Folly and Forgiveness Page 5

  “It was all I could do to keep my own mother home and have her let me come to assist you. She was determined to be of as much service to your family as your mother had been to ours. In the end, I convinced her that her emotions were too raw for her to help the way she wanted, and she was better sending me instead. Even had my mother not been adamant, I would have come anyway to help you.”

  Elizabeth brushed away a tear, the first of many she expected today. “I am fortunate in my choice of friends.”

  “Indeed you are, Eliza,” Charlotte replied with a grin as she squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  “Then you should tell me what to do, for I cannot bear to be idle right now. I must have something to occupy me.”

  “I would have you rest, for you do not look like you slept at all last night.”

  “I do not think I have really slept since before. When I do, I have such awful dreams that I fear to go to bed anymore. Perhaps tomorrow, when there is nothing left to be done, I will sleep. Right now, I cannot.”

  “Then get out of the house for a bit. Take a walk and get some air.”

  Elizabeth allowed that she would do so and fetched her pelisse before heading out.

  The air was warm for December and Elizabeth enjoyed the sunshine. Dark clouds hovered on the horizon, so she knew the weather would not last. Elizabeth selected a short trail, knowing she could not be gone long.

  Listening to the birds overhead and the rustle of dried leaves beneath her feet, Elizabeth began to relax. She would let her mind stay empty and untroubled for a little while as she enjoyed the beauty of nature around her.

  As she came to the crest of a hill she looked out at the lands below her. She sat on a fallen log she had often used as a bench to gaze out at one of her favorite views. The land below had few trees and was mostly open meadow. She had often run through the grass as a child, and truth be told, when she was somewhat older than a child. Elizabeth smiled at the happy memory, glad to have found one she could focus upon for a while.

  A rider in the distance caught her view. Perhaps Mr. Bingley out for a morning run. She had walked in the direction of Netherfield, so it could be that gentleman she saw. As he rode closer she realized the horse was not the color of the one Mr. Bingley favored. The posture was different as well. She had seen Mr. Bingley out riding several times as she had walked, and the differences between him and this rider were more and more obvious the closer he came. Who else could it be? Mr. Hurst rarely awoke this early and they were not close to any of the other neighboring estates.

  Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth closed her eyes as she realized who it was she watched. How could she have forgotten Mr. Darcy? She should have recognized him instantly, given the rigid posture. Even out for a morning ride he could not drop his hauteur. He was likely disparaging the countryside and wishing to be back in town. Well, she wished him back in town as well.

  She wished him gone, so long as his friend stayed behind. Perhaps Mr. Darcy was a necessary evil. Mr. Bingley relied heavily on his friend’s judgment. So long as Mr. Darcy stayed, Mr. Bingley was sure to stay. She wished she could be as confident Mr. Bingley would remain if Mr. Darcy left.

  How grossly unfair that someone so vindictive and unpleasant should enjoy all of the benefits Mr. Darcy had.

  Mr. Wickham had accepted he had no redress against the ill treatment he had received and determined to find his happiness elsewhere. Elizabeth’s mother had told her that she would be happy in marriage if she decided to be so. Elizabeth supposed Mr. Wickham must have taken the same advice and decided he would be happy despite any and all injustice he had received.

  Her mind had wandered, but it snapped back to the present as Mr. Darcy lifted his hat and nodded in her direction. She had not realized he had come close enough to recognize her. Good manners forced her to return the greeting.

  Elizabeth stood up and brushed off her dress. She needed to get home now. Seeing Mr. Darcy had spoiled any joy she could have taken in the view.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I do not see why we have to attend, we hardly knew the woman,” Caroline Bingley complained, for at least the third time that afternoon.

  “She was our neighbor and the mother of a friend of yours. It would be most unseemly if we did not attend,” Bingley reminded his sister, once again, as they rode in the carriage.

  “I suppose we must attend the luncheon, but I always refuse to go to the church services. I have no doubt the Bennet girls were there, and likely their friends too,” Miss Bingley noted to Mr. Darcy. “No lady should attend a funeral. If one cared enough about the departed to wish to attend, then one risks an unseemly display of emotion in public. If there is no risk of being overcome, then one hardly cared enough about the deceased to warrant attending in the first place.”

  Mr. Darcy ignored Miss Bingley’s barbs regarding the Bennets. She could not remember her mother, let alone her death, so Miss Bingley had no concept of the loss the Miss Bennets were enduring.

  “By your logic,” he replied, refusing to look in her direction as he kept his gaze focused out the window, “no one should ever do anything. Anything worth doing could cause strong emotions, and anything that could not cause strong emotions would not be worth doing.”

  “So true, so true,” Miss Bingley readily agreed with a simpering laugh as she lay a hand on his arm. “But just because one feels something does not mean one needs to show it. Those of superior breeding understand how to temper their feelings so as not to cause others discomfort.”

  Mr. Darcy ignored the response. He could say nothing with which she would not find some way of agreeing.

  The group arrived at Longbourn and joined the other guests.

  “A daytime funeral, Louisa,” Miss Bingley whispered loudly to her sister. “Should I die, I insist upon having a nighttime service. I cannot wait until we return to the more elegant habits of those in town. These country folk seem insensible of fashion, and yet the self-importance they display.”

  “It is only for Mrs. Bennet, after all, Caroline,” her sister replied in an equally loud whisper. “Why should she be more fashionable in death than she was in life.” The two snickered quietly. Whether they thought they would go unheard by anyone else or were indifferent to being heard, Darcy did not know, but he felt the rudeness of their speech. He looked at Bingley, expecting him to reprimand his sisters, but Bingley appeared not to have heard. Or perhaps he heard but pretended not to so he would not be forced to act.

  Bingley was looking about, searching out a single face in the crowd. A smile filled his face as soon as he saw Miss Bennet, though Bingley quickly remembered himself and hid it. A funeral luncheon was no place for such wide smiles.

  Bingley left them to seek out Jane Bennet. Darcy looked around the room. He recognized most of the faces from the various assemblies and from Bingley’s ball. He looked past them, not wishing to engage any in conversation. He was seeking out a particular face himself, but he prided himself that he was not so obvious as Bingley in his search.

  He had seen her this morning, sitting on the hill. Her mourning gown stood out among the trees and rocks. She was not a lady who normally blended in to her environment, no matter where she might be, so he was not surprised to see her stand out from the background, even on a hilltop.

  He assumed she was grieving her mother, natural enough given she would be buried today. He had considered going up to speak with her and offer his condolences, but after acknowledging his greeting she had turned and left.

  Likely overcome already and seeking solitude. Few ladies would wish to be seen in such a state, so he was not offended by her leaving. He knew he would speak to her again soon. Probably much too soon.

  Elizabeth was becoming harder and harder to ignore. The fact that he thought of her as Elizabeth and not Miss Elizabeth showed an intimacy he had not previously known with a woman not of longstanding acquaintance. He needed to leave Hertfordshire, and soon, or he was at risk of making a fool of himself.

  Darcy never
would have considered it fortunate for a lady to be in mourning, but he felt somewhat safer knowing that even in a moment of weakness, he would not be able to offer for her right now.

  When Darcy spied Elizabeth, he did not allow himself the smile that Bingley had. It was enough to know he was happy to see her, no one else needed to know.

  Across the room, Elizabeth conversed with a group of ladies near her age. He wished he could say she looked lovely in black, but her face was pale and her eyes shadowed. She obviously had not been eating or sleeping well in recent days. Hardly surprising, but it pained him to see the evidence of her suffering nonetheless.

  She spoke to the others, but there was no sparkle in her eyes. Her eyes were half dead. While they looked to others, they showed none of the life or liveliness he was accustomed to seeing there.

  He stopped himself, realizing how incredibly selfish and inconsiderate were his thoughts. The pain she was going through, and all he considered was his own misfortune that her low spirits should affect her looks and his own pleasure in viewing her? He scowled at himself for being such an inconsiderate oaf, even if only to himself, and turned to walk to another corner of the room.

  Bingley and Jane spoke, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd. Darcy watched carefully. Miss Bennet’s feelings would hardly be on display today, but he needed to know how she felt about his friend. Despite his warnings, Bingley was convinced that he needed to stay at Netherfield for the time being. Darcy only hoped his friend did not grow much further attached. Bingley could only be hurt.

  Miss Bennet smiled gently at something Bingley said, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Hardly surprising, given her state of mourning. Darcy could allow that black was quite becoming on Miss Bennet. Had he not seen her before in her full beauty, he would not have noticed anything out of the ordinary, but today her face was slightly drawn and pale. Again, understandable, but she had enough beauty that the strain did not show on her face to the same degree as Elizabeth.

  Perhaps Elizabeth felt their mother’s passing more than Jane. Elizabeth and her mother had not seemed particularly close, more often than not Elizabeth had appeared mortified by her mother, but that did not mean there was not a strong bond between them. He would not have suspected such, but Elizabeth appeared far more affected in her grief than Jane.

  He looked back out over the room, trying to find her once again. He again scowled.

  Wickham.

  What on earth did that man mean by showing his face in decent society? Darcy knew he was able to act the part of a gentleman, and there were few who were not fooled by his displays of charm and social graces. Elizabeth had mentioned Wickham during their dance at the Netherfield ball and Darcy was horrified to think she may feel something for the scoundrel. They stood close together and Wickham took her hand briefly, before quickly dropping it. The cad had often used that move when they were at University. He had even boasted of his success in convincing more than one girl to fall in love with him by acting forced to restrain himself from such natural displays of ardor.

  Darcy was disgusted, but Miss Elizabeth was too wise to fall for such a paltry scheme. Was she not? Darcy moved closer to pay greater attention to their interaction. He could see her color rise subtly as Wickham spoke and a slight smile grace her lips. Wickham had ever had the silver tongue. He also had an uncanny ability to focus in on a person’s weaknesses and use them to his advantage. He would see an easy conquest in a bereaved girl.

  Wickham looked up and saw Darcy advancing. He paled slightly before taking a defiant stance and continuing to speak to Miss Elizabeth. Darcy glowered. He would have to find a way to warn Elizabeth.

  He watched in fury, as Wickham offered Elizabeth his arm and escorted her away. If Wickham had already spread his tale of woe, she would be less likely to listen to him, but he must try to speak to her. His warnings at the Netherfield ball were obviously insufficient given the attention Wickham was paying her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Elizabeth looked around the room. Her mother had been a popular lady and much of the town had come to pay their respects. She believed every room on the ground floor, save her father’s library of course, was filled.

  Elizabeth participated in the conversation around her, but could not engage her full attention. She had heard enough of others’ sympathy. While well-meaning, the words sounded empty after so much repetition. She looked across the crowd, taking pleasure in the number of people who had come.

  Elizabeth was overjoyed when she saw Mr. Bingley arrive. The way he looked around the room and then positively glowed the moment he spotted Jane warmed Elizabeth’s heart. She watched him walk directly to Jane, unaware of anyone else in the room. Her sister had found a man who loved her and she wished them both all the happiness in the world.

  Unfortunately, if Mr. Bingley had arrived, he had in all likelihood brought his sisters and friend with him. Elizabeth looked around and spotted his sisters, talking together and likely disparaging all around them. Mr. Darcy stood a bit apart from the ladies, watching her. Elizabeth ignored him. Why the man liked to stare at her she knew not, but she would not let him disturb her this day. He could find all the fault he liked and look down on them all. She looked back at him and watched him scowl and walk away. What new transgression had he seen? She cared not.

  Her Aunt Phillips stepped forward to speak to him, but she watched Mr. Darcy walk past the lady without showing so much as a glimmer of recognition. Though they had been introduced, he had never deigned to speak with her. Still, he should have recognized her. She would have thought he could temper his pride given the occasion and that her aunt had just lost a sister.

  Elizabeth would pay the man no more mind. He would not make her ill-humored at her mother’s funeral. She returned to her conversation with her friends, attempting to focus more on those nearby.

  “I am glad to see Mr. Collins focusing his attention on one who receives it with pleasure,” Maria Lucas said to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Why his attentions to Mary of course,” she said as she nodded in the couple’s direction. “I do not believe any gentleman has ever paid her such attention and she positively glows.” Maria stopped herself and turned back to Elizabeth. “I do not mean to imply she is not also grieving, but I think the attentions of Mr. Collins are helping her through this time. I am certain you are glad he is not constantly at your side the way he is by Mary’s.”

  Elizabeth looked at her younger sister and Mr. Collins. They had spent much time together lately, but Elizabeth had thought her sister being kind in keeping him away from the rest of the family. Elizabeth had even thanked her at one point for taking on such a duty and remarked on Mary’s thoughtfulness in keeping him occupied and away from herself. Mary had blushed and mumbled some response before leaving. While Elizabeth had thought it an odd reaction, she had thought no further on either of them.

  She examined her sister. Mary was paying rapt attention as Mr. Collins continued – and continued – to speak. Her interest appeared genuine, perhaps a first for Mr. Collins. Elizabeth thought it unlikely he had spoken to many other ladies who were truly interested in what he had to say.

  Perhaps Mamma had pushed him towards the wrong daughter. Elizabeth swallowed a lump forming in her throat. Perhaps if her mother had allowed Mary more opportunity to speak with him, he could have paid his addresses to a more willing recipient.

  Could this entire tragedy have been avoided if Mr. Collins had been given more time to know Mary?

  Mary would not have rejected him out of hand. At least, Elizabeth did not think so. Her sister was showing more interest in the man than Elizabeth had ever seen her pay to anyone else. That her interest was returned must seem wondrous to Mary.

  But would Mr. Collins even think of making an offer to one sister after being rejected by another? Would he not be far more likely to leave his humiliation behind and find another girl elsewhere? He had not many charms to r
ecommend himself, but he could offer security to a lady who was truly desperate.

  Had she doomed not only her mother, but her sister’s chance of a happy marriage as well? Elizabeth’s chest began to feel tight and the room felt far too warm and enclosed. She left the group of girls to get some air. She needed to get away before she lost her composure.

  Unfortunately, everyone wished to speak to Elizabeth. Every few feet she was stopped by someone who offered their sympathy, but every so often someone would stop her to regale her with a story of her mother and say what a fine woman she had been. The panic began to recede as she listened to stories, some familiar and some new to her.

  Elizabeth was sorry her mother could not be here to listen to such words. Never before had so many been inclined to speak so highly of Mrs. Bennet at a single gathering. What a shame a person had to die in order to receive such accolades from neighbors.

  She was being silly. Had Elizabeth not offered the same words at similar gatherings? Had she not also felt the helplessness of having insufficient words to offer comfort to someone grieving? She was looking for reasons to be displeased and well knew she would find whatever she searched for. Elizabeth took a deep breath and cleared her mind. She would look for the good in those around her and focus on the kind intent behind whatever words were offered to her.

  “Miss Elizabeth.” She turned slightly and saw Mr. Wickham give her a short bow. She replied with a curtsey.

  “I wish I could say I am pleased to see you, but such thoughts would be most inappropriate given the circumstances. I will say that such a crush only demonstrates how well regarded your mother was. She was a fine woman, always eager to laugh and most welcoming to everyone. Her consideration and inclusion of the officers in all her invitations showed her to be a fine hostess with a warm heart. I hope that you can look back fondly and remember her open laughter and determination to see that everyone around her should enjoy themselves.”