His Uncle's Favorite (53 page)

Open them one by one and try to understand my chaotic thoughts and my tormented feelings; if anyone can understand, you are surely the one.

In two weeks’ time we will be together forever, and perhaps I should wait until then to tell you everything that remains unsaid. But I am certain, beyond any doubt, that we will not have time to discuss the past nor to trouble ourselves with it.

In two weeks’ time, there will be only the present and the future—our present and our future.

And our love.

Forever yours,
FD

She read the note over again, pressed her lips over it, then read it again. A sharp pain in her chest betrayed her love and the cold sense of loneliness. He would be gone for four days—four days as long as a lifetime.

Slowly, she opened the envelope with number one on it.

Inside, she found four sheets, fully covered with his handwriting. She glanced at the first page, and with surprise and equal pleasure, she saw the letter was a close confession of his thoughts from the first day they met at the Meryton assembly.

Day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment, everything was there. The first letter ended at the moment she left Netherfield after Jane’s illness.

His thoughts, his fears, his hopes, his mind, and his heart—everything was there and there was so much more to come!

She read the letter several times, then rushed to her desk, took a pen and paper and started to write.

My beloved soon-to-be-husband,

I always said I wished to marry only for the deepest love, but I never knew what love meant until you captured my soul, my mind, and my body. I never imagined what true love might be until you taught me—and I can only count my heartbeats until the moment we shall belong to each other and step together into our future.

But, as you know, my thoughts were not always so—not at all.

The first moment I saw you entering the Meryton assembly, I said to myself that you were the handsomest man I had ever seen. Half an hour later, I was certain beyond any doubt that you were the handsomest man I had ever met—and the most aloof—and the most proud—and the most unpleasant—a man who considered me not handsome enough to tempt him to dance. Can you imagine, my love, what that means to a 20-year-old young woman? Surely you did not know for some time, but you learned it quite painfully…”

She continued to write, word by word, row by row, page by page, with no restraint, no hesitation, no self-censure. She allowed her thoughts, her memories, and her feelings to flow out on the page. She put her mind and her soul on the page—to meet his.

And when he returned, she would give them to him—one letter for each day—his letters and hers.

***

The ride to London passed sooner than Darcy expected.

He had spent the entire previous night writing the letters, so fatigue overcame him immediately. That was a very good thing as he already felt—most painfully—Elizabeth’s loss. The more time they spent together, the more she opened to him and allowed him as close to her as he wished; and the more he got from her, the more he desired and the more he missed and craved her.

Opposite him in the carriage, Bingley talked, happy and animated, but Darcy could not attend.

He was relieved when they finally reached London. First thing, they went to the solicitor’s office to apply for the special license, which would take a few days. Afterwards, each of them left for his own house with the promise of meeting again the next day.

Alone in his carriage, Darcy decided to call briefly at Selina’s to inquire after Anne and, if possible, to find Georgiana there, too. His intuition proved correct: in the drawing room were his sister, Anne, Selina and her children, all of them hurrying to welcome him.

He briefly asked about Anne’s health and about Lady Catherine, and he was provided with satisfactory answers.

Georgiana and Selina asked countless questions about Elizabeth, as if she had been away for months. He explained the reason for his return to town, and news of the imminent wedding brought a storm of inquiries, suggestions, advice, and laughter. Immediately, Selina began to write Elizabeth and Jane, to ask if they needed her to purchase anything for them. Then she sent a note to the modiste to schedule an appointment.

Darcy looked at them sternly. After all, there was not such a difference between Mrs. Bennet and the ladies of the
ton
.

“And Lord Brightmore? Is he away?” Darcy finally asked a reasonable question.

“He is with Robert and Thomas at the club. They tried to take Father too, but he refused. I do not know what to do with him; I cannot allow him to continue in such a way. He has not wished to speak to us for more than two days.”

“Who?” Darcy asked dumbfounded.

“Father, of course. I just told you, Darcy; pay attention.”

“Lord Matlock does not speak to you? Why?”

“We do not know; that is precisely the problem.”

“What do you mean, Selina?”

“I just told you—since two days ago, the day after you left. He went to his club then called on Mrs. Gardiner then went home, but neither Robert nor Thomas was there, so we do not know what happened. When they returned, Father was alone—with his drink—and from that moment he has refused to speak to any of us.”

“Did you fetch a doctor? He might be ill. I shall go to visit him immediately.”

“We did, but he would not admit us—or the doctor.”

“That is extraordinary!”

“Perhaps my mother’s visit affected him,” Anne spoke up. “It was such a trying time, and poor Uncle was so kind and protective of me and—”

“I doubt that is the reason, Anne. I shall insist on speaking to him immediately. Have you spoken to Mrs. Gardiner? She might help us. You know how much he respects and admires her. He would not dare refuse to talk to her.”

“I went to Madeleine to ask her help, but she is ill. She has not left her bed for more than two days. She is weak and cannot eat, and the doctor said she was feverish too.”

Darcy stared at them in utter shock. “Lord Matlock refused to speak to you for two days and Mrs. Gardiner is ill? She has been ill for the same length of time?”

“Yes, quite strange, is it not?” asked Georgiana.

“Very strange,” repeated Lady Selina. “I do not know what to do. I send the doctor to Madeleine daily. I go to check the children. I try to make her eat but—”

“Do you remember, William? It was the same with you back in January. Do you remember when you left Town for more than a week without a word? It is almost the same with Uncle. Oh dear, what a strange coincidence. Elizabeth was ill that time, too. Do you remember?”

“I do remember, dearest; I could never forget that week. I do remember quite vividly.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Uncle. Maybe you can find a way to speak to him.”

“I will, my dear; that is exactly what I will do. But first, Selina, may I have a glass of brandy—a very large one, please?”

Ten minutes and two glasses of brandy later, Darcy was still in the drawing room, staring out the window while his sister and cousins watched him with worried looks.

Then, suddenly, he began to laugh.

Chapter 20

“You will marry in two weeks? You cannot do such a thing!”

“Of course I can, Caroline. We will marry with Darcy and Miss Elizabeth.”

Caroline Bingley looked at her brother in astonishment. Charles Bingley poured himself a glass of wine, a broad smile on his face.

“Charles, what do you mean? Darcy marrying Elizabeth Bennet? That cannot be!”

“Caroline, I hate it when you repeat my words! I just told you, and I am quite surprised that you are surprised,” he replied with good humour.

“Mr. Darcy is marrying Eliza Bennet? That cannot be, that cannot be…”

“You see? That is precisely what I was saying! I shall send for Louisa, so you can repeat the news to each other before dinner.”

Caroline Bingley needed many minutes to recover from such disastrous news. Her mind could barely comprehend such nonsense. Eliza Bennet managed to trap Mr. Darcy in marriage? The same Mr. Darcy who agreed that a union between Charles and Jane Bennet would be a catastrophe now agrees to join that family? It must be a nightmare, and if she were strong enough, she would surely wake from it.

Sometime later, Louisa arrived, and at last, Caroline had the comfort of her sister’s sympathy. Caroline was certain that it must be a conspiracy on the part of Lady Selina because she showed her disapproval for those small, wild lads of hers. Eliza Bennet was so sly, pretending she liked children! And now Mr. Darcy would marry her! If Caroline could only find a way to speak to him, she would tell him that she liked children too and was willing to give him as many heirs for Pemberley as he wished!

The Bingleys’ evening became worse during dinner. Louisa and Caroline’s complaints, their malicious comments towards the Bennets, and their beliefs that Mr. Darcy would soon realize his enormous error all ruined Bingley’s appetite, and he hurried to his apartment to finish his meal in peace. He briefly considered how it would be after his marriage: Would Caroline change her behaviour towards the Bennets? Most likely not. How would dear Jane bear to hear her family insulted? And what about Mrs. Bennet? She surely would consider Netherfield to be her home, too, and would expect proper courtesy.

Would Caroline consider moving to Louisa’s? Surely, he could not allow anyone to upset Jane; that would not be fair to her. But could he ask his sister to leave their house? Would that be fair to Caroline? Charles Bingley suddenly realised that his marriage might bring pain along with the joy.

***

As his carriage rolled towards the earl’s house, Darcy considered the best course of action. Though he had laughed in the library as he immediately guessed the reason for the earl’s state of mind and spirit, the sharp pain in his chest never released its grip. He remembered—in quite painfully vivid colours—those dreadful days after his disastrous proposal when he was certain happiness would be an unknown word to him.

Surely, things could not be as bad in this case. Even if he were correct in his assumption that his uncle proposed to Mrs. Gardiner and she refused him, the earl’s proposal could not possibly equal his own. They had known and respected each other for many years; the earl always valued Mrs. Gardiner’s opinions and she seemed to enjoy his company. However, it did not bode well if the earl was in such a poor state and Mrs. Gardiner was unwilling to speak even to Selina.

He finally reached the house and entered; a servant received him reluctantly and, with obvious uneasiness, declared Lord Matlock was not home to anyone. Darcy thanked him then passed decidedly towards the library. The first knock on the door remained unanswered; the second one received a harsh “go away” in reply. He entered.

“I would appreciate a glass of brandy. The ride from Hertfordshire was quite long, and it is hot outside.”

“Darcy. I did not expect you so soon. So—did your brandy disappear that you barge into my library to take mine?” The earl only favoured him with a brief glance.

“I have not been home yet; I have to finish some business first. I went to apply for a special licence. Did you know? We decided to marry in two weeks.”

“Yes, I imagined you would do that. I am very happy for you.”

“And then I went to see Anne and Selina.”

“Yes, I imagined that, too. You may go home now; there is no business for you here.”

“Oh come, Uncle, will you offer me a glass of brandy or not?”

“You may pour it yourself if you insist; in the meantime, I shall dismiss the idiot doorman; I told him not to allow anyone into the library, but he failed to understand.”

“Nonsense; you will do no such thing.” Darcy took the first gulp from his full glass and sat in an armchair near the earl. He stared at him in silence.

“Darcy, what is it you want from me? You should go home and mind your own business. I am not ill as I told my children a thousand times; I only need to rest in peace. I might leave town for the summer. I find that London’s air does not suit me at all. Country air would do just fine—country air and silence. I do not expect you to understand.”

“I understand quite well. There was a time in January when I thought London air did not suit me at all. I believed country air and silence would be better for me. I was wrong.”

They were sitting near each other, glasses of brandy in hand, gazing at the wall in front of them. Their conversation was stern and neutral; no emotions were involved.

“The situation cannot be the same,” the earl replied after a short hesitation.

“I am aware of that. This situation cannot be as bad as that situation was in January.”

“One always believes that one’s situation is worse than others.”

“It might be so, but I have reason to suspect I am correct in my statement,” Darcy said.