Authors: M. A. Sandiford
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I was soon to encounter others with similar designs. But more of that later.’ She pointed towards the house. ‘For heaven’s sake come inside where we can talk in the warm.’
After further introductions the gentlemen repaired to Mr Bennet’s study, leaving Elizabeth and Bridget alone in the drawing room. They talked in a corner in hushed voices, while Bridget hungrily attacked a plate of sandwiches which Cook had prepared to accompany tea and cakes.
Determined to nurture the small flame of friendship that had been rekindled, Elizabeth took pains to avoid any deceit, and accordingly gave Bridget the unabridged version of her story. Bridget listened in excitement, munching steadily on the sandwiches, but turned pale in shock and stopped eating when Elizabeth recounted the scene at the cottage where she had been assaulted by Arthur Kaye.
Afterwards she took Elizabeth’s hand, and said: ‘I had no idea it was so bad.’
‘What did you hear?’ Elizabeth asked, with some anxiety.
‘There was a rumour that you had appeared at the trial, with bruising on your face, and spoken in private with Lord Harbury, upon which the prosecution was mysteriously dropped. However, no-one had any convincing explanation of how this had happened, and some suggested that your presence was a coincidence, unrelated to the trial, and that you were merely a friend of Miss Kaye’s.’ She took a deep breath, shaking her head slowly. ‘You are an extraordinarily brave woman, Elizabeth. I am in awe of you.’
Tears formed in Elizabeth’s eyes. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
Bridget gently pushed Elizabeth’s curls back from her forehead. ‘Was it here that you were struck? I still see a slight mark.’
‘In a way I’m sorry to lose the marks of war.’ Elizabeth grinned. ‘Perhaps I saw them as a badge of honour, like a duelling scar, which I believe is highly prized by the gentlemen.’
Bridget grimaced. ‘Before degenerating into your usual gammon, you might favour me with the rest of your story. What happened after the trial?’
‘I stayed overnight with Helena.’ Elizabeth met Bridget’s eye. ‘You understand of course that her abuse must remain an absolute secret, even from your husband. Nobody else knows except for Lord Harbury and myself.’ She coloured. ‘In fact, by telling you I have broken my promise to Lord Harbury …’
‘I suppose I should be honoured.’ Bridget’s face relaxed, and she continued: ‘But have no fear. Whatever else I may be, I am not an imbecile.’ Something seemed to strike her, and she asked, ‘And what of Mr D?’
Elizabeth shrugged. ‘I told him that I had a hold over the Kayes that I could not fully explain, without violating a confidence. This he accepted. What he refused to accept was my treatment at the hands of Sir Arthur Kaye.’
‘Which you conveniently forgot to mention prior to his signing the agreement?’
Elizabeth threw up her hands. ‘What else could I do? In a society run by madmen, only women can introduce a modicum of sanity, and the only means at our disposal is deceit.’
‘You explained this to Mr Darcy?’
‘Not quite in those words.’ Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a dejected whisper. ‘I have lost his affection, Bridget.’
Bridget held her hand again. ‘Are you sure of this?’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘The expression of distaste on his face was unmistakeable.’
‘So you have had no further dealings?’
‘None.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Not at any rate until next week, when we will both attend Jane’s wedding, myself as maid of honour, and Mr Darcy as best man.’ She looked up with tears in her eyes. ‘Even this joyful event is to be tarnished by the presence of that gentleman. Instead of looking forward to the occasion, I am dreading it.’
Bridget patted her hand, then leaned back. ‘And what of the Kayes?’
‘I have heard from Helena.’ Elizabeth’s face brightened. ‘That is the happiest outcome, since Helena is thriving. Lord Harbury has installed a certain Mr Broome, a man of his absolute trust, as steward of Wistham Court, and the new Broome is sweeping clean. Sir Arthur is exiled to his London home, and according to Helena’s latest report has found redemption in the Good Book. No longer are his days passed in gambling and drinking at the London clubs. He leaves home only to attend church, and devotes his time to meditation and repentance of his sins.’
Bridget raised her eyebrows. ‘One can see that this might take him some time. Is he still responsible for Miss Kaye?’
‘No, Helena has an independent allowance now, and divides her time between Wistham Court and Lord Harbury’s house in Birdcage Walk. She is planning to come out early next year, when the season gets under way.’
Bridget said admiringly, ‘You have saved her too.’
Elizabeth shook her head firmly. ‘In the end it was Helena who saved us all. Without her admission, I had no leverage over Lord Harbury, and the whole enterprise would have collapsed.’
‘In the event, it is you who have suffered.’ Bridget’s expression softened. ‘I’m sorry you have fallen out with Mr Darcy.’
‘We were never suited. We only fight like cats and dogs. Anyway, I am now unmarriageable. No gentleman wants to be paired with a dishonoured woman.’
‘I disagree!’ Bridget said this emphatically, then continued in a softer voice. ‘Your unpleasant experience is not generally known. There is no reason why you should not accept another offer, should a suitable one come your way.’
Elizabeth shook her head again. ‘Deceitful I may have been, but I’m not prepared to go that far. In any case, I have no need to marry, now that Jane will be settled. I enjoy both security and control over my life—why surrender this last advantage by placing myself in ownership to a man? Like Dorothy Wordsworth, I can make myself useful to my sibling, while at the same time pursuing my own interests, which have recently turned to psychology, and in particular the formation of character.’
‘Gracious, how has this come about?’
‘I have been fascinated by Helena Kaye, and to some extent her brother. She once confided that even after Sir Osborne’s death, she feels his voice inside her, and continues to judge herself by his demands. I cannot tell you how this observation has haunted me. Are we all like this? Is every human soul really a society of internalised personalities? I ask myself whether my beliefs and values are really my own, or whether they have been somehow implanted, and may even act
against
my own interests.’
Bridget whistled. ‘This is really profound, Elizabeth.’
‘Now you are laughing at me,’ Elizabeth smiled.
‘Not at all. We could discuss it further one day …’ Bridget paused, lifting her head, ‘provided that you wish to remain my friend, of course.’
‘Hmm.’ Elizabeth eyed Bridget appraisingly, keeping her in suspense, until they both dissolved into giggles and embraced.
Meryton Church was packed for the wedding. Waiting outside with Jane, while Mrs Bennet fussed with last-minute alterations to their gowns, Elizabeth watched the staff from Longbourn and Netherfield file past, along with prominent local families such as the Lucases. With reluctance an invitation had been sent to Wickham and Lydia, but it transpired that Wickham’s regiment was on alert for the impending war with Spain; in any case, with other demands on their purse, the couple could scarcely afford the journey. Fortunately this meant that Georgiana
could
attend, and as she entered the church in the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam, she paused a moment to enfold Elizabeth in a warm embrace.
At last all was ready, and when the organist struck up the processional, Jane entered with two Gardiner bridesmaids holding her train and Elizabeth following behind. At the altar Bingley awaited, impatiently fidgeting and taking occasional glances over his shoulder; beside him Elizabeth recognised the tall statuesque figure of Darcy.
The vows were spoken, enthusiastically by Bingley, and with quiet sincerity by Jane, and as she turned a fraction to watch their faces, Elizabeth caught a glance at Darcy, and their eyes met. They both looked away, as if stung, and she was left with the impression not of disdain but more of sadness; indeed his whole face was thin and lined, as if he had been eating too little and sleeping poorly. Something inside her softened, and again she felt inexplicably drawn to him, no matter how hopeless their prospects had become.
Custom required that they should leave the church side by side, and there Darcy remained as the congregation poured out to salute the happy couple, now waving from the chaise that would take them back to Netherfield, where the wedding breakfast awaited.
Impulsively Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm, and as he turned she said with a sad smile: ‘Life goes on.’
‘Your sister looked radiant as well as beautiful, and will make Bingley an excellent wife.’
His tone was subdued, as if he were taking care to be polite. Unable to resist a small dig, Elizabeth said: ‘You don’t feel that her affections were too little expressed, as on a previous occasion?’
This procured the hint of a smile. ‘I see you have recovered your spirits, Miss Bennet. Your complexion too is restored to its former perfection.’
‘Is your party staying for the breakfast?’
‘Yes. We plan to remain at Netherfield overnight, before setting off once more for Derbyshire.’
Elizabeth’s heart jumped at this unexpected opportunity, and while her courage was high she pressed on. ‘It may be asking a lot, Mr Darcy, but could we meet in private after the breakfast? Perhaps it will prove pointless, but there are some things I would like to say.’
He started, before replying stiffly: ‘Certainly, if you wish.’
Miss Bingley made her way through the throng, and bobbed an exaggerated greeting. ‘Miss Eliza, how charming to see you again, and looking
so
much better than before! Mr Darcy, you should have seen the condition of her face, it put me quite off my food for the whole evening!’ She took Darcy’s other arm. ‘Come Mr Darcy, my sister is in the carriage with Georgiana, and you are keeping us waiting.’
With a sigh, Darcy released Elizabeth’s arm, and they parted.
As the breakfast dragged on, with many courses and much jollity, Elizabeth passed most of the meal in a quiet conversation with Georgiana—but with her mind so fixed on the forthcoming meeting with Darcy that sometimes she lost the thread. Eventually people began to leave, and Darcy, after a word with Colonel Fitzwilliam, suggested that all four of them, Georgiana included, should take a walk around the grounds for some fresh air. On reaching the edge of the formal gardens, Colonel Fitzwilliam declared the exercise sufficient for his needs, and invited Georgiana to accompany him back to the house, so leaving Elizabeth alone with Darcy.
‘Another charade to protect my reputation?’ Elizabeth teased, as they walked through a copse towards the river.
‘Nothing of the sort,’ he replied gravely. ‘After so long in town, Georgiana is easily tired. She will soon recover her strength once we are back at Pemberley.’
They came to a rustic bench, only slightly damp after several rain-free days, and on Darcy’s suggestion paused to admire the view. For a while they sat in awkward silence, until he prompted: ‘What was it that you wished to say?’
Elizabeth took a deep breath, and in a voice tinged with desperation began: ‘I have been distressed by our last meeting in London, where I am afraid we did not understand one another.’
‘The outcome seemed clear enough to me. Having endured such shameful treatment on my behalf, you naturally despised me, and desired above all else to absent yourself from my company …’
Elizabeth raised her hand. ‘Mr Darcy, this is why we must talk, not through innuendo and facial expression, but through sentences carefully formed in the King’s English. We do not read one another’s countenances well, and you have certainly misinterpreted mine. Will you allow me to say what I truly think of you?’
He sighed. ‘If you must.’
She faced him with a slight smile, and with careful diction, as if speaking to a child, said: ‘Attend carefully, sir, since for once in my life I am not jesting, and mean everything I say. I consider you the finest man that I have ever met, or am ever likely to meet. Never have I encountered such courage, intelligence, decency, and genuine kindness, all united.’ She paused as he gasped, and his body rigidified, as if in shock. ‘What is more, I recant every word I have spoken in criticism of your behaviour towards that monster Sir Osborne Kaye. You were right to rescue Bertha, at the risk of incurring his spite. Having done so, you were right to fight him rather than
giving in to the bully
, as you put it, by conceding him an apology. By killing him you removed a pestilence that had already afflicted dozens of lives, and would have damaged many more. In short, your instincts were selfless and honourable, and in condemning you I only revealed my own superficiality. I hope I am wiser now, and that you will allow me to express my love and admiration. I realise of course that this declaration comes far too late, and that you can never feel about me as you once did.’
He stared at her, his movements suddenly animated. ‘Why too late, Elizabeth?’
‘Is it not obvious?’ She slapped the bench in frustration. ‘I am a dishonoured woman, Mr Darcy, another man’s bit of muslin. I saw revulsion written plainly on your face when I told you of Arthur Kaye’s attentions …’
‘Yes, but with myself, not you!’ Darcy interrupted angrily. ‘Elizabeth, how could you believe this of me?’
‘I thought …’ She hid her head in her hands, suddenly overcome. A handkerchief was gently pressed into her glove, but the kind gesture did not stem the flow of tears, and letting herself go she wept her heart out, as if purging herself from months of anxiety and humiliation. He retreated to give her space, and waited in silence until she was done.
‘Excuse me.’ She blew her nose, set the handkerchief demurely aside, and faced him with a shy smile.
‘Evidently my facial language was ambiguous, and I too should have employed the King’s English,’ he said.
‘And had you done so, what would you have said?’
‘That my feelings are unchanged from Hunsford, except that my admiration is greater than ever now that I have benefitted from your courage and ingenuity. That your sacrifice shames me, so that I feel unworthy of you.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Also that I would like to lay my hands on Arthur Kaye and tear him limb from limb.’