Read B00CO8L910 EBOK Online

Authors: Karalynne Mackrory

B00CO8L910 EBOK (20 page)

With her new understanding about his feelings for her, she realized that, if Mr. Darcy had allowed his love for her after all these months to compel him to offer her his hand and she had not learned the truth about him, she would have made an even graver mistake in refusing him. For a refusal, she knew she would have given. The very thought of hurting him so, of turning away his love, a love she could not imagine living without now, made her eyes swim beneath their lids.

With overwhelming gratitude, Elizabeth offered up a solemn prayer of thanks for the blessings she’d been given in the face of this adversity. She was certain that he was now the only man she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. Elizabeth smiled as she thought,
It is a good thing then that he plans to call on me soon.

* * *

Madeline Gardiner had not spent twelve years of blissful matrimony without being able to recognize the look in a man’s eyes when he was in love. Neither was she unaware of the look that came into a man’s eyes when that love was coupled with desire. Therefore, as much as she had enjoyed her time visiting her friends in Lambton and becoming better acquainted with the Darcys, and as much as she had been gratified exceedingly by the growing attachment between her favorite niece and the master of that beautiful estate, she was glad now to be on their way.

She had seen that look of love in Mr. Darcy’s eyes whenever they rested on her niece. She had also seen when it mixed with a bit of the other, especially when they had returned from their walk around the lake. She was happy for Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy would make a fine suitor and husband. She was also glad to see that her niece returned the man’s affections. For all Elizabeth’s efforts to conceal her feelings, Madeline knew she was in love with Mr. Darcy too. Furthermore, Madeline had not been married these twelve years without knowing the blessed power such a love could have over both one’s heart and body — which was all the more reason to separate them until a proper understanding could be had.

She looked at her niece’s sleeping form in the carriage. Elizabeth had confessed that Mr. Darcy had asked to call on her upon their return to Hertfordshire. As her aunt, she felt incumbent to discuss with her the significance of such a request. Elizabeth merrily acknowledged the implication and welcomed his return to Hertfordshire. Madeline was gladdened there was at least the hint of an understanding between the two, for surely it would secure the happiness of both. She only wished she were not continuing on to London after returning her niece back home; she would like to have seen for herself how this love affair unfolded. Nevertheless, she would have to content herself in knowing her niece to be a proficient correspondent.

When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her sister-in-law’s house, Madeline gently shook Elizabeth. She opened her eyes immediately, surprised to have reached home.

“You were asleep a long time, dear.”

“Oh I was not asleep, Aunt. But I suppose I was too preoccupied to notice the time.” Elizabeth was grateful to have shared her love for Mr. Darcy with her dear aunt now that she realized it herself, but she was eager to talk with Jane again and see how her family fared.

Aunt Gardiner smiled knowingly at her niece before turning towards the now open carriage door to be handed down by her own sweetheart.

* * *

It seemed her family was doing quite all right, Elizabeth discovered — more than all right. When Elizabeth and the Gardiners entered Longbourn, they were greeted by both her parents and all of her sisters. Everyone was all smiles, and she had to laugh at their warm welcome. After enthusiastic hugs with her sisters, she noticed her parents holding hands. Even as they embraced her, they seemed reluctant to separate.

Elizabeth looked over her mother’s shoulder with a raised eyebrow and a look of question to Jane. Smiling, her sister shook her head in return. Elizabeth would have to speak with her sister at the earliest opportunity about their parents’ odd behavior.

When Elizabeth and Jane retired for the evening, the former immediately brought up the topic with Jane.

“Papa and Mama, Jane. What has happened?”

Jane laughed and leaned back against the four-poster bed as she pulled her legs up inside her nightgown. She shook her head. “I cannot say for certain, Lizzy. It all started that day when Papa came into the parlor and kissed her in front of everyone. You remember. Since then, they have spent much of each day in conversation together, alone in their chambers. I have even heard Mama laugh.”

Elizabeth was all astonishment! “What can you make of it?”

Jane smiled contentedly. “It must be love, Lizzy.”

“Love?” Elizabeth was so stunned she could not utter anything else for a few minutes. Surely, her parents did not love each other; their dispositions had grown sufficiently unlike to make it seem impossible. Her sister was leaning her head at an angle against the post with a wistful look.

“And what do you know about love, Jane?” Elizabeth asked with a sly smile. She watched her sister blush and smile back at her.

“Mr. Bingley will speak to Papa tomorrow, Lizzy.” She bent her head and picked at her fingernails. “To seek my hand.”

Elizabeth leapt across the bed, instantly embracing her sister. “I cannot believe it! Oh, well I can, of course. I knew he loved you, but this is a surprise!”

Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth where confidence would give pleasure. “Technically, we are out of full mourning, Lizzy, as of two days ago. There is nothing improper about his asking for my hand now.” Jane colored and looked away.

Elizabeth laughed heartily. “Yes just two days ago, I suppose I could not have expected Mr. Bingley to wait a moment longer than he had to. I daresay he has been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you last year.”

Jane chuckled softly. “You do not disapprove of his haste, do you Lizzy? I could not bear it if you thought he was being insensible to Lydia’s death. She will always be in our hearts, but we must try to go on. I think Lydia would wish us happy . . . ” Jane broke off with uncertainty and looked at her sister for assurance.

Elizabeth tilted her head and gently patted her sister’s cheek. “Janey, dear, of course, I do not disapprove or think ill of Mr. Bingley. Society cannot condemn his offer.” With no little cheek, she added, “Truly, Jane. I think the poor man would have proposed sooner had it been possible. And if he had, I could not have censured him, for he would have secured, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister.”

Jane smiled in relief and embraced her sister again. “Oh, Lizzy, I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear you say so. I have loved him for so long. How shall I bear so much happiness?” cried Jane. “He has been so much help to me and our whole family during this difficult time. He had a brother once that he lost to an illness when he was just fourteen. His empathy is great.”

“Well then, how can I not but approve of such a man for you, Jane. But wait” — Lizzy reached for her sister’s hand again — “you have said nothing of his proposal yet. Tell me every detail, Jane; do not leave anything out.”

Jane’s open and generous heart shared the details of the proposal with her sister, and she flushed when she confessed how Mr. Bingley had then kissed her cheek.

“I know you do not know what that feels like, and I wish I could tell you, but I simply cannot put it into words, Lizzy! It made me quite faint!”

Elizabeth turned her head and smiled as the memory of her own first kiss swept over her. “I do not know what a kiss on the cheek feels like, to be sure . . . ”

Jane leaned forward to see her sister’s face better. “No!” Jane cupped her mouth. “No, Lizzy! What are you hiding from me?” When her sister did not respond but did blush a deeper red instead, Jane laughed outright. “Lizzy, you have not said anything of your trip to Derbyshire. Perhaps you have something to tell me?”

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip as she looked towards her sister. She had not even told her aunt about the kiss, but she knew she could not keep it from Jane — not after seeing Jane blush at the memory of her own first kiss.

Elizabeth fell backwards on the bed, dreamily gazing up at the shadows on the ceiling, and sighed. “You may not be able to explain your first kiss, Jane, but that is very well, for I shall never forget the memory of my own.”

Jane sat in stunned silence and then burst out, “Why, Elizabeth Rose Bennet! You have been the sly one! To think you have come home engaged to Mr. Darcy and said not a single word!”

Elizabeth laughed. “I am not engaged to Mr. Darcy.”

Jane fell to her knees next to her supine sister, her brows lowered in concern. “Not engaged to Mr. Darcy? Then whom have you kissed?”

Jane was confused, for she was convinced that her sister had left Longbourn half in love with Mr. Darcy and only needed to spend time with the man to realize it herself.

“It was Mr. Darcy I kissed — or rather, he kissed me.” Elizabeth giggled and covered her warm cheeks again.

“But you said you were not engaged?” Jane sat back on her heels then and rubbed her puckered brow.

Elizabeth raised herself up on her elbow to reach for her sister’s hand. She pulled it away from her brow and said softly, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips, “Not yet, anyway. I do believe he would have asked me if I had not been in mourning. He is so proper you know that a few days kept him from asking. But he did say he wished to call on me upon my return to Hertfordshire.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy is very proper.”

Both girls were quiet for a minute, looking at each other. Then they erupted into laughter as Jane said, “Well, perhaps not
very
proper, it would seem.”

Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. “Not very, indeed.”

Jane clasped her sister’s hands. “Well, now you must tell me how it happened.”

Elizabeth kissed her sister’s hand. “I hardly know where to begin.”

“Then you must start with the beginning, when you arrived at Pemberley. Did you like his home?”

Elizabeth nodded her head in exaggeration. “I liked it very much — perhaps, too much.”

“And did seeing it render its owner a bit more attractive?”

“Perhaps, a little.” Lizzy smiled mischievously. With a sigh she continued, “He was very kind, and every moment I spent with Georgiana and him was most pleasing. Their home is quite grand and handsome, less of splendor but real elegance, and every comfort imaginable was available to me.” She recollected their conversations and Georgiana’s many attempts to leave them alone. She told her sister about her new knowledge regarding Wickham’s character too and her feelings on discovering her own faulty discernment.

“But I cannot believe he could have been so deceitful,” Jane said. “There seemed to be truth in all his looks.”

Lizzy shook her head sadly. “I know. It seems he is not an honorable man after all. But, Jane, it is in this that I need your advice.”

“Of course, Lizzy.”

“Do you think we ought to make it known generally what we know of his true character?”

“I cannot think there is a need now — not now that he is gone from the neighborhood.”

“I suppose you are right. It can do no good when he is no longer in the area.” Elizabeth privately added,
and it would not be good for Mama to blame herself further by finding out she promoted the affections of such a man to Lydia
.

“And perhaps he left to start anew, though it would seem then that the rumors about him have been true after all. They say he left substantial debts and that he dallied with some of the serving girls in Meryton.”

Elizabeth sighed heavily. “And as I have learned, Mr. Darcy has all the goodness and Mr. Wickham only the appearance of it.” Elizabeth released her sister’s hand and slid off the bed. She walked towards her traveling valise and pulled out the miniature of her sister. With her back to Jane, she let her finger trail across Lydia’s face as her thoughts trailed across the miles to the artist. He really had all the goodness. With a smile, she turned to her sister and handed her the miniature.

“Mr. Darcy made this for us, and he gave it to me,” she said softly, almost reverently.

Jane looked down at the face in the picture. “Oh, our dear Lydia.” Tears filled the eyes of both, communicating the moment better than words could have. “It captures her exactly. In fact, I believe that is the very dress that she wore to the Netherfield Ball.”

Elizabeth nodded as she had realized that too while traveling. Darcy had said that he had an excellent memory, and he had portrayed Lydia exactly as he remembered her the last time he had been in her company. The portrait depicted Lydia laughing, sitting in a gilded chair. Elizabeth had remembered seeing her sister in that exact pose directly after her dance with Darcy. Their heated argument during their one dance together had ended, and their attention had been momentarily drawn to the loud laughter of Lydia as she sat down, heated after her own dance with an officer. At the time, she knew Mr. Darcy had looked at her sister’s behavior with disdain. It had angered her then.

When she had first realized where the scene was from, she had been confused as to why he would choose to draw her like that when at the time he had clearly disapproved of her actions. Upon further retrospection, Elizabeth realized that the setting captured Lydia’s zest for life and energy. She was at such a tender age and may never have grown out of her selfish, imprudent ways, but as her sister, Elizabeth could not help loving her for that selfsame exuberant spirit. As soon as she realized it, she knew immediately that, although Darcy had not approved of that behavior, he was wise enough to realize that her family would cherish having her portrayed thus with laughter dancing in her eyes. She could not even argue now with his disapproval of her sister’s behavior then; it was not proper behavior for a young lady of gentle birth, to be sure. The truth had caused Elizabeth some mortification until she reminded herself that he had wished to call on her. Such unguarded absurdities were not enough to frighten him away.

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