Page 37 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Darcy’s smile was brief but genuine. “My uncle and aunt Matlock express dismay at the hasty nature of our union but are more measured in their response. My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam writes with his customary good humour that he looks forward to meeting the woman who managed what a parade of eligible young ladies has failed to accomplish for years—namely, leading me to the altar.”
“And your sister?” Elizabeth asked, curious about the young woman Darcy had spoken of with such affection.
“Georgiana writes with joy and excitement,” he replied. “She is eager to meet you.”
“I should like that,” Elizabeth said sincerely. “From your description, she seems a most amiable young woman.”
“She is,” Darcy agreed. “Though painfully shy with strangers. I hope you will be patient with her reserve. She had a rather unfortunate experience some time ago with someone she trusted who most savagely hurt her and she has not yet recovered.” He paused, then added, “In any case, we expected backlash from our families, did we not? Yet I believe in time they will come to accept our situation.”
“Jane also wrote,” Elizabeth remarked. “Though I have not yet read her letter. I find myself reluctant to face even her gentle judgement this evening.”
“You fear her disapproval?” Darcy asked.
“Not precisely. But I could not bear it if she, too, were disappointed in me. My father’s censure is painful enough without adding Jane’s.”
“Perhaps the morning will bring a clearer perspective,” Darcy suggested. “You need not face all challenges at once.”
Elizabeth nodded gratefully, appreciating his understanding. “I shall read her letter tomorrow, when I am better prepared to receive whatever, she may say.”
They finished their meal, the worst of the tension dissolved by their conversation. When the last course had been cleared away, Darcy rose from his chair.
“Would you care to join me in the library for a while?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to retire?”
Elizabeth hesitated. The offer was tempting—Pemberley’s library had quickly become her favourite room in the house, and the prospect of quiet conversation with Darcy held unexpected appeal. Yet her emotions remained raw from the letters, and she feared further discussion might lead to tears she could no longer contain.
“I think I shall retire,” she said at last. “The day has been rather more taxing than I anticipated.”
“Of course,” Darcy replied. “I shall see you at breakfast, then.”
He escorted her to the foot of the grand staircase and bade her farewell.
***
Once in her chamber, she looked at her sister’s letter, sitting there on the dresser. Though she had resolved to wait until morning, the sight of Jane’s familiar hand drew her irresistibly. Sleep would prove elusive with the unopened letter haunting her thoughts. Reluctantly, she broke the seal and settled into the upholstered chair by the window, drawing her shawl about her shoulders.
Beloved sister,
I cannot pretend to understand fully your decision, but I trust your judgement and know you would not have taken such a step without grave cause. Father and Mother will have told you about the Blackfriars and their responds so I shall not repeat it here.
Pay their falsehoods no mind, dearest sister. Those who truly know you understand your true motives. Indeed, had such motives driven you, you would have acquiesced to the Blackfriars match rather than risk all on an uncertain future.
She wrote for another page about the fallout, about what was being said in town and who was on her side—Charlotte, Maria, some of the townsfolk—and who was against her. Then, her letter took a turn towards normalcy, which Elizabeth appreciated immensely.
On a brighter note, we hear that Netherfield Park is to be let at last for the summer. A gentleman from the north, a Mr Bingley, plans to arrive within the month. Mama is already speculating on his fortune and marital status, as you might imagine.
I miss you terribly, Lizzy. The house seems strangely quiet without your laughter and wit. Write when you can, andknow that whatever circumstances led to your marriage, I wish only for your happiness.
Your loving sister,
Jane
Elizabeth folded the letter with a sigh, grateful for Jane’s support. She should have read it earlier, for she might have felt less inclined to cry at the dinner table.
Taking a sheet of Pemberley’s fine stationery, she dipped her quill and began to write:
My dearest Jane,
Your letter brought me more comfort than I can express. To know that you, at least, do not condemn my actions lifts a weight I carried.
