Abigail Reynolds - What Would Mr. Darcy Do?

Georgiana’s eyes grew wide, clearly unsure if she was serious or in jest, but Elizabeth relieved her mind immediately. “They based this conclusion on finding in my possession a rather compromising letter signed with his initials, which happen to be FD. I have refused to comment on the matter, which is taken as a sign of guilt, but I believe that by the time they discover that FD is your brother, they will be so relieved he is not Mr. Frederick Denny all the ill will of the past will be forgotten!”

Georgiana clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise, then burst into delighted giggles. “No, you are teasing me. I cannot believe it!”

“I am afraid it is quite true—I’m sure Kitty or Mary would be happy to fill you in on the details of my supposed affair. But you should feel no need to participate in the fiction; sooner or later I will have to tell them the truth.”

“I won’t say a word!” Georgiana’s eyes gleamed. “I might even have a bit more compromising material, if you need it.” She drew out a well-sealed envelope and handed it to Elizabeth. “I was told very strictly only to give this to you when I was sure we were alone.”

With a laugh, Elizabeth assured her that Darcy would soon be accusing her of corrupting his little sister if she started participating in such conspiracies, a description which made Georgiana giggle even more.

*   *   *

Elizabeth made no effort to find privacy to read her letter, and even on retiring for the night, found herself merely taking it out and looking at it without opening it. She ran her fingers lightly over the Darcy seal, conscious of feeling she did not deserve to receive any recognition from him at all.

How little she really knew him! And how great, apparently, was his devotion to her. Recalling Georgiana’s description of his despair after her refusal, tears began to fall down her cheeks. She had wondered about his disappointment, but it never occurred to her she might have caused him lasting distress. How she wished she had been more temperate in her words that day at Hunsford, that she had given him a chance to explain instead of pouring out her anger at him! A vivid memory came to her of Darcy’s face when she accused him on Wickham’s behalf—what worse could she have done? She did not deserve him, she thought to herself, but she would do everything in her power to make certain she never hurt him again. Gently, she broke the seal and opened the letter.

My dearest Elizabeth,

I feel I have so much to tell you, yet when I try to set it down, I find that I am, as the poet says, “as an imperfect actor on the stage who with his fear is put beside his part,” and so am I “oe’rcharged with burden of mine own love’s might,” and have not the words to express my thoughts. You are in my mind at every moment, and whenever anything of import happens, I find myself wondering what you would say, what you would think, if you were beside me. As I walk, I notice the sights around me as if for the first time, and hope that they will please you. I know it to be selfish of me, but I feel as if you somehow belong at Pemberley—as if Pemberley itself will not be complete until you are here, yet I know myself to be the one who feels incomplete without you. I miss the sound of your voice, the look in your eyes, your laugh—and I am certain you know which memories haunt my nights.—It causes me to wonder what has happened to the Darcy of the past who would never have violated proprieties so much as to write such a line, much less have given cause for the same, and all I can know is that he vanished when you first smiled on me.—I envy Georgiana, that she will have the privilege of being in your presence, while I must remain here without you. Until we meet again, know that all my love and devotion are yours.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

She shed a few more tears over her letter, thinking how fortunate she was to have not only gained his love in the first place, but also to be given another, much undeserved chance. She took a deep, somewhat ragged breath, and knew what it was she needed to do.

Picking up a lamp, she walked downstairs to the library where she knew Mr. Bennet would, by habit, be reading late into the night. She knocked lightly on the door, and entered in response to his call.

He looked at her inquisitively over his glasses, not putting aside his book. “Yes, Lizzy?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“What about him?”

She glanced heavenward for a moment, asking for patience. “FD. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Mr. Bennet carefully laid down his book and removed his glasses. “Are you attempting to suggest Mr. Darcy sent you that… love note?” he asked with a certain degree of incredulity.

Elizabeth lifted her chin. “That is indeed the case.”

“Lizzy,” he said, looking grave, “are you out of your senses, to be accepting the attentions of that man? Have not you always hated him?”

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! “There was a time when I would have said so, but for some time I have felt… quite differently.”

“Or in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?”

“I would marry him if he hadn’t a penny, and, while I would prefer to marry him with your blessing, the lack of it will not stop me.”

He observed her silently for a few moments. “Well, Lizzy, I confess you have truly surprised me. I cannot think of any man of our acquaintance who I would consider a less likely candidate to win your affections.”

“Nonetheless, that is the situation.”

“I see.” He paused. “May I ask who else may be aware of this?”

“The Gardiners have known for some time, and more recently, Jane and Bingley. Miss Darcy as well, of course.”

“You told the Gardiners, and they said nothing of it to me?” he said with deceptive mildness.

“It was more a matter of their discovering it than being told,” she said, smiling slightly at the memory. “And, if I am not mistaken, Mr. Gardiner tried to say something of it to you, but you disbelieved him.”

“So I did,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, Lizzy, what would you have me do?”

She sighed in relief at this attempt to meet her halfway. “I would ask that you try to get to know him, with an open mind, remembering much of your unfortunate impression of him is based on Wickham’s lies.”

“That seems a fair enough request. What do you plan to tell your mother?”

“Nothing,” Elizabeth responded with heartfelt sentiment. “Not until I have to.”

Mr. Bennet gave an ironic smile. “Well, I shall keep this matter between the two of us until you tell me otherwise. Lizzy, you have given me a great deal to think about, and perhaps we can discuss this further when I have had the opportunity to do so.”

“I would like that,” she said, turning to leave.

“And Lizzy? I’m glad that you told me.”

Elizabeth, with a strong sense of relief, said, “So am I.”

Elizabeth, her anxiety much reduced following her discussion with Mr. Bennet, found herself over the next few days doing nothing so much as waiting for Darcy’s return. She walked out with Georgiana on occasion, showing her the sights of Meryton and its vicinity, helped with wedding preparations, calmed her excitable mother, and otherwise seemed full of activity, but her thoughts had only one goal.

She spent less time with her guest than she would have expected, since Georgiana quickly formed an alliance with Mary and Kitty. Elizabeth was fascinated to observe the interactions between the three very diverse young women. Kitty was much taken with Georgiana’s graceful ways, and set to imitating them as assiduously as she ever had Lydia’s wildness, while Georgiana seemed drawn into some of Kitty’s liveliness. Mary, finding Georgiana respectful of her accomplishments, and, much to her surprise, not above asking for her assistance and advice with her music, seemed to feel more confident of herself; and while the younger girl was more than happy to spend hours reading with Mary, she pushed hard for reading poetry and novels over sermons. Elizabeth doubted the efficacy of this until she came across Mary reading a romantic novel one day, which Mary defensively informed her was one that Georgiana had praised. Mary found it hard to ignore when Kitty and Georgiana went off into long discussions on fashions and hairstyles, and eventually was pressed into developing some small interest in the topic herself so as not to be left out, causing the other two to coax her into making some small, but flattering, changes in her hair and manner of dress.

Elizabeth, pleased to hear the constant conversations, laughing and romping between the three, on occasion found herself feeling more like an aunt than an elder sister. It seemed likely to her that Georgiana’s previous shy and quiet behavior might have been related to being always surrounded by persons much older than herself, and to her constant awareness of her complicity in the Ramsgate affair.

She also suspected, based on a certain amount of giggling apparently directed toward her, that keeping secrecy became too difficult for Georgiana, and that her sisters had been let in on the news of Darcy’s interest in her as well. Mr. Bennet had turned out to have very little to say on the subject of Darcy after their late-night talk, beyond once asking Elizabeth when she had come to change her opinion of him.

One day, some five days before Darcy was expected—as Elizabeth kept track of time—Mary, Kitty, and Georgiana walked out to Meryton. Mrs. Bennet visited Mrs. Philips, leaving Elizabeth with time enough to enjoy the unseasonable warmth of the day by collecting fall fruits from the garden for a centerpiece. She found herself particularly taking pleasure in the quiet of the gardens, knowing Jane and the Gardiner family would be arriving from London on the following day, and she could expect little more peace until after the wedding. Allowing herself to luxuriate in the feeling of the sun on her shoulders and the gentle breeze, she was sublimely unaware of the presence of an interested observer.