Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Do you think it too forward of me, Lizzy?”

Jane’s concerned whisper brought a smile to my lips, and I struggled mightily to swallow the laughing retort that threatened at such a sweet enquiry. She looked around us at the other patrons of the millinery shop in Meryton to be sure we were not overheard. Knowing she would not appreciate my teasing at such a public moment, I carefully levelled my voice low and leaned in to answer her.

“Not at all, Jane. You are betrothed to the man, and purchasing some handkerchiefs to embroider for him is an appropriate Christmas gift. I can see that you still doubt, so let me assure you that I do not think Charles would think ill of you for the gift; indeed, he will be charmed by your thoughtfulness. However, if you do not wish to take my word on it, ask Aunt Gardiner. She will not advise you wrongly.”

The question of what I might get to give to Fitzwilliam still plagued me. I had hoped to see something that might strike an idea. Time was not on my side, and although we had not said we would exchange gifts, I felt certain I ought to get him something.

“Oh, I wish she had come with us today,” Jane said with worry, as she fingered the fine cloth squares in her hand.

“She was much needed attending to our poor Mama,” I replied with a smirk that Jane soon mirrored. Our mother was so much affected by the wedding several days ago of the former Miss Bingley to our cousin, that in the days after, she still declared herself ill-used by it all. The very thought of Miss Bingley as the next mistress of Longbourn was a sore point for my mother, and while I had said ‘poor Mama’, I really ought to have pitied my aunt, who would bear the brunt of my mother’s temper today as she attempted to reconcile her to the fact that Mrs Collins, née Bingley, was now indelibly next in line to take her place. I could not help but admit that I, too, found this truth to be a little disconcerting, especially given the scene in the church the day of the wedding.

Mr Collins certainly did not conserve his words of admiration, often given in whispered supplication into his bride’s ear as the vicar performed the rites. Miss Bingley’s attempt at regal ignorance of her groom’s incessant praise might have given the guests a general understanding that she did not welcome his attentions—except for the glint in her eye whenever she glared her groom into submissive silence.

The wedding breakfast was equally entertaining and baffling. For all anyone could guess, the former Miss Bingley disdained her new husband. Colonel Fitzwilliam, having clearly been informed as to the events of the week before, gave me a knowing look when the bride and groom, pink cheeked and a little less put together, emerged from the retiring room where they had donned their traveling coats. I recall how she slapped her husband’s hand away when Mr Collins attempted to assist her into the carriage to leave for their wedding trip. Mr Collins grinned wider than I had ever seen before and followed her quickly inside the transport.

An astonished shudder stole through me again at the memory. I was thankful that the new couple was straightaway for Hunsford after a short stay in London, and I was unlikely to see either of them again soon.

“Who is that man, Lizzy? Why do you think he looks at you in that manner?”

Jane’s question brought me to the present with a little shake of my head, and I glanced in the direction she indicated subtly with her eyes. There was a soldier among several others standing on the road outside the shop window. He was, indeed, keen on my person. Involuntarily, I flushed and turned my head down to hide my face with my bonnet. While ostensibly examining a pair of gloves on the table before us, I replied to my sister.

“I have no idea, but he does seem rather bold in his look. What can he mean with such abject study?”

“Perhaps he finds you handsome.”

I might have been flattered at one time with such a suggestion, but instead, I felt a shiver run through my spine and I could not account for the reason why. He was a handsome gentleman, light-coloured locks over a well-formed and filled-out uniform. However, the look in his eye when our gazes collided did not seem to be admiration but rather focused curiosity.

“I daresay, his look was simply absence of mind, but let us look at the ribbons over there. The sight of the soldier reminds me that am still in need of gifts for Lydia and Kitty.”

Jane followed me to the table of satin ribbons, glancing over her shoulder as we walked. “I think you are right, Lizzy. He has left with the others to cross the road now.”

A look of my own confirmed her words, and I was unaccountably relieved. I imagine my discomfort grew from knowing that I was a lady spoken for. It had been some weeks since my engagement to Fitzwilliam had become generally known.

Soon I was involved in the pleasurable task of comparing ribbons with Jane and choosing one for each of my youngest sisters, the soldier’s odd ways forgotten.

When we emerged from the shop into the morning light, I lifted my hand to extend my bonnet as my eyes adjusted. We had been laughing together as we left, for there had been a bonnet in the window that caught my eye. I had told Jane I would bet her a crown that Lydia would at some time wish to borrow money from one of us to purchase such an ugly thing and claim the ability to remake it into something lovely. Jane was amused and shocked at my suggestion, not the least by the fact that I had proposed something as unladylike as a wager.

When my eyes adjusted, I looked about for my sisters. Lydia and Kitty had wished to procure some pastries, and we had agreed to meet after. As my head turned towards the bakery to look for them, Jane whispered in my ear, “Lizzy, that officer is looking at you again.”

My back stiffened, and I would not look in the direction in which she tipped her chin. “I cannot understand why. Perhaps you are mistaken, and it is you who has his interest.”

I had not the opportunity my younger sisters had had to be introduced to many of the militia, as most of my time had been spent at Netherfield. Lydia and Kitty, walking often to Meryton to visit our aunt Philips, were quite enraptured by the lot of them. There was not an evening tea that their heads were not full of soldiers, my mother keen to listen to anything they could report from their walks.

Nonchalantly, I scanned my eyes across the street, intending to look as though I was still in search of my sisters. When I encountered the grouping of four or five soldiers, indeed, the fair, handsome one was looking in my direction. Before I could look away, he tipped his hat towards me ever so slightly. A maidenly blush filled my cheeks at the improper attention. We had not been introduced in any fashion, and the man ought to know better.

“I cannot like how forward these soldiers are, and I worry that our sisters, who are the most determined flirts in the county, might be in some danger.”

“I agree, Lizzy. How different Meryton feels now. I should never have felt unsafe here before.”

Soon thereafter though, the soldier must have realised his overstep, for his eyes changed direction and he stood taller, quickly turning his back to us and attending to his companions.

“Ladies! What a pleasant surprise to see you about town and, I see, doing a little shopping.”

We turned to find Colonel Fitzwilliam at my side performing a most elegant bow. I smiled at my soon-to-be cousin as he straightened.

“Just as you see, Colonel. What brings you to our little market town this morning?”

“If you must know, I am tasked with an errand for my young cousin. She is abed, feeling a little unwell.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear Georgiana is ill,” I said with feeling.

“Do not use up your stores of concern too quickly, Cousin.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked at my shaking head, knowing what I thought of his relaxed behaviour with me. “I daresay her ‘ailment’ is simply a symptom of finishing her latest novel and having nothing with which to replace it. Thus you see, I am on a quest to find her another at the lending library.”

“Then I shall say she deserves still more of my pity. It is a difficult thing to finish a good book. I always feel it quite keenly.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam acknowledged my quip with a nod and another short bow.

“Might I ask you fine ladies to aid me in my quest? I fear my tastes are not the same as my cousin’s, and she will not thank me if I bring her home some dull war treatise.”

“We would be happy to, Colonel,” Jane said, and before I could say more than my own affirmative response, we were all stopped by the loud outburst of my sister twenty paces ahead of us.

“Mr Wickham! Captain Carter!” Lydia shouted with piercing inelegance. My youngest sister was waving the end of her shawl while skipping across the street towards the grouping of soldiers. Kitty, not far behind her, was carrying a sack of baked goods. At once my heart lurched with shame. The brazen manners of my sisters in so public a fashion filled me with humiliation. I hazarded a glance at our new companion, only to see a scowl such as I had never seen on the amiable man’s face. He appeared furious even.

His eyes were trained on the scene and the laugh lines that were usually so clearly present on his face were gone. I began to worry what he must think of my family, what he may say to Fitzwilliam, and how I was ever to look him in the eyes again.

My sisters reached their prey and began flirting obscenely. Mr Wickham, I presumed, was the man who had displayed such interest in me. He turned towards Lydia at her call. I turned my back to the scene, unable to watch as my sister tried to tempt another soldier with a piece of a tart from Kitty’s bag, her laughter tearing through the back of my head.

Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke to us with attempted civility, which did not mask his grave tones. “It was lovely to meet you ladies in town this morning. If you will excuse me, I have just remembered some urgent business that needs my attention.”

“Will you still wish for a book for Georgiana?” I trembled to ask, fearing my voice gave away my embarrassment.

The gentleman smiled tightly at us, his eyes distracted. Humiliation engulfed me again, hearing Lydia’s shrill laughter. I tried to ignore the determined flirting behind us.

“I beg your pardon; I must postpone such a delightful errand. I really cannot delay a moment further.” His eyes left mine to look behind me in the direction of the soldiers and I saw them narrow with disapproval. “Shall we have the pleasure of you and your sister at Netherfield today?”

My mind hiccupped and started at his words, too occupied by the abruptness of his leave-taking. Jane rescued me and answered on my behalf.

“Yes, Colonel, we plan to visit this afternoon.”

His nod was perfunctory, his mind already elsewhere. I was looking at his hands, seeing that they were clenched, but he relaxed them to take each of ours in his to perform a proper bow. With a murmur of well wishes and a touch of his hat, he departed. Swift strides resolutely propelled him to his horse, tied some paces off.

I watched Colonel Fitzwilliam swing up into the saddle with practiced efficiency and set his horse towards the end of town. We stood there watching him until he reached the road to Netherfield and kicked his stallion into full speed like the ghosts of hell were upon him.

“I do hope his business is not an unpleasant one.” Jane said, adjusting her purchases better in her arms. I looked towards her, expecting to see the same stunned expression I felt frozen on my own features. But she was serene, even showing a small smile. It seemed the swirling tempest of foreboding surrounding me and pulling me in diverse directions was for myself alone. Jane did not seem much perturbed by the urgency with which the colonel had escaped us. Of course, Jane would not fathom the import of what had just happened. To me, it was clear, Colonel Fitzwilliam was appalled by the behaviour of my sisters. He could not stand the very sight of their ridiculousness and impropriety.

No doubt, he would soon be reporting it to my betrothed. My heart fell to my feet at the thought. I had not realised until then how fortunate I had been that much of my courtship with Fitzwilliam had been at the safety of Netherfield, away from my family. Apart from brief encounters at the recent wedding, the colonel had not been exposed to many of them.

Reaching through Jane’s arm mechanically, I steered her towards our sisters, who were giggling at something one of the officers said. With eyes cast down, determined I would not be the one to act in any manner like them, I steeled my voice to get their attention.

“Lydia, Kitty, we must go. You will excuse us, gentlemen.”

We curtseyed to the group, and Jane and I each took an arm of one of our sisters as we walked in the opposite direction towards home. Lydia pulled at my arm, wishing to say a lengthier goodbye, but I would not allow it.

“Goodbye, sirs! We shall see you again soon, I am sure. Do not miss me too dearly!” Lydia’s laughter at her own tease felt like slaps from hedge branches every time she half turned to wave her hand.

“Hush, Lydia! You make yourself a fool with your flirting.”

“Oh, la! Lizzy, you are so droll, I daresay the soldiers care little for such things.”

“I daresay you are correct, and that is just the point!”

With a hiss, my sister pulled her arm free of mine when we reached the lane to Longbourn, skipping ahead to where Jane was with Kitty. We exchanged partners, and I could see that my younger sisters were heedless of the admonishments Jane and I had dealt out to them. They put their heads together and laughed while they pinched at their pastries and ate them all the way back to the house.

“They are young, Lizzy,” Jane said with a sigh. “With time, they will grow out of these high spirits.”

“Say that if it gives you comfort, Jane. I cannot help but think that their behaviour will one day cost this family far more than a few moments of embarrassment in the street.”

“Let us then take pleasure in knowing that, soon enough, we will not have any charge over them as we shall be in our own homes with our husbands.”

My fevered walking slowed, and I took Jane’s hand in mine. Joy shone in her eyes and my own worries began to melt away. For certain, the colonel was displeased at the behaviour of my family members and no doubt would express concerns to his cousin, but I took hope in the knowledge that my betrothed did not think so meanly of me now as he had when we were first forced into this match. Fitzwilliam and I had developed a sort of friendship, and I felt that my kindness to him in caring for his needs had softened him a little. He might grimace at the report about his future sisters, but in the end, Fitzwilliam would not hold it against me. In any case, we were engaged and nothing could change that.

* * *

With a kiss on her cheek, I left my sister to the eager and capable company of Charles and hugged the novel I had brought for Georgiana closer to me. In the hours since we left Meryton, humiliated by the imprudence of two very determined girls, I began to think I had been a little overly concerned about the matter. Yes, my future relation was displeased by the scene, for who of good breeding would not be? He did seem a little too fiercely unsettled to be attributed solely to how Kitty and Lydia had acted. I was left on edge, though I wished to explain it away. I felt perhaps it was my own embarrassment that led me to see his actions the way I had. He was a colonel in the army, for goodness’ sake! He probably had any number of important business matters to attend to.

I was caught up in the fact that for most of my life, I had felt confidence in my impressions of people around me. I sketched their characters with accuracy, reading their thoughts by their behaviours with skill. It had only been since the accident that I found my assurance in this skill wavering. I had been convinced that Fitzwilliam was an arrogant, disdainful, and hateful man, but he proved to be a gentler, more thoughtful person than I had previously given him credit. And while he was at times unpleasant, it was always when his head pained him. Otherwise, he treated me as if I were interesting to him, as though he did not see me as beneath him.

With a shake of my shoulders, I pushed the troubling thoughts of the morning aside, prepared to please Georgiana with the novel I had chosen from my own collection. And even though I did not really wish to acknowledge it, I was also feeling anticipation for spending time with my betrothed again.

As I approached the library, I heard gentlemen’s voices within. The door was ajar, and I paused, deciding how best to announce myself. I did not wish to disturb their private conversation. I had just determined to find a servant to point me in the direction of Georgiana’s chambers when I heard my own name through the door.

With traces of my earlier insecurities staining my better judgment, I crept closer to listen. My cheeks coloured at the disgraceful action, yet I could not pull away.

Their voices were somewhat muffled but I could make out most of the words and learned the occupants of the room were Colonel Fitzwilliam and my betrothed.

“You cannot possibly think it feasible to live the rest of your life in such a manner, Darcy! For God’s sake, can you not imagine the future…?” His words were lost here as I could hear he was in some motion, perhaps pacing. “It is unlikely to ever end, and you will be plagued again and again.”

Fitzwilliam’s reply was inaudible, or perhaps it was made indiscernible to me by my own suffocating thoughts. I could not catch them as they flew behind my eyes, each darting in and out against the inside of my skull. Did the colonel believe so little of my family now?

“You know there is little I can do about it, Richard! I have tried, believe me. I have thought about its hundreds of times from every perspective. There is no solution.”

“Then you must agree.”

Each second of silence after that felt like a stone placed upon my heart. “There is no honourable way around it, Richard.”

“Georgiana agrees with me,” Colonel Fitzwilliam added, a coup de grâce.

His tone contrasted with that of his cousin’s; I could hear the fury and resoluteness in the military man’s. In my betrothed, there was much less animation, though simmering beneath his exhausted tone was his own current of anger.

“You spoke to her regarding this?” He allowed that undercurrent to come to the surface with added outrage.

“You know why I did. Darcy, listen, you are far too prone to let emotions cloud your judgment on the subject. Let me fix this. You think it impossible, but I believe I can do it.”

I heard very little more. Fitzwilliam’s voice was resigned, pained even, but he agreed with only a small admonishment. “Take care her reputation does not suffer.”

I pressed myself against the wall beside the door. The book edges were cutting into the flesh of my hands. My heart began a savage pattern of beats. How foolish I had become to believe that Fitzwilliam had reconciled himself to our marriage. How utterly baseless were those comforts I had allowed myself to have regarding our future. He did not wish to marry so beneath him, and clearly, the arguments of his cousin regarding a future tied to a family such as mine convinced him to admit his distaste for the idea.

Why did he leap to save my life if he disliked me? Why would he risk so much, and how could I have ever believed that I might eke a little happiness out of the horrible ordeal? I thought back to the pain I felt upon waking beneath the inert form of Fitzwilliam. Sharp, stabbing slices of it ran through my centre with every breath. The darkness of the world around me was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I could not have seen my hand in front of my eyes then. With a hollow silent laugh, I compared the pain I felt then to the pain now, and there was no comparison. Could a rain shower be compared to a raging tempest? Agony filled my soul, and the sun was stolen from my sky. Darkness surrounded me again, and I knew with tragic and unendurable truth that I had done the very thing I had hoped to not do: I had fallen in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Foolish, foolish girl!I berated myself, as I pressed the heel of my palm into the side of my head.

I wish I had been buried in the earth that day, perhaps I might have been spared this death of sorts. I could not draw breath any more, and in truth, I felt the world begin to close around me as it had under the ruins. Images of our time together over the past several weeks began to pass in front of my eyes in ever quicker succession. I had mistaken resignation as admiration, boredom as flirtation. I wanted to hate every memory for the cuts they slashed across my heart. My only comfort lay in knowing that Fitzwilliam could not have seen what he had captured of me.

At least his ailment had prevented him from seeing the blushes, triumphing in my naivety. He could not see the way his touch affected me, and I was determined he never would. How could I have allowed my heart to be stolen by him? Had I not warned myself against such an outcome?

The humiliation of earlier that day was nothing to this. I suspected that if the colonel knew of my folly, he had been kind enough not to say anything, but the looks he gave me at times told me as much. Funny, I had thought perhaps he approved of my growing admiration for his cousin. I had begun to think my new relations accepted this forced marriage as much as Fitzwilliam had. How stupid of me to trust that the little interaction they had with my family up until this point was insufficient to sway them against the friendships we were creating.

How could I claim any feelings of betrayal when I had no claim to their loyalty? But betrayed I felt. Fitzwilliam and I had spoken tentatively of our future together. He described Pemberley with such detail and had said numerous times that he wished for me to see it. Had we not begun to develop a warmth between us, even an attraction stirring within? I had cared for him, and not just because it was my duty, but because I took pleasure in it.

I wondered how Fitzwilliam expected the colonel could be successful in extricating him from this misalliance. Our engagement had been much canvassed about, and its necessity likewise known. He could not jilt me without serious and ruinous consequences to my reputation.

“Let us speak no more of this, Richard. What is the time? Elizabeth ought to be arriving soon, and I do not wish to speak of this to her.”

“It is half two, and you will have to speak to her sometime.”

A loud slapping sound echoed around me, pulling me abruptly from the remaining conversation. The numbing hole expanding inside me had reached my fingers, and they gave up their burden. The book had slipped through my hands and fallen with resonating outrage to the floor at my feet. I heard the scraping of boots, and thinking only of my survival, fell to my knees to retrieve it. The note I had written to my new sister, previously tucked inside the book, had scattered out of reach. I launched myself towards it, hoping to have enough time to stand and compose myself before I was found.

“Ah, rest easy, Darcy, it is only my new cousin,” Colonel Fitzwilliam threw over his shoulder into the library behind as he opened the door. “Elizabeth, allow me.”

He had his hand out to assist me up from the floor, though I kept my head down until I could place the note back inside the book in the hopes of finding further composure. His voice was jovial again, the impassioned anger subsided and tucked away. How duplicitous it felt now, and this show of gallantry—and a show it most certainly was!—felt every bit like the stabbing pain my injured ribs had given me. Still, I could not reveal that I had been eavesdropping.

I placed a shaky hand in his and mumbled about clumsiness as I allowed him to help me to stand. I used the excuse of brushing off my skirts to keep my head bowed as he gestured for me to precede him into the room.

“Is this a book for Georgiana? Elizabeth, you are a treasure! If you do not mind, I shall run it up to her right now.”

“Thank you. But I—”

Before I could form the words that would enable my escape, he had taken the book from me, smirked at its title, and walked out the door, leaving me standing in the room with the man I loved, but who could not love me.