What Would Mr. Darcy Do?

“Healing always does take patience, Georgiana, and healing from betrayal even more so.”

“Elizabeth, I wish you really were my sister! Please, accept Fitzwilliam soon—he needs you so much!”

“I think that you need not worry; he and I are, I believe, quite close to reaching an agreement.”

“But if your parents still dislike him so, what will they do when they find out?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Actually, I am currently engaged in a stratagem I believe will improve their outlook considerably,” she told her in a conspiratorial tone. “The truth is I am currently in deep disgrace with my family, owing to the fact they have determined that I am engaged in a liaison with a militia officer of rather uncertain morals.”

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.”

Chapter 7

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