The Journey (23 page)

She looked up to meet my eyes in the reflection in the glass. “Why, Lizzy, what is wrong? You have quite lost your colour. Are you faint?”

She jumped up and bade me sit in her chair. I made little of her fears but accepted the glass of water she fetched, glad that my pallor provided a diversion and that I was not required to answer her questions about my nocturnal ramblings.

Eventually we were forced to quit primping and make our way to the drawing room. Mrs. Gardiner gave her approval to our dress, stating we did not need to pinch our cheeks for our natural colour was heightened.

I was surprised at how quickly my countenance had recovered and hoped the arrival of our guests did not cause another drastic change in my appearance. I was filled with disquiet at seeing Mr. Darcy so soon, knowing he was coming in anticipation of an answer. I wished with all my heart that he would send his regrets. It was not to be, however, for within the hour, they arrived, and the small drawing room became filled with guests and conversation.

I watched Miss Bingley’s eyes roam about the furnishings. A pinched look pursed her lips, and she lifted her nose higher as though she smelled something distasteful.

Mr. Bingley joined Jane almost immediately, and I was gratified to see that his attentions had not lessened since I had last seen them together. No matter Mr. Darcy’s warning, it appeared that Mr. Bingley still found my sister enchanting.

I avoided facing Mr. Darcy, fearing the tension between us might be as apparent as if a trumpet announced it, blaring forth for all to hear. My aunt and uncle, however, made every attempt to keep things light, the conversation stimulating, and the situation pleasant.

My father was in good humour. He offered titbits from the latest book he had read for everyone’s enjoyment. Mr. Darcy seemed surprised at his quotes. He was well acquainted with the author and joined in the conversation.

His sister, I am pleased to say, seemed a pleasant girl, somewhat shy but pretty. Her blonde hair and blue eyes contrasted against her brother’s dark colouring, but I could see that they both possessed the same cleft chin, and when she smiled, I recalled that similar expression upon his face.

Caroline fawned over Mr. Darcy and Georgiana, ignoring me for the most part, which suited us both. Jane drew Miss Darcy into the conversation often, soon putting her at ease in her gentle way. Mr. Darcy appeared pleased that she was getting along so well, and I looked up more than once to find him smiling at me. I should have found pleasure in such rarity, but it felt more like a dagger piercing my heart.

When seated in the dining room, I looked around the table and felt sick to my stomach. The smells of the food, which I knew was delicious, now nauseated me. Except for Miss Bingley, they all thought I would be his wife, and perchance even she accepted it. There could be little doubt, for I had always been sensible. Only I knew the truth.

After dinner while the men enjoyed their brandy and cigars, Jane and I discussed Georgiana’s interests with her, discovering that music was her great passion. My aunt led her to the pianoforte, and she and Jane scanned the stack of music, selecting particular favourites.

I wandered to the window and pulled back the lace curtains to see that it had begun to rain once more. I thought of the night in the cave, the storm outside, and Mr. Darcy’s comforting embrace. My mind, naturally, wandered to the firestorm that had erupted between us the morning after. I could feel his arms around me, his lips upon mine, how hungrily he had sought possession of my mouth.

Of whom could he have been thinking? I knew for certain it was not me. Did he not confess that very fact when he termed our kiss a mistake? Surely, there were some other lips he longed to kiss, some other woman he wished to hold in his arms. I shuddered at the thought.

“Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley said, appearing beside me and jarring me back to the present. “You do not appear any the worse for wear from your little excursion.”

“Excursion?” I could not believe she would dismiss our abduction to that degree.

“Yes, you must have found it quite fortuitous to be thrown into Mr. Darcy’s daily company. I know I would have found it exhilarating.”

“No doubt,” I said, “but then I was too busy keeping myself alive. I fear I missed the exhilarating part altogether. What a pity!”

She looked down her nose at me in that particular way she had and was just about to say something when the men returned to the room, and her attention was diverted.

Georgiana was prevailed upon to play for us. She was nervous, and I offered to turn the pages of the music for her. Quite accomplished at the instrument, she had no reason to fear playing for an audience other than her natural timidity. Everyone was appreciative of her performance.

“Now, Lizzy, it is your turn,” my uncle said.

“Oh no, please, I — ”

Mr. Bingley and Jane joined his pleas. Reluctantly, I took my place at the piano, opened a piece of music, and began to play poorly. With the exception of Caroline, however, the audience was kind in its judgment and urged me to render another. I wished nothing more than to leave the instrument when I looked up to see Mr. Darcy standing before me.

“I would greatly enjoy hearing you sing,” he said, “for I have rarely heard anything that gave me greater pleasure.”

Was that sarcasm I heard in his voice, or did I imagine it? Could he deliberately wish to humiliate me? Did this request relate to my singing for Morgan, for I knew that he resented my having done so?

“I am sorry, sir, but I am not in the mood to sing.” I met his gaze and held it, refusing to back down or be bullied.

“My misfortune,” he said. “Perhaps another time.”

He turned away, and I rose quickly, seeing that Caroline hurried toward the instrument. Jane urged her to play, and she was more than willing to astound us with her expertise, causing her fingers to fly in a rousing sonatina.

Afterwards, my aunt suggested tables be set up for those who wished to play card games. My father declined, preferring to return to his favourite author, and Mr. Darcy asked if I would join him in my uncle’s library in search of a certain book. I knew that most in the room were aware he did not seek a book, but they allowed us this subterfuge in order to be alone. I could not miss their knowing glances.

Mr. Darcy opened the door, and squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin, prepared for what I must do and say as I walked before him.

Inside the study, he poured us both a glass of sherry and said nothing until we had taken a sip. We stood before the fireplace facing each other. Our eyes met as we lifted the tiny glasses to our mouths.

“The time has come,” he said. “Unless you need longer to consider my question, I must ask for your answer. Do say if you require more time, as I am not in the habit of proposing, much less asking the question twice. Will you consent to be my wife?”

My heart was in my throat, and I had to swallow twice before speaking. “I do not need longer to consider it. I thank you for the honour, sir, but my decision remains the same. I cannot . . . I will not marry you.”

His colour rose, and his eyes darkened. Otherwise, he did not portray any outward indication of emotion. “Elizabeth, be very certain of what you are saying, for I shall not renew my addresses again.”

He held my eyes as though they were physically joined to his. I could not look away. “I am certain,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He blinked more than once, his eyes as black as midnight. “Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

Placing the glass on a nearby table, he turned to depart the room, but I stopped him.

“Mr. Darcy, allow me to thank you for all that you did to protect me during the trial we were forced to endure. I shall never forget your kindness and — and your sacrifice.”

His eyes had been downcast as I spoke, and when he lifted them to meet mine, I began to tremble at the intensity of his gaze.

“Elizabeth, I shall never forget what happened between us in the cave. I cannot rid myself of the guilt I feel for taking advantage of you.”

I felt myself blush, remembering the intensity of his kiss and the shameless way I had responded. My voice shook as I attempted to make light of it.

“It is in the past and shall be forgotten if neither of us speaks of it again.”

“We are not the only ones who must remain silent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you forgotten that the highwayman witnessed my transgression, and in his evil mind it appeared that we were both willing participants? He may well testify to the same in a public trial.”

My eyes widened at the thought, but I dismissed it. “That will not happen. Morgan would never betray — that is, I feel certain he will not speak of it.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes narrowed at my words, and he held my gaze for the longest time.

“I see,” he finally said. “Then I shall leave. May God help you, Elizabeth.”

His voice broke and, turning quickly, he left the room.

What happened thereafter I did not witness, for I fled above stairs to my chamber and locked the door behind me. Throwing myself upon the bed, I gave way to the tears that had threatened to erupt all day.

I knew that I had just refused the only man I had ever loved and possibly could ever love. And why? Because I believed he did not love me. But what was that look about? That final shocking expression I had seen upon his face?

It was not long before my aunt and sister knocked at the door, as well as my father.

“Please go away,” I cried. “I cannot speak to anyone right now.”

They continued to ask admittance, but I refused. Never had I behaved so rudely in my aunt’s house or to my father. I simply could not face them, not when I felt as though my insides had been ripped from my body.

I cried until I made myself ill, having to grab the chamber pot and lose the little bit of dinner I had managed to eat earlier. Fortunately, by that time, my family had given up and left me to my misery. I washed my face and pulled off my clothes. I did not bother to find a nightgown, but crawled into bed in my chemise.

A half-hour or so later I heard a light tap at the door once again, and Jane’s gentle voice entreated me to grant her entrance. Sighing deeply, I rose and unlocked the door.

“Are you alone?” I asked before opening it.

When she replied in the affirmative, I turned the knob, and she gathered me into her arms.

“Oh, Lizzy, what have you done?”

“Destroyed all my chances of happiness.” I gave myself up to a good cry on her shoulder.

At length, she drew me to the bed, where she bade me lie down and then gently washed my face. I asked her what Mr. Darcy had said to them, and she told me that he had met privately with our father for a few moments, and then he and his sister left the house. Caroline insisted that she and Mr. Bingley do the same shortly thereafter.

After the guests had departed, my father had said only that there would not be a wedding because I had refused Mr. Darcy.

“Papá is very upset, Lizzy. You must talk to him.”

“I know, and I shall tomorrow. I just cannot face anyone tonight but you.”

She hugged me again and crawled into the bed with me. “Talk to me. Make me understand why you will not marry Mr. Darcy.”

“He does not love me,” I said, my tone hopeless and defeated.

“He must care for you somewhat, else he would not have offered.”

“Oh, but he would. Can you not see that? He is a good man and willing to do the right thing. He is even willing to sacrifice his happiness to save my reputation. How can I allow him to do that?”

“Your opinion of Mr. Darcy is greatly altered. A week ago you would not have described him as either a good man or one capable of sacrifice.”

“True. But I am changed from the girl I was a week ago. The journey we were forced to endure has shown me the man’s true character, and I discovered the flaw in my own. I was deceived by my own prejudice, Jane.”

I then told her all that Mr. Darcy had related about Mr. Wickham and cautioned her that we must not reveal his despicable actions toward Miss Darcy. She was shocked and horrified, naturally, and could hardly believe it.

“Wickham so very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy! Dear Lizzy, only consider what he must have suffered. Having to relate such a thing of his sister — it is really too distressing. And poor Wickham! There is such an expression of goodness in his countenance, such an openness and gentleness in his manner. Perchance it is all a mistake. Perhaps he is not quite so bad.”

“No, Jane,” I replied, shaking my head. “You cannot have it both ways. One man has all the goodness and the other all the appearance of it.”

She flopped down upon the pillow next to me, and we remained silent for awhile.

“Shall I blow out the candle?” I asked.

“If you wish, but I cannot make out one thing. Why do you insist that Mr. Darcy does not love you?”

I extinguished the candle before answering her. I lay down in the dark room and felt my loss anew.

“Never once did he mention the word, Jane. All of his reasons for marriage were practical and for my well-being. He never said he loved me. He did not even pretend to do so.”