As was her custom, Elizabeth awoke just before dawn, the early morning light, pale and timid, began to creep in through the curtains of her room. The house lay still and peaceful, save for the soft rustling of Mary turning over in her bed in the next door, and the distant sounds of the birds stirring in the trees.
The previous day's event drifted into her mind, particularly her conversation with Mary about Jane's condition. She had resolved to travel to Hertfordshire to be by Jane's side during childbirth.
Unlike the rest of her family, Elizabeth had never accused Jane of selfishness for refusing to sell Longbourn and divide the proceeds equally. In fact, Elizabeth had defended Jane when others had called her selfish for not sharing her inheritance. "I have never known an eldest son who would part with his inheritance simply to appease his younger siblings," she had remarked with conviction.
Aware of the risks of traveling alone, especially when staying overnight at an inn, Jane wisely suggested that Mr. Hill accompany her to ensure her safety.
Seated by the window in the dining room, Elizabeth focused on composing a thoughtful letter to Jane. After an hour, she took the time to reread her words, allowing the ink to dry before sealing it. At that moment, Mary entered the room and eagerly joined Elizabeth in preparing breakfast.
After their meal, Elizabeth set off on foot toward Ramsgate. She enjoyed the walk along the familiar path lined with wildflowers and sheltered by towering trees. Less than an hour later, she arrived at the post office, where she sent her letter to Jane and purchased ink and paper.
As she stepped outside, the sound of a carriage pulling to a stop in front of the inn caught her attention. Elizabeth watched with curiosity as the door opened and a tall, elegantly dressed gentleman stepped from the carriage, his movements graceful and measured. He extended a hand to assist an elderly woman and a young lady.
When the gentleman turned, her breath caught in her throat; to her astonishment, it was Mr. Darcy.
For a moment, Elizabeth could do nothing but stare, utterly transfixed by the familiar, yet still so startling, sight of him. His dark and serious eyes, his posture dignified, his presence commanding in a way that made her heart ache. But the presence of the young lady on his arm struck a sharp pang of sorrow deep into Elizabeth's heart. The sight of them together, so intimate, made the air seem too thick to breathe: So, he had married his cousin.
She wanted to retreat, to disappear into the post office and avoid the pain of seeing him with his bride. But before she could act on her instinct, Mr. Darcy looked up and saw her. For a moment, neither moved, locked in the other's gaze. Then, to her astonishment, he smiled – a genuine, warm smile that seemed to convey surprise and joy at seeing her.
"Miss Bennet," he began, "I… I did not expect to see you here in Ramsgate."
"Nor I you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Her voice was calm, though inwardly she felt her carefully composed world was beginning to fray at the edges. "I hope you are well?"
He smiled slightly, his dark eyes softening. "Yes, very well. Thank you."
A silence fell between them, each of them uncertain. Elizabeth could not ignore Miss de Bourgh standing a few steps behind him, her expression as reserved and pale as ever. Elizabeth's eyes flicked to her, and Darcy noticed, his gaze following hers.
"Oh, forgive me," he said, suddenly appearing self-conscious. "You remember my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh?"
"Of course." Elizabeth nodded politely, forcing a smile as she inclined her head. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss de Bourgh."
Anne dipped her head with a slight nod. "Miss Bennet," she replied softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She seemed content to remain silent, her demeanor as pale as Elizabeth remembered from Rosings Park.
"And are you… residing in Ramsgate?" Darcy inquired; his voice laced with a slight tremor that betrayed his nerves.
"No; I live just three miles from here with my mother and sister," Elizabeth replied, and after a pause, she ventured, "And how long will you be staying in Ramsgate?"
"We will be here several days," Darcy replied, his gaze lingering on hers in a way that made her heart flutter. After a beat, he added earnestly. "If you deem it appropriate, I would like to call upon your mother and sister to offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your father."
Her breath caught, the mention of her father tugging at her heart, yet she managed a soft, appreciative smile. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy. My mother and sister would be grateful for your sympathies."
As Elizabeth explained the best route to her home, Darcy's gaze rarely left hers, his eyes holding a warmth and attentiveness she hadn't anticipated. When she finished, he nodded slowly, as if savouring every word.
"Thank you," he replied, barely above a murmur. He glanced over his shoulder at the carriage, then back to her, hesitating. "If you wish, Miss Bennet… my carriage can take you home."
She shook her head slightly, "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, truly, but I enjoy the walk. It is a beautiful morning, and the path is familiar."
A slight disappointment flickered in his eyes, but he nodded, accepting her refusal gracefully. "Very well. I… I shall look forward to seeing you again, Miss Bennet."
"As will I," she replied, feeling her cheeks flush slightly under his steady gaze. She looked at Miss De Bourgh and exchanged their farewells.
As she made her way back home, Elizabeth's thoughts consumed her. Her mind turned over every detail of the brief encounter, the weight of Mr. Darcy's smile, the unexpected kindness in his offer, and the sharp pang of jealousy flared up in her chest upon seeing Miss de Bourgh by his side. She tried to focus on the familiar landscape around her – the path lined with wildflowers, the sound of birds in the trees – but all she could see were memories, flickering like images from a dream.
From their first meeting in Meryton, when he had made his cutting remark: She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me to their days spent at Netherfield Park when she was nursing Jane, their encounters on the paths of Rosings, and the unexpected proposal, and the letter that had altered drastically her opinion of him… and, finally the days she stayed at Pemberley, where her feelings for him deepened in ways she had never expected.
She was aware the social and economic differences between them had become even more accentuated, and it was not prudent for her to get her hopes up about things that were unlikely to happen. Furthermore, while he was not married to Miss. de Bourgh, it was strange that he was traveling with her. With every step she took, her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back her tears. I must not cry; I cannot burden Mary with my troubles, she reminded herself, aware of how much her sister was already shouldering on her own.
As she continued her walk, she gathered a small bouquet of wildflowers, her mother's favourites. When she arrived home, her mother was seated beside Mary on a small bench in the garden.
Seeing Elizabeth with her favorite flowers, Mrs. Bennet smiled and affectionately squeezed her daughters' hands.