Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

first blossoms of the season were beginning to bloom and the grey, dreary days of winter seemed behind them.

Elizabeth was always grateful for the occasional warmth of a spring Sunday, as the children enjoyed playing outdoors, allowing her and her sister and aunt to spend some uninterrupted time together. They retired to the sitting room, where both Elizabeth and Jane picked up samplers to stitch and their aunt simply sipped a cup of tea, enjoying the presence of her two favourite nieces.

With the children out of the room, Elizabeth asked the dreaded question she asked each week: “Has there been any news from home?”

Mrs. Gardiner looked uneasily at Jane, alerting Elizabeth to the fact that there had been some news and it most likely was not good. “Yes, Lizzy,” Jane replied. “Mother writes about Lydia.”

“Lydia! What does she have to say about Lydia?”

Elizabeth’s sister and aunt exchanged glances again. Her aunt answered, “Your mother writes that Lydia insists they have had a sufficient time of mourning and that she should like to rejoin her friends and the regiment, which has been removed from Brighton and is now stationed at Stratford.”

Elizabeth’s head went back in exasperation. “And what, pray, does Mother say to this? Is she at all inclined to forbid this?”

Jane shook her head. “No, in fact, Lydia is most likely gone by now.”

Elizabeth took in a deep breath. “Oh, that headstrong girl! It has not even been a full year since Father’s death, and all she can think about is getting back to her friends and the officers!”

“Be not distressed, Elizabeth,” Jane assured her in her characteristically calm voice. “I am sure we can trust that Lydia will be on her best behaviour with the Forsters. They will look after her.”

“She will openly flirt with the officers and have no regard for modesty and decorum!”

“Elizabeth,” her aunt implored. “Have more faith in the Forsters. Have more faith in your sister!”

Elizabeth put her sampler down and folded her arms in front of her. “What else does she say?”

Jane looked down as Mrs. Gardiner gave her another piece of information.

“Netherfield has been sold.”

“Sold?”

Jane took a deep breath and looked up. Her blue eyes dimmed as she continued. “Yes, a family from the north has made an eligible offer and it has been accepted.”

“So Mr. Bingley never had any intention of returning.”

Jane returned her eyes to her sampler as she slowly shook her head. Elizabeth wondered if she was shielding her tears from her.

“Well, ladies.” Mrs. Gardiner thought it was time to change the subject. “Let us turn our attention to something more pleasant. Tell me, Elizabeth, what is new at the Willstone residence?”

Some recent news in that quarter brought a smile to Elizabeth’s face. “Mrs. Willstone’s sister, Rosalyn Matthews, is coming to London to spend several weeks with the family before we all return to the Willstones’ country home in Nottinghamshire.”

“And when will that be, dearest?”

“I believe it will be by the end of May or beginning of June.”

Jane looked up and sighed. “How we will miss your weekly visits, Lizzy! Is it altogether settled?”

“The Willstones are not inclined to spend the summer here.”

“Oh, Lizzy, how I wish things were different.”

“I know, Jane,” Elizabeth said softly. “I know.”

“I have heard they have a wonderful estate in the country,” her aunt reassured her, a smile revealing some creases that had begun to appear on her face. “I am quite certain you will be much happier there. I can just imagine you taking walks in the beautiful countryside.”

“But I shall miss you greatly.”

“And we shall miss you, too,” her aunt assured her. “But we will write, and will look forward to your return to Town later this year.”

For the remainder of the day, the topics of Lydia leaving for Stratford, Netherfield being sold, and Elizabeth leaving for the country were not discussed. Elizabeth cherished the closeness she felt to Jane and her aunt, and envied them for being able to be together when she could not. When she left later that evening, she found herself already looking forward to next week’s visit.

Upon returning to the Willstones’ home, she greeted the family and went up to her room. She was grateful she was not expected to report for her duties until seven o’clock the next morning.

The first thing she did was to go to the desk and pull out a piece of stationery. She sat down and began penning a letter to Charlotte. Despite her earlier assurance to Charlotte that their decision to move out of Longbourn was for the best, she wished now to convey to her how deeply she still treasured her as a friend.

When the letter was complete and addressed, she sat back, looking down at it. Despite her wish to do away with all resentment toward her friend, it seemed terribly amiss to have the name Collins and Longbourn together. She dropped her hands into her lap, letting out a long, disheartened sigh.

Elizabeth was normally not one to question providence, but she certainly did not understand all of the events that transpired the previous year. Certainly her father’s death had greatly affected and grieved her and her family. As her mother lamented, “His death could not have been more ill-timed! None of our girls married, and now we are to be out of Longbourn!”

She thought with a shake of her head how accepting either man’s offer would have secured her family’s welfare. Unfortunately, her family now found themselves in less than desirable situations.

The passage of a year, and Mr. Darcy’s letter had shed new light on certain beliefs she held regarding him, particularly in his dealings with Mr. Wickham. Time had done little, however, to dull those feelings of anger and resentment toward him for his actions in separating Jane and Mr. Bingley. It was very apparent to Elizabeth that Jane still bore the effects of a broken heart.

Elizabeth’s anger directed at Mr. Darcy for those actions was more potent than her anger at his unfeeling words to her as he declared that he loved her despite the fact that her station in life was so decidedly beneath him.

As Elizabeth considered this, she almost laughed. If only he could see me now! Then he could say with even more conviction that I was decidedly beneath him, and he would certainly congratulate himself that I refused him!

She reflected on the news she’d heard today that her youngest sister had been allowed to return to the Forsters’ as well as the report that Netherfield had been sold. That last piece of news put to rest all hopes that Mr. Bingley would once again return. Both pieces of information left her with a disconcerted ache inside. As far as Lydia was concerned, Elizabeth could only hope that she would show some restraint in her usually unseemly behaviour. And it would make little difference to Jane if Bingley returned to Netherfield, as she was now in London. But it seemed to remove any last ray of hope that Jane may have clung to regarding Mr. Bingley and his affections.

There had always been the hope that they would see each other in London, but that had not come to pass, most likely due to the Gardiners’ residence near Cheapside. Mr. Bingley would only be associating with those in superior circles, and their paths were unlikely to cross.

Elizabeth brought a slightly unsteady hand up and covered her mouth with her fingertips as she felt her anger against Mr. Darcy rise. Mr. Darcy had made no attempt to put to rights the erroneous information he had given his friend, even when Elizabeth had so adamantly assured him of Jane’s love for Mr. Bingley. She shook her head as she realized he would have no reason—no inclination—to do her that favour. The gnawing thought about forgiveness tried to surface, but she again pushed it down.

She stood up and walked over to her bed, picking up a book from the corner table. She threw herself down on the bed and opened it, hoping to attend to the words on the page and remove from her mind those intruding thoughts. But she could not. If anyone in her family had ever experienced true love, if anyone was deserving of true love, it was Jane, and Elizabeth could not understand why it had been stolen from her. No, she could not forgive Mr. Darcy for that. She did not think she ever could. The gnawing inside grew stronger.