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“I wish you good luck,” he teased her, then jumped into the saddle, and, with a last glance at her, he was gone.
Nine
Elizabeth gazed after Mr Darcy with a strange mix of feelings growing inside her. She had never imagined having such a meaningful yet pleasant conversation with him. She hardly recognised the proud and arrogant gentleman hidden somewhere behind the amiable, considerate, trustworthy man who had opened his heart to her so unexpectedly.
What had happened to him to cause such a drastic and welcome alteration of his manners? She had expected him to be upset that she had dragged his name into such preposterous gossip. Instead, he had appeared as though he wished to win her good opinion. Was it possible that he did not yet know the extent of the rumours about him? Very likely! He would be appalled — and rightfully so! — if he heard her aunt Phillips proclaiming he should marry her. What a ludicrous notion!
And that Mr Wickham — such a despicable character! To waste all the advantages granted by his godfather! To have the chance to study whatever he liked and to choose to waste the money he was so generously offered was abhorrent. A total of four thousand pounds was a small fortune that took most men years and years of hard work to earn, yet he had carelessly squandered it. Then he had impudently fanned the rumours around her and Mr Darcy’s meeting in the library! She would certainly give him a piece of her mind if she had the chance.
Until then, she would ask her father to forbid Lydia and Kitty from his company. In fact, they should not be allowed in the company of any officer by themselves.
Elizabeth returned to Longbourn, still thinking about her meeting with Mr Darcy. She was slightly bothered by how that short conversation had affected her; there was a sensation inside her that she could only describe as part distress and part pleasure, part joy and part anguish, and the novelty of such feelings puzzled and disturbed her.
Mr Darcy was more than she had expected, different from what she had assumed. Perhaps he would not oppose Mr Bingley’s admiration for Jane. Maybe, if Mr Bingley would finally propose to Jane, they would remain friends. She hoped the ridiculous rumour would dissipate soon and would not affect any of them too much.
“Lizzy, are you home? Where have you been?” her mother called.
“I went for a walk, Mama. I would like to rest a little now. Are you alone?”
“I am. Your father is at Netherfield, and your sisters have walked your aunt Phillips home. You should know your aunt was offended by your response to her suggestion.”
“I am sorry to have upset her, but I was offended by her suggestion. I pray she has the wisdom not to repeat such absurdities.”
“She was not wrong, though! And you must admit, if you marry Mr Darcy—”
“Mama! I am going to my room to rest now!” Elizabeth interrupted her abruptly.
No, there was no hope that her mother would see reason; and her aunt Phillips was no better.
The peaceful silence of her room was a blessing for Elizabeth. She lay back on her bed, allowing pleasant thoughts to envelop her; strangely, they were all related to Mr Darcy in some way. At some point, she fell asleep and woke to the sound of loud voices.
It was late in the afternoon, and she found all her sisters and their mother in the drawing room, chatting. They fell silent when she entered, which proved the subject of their discussion was still the rumour.
“Lizzy, your father asked that you join him in the library,” her mother said. “Your sisters were just telling me that they met the officers and—”
“Thank you, Mama. I shall go to Papa immediately,” she hastily replied, avoiding another unpleasant conversation.
“Close the door, Lizzy, and come and sit here,” her father asked quietly.
She did so, watching him attentively.
“How was your visit, Papa?”
“It was…interesting. Pleasant for the most part, until it took an expected turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr Bingley’s sisters have heard the rumours too. There was quite a scandal, and they demanded he return to London immediately.”
“Oh… I am so sorry… I feared this might happen. So, will they leave?”
“I am not sure. Mr Bingley did not settle the matter in my presence, but the quarrel brought up another subject.”
He paused; Elizabeth waited.
“I am not even sure how to tell you this. You had better read this letter. I know its content. I gave my consent to it.” He held out a folded piece of paper to her.
She took it, puzzled, curious, slightly nervous. She opened it but did not recognise the writing, but from the first words she held her breath while her heart raced.
