Page 55 of Grief and Grievances
“Indeed.” Darcy’s voice was tight, betraying his inner turmoil. He turned back to the window, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the distant road that connected their lives to those at Longbourn.
“Would you like some company while you wait?” Georgiana asked, taking a hesitant step toward him. “Or would you prefer solitude?”
“Your company is always most welcome, sister,” Darcy said, his eyes never leaving the path. As they stood side by side, he felt a small measure of comfort in her presence. It reminded him that regardless of the outcome, he and Georgiana would face their future together.
A sudden burst of movement caught his eye, and he stiffened as Bingley’s horse came into view, emerging from behind a copse of trees.
“Here he comes,” Georgiana whispered, her voice filled with excitement. “Oh, I do hope Miss Bennet has accepted!”
“Indeed,” Darcy echoed, barely able to draw breath as Bingley trotted closer. Going to the front door, Darcy waited at the top of the steps for his friend’s arrival.
As a groom walked to the front steps, Bingley sprang from his horse, exuberance in his every motion. “Jane said yes!” he shouted, unable to contain his joy. “We are to be married in six weeks!”
“Congratulations, Bingley!” Darcy exclaimed, clasping his friend’s hand tightly. His heart swelled with happiness for them both, even as he silently prayed that Elizabeth might one day look upon him with equal affection.
“Thank you, Darcy,” Bingley replied, his eyes shining with gratitude. “I could not have done this without your encouragement.”
“Your happiness is well-deserved,” Darcy assured him, finally releasing his grip. As the friends exchanged heartfelt words of congratulations, the weight on Darcy’s chest lightened ever so slightly. Perhaps fate would favour him after all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thefirstlightofdawn seeped through the delicate curtains, casting a warm glow upon Elizabeth’s sleeping face. Stirring from her slumber, her eyes fluttered open, finding themselves greeted by the morning sun. A sudden restlessness seized her as she lay in bed, the previous evening’s events replaying in her mind. Jane and Bingley’s engagement had filled her heart with joy for her sister and yet, it seemed to have ignited an unexpected turmoil within her as well.
“Dearest Lizzy,” Jane had whispered before retiring to her room, the happiness radiating from her countenance, “I owe this all to you and Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth mused, her thoughts entangled like the tendrils of ivy climbing the walls of Longbourn. She could not deny that he had changed during their time apart, his pride softened, and his true character emerging from its guarded shell. But could she truly be happy as Mrs. Darcy? The question haunted her, refusing to be silenced by reason or logic.
“Elizabeth Bennet, it is high time you bring order to this chaos,” she admonished herself firmly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and planting her feet upon the cool wooden floor. Determined to clear her head and find an answer to her dilemma, she decided to embark on a long walk—a remedy which had often served her well in the past.
Donning her walking attire, Elizabeth slipped out of the house, her soft footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The morning air was crisp, tinged with the scent of dew-kissed grass and the promise of spring. Her steps quickened as she ventured further from Longbourn, each stride bringing her closer to solitude and quiet reflection.
“Mother would disapprove of such unladylike haste,” Elizabeth thought with a wry smile, imagining her mother’s dismay at the sight of a wild-haired daughter hastening through the countryside. “But today, propriety must yield to necessity.”
As the winding path led her up Oakham Mount, Elizabeth found herself growing increasingly frustrated. For every argument in favour of accepting Darcy’s proposal, a counterpoint emerged, leaving her no closer to a decision. Upon reaching the summit, she sank down onto a flat-topped rock, her gaze sweeping over the verdant landscape below.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered into the wind, as if saying his name aloud might bring clarity to her tangled emotions. She recalled their last encounter; his eyes had held an intensity that had left her breathless, and his words had been laced with unspoken sentiment. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine life as his wife—quiet evenings by the fire, lively intellectual debates, and the tender warmth of his embrace.
“Elizabeth Bennet, you are a fool for entertaining such fancies!” she shouted at herself, her cheeks flushed with colour. Her voice echoed through the empty fields, consumed by the vastness of the landscape. Despite her determination, clarity remained elusive, leaving her with nothing but a lingering sense of unrest.
With heavy heart and weary feet, she turned back towards Longbourn, the weight of her unanswered question still bearing down on her like an unwelcome guest.
Frustration gnawed at Elizabeth like a persistent foe, her thoughts tangled like the branches of an ancient oak. With each step, she attempted to unravel the knot within her heart, yet it only seemed to grow more intricate and impenetrable. The question that tormented her, whether happiness could truly be found as Mrs. Darcy, echoed through her mind in relentless repetition.
“Could I truly love him?” she murmured, her voice barely audible even to herself.
The path back to Longbourn traversed from open fields through a short stretch of woodland before rejoining the lane to Meryton. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees cast a pattern of light and shadow on the ground beneath Elizabeth’s feet, mirroring the turmoil within her own mind. Just a short distance from where she would emerge out to the lane again, a figure stepped out from behind a large oak tree, startling her.
“Mr. Wickham!” she exclaimed, her pulse quickening in alarm. She had not anticipated encountering anyone in this secluded spot. How came he to be here? Had he perhaps spied her walking and lurked here to intercept her, knowing she must take this path to return home?
“Miss Bennet,” he replied with a smirk, his eyes raking over her appraisingly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, attempting to keep her voice steady, though her breath caught in her throat. The knowledge that they were hidden from view and quite alone loomed ominously in her thoughts. “Excuse me, Mr. Wickham; I am expected at Longbourn and must return expeditiously.”
“Surely there is no harm in sparing a few moments for an old friend?” Wickham asked, blocking her way with an insolent smile.
“Your company is neither desired nor appreciated at present, Mr. Wickham,” she declared, trying to sidestep him. However, he remained steadfast in his obstruction, causing her unease to grow.
“Ah, Miss Bennet,” he said, his tone taking on a coarse edge. “You have always been so headstrong, so certain of your own judgement. But perhaps it is time for you to see just how precarious your situation truly is.”
