Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory
Chapter Twenty-One
The following week saw an abrupt change in the frequency of visiting between Netherfield and Longbourn. If Charles had spoken to Mr Collins and requested a degree of separation, I could not say. On our side, the infrequency of Jane’s and my visits to Netherfield was merely a result of timing. Our beloved aunt and uncle Gardiner arrived as planned for the Christmas season and would stay some weeks. Their arrival prevented any further visits as we were much engaged with them, our young cousins, and the merriment of the season.
I admit, I was somewhat jealous of the freedom Jane had to write to Charles. I could see how easily they both managed the separation of a few days with their not-infrequent missives. And with the path worn into the land between our two houses by Netherfield’s groom—who seemed to have no duties besides conveying letters between the two lovers—the progression of their engagement was little hindered by the three miles.
For myself, I could not imagine what I might pen to my betrothed. And if I were to be so bold as to write to him, how would I feel to have any of it read by another, as would need be the case as long as my future husband was without his sight? Likewise, Fitzwilliam did not venture to write to me. Although he was aware of the reason for my absence, I had no notion whether he was displeased or relieved by it.
I did receive a note from Georgiana upon her return with the colonel, and for this I was grateful as it relieved me of the odd degree of worry I had developed with regard to who would care for Fitzwilliam. I was certain she would see to his comfort.
Surely he would tell her whether he was in need of something. Would she know which books he found most soothing if he developed a megrim? Or that he did not favour the peach preserves served at Netherfield? A penned letter of instructions, two pages through, was dispatched to my new sister soon thereafter. It was Georgiana I was thinking of, not her brother. I was relieved to know I might help the young lady in this way. The poor girl probably felt positively overwhelmed by the prospect, and the colonel was more than likely no help at all, I was sure.
My sister teased that surely Miss Darcy could properly see to her brother’s needs, she had done so, after all, before I began spending my days at Netherfield. Jane insisted this little evidence of my concern proved that my feelings for Fitzwilliam had changed and I was no longer indifferent to the man. That is how little Jane understood my reaction to him for the entirety of our acquaintance. He had infuriated or puzzled me exceedingly, but I had never once felt anything akin to indifference for him. Perhaps now I could admit that I rather liked my betrothed. And when I thought of him, the communion between us when we talked, the warmth of his hands…well, the stirrings inside me were not at all indifferent.
Strange though, I did find that among my feelings for Fitzwilliam was one I could not quite seem to identify. I often felt a disquiet inside, driving the beat of my heart into unfamiliar patterns. I found myself lost in thought, unable to give my full attention to the things around me. Every few minutes, I was struck with some notion that Fitzwilliam might require my immediate aid, and standing, I intended to rush to Netherfield and see myself to his side, only to then realise how little need he might have of me with his cousin and sister again nearby. Oddly, these moments left me feeling a little hollow and lethargic, the sudden burst of energy at once felt dissipating like the steam from my oft-forgotten tea.
Soon after their arrival, this listlessness that plagued me was noticed by my dear aunt Gardiner one evening, and she joined me in the spot I was seated.
“You are very far away, Lizzy. When your father challenged your uncle on that passage, I fully expected you would be amused by his absurdity.”
Blinking, I endeavoured to harness my thoughts to focus more clearly. “I cannot account for it, Aunt. I wonder whether I am coming down with one of Kitty’s frequent colds.”
She tenderly placed her hand upon my brow, frowning. “You do not have a fever. Though I have noticed your appetite is not as it usually is, and you do seem to be favouring your voice, for you have spoken so little since we arrived.”
I rubbed my neck, trying to think whether it had been bothersome. “No, I do not think I have any other symptoms yet, but for certain, I do not feel quite myself.”
“I beg your pardon if my observations are off the mark, Lizzy, but you do seem a little like Jane when she has been forced to wait a few hours for one of her suitor’s letters.” When my brow raised uncomprehendingly, she chuckled softly and added, “I wonder whether you find yourself missing a certain gentleman.”
The very idea set my back straight and an objection coming to my lips, eager to be said. The words lodged in my throat though, and I had the strange and entirely jarring realisation that my aunt might have the right of it. I did miss Fitzwilliam. With a quirk of a smile, I shook my head at myself.
With a scrunch of my nose, I acknowledged the truth with humour. “How unfortunate you should have discovered that, and by so doing, forced me to realise it. The very notion that I miss Fitzwilliam is laughable, yet it might be true. It makes little sense considering how much I disliked the man before we were forced into an engagement. And I was not even the one to sustain the head trauma.”
My aunt smiled lovingly at me and placed her hand atop mine. “You did often write to us of your dislike for him. I was worried for your happiness at the news of the accident and the need for marriage. Have you resigned yourself to it, then?”
“I cannot really describe my feelings regarding the marriage. I shall admit that Fitzwilliam is not as terribly unpleasant a person as I had once thought. That is not to say he does not possess a good deal of pride and is perhaps too used to getting his way. The blow to his head has softened his behaviour to me. Even without the use of his eyes, he does not seem to look upon me with the same degree of focused disdain that he was prone to so often. How he used to stare, Aunt!”
I shook my head at the memory. It was difficult to look upon someone to find fault when you could not actually see them. Fitzwilliam’s condition had forced him into kinder manners.
She hummed by way of response and was contemplative for a few minutes. “I wrote to my acquaintances in Derbyshire when the news of your engagement arrived. I wished to assure myself that you would not be mistreated. Do you care to know how his neighbours view him?”
I was eager and curious to know! “You seem inclined to tell me, and I am not opposed to hearing it. Of what sins does my future husband stand accused?”
“Lizzy, shame on you. You ought to know by now, after having spent so much time at Netherfield as I have heard you have done in the last few weeks, that Mr Darcy is not the dreadful gentleman you once thought. Indeed, my friends could speak only praise of him as a landlord, philanthropist, and gentleman. My girlhood friend, Mrs Pickets, has two daughters working in the kitchens at Pemberley. They are very much envied, for your Mr Darcy is known to be a generous and considerate master.”
Hearing such praise from those whose livelihood depended upon Fitzwilliam could not but awaken something inside my breast. I even felt a little stirring of pride for my betrothed. I had learned to see that a little of his manners were more from reserve than arrogance and pride. His tendency towards petulant moods aside—and I could hardly blame him for feeling a little adrift with the prospect of never seeing again—Fitzwilliam was not as displeased with the world around him as I had first thought upon making his acquaintance.
“I am pleased to hear it. And in truth I can add witness that Fitzwilliam does improve upon further acquaintance.”
“But tell me, Lizzy, for we have had precious little time together with your mother’s planning of weddings, what think you, beyond this, of your betrothed? You have hardly spoken his name.”
“He is difficult to describe.”
Her eyes twinkled when she looked at me, asking, “I know the accident forced this union upon you, but do you think you can like Mr Darcy well enough to get on?”
“Yes, I think so.” But how was I to describe the undercurrent of disquiet I felt when picturing my future with Fitzwilliam? “I think my betrothed a much better man than I had once been inclined to think; however, I cannot fully resign myself to this marriage at present. Please do not press me into explanation, for I fear I could not describe it.”
“Very well, Lizzy, you know you can come to me should you need to. I shall be glad to meet this gentleman of yours soon. Will he attend Miss Bingley’s wedding in two days?”
“I have not heard, though I have seen him much improved over the past weeks since the accident. I daresay if he can, he will attempt it even if he had better stay at Netherfield and await the wedding party’s return for the breakfast. If I may be allowed to tarnish the bright character your friends have presented of my betrothed, it would be to say that he is an unmitigated fool when it comes to his own health. He will take risks he should not in the name of keeping up appearances.”
“Whatever do you mean, Lizzy?”
“When he came to ask for my hand, he had travelled against his doctor’s orders and was laid up the next day with pain from the jostling of the carriage. It was as if he could not withstand that others might think he was without honour by his delay in making our engagement official. And all too frequently, when I would go to Netherfield, he would insist on being below stairs with us even when it was clear that rest would have better served him.”
“Who might Mr Darcy have been keeping appearances for, then? For certainly, among friends and family, he would have been easily excused.”
“Perhaps it was the servants and the potential for gossip.”
“Or perhaps your Mr Darcy is reckless with his health only when it comes to you.”
The manner in which she raised her brow and smirked at me left very little question as to her beliefs in the matter. She held the opinion that my betrothed had other motives beyond his reputation to uphold, and those reasons included affection for me. I admit the notion was a pleasing one.
“Well, in any case, you may make your own observations at my cousin’s wedding.”
“I shall look forward to it. Oh, Lizzy, forgive me for changing the topic. I have forgotten to mention that your uncle was able to procure that herb you wrote for. He has brought it in his trunk. I shall have a maid fetch it for you later. Feverfew, was it? I have never heard of it.”
“Oh, thank you! It is for Mr Darcy, actually. Papa has a book that says it might be of some use for the megrims that plague him. I thought perhaps it might be added to willow bark to greater effect.”
“You must tell me whether he finds it beneficial, as I am always keen to have more useful tisanes.”
“I certainly shall. Please thank my uncle for finding it for me. I hope it was not too dear a price or difficult to find.”
“Your uncle saw it as somewhat of a quest, I daresay, and was pleased with his success, so you must not worry about it. We are glad to be of use.”
“Well, you have been. Now, Aunt, you have thoroughly questioned me on my betrothed and can have no more curiosities there.” I winked at her, amused at her laugh. “Shocking though it is, you have yet to give an opinion on the soldiers my sisters are so keen on, nor said one word about Jane’s intended. How very single-minded you have been in your topic of suitors!”
“I think your sisters ought not chase after the soldiers as much as they do, and I find Jane’s Mr Bingley sensible, good humoured, lively, and possessed of happy manners. And handsome too, which a young man ought likewise to be if he can manage it. I am happy for Jane.”
“And this is all? Why, you had much more to say of my own suitor.”
“You know very well why. From what your father has said of Mr Darcy, I think I shall be as pleased for you as I am for Jane.”
“I am tempted to ask you what opinion my father holds of my betrothed. They have a perplexing way between them. Papa acts as if their acquaintance is of long standing rather than a few weeks, as is the truth.”
“You might accept that as a blessing, Lizzy.”
“You mistake me if I appear to feel otherwise. I am glad that Mr Darcy and Papa get on well enough. It gives me hope that he will not force me to give up my family after the register has been signed.”
“Do you think he would be so unfeeling?”
“If you had asked me that before the accident, I would have answered with great assurance that he would! However, now I am not so certain. He is quite altered from the experience. I hope it is not a temporary change.”
“I shall hope and pray it is not, then. But Lizzy, I think you hold too strongly to your first impression of Mr Darcy. By all accounts he is a good man. A little reserved and lacking in levity to be sure, but a good wife might help there.”
I blushed at her words, wishing I could prevent such a reaction. In the hopes of changing the topic to one I might feel less adrift about, I spoke quickly.
“Now that you have given your thoughts on the militia, Mr Bingley, and my own engagement—and far more than it deserves—it is time you tell me your impressions on one more marriage soon to be solemnised. Having made Miss Bingley’s acquaintance when she called here with her brother two days ago and shared a roof with my illustrious cousin for more than twice that time, tell me, what are your thoughts on that union?”
My aunt’s chastising frown was undermined by the humorous light in her eyes, and together we enjoyed a long discussion on the vagary of life that would find Miss Bingley, supercilious and proud, a good fit for our cousin who was everything ridiculous.
* * *
On the evening before my cousin’s wedding, with the firm but constant persuasion of Mrs Gardiner, my mother begrudgingly offered to host a dinner so that Mr Collins could honour his betrothed as was expected of the groom. When the party from Netherfield arrived, it was with a shock of unexpected pleasure—and some concern—to find Fitzwilliam among the arrivals.
In that moment, I knew that my aunt had been correct in her assumptions, for I readily acknowledged to myself how very much I had missed him in the preceding days of separation. He was resplendent in his green waistcoat and fitted tailcoat. It hugged his square, broad shoulders so nicely that I nearly wished I were the garment myself. Very well then, I could admit that alongside missing Fitzwilliam, I might have longed for his handsome person. Little more than a glance at Aunt Gardiner told me she had every intent to keep her word and observe us. She did not at present seem to find anything of concern.
Soon Fitzwilliam was led to my side by his relations, and I was further pleased by the assurances given by my betrothed, his sister, and his cousin that in the intervening days, he had felt much improved. Although it was clear to me his eyes still did not see, there was a measure of relief that flavoured the air when they spoke of it, and I could not help being swept up in it. Due to this, I then told Fitzwilliam of the herbs my uncle had procured and asked whether he might consider testing their effectiveness.
The tenderness that imbued his response of gratitude produced gooseflesh up my arms, and I felt blood stain my cheeks.
“I am humbled by your sweetness and shall gladly subject myself to any treatments you wish, if it would give you pleasure.”
“I would not wish you to feel obligated in any way. I had only thought if it could ease your suffering…”
“I know, Elizabeth.” He paused, and it gave my heart time to settle. I had not anticipated such a little gesture would be received so dearly. “I cannot speak adequately, but know you have pleased me exceedingly with your thoughtfulness.”
How was he able to produce a look so heated when he could not even see?