violent death of her younger daughter, so soon after the marriage. She blamed Colonel Forster for not taking care of Lydia properly in Brighton, blamed Mr. Wickham for seducing the mad woman, blamed the Gardiners and Elizabeth for allowing Lydia to run away a second time, and blamed her poor husband for not finding the pair sooner. She stayed in her room most of the time, still blaming everyone but herself, and demanding constant attention from her daughters and servants.
The only happy news was that Mr. Bennet had recovered, not long after their return from London, and seemed not to suffer any major damage from the strain to his heart, beyond a slight limp in his right leg. It was a tremendous relief since, had he, too, met his judgment, they would surely all have been displaced from Longbourn, and Elizabeth thought privately that her mother might well have gone mad, if that turn of events had occurred.
On the day that the Bennets packed up their mourning clothes, Mrs. Bennet received the best news from her sister, Mrs. Philips: Mr. Bingley would be returning to Netherfield, the following week.
Elizabeth’s heart-beat skipped on hearing the news.
In the event, Mr. Bingley stayed for tea but declined dinner. He tried repeatedly to engage Miss Bennet in conversation, but Jane was even more quiet than usual. Mrs. Bennet managed to monopolise the conversation, thus inadvertently helping the couple to overcome the awkwardness of their first meeting after such a long separation.
When he was ready to leave, Mr. Bingley addressed Elizabeth, handing her a letter… from Miss Darcy. He had almost forgotten his message, so distracted was he at seeing his angel, Jane, again. He finally told Elizabeth that she was invited by Miss Darcy to visit Pemberley as soon as Elizabeth could find the time. He further added that Georgiana and her brother were both eager to renew their acquaintance since they last met in London.
Elizabeth’s hands trembled when she held the letter. Her countenance turned from desperation to hope.
Chapter Five
Pemberley in late October was magnificent. The weather was getting colder, even in sunlight, but the Buxwood, Yew and multi-coloured fallen leaves created a vibrant mosaic that framed the great estate.
Elizabeth drew a deep breath of the crisp morning air as she walked to the maze.
She had been crestfallen, the previous evening, to have found only Georgiana waiting to welcome their party when Elizabeth and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived. It seemed that a tenant problem on the far west side of the estate's property had called Mr. Darcy away. But the young girl reassured her that he was looking forward to seeing them all again, and Georgiana welcomed Elizabeth like a long lost sister. They did not talk much during dinner, as Georgiana was not used to playing hostess and Elizabeth’s heart was heavy with anticipation and disappointment. They all retired early from an exhausting day of travel.
Elizabeth tossed and turned the whole night. Although she had been placed in the most comfortable and luxuriant bedchamber in which she had ever stayed, she found herself longing to embrace Mr. Darcy to her bosom, wanting nothing more than to be transported back to the hours they had spent together at that fisherman's hut where they had, at least and at last, been quite alone together.
She woke up very early and walked out along the garden path, where finally she came upon the maze, at the most remote part of the garden. Its tall bushes were trimmed and shaped most intriguingly, and she walked into it, her heart full of thoughts of the owner of the great estate. While her gaze traversed flowers, pots, and statues along the many twists and turns, her thoughts reflected upon her life, reviewing the things she had done and discussed with this man.
After half an hour in the maze, she decided to return to the house, but when she turned round, she soon discovered that she was lost, unable to find her way out. It seemed a wryly apt reflection of her life. Was she never to find a way out of the confusing situations into which she got herself? Would Mr. Darcy finally decide that his love for her was over? Would his ardent admiration fade away, just when she had at last found her love for him?
She could not bear to face such a possibility. She must find a way for him to love her as he once had. She must.
So decided, she ran from one lane to another, feeling more and more like a trapped animal in a cage. Soon, in her rush to find the way out, she twisted her recently injured ankle, which only made her remember how Mr. Darcy had carried her, a recollection that added to her state of melancholy. She berated herself for having fallen into such a panic as to hurt herself once again. Leaning gingerly against the bushes for support, she took a deep breath, commanding herself to calmness.
Soon, although the thought pleased her not at all, she decided that she would have to call out for assistance while she slowly, painfully continued her search for the exit.
“Help! Someone please help me! I am lost in this maze! Help!” Elizabeth yelled as she limped along the twisting paths, hoping that one of the gardeners might hear her.
Suddenly she heard her name. “Elizabeth! Where are you?”
The echoing voice of Mr. Darcy was sweet balm on her wounded soul. She limped toward the sound of his voice, turning around another set of bushes. “Mr. Darcy,” she called with renewed hope, 'I am here.”
“Elizabeth!” Finally, Mr. Darcy came to her vision. He looked thinner than when she had seen him last, with an air of distress and exhaustion. “Elizabeth, my lord! What happened to you?” He walked straight to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, taking much of the weight from her injured ankle.
“Mr. Darcy, you are finally here!” She was overcome with emotion. The grief of the past six months, the uncertainty of not knowing whether she would see him again, the crazed worry of feeling forever trapped in the maze, all combined to overtake her. She rose on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her face to his shoulder and began to cry.
Mr. Darcy, for his part, was still not completely recovered from the infected wound he had suffered. Added to his concerns, the emotional trauma of witnessing Wickham’s violent death and the gloomy sense of unrequited love from not knowing whether Elizabeth would forgive him had proven nearly too much for him to bear, through these long, lonely months of uncertainty. Indeed, at one time, he had wished to rest his body and mind forever.
His sister had begged him to send word of his continued illness to Elizabeth, but he would have none of that. He could not bear to worry her when she was in mourning, and while her father was still sick. What constructive purpose could it serve to reveal to her that he, himself, was ill? She would not have been free to come to visit him, even if she desired to do so. It would have only added to her burden. He loved her too much to let her worry about him.
In the end, he tried to stay resolved to the hope that she did not want him to be harmed.
In the months that followed, his body slowly recovered, but his spirits were still uncertain. Once he was physically strong enough, he sought out Bingley, to correct his officious interference concerning Miss Bennet. Then he returned to Pemberley, determined to prepare for Elizabeth’s arrival. When six months had passed, a proper and respectful time period for those in mourning, he at last felt free to instruct Georgiana to extend an invitation to the Gardiners and Elizabeth, as originally planned. Moreover, Mr. Bingley was due to return to Netherfield, and Mr. Darcy knew that he would be doing a friend a service by asking him to deliver the message.
In the event, Mr. Darcy was deeply frustrated not to be available to welcome Elizabeth to Pemberley on the day of her arrival. But even the best-laid plans could be derailed by unexpected events. In this case, a pressing tenant problem called him away, and he was not even able to be there when she spent the first night in his home. Thus he was robbed of witnessing her first impression when she viewed Pemberley. Did she approve of it? Her good opinion was so rarely bestowed that it would have been a wonder to see her fine eyes brighten when she first arrived.
