Mrs. Collins, of Longborn, who we had heard much of as the reputed local beauty, and the other, her sister, a Miss Mary Bennet. I had given little consideration to either woman, until Charles pressed me to dance with Miss Bennet within her hearing, and she interrupted us. I found her response interesting, and my eyes followed her the rest of the night. At a certain point, we were near one another once again, and engaged in a half hour's conversation. There was something about her that haunted me, Miss Bernard, though at first I could not understand what about the girl had so transfixed me."
The heavy heart which had settled in Elizabeth's stomach attempted to crawl its way back up her chest again. He had known even then? He had recognized her in her sisters that quickly? From the the very same evening that they had been introduced? She remained in his memory that clearly? Could the rapidity of his discovery hint at some deeper meaning? Did she wish it to?
"I believe I know what you will say next, Mr. Darcy." She said softly, her hazel eyes luminous.
Darcy paused, and then leaning forward, spoke with quiet tenderness. "Would you have me say it then, Miss Bennet?"
Miss Bennet. He had called her Miss Bennet. Elizabeth released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She knew why he came, and yet hearing the name Bennet in reference to her own person still affected her.
"Please," she whispered, leaning toward him in her seat. "I would have you say it."
"Then I will, if it is your command." He answered, his deep voice thick with restrained emotion, "I realized that I was transfixed by Miss Mary, because she reminded me of you. In her face, I saw your countenance, in her wit, I heard your humor. At first, I felt that I might have imagined it…that perhaps it was merely wishful thinking to find your sweet face in the countryside…but circumstances aligned to confirm my theory at every possible junction."
"I would have never dreamt of having left such an impression upon you." Elizabeth answered, her own voice catching, "After our last meeting…well, I was rather sure that if you thought of me at all, you did so with disdain. Until Colonel Fitzwilliam delivered your note, I was sure you must despise me."
"Despise you?" He asked, his body recoiling back into his chair, "Indeed not. I will not deny that I was angry at the time, that bitterness consumed me for a while. However, it was not long until such anger gave way to proper reflection, and my bitterness took the correct direction. Any injury you may have caused me has been long since forgiven, and I have instead attempted to attend to your reproofs. I believe I am the better man for them."
"My reproofs?" Elizabeth responded in astonishment, also leaning back in her seat. "In your letter, you gave some hint to them – but I assure you, I spoke purely out of emotion. I had no idea of your taking my angry words so to heart. I was very severe upon you. Indeed, I have regretted my language that day many times since we last met."
Darcy rose with great energy, his agitated emotions refusing to let him stay idle. "You, madam, have no cause to regret!" Quite unconsciously, he began to pace the length of the small study. "Your anger, and the words inspired by such anger, were quite justified. I was raised with every lofty expectation the family of a man of my status can hope to inspire. I was given good principles but left to follow them in pride and conceit. And so I may have continued, had it not been for you. You taught me what my own parents could not – that my intentions, however righteous, however noble, are intrinsically tied to the nature of my expression. That generosity of spirit, while commendable, is worth little when one has no generosity of address. That no matter the situation in life that one is born into, man or woman, we are all equally deserving of respect. Even the lowest born man has his pride – and he can forgive mine only when I do not mortify his own."
Elizabeth watched this frenetic energy and wished nothing more than to reach out a hand and still Mr. Darcy's steps. Yet her own trepidation kept her rooted to her chair. Did he wish for her touch?
"I can not repine all that I had said, if it has inspired such a revelation in you. But Mr. Darcy – please…I hope that you will hear me now with even greater sincerity…You see, after I recovered from my shock, and stilled my own turbulent feelings, I realized that there was a great deal of truth to what you had said. Though your misgivings were expressed poorly, they were not unjustified."
This speech made him pause, and his head turned to meet her gaze. His handsome face contorted in pain. "My misgivings?" He asked, incredulous. "I would not have you speak so! I was a foolish, stupid boy. My misgivings were that our marriage would not receive the approbation of the Ton – that we would be the derision of the world. Why should I have been so concerned with the opinions of people I care so little for? I feared my family would not approve, though their approval is unnecessary for me to make a match. You were very right to reject a man who was so beholden to the feelings of others that he would consider theirs above your own."
Elizabeth rose, placing herself in the trajectory of Darcy's path. She looked up at him through thick lashes and addressed him with every tenderness in her voice. "You are hardly to blame, Mr. Darcy. I have lived in London now for several years. I have a strong understanding of the way our society works. Our marriage would have been the derision of the world. And you, so quiet and private already…you could not have borne such notice with equanimity. I am used to appearing in the gossip rags…indeed I quite depend upon them at times. I know full well that being the subject of speculation for the whole of England…it is no easy thing."
Instinctively, Darcy stepped toward her, brown eyes inscrutable. "Such scrutiny would have been but the first of many trials we would face as a married couple – the very first hardship to overcome. At the first challenge I faced in building a life together with you…I faltered." His head dipped low. "No. I must speak truthfully. I did not falter. I failed."
Adelaide Bernard lived her life with the highest standards of decorum. Elizabeth Bennet, however, was a wild country girl. She could not bare to see Darcy, her Mr. Darcy, standing before her in such a sad attitude. It was Elizabeth, not Adelaide, who extended slender fingers and gently cupped Darcy's chin, lifting his face so that he would meet her eyes once more. "You did not fail, Darcy." She spoke softly, lovingly. "Your feelings were natural and just. You are one of the most eligible gentlemen in the country…and I am an actress."
His dark eyes burned. "You are a gentleman's daughter!" He said hotly.
"Yes." Elizabeth replied with calm patience, speaking as gently as she would with a small child. "I was born to a gentle family. So far we are equals. But I gave it all up – abandoned those connections and made a life for myself on the stage. Worse still, for years I resided in the company of a man who was neither my husband nor my relation, and I shed my modesty by appearing in his artwork."
Though his heart raced with her touch, he was still master of himself enough to hear her words. "This life…it has been entirely of your own choice?" He asked, clearly disbelieving.
Elizabeth frowned, her hand sinking. "Is that so incredible to you?" She asked with some defensiveness.
Darcy paused for a moment, considering her question. "After all I have learned of the circumstances of your family, I assumed that your guardians might have pushed you into an arrangement that best suited their financial needs. I had never considered the idea that you might have left Longborn willingly."
She turned from him, her temper rising. "I did not leave Longborn willingly, no – but I certainly came to Forelli's home of my own volition."
"Please, Miss Bernard…Miss Bennet…I can see that I have angered you. But can you not see that I only wish to understand? I can but guess at what transpired in the years before I knew you, only you know your story. Will you not share it with me?"
He watched helplessly as she squared her shoulders, her body pointing away from him. He could not know how she suffered, how desperately she wished to unburden herself of all her struggles, how much she wanted a helpmeet to share the load. Darcy certainly had no desire to hurt her, and yet his words stung. Could she trust him? Could she reveal the whole truth?
"Did you truly have news from Longborn?" She asked quietly, facing the wall. "Or did you simply wish to impose upon me now that you have discovered my identity?"
Darcy sighed heavily, thinking of those he had left behind in Hertfordshire. "I do indeed." He replied, gravely. "They are not glad tidings. Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet are both in excellent health, but your cousin Reverend Collins is very ill. He was the victim of a violent assault and was found on the grounds of Netherfield during the first of the rains, hardly coherent to the world around him. His injuries are extensive, and being caught in such a down pour, he caught cold which soon became a fever. Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet are even now guests at Netherfield, attending to their cousin's sickbed."
Elizabeth trembled, and Darcy took her elbow from behind. "Come and sit please, Miss Bennet. You are not well."
Elizabeth allowed herself to be led, her legs shaking beneath her. "A violent assault, you say?" She asked, looking wan.
"I am afraid it is true. The local magistrate at first believed it to be the work of highwaymen, but myself and others believe that another suspect may be culpable. I have requested the assistance of the Bow Street Magistrate's office in helping us to resolve the matter, and he has been quite capable."
Her normally melodious voice took on a pinched note. "And whom – may I ask, does your Constable believe to be responsible for this attack?"
Darcy resumed his seat across from hers, watching Elizabeth's expression with anxiety. She truly looked distressed. "Regrettably, he suspects the man's own father…and I am inclined to agree. Mr. Collins has not behaved as a father ought to in the circumstances. Yet we can not understand what his motive may have been."
As Elizabeth listened to Darcy's suspicions, her pale cheeks began to redden with anger. She did not mean to be rude, but she scarcely allowed Darcy to finish his sentence before she exclaimed, "His motives? I assure you; Mr. Collins is a simple creature. There is no great conspiracy at work. He can have but two motivations. Collins is cheap and greedy. If you cannot uncover any financial motivation for committing such an act against his son – and I hardly see why anyone would want to injure poor William…Well then the attack perpetrated by Collins was performed merely for the pleasure such a disgusting act affords him!"
"This is your testimony, truly?" Darcy asked, eyes wide.
"He is a wicked man, Mr. Darcy. I believe he spent so much of his life so small, living in the shadow of my father, that the only thing which brings him any happiness is inflicting his will upon others."
"I am grieved to hear you speak so – though I must confess that I am not entirely surprised by your account. He has not made a good impression on any of us at Netherfield, and my friend, Bingley…who is as congenial as I am severe, has even forbidden the man from attending his son at Netherfield. Collins called but yesterday, with the intentions of removing Miss Bennet to Longborn, and he behaved so badly that Charles refused to allow Miss Bennet to leave."
"And Mrs. Collins?"
"She remains at Netherfield as well. Your cousin truly is very ill. We fear for his life. I think Mr. Collins knew better than to try to take his wife from his son's sickbed, it would be a futile effort. She is the most attentive nurse in the world."
A wave of relief washed over Elizabeth. Knowing that Jane and Mary had been removed from Collins' household, and he, denied admittance to the residence which housed them, was welcome tidings. And yet… "If Collins commands Jane to return to Longborn, she will go. I am sure that it is only his fear of what the neighborhood may say which stops him sending his order."
"I can well imagine that. He is an undoubtedly proud man."
"His fear of the neighbor's disapprobation goes deeper than common pride. Collins was not raised as a gentleman and attempts to erase his own past. He cannot abide being the subject of scorn or derision. When I resided in his household, he made every attempt at the appearance of gentlemanly manners while out in the community, while behaving quite differently at Longborn. As far as I could discern, the only thing to check his worst impulses was fear that gossip from my tongue, or the lips of the Longborn servants still loyal to the Bennets, would lower his standing in society. Nothing was so precious to him as that."
"I fear that without your influence in the household, Mr. Collins' impulses may have gone unchecked. Furthermore, Constable Gantry, the Bow Street Runner investigating Reverend Collins' assault, has informed me that the only servant at Longborn who remains from your Father's tenure is the housekeeper, Mrs. Hill."
Elizabeth graced Darcy with a watery smile. "Dear, dear, Hill. Of course, she would remain. She has been with the Bennet family since Jane was but a babe-in-arms, and all of us sisters were extremely fond of her. She would not let the likes of Collins intimidate her." She hesitated; her expression thoughtful. "I fear that you must be correct, however. To assault his own son with such violence…it is a messy affair. He has become complacent, I wager. Jane, beholden as she is to her husband, can hardly speak against him…and the notion of spreading gossip would not sit well with Mary."
"You have not seen or spoken with your sisters in many years. I wonder if you know their characters so well as you believe yourself to do. Perhaps you might now wish to read Miss Bennet's letter, so that you might better understand her."
Her hands caressed the parchment which laid forgotten on the desk. "Of course – I should not delay any further." Her hazel eyes closed briefly, and when they opened, they met Darcy's brown orbs with steely resolve. "I too, have letters to share." She reached to a decorative wooden box on the desk, and lifting it, twisted and turned the various sides in a pattern Darcy could not follow. With a soft click the lid of the box opened, and Elizabeth removed a small brass key. She placed the key into a drawer of the desk and turned the lock.
As she slid the drawer open and reached inside to remove its contents, she spoke to Darcy with a quiet strength in her voice. "First, I will give you this letter – written by dear Forelli and sent to my Uncle, Mr. Edward Gardiner, in the event of Forelli's death, who then placed the note into my care. The contents of this missive deal primarily in the history of your suspect, Mr. Collins, and may prove useful to your Constable in his investigation."
Darcy nodded gravely. "Shall we take this moment to read together?" He asked.
"I believe it will be a sensible way in which to move our conversation forward." Replied the lady, breaking the seal of her letter.
Mary's letter read as follows:
Lizzy,
It is strange to be writing you, after so many years of separation. I have composed such a communication many times in my mind, but until this very morning I had not dreamnt that such a letter could be written or read. When you left Longborn, and could not be traced – I must confess, I was very angry with you. Young as I was when our parents passed, I understood very little of the various challenges our family faced in providing for the well-being of the Bennet orphans. The new Master of Longborn frightened me, but then, I was intimidated by many different persons when I was a little girl. I could not understand why you would beg to take the place which had been provided for me at Longborn only to abandon it – abandon us, less than a year later.
We feared for you Lizzy – we believed you must be dead. Grief and anger, those feelings defined so much of that first year or so that you were gone. However, with age came maturity, and wisdom. The older I grew the more I came to understand that something was not right with our sister's marriage. It began with whispers I heard in the home of our Aunt and Uncle Phillips and was validated by my observations of my sister Jane, who's personality was shifting before me from a happy girl to a meek and profoundly sad young woman. When I finally removed to Longborn from the Phillips household and lived amongst the Collins family, I came to understand what some of your motivation might have been, in leaving.
With your disappearance, my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner became increasingly interested in me and provided me with every possibly advantage which they could afford. To this day, I believe that this generosity was motivated by a keen sense of guilt – my Uncle truly believed he had failed his family in not protecting you. Because of their interest, I was able to spend a great deal of time residing with them in Town, where I had the benefit of refining my accomplishments by studying with Masters. My drawing Master was an ardent admirer of your patron, Benito Forelli, and when The Many Moods of Venus opened for public exhibition, I attended the gallery with several of his pupils.
I would be daft, indeed, to not recognize the face of my beloved sister, surrounding me on many sides. The shock of seeing you, after so great a separation…I do not have time to do my feelings justice in this letter. After I was able to calm myself enough to think rationally, I realized that though you were alive and presumably well – Elizabeth Bennet was still dead. Having abandoned your family and then exposing yourself publicly as an art model, there could be no hope in you ever being recognized at Longborn again. I thought to tell my Aunt and Uncle of what I had discovered, but I realized that they would hardly be able to keep such information from Mr. Collins, and through him, Jane. Our family had suffered so much already, and Jane's spirits were so low. I could not allow her to hope only to have those dreams of reunion crushed by her husband. I thought it better to allow you to remain dead so that Jane, Kitty, and Lydia need only mourn you once. I trust you will forgive me for this deception, just as I have forgiven you for yours.
I will not bother you with details of all that has happened to lead me to writing to you this morning. Your friend, Mr. Darcy, can provide you with knowledge of all that has transpired in order to make this missive possible. I fear I have wasted time, dwelling on the past, as a footman is currently waiting on me to conclude this note so that we may send it express to the care of Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley, who hosts Jane, William, and myself at Netherfield, has generously offered to host you as a guest of Netherfield as well. Mr. Collins is forbidden from entering the grounds of the estate, you may safely visit with us here and have no fear of encountering that man. Mr. Gantry – another guest of Netherfield and a highly intelligent young man, has assured me that they have concocted a very clever plan to bring Adelaide Bernard to Meryton, with none the wiser that she may have any connection to the mysterious Elizabeth Bennet.
Lizzy – I beg you. Please come to Netherfield. We have longed for you since you left. Having known you were alive these past several years, I was better able to compose my feelings in order to write you this note. Jane, who has had no knowledge of your person since the day you left, was far too overcome to write you herself. Allow me to assure you of the violence of her affections – there is no one more desirous of your company than her. We entreat you to consider what Mr. Darcy suggests with an open mind and pray that we will be reunited before erelong.
With every possible affection, Your Loving Sister,
-Mary Bennet
For all the years of study Elizabeth had applied to the mastery of her emotions, she could not stem the tide of the tears from escaping the confines for her lashes. Her sisters…could she possibly sum up all that they meant to her with mere words? If seeing Darcy made her heart dance, then the words of her sister set it to flight. She could not, would not, contain the joyous smile that spread across her wet cheeks. Her heart soared! She could see them again, could take her sisters into her embrace! But how?
As the initial rush of euphoria faded and practical considerations interrupted her happiness, a sinister voice entered her mind. It was a dark call from a nightmare she had but a few short weeks prior. "You ran because you are a coward." It hissed menacingly. "You return because you are a fool." Could she safely travel to Netherfield and avoid his detection? More than that – did she wish to avoid him any longer? It seemed events were conspiring outside of her control, that her best laid plans must be altered in the face of these new, pressing, allegations against her father's murderer.
His eyes still on the page, Darcy broke the silence between them. "If it is acceptable to you, your presence is greatly desired at Netherfield. Your sisters long to speak with you, and what's more, Mr. Gantry desires to interview you in order to better inform his case." He waved his pages lightly in gesture. "Clearly you have a great deal of advantage over us regarding your knowledge of Mr. Collins' proclivities."
"I am amenable to such a plan, provided it is as clever as Mary suggests."
"It is simple one – it has been reported in the papers that you will be traveling the country in the care of my family, and you will break your journey at Netherfield, as I am staying there. With both Mrs. Hurst, Bingley's sister, and Mrs. Collins in residence, there is nothing improper in it. As you are in mourning, the neighborhood cannot repine if you will not be introduced to them."
At that moment, Darcy looked up from his letter to see the tears which flowed freely down his beloved's face. His heart clenched painfully with the desire to hold her, to comfort her, but he held himself back. Instead he extended her his handkerchief and spoke gently, saying, "I apologize for pressing you to read what is clearly a private, emotional letter in my presence. I am sure that you have long been desiring my absence."
"No indeed!" Elizabeth cried, pressing the handkerchief to her face, her voice thick with tears. "Your absence is the last thing I want. I am overwhelmed – yes, but also overjoyed, I promise you."
"I am pleased to hear you speak so." He said in soothing tones, "I worried that you not receive me at all. I have no wish to discomfort you with my presence if you wish me gone."
"Gone!? After the very great kindness you have shown me – in condoling with me in my loss, providing me with a character reference, guiding me to reputable persons to help me handle my affairs? And now, with my knowledge of all that you have done for the benefit of my family? Impossible! Could I be such a wretched, ungrateful creature?"
With her words, Darcy winced. "I beg you – do not speak to me of gratitude! It pains me to hear it. You owe me nothing, there are no debts between us. I pray you will not receive me again if it is only your gratitude which compels you to see me."
Her tears dried and her cheeks red, Elizabeth reached across the space between them to return the slip of fabric. "Oh Mr. Darcy…I can not help my gratitude, though if it is your wish, I will not mention it again. But surely you can not believe that it is only gratitude which moves me to confer with you…" Her teeth dragged along plump lips, feeling shy and yet wishing to express her heart all the same. "I have missed you." She whispered.
If Elizabeth had been struck by Darcy's handsomeness when he first crossed her threshold – she was rendered positively stupid by the brilliance of his dimple-gilded grin at her confession. For his own part, his ears were ringing, reverberating her sweet words around his head. "And I, you." He said reverently, grasping her hand rather than the proffered cloth.
His thumb moved across her knuckles with a tender caress. Elizabeth's breath hitched; her blood raced. His rich, warm gaze drank her in, and his voice cracked as he spoke, saying, "This is neither the right time, nor a proper place for me to say these words to you, dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth. You are deserving of every bit of romance a man can muster. But I must…. I cannot…" He paused, swallowing back his fears. "Though we have been parted for some time, you have never been absent from my mind, nor my heart. You are far too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings remain what they were that April, please, tell me so at once. My affections, my wishes…. they are unchanged. But one word from you will silence me on this subject forever." Before Elizabeth had a moment to respond, he added, "Please know that your answer will in no way change my resolution to aid your family during this trial. It is just…if we are to continue in each other's company, I do not wish to allow myself to hope, if all hope is lost. I do not know if I could bare it."
He loved her – he loved her still! What utter joy, what ecstasy was hers, to be so loved by such a man! But could she marry? What of all her plans to free her sisters, what of her beloved independence? What of vengeance, what of justice? Elizabeth had seen marriage, and she would not subject herself to the authority of any man, even one so dear to her as Darcy. But her heart revolted. It called to Darcy, her desire to love and be loved freely consumed her.
Her mind told her to reject him, to sever this bond between them, but he was holding her hand and looking at her in a way no one had before. He was anxious and brave and so very good a man and he wore his heart on his sleeve for her. For Elizabeth. "My feelings…" She stammered, looking anywhere but in his eyes. "I am ashamed to remember what I said then. My feelings are so different…in fact, they are quite the opposite."
Darcy squeezed her small hand, happiness infused in every inch of his countenance. "Have I stepped into a dream? Adelaide…Elizabeth…can you mean that you love me now? That you will consent to be my wife?"
"I…I love you. Indeed, I am in earnest. But I should not speak so, for I cannot consent. I cannot marry you, or any man."
Happiness was supplanted by agony in an instant. "I do not understand your meaning!" Darcy exclaimed with passion. "You love me, but you will not marry me?"
"All of the obstacles which prevented you from forming any serious design upon my person for the many months of our acquaintance still remain. The world would laugh at you, and your family would scorn us."
"I make no attempt to deny these truths – the disparity of our respective stations is such that a match between us would be viewed as reprehensible by many. But I have the advantage now, of having lost you once. Perhaps I needed your rejection to understand that no amount of public ridicule could possibly compare to the pain of living my life without you."
"I am not of age…" She answered weakly, her heart breaking as her lips protested against him.
"And what of that?" Came the energetic reply. "If gaining the consent of your guardian is an impossibility, I shall wait for you to gain your independence. You will achieve your majority soon enough, I wager. Do I strike you as a fickle character? Has my love for you not endured both rejection and lengthy separation?"
"The scandal…"
Darcy rose from his seat, crossed behind the desk and knelt before Elizabeth. "The scandal is nothing to me, Elizabeth, nothing at all. I would take you to Scotland this very night if it was your wish. Let them laugh. I can not."
"You do not understand!" cried Elizabeth, standing and backing away from him. Darcy could not recall ever seeing her so pale and tortured. "It is not the scandal of my profession which would haunt us!"
"I can not understand if you will not take the trouble of explaining yourself to me!" He spat, rising as well and taking her hands in his own.
"Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley, cannot marry a murderess! If the law will not deliver justice to Mr. Collins, I will render his judgement myself! I will not allow my love for you to divide me from my purpose!"
Author's Notes: I am SO looking forward to hearing your thoughts on the reunion of ODC. Balancing the tension of the mystery with romance, as well as Elizabeth's very conflicted headspace was a fun challenge. Part of me wanted to write a scene that was purely romantic - but who can be purely romantic when there is revenge to seek and mysteries to solve?
Be well, be safe, and I'll do my best with this free time to get the next chapter out in a reasonable amount of time :)