Page 9 of Once He Made a Beginning

Six

“Dearest Eliza!You have returned! Does that mean that Mr. Darcy... that Mr. Darcy... that he is...” Charlotte’s voice trembled as she stood by the window in her particular parlor, her hands gripping the back of a chair as though bracing for bad news. The room, with its neatly arranged furnishings and the scent of fresh lavender wafting from a nearby vase, felt calm and orderly—a stark contrast to the tidal wave of emotions Elizabeth had experienced during the past hours at Rosings.

“Mr. Darcy has awakened,” said Elizabeth. “According to his physician, his prognosis for a full recovery is excellent.” She wished to say more, specifically, that his prognosis for a full physical recovery was good, but as for his mental fitness, the physician was rather less certain. But she was not sure what was safe to conceal. Perhaps the proud Fitzwilliam family would not want the world in general to know that one of their own was subject to such human frailties as amnesia in order to blot out the pain of disappointed hopes and wounded pride.

By now, Elizabeth had thoroughly convinced herself that her harsh rejection of Mr. Darcy’s hand had caused his affliction. For what other reason could there be for him not remembering her?

“How wonderful,” Charlotte said, taking Elizabeth’s hands in hers and, after giving them a gentle squeeze, releasing them.

“Indeed.”

“I was relieved to hear from Mrs. Jenkinson that Lady Catherine’s prognosis is good. Mr. Collins is on his way to Rosings to see Lady Catherine as we speak. I am surprised you did not see him in the lane.”

Mr. Collins had been away from Kent during the entire unfolding events at Rosings, having left for London during the early hours the day of Mr. Darcy’s riding accident and having just returned that very day—no doubt filled with anticipation of what he might find upon his arrival at Rosings.

How he must have rebuked himself upon belatedly hearing the dreadful news from Charlotte. How he must have bemoaned being denied the chance to ingratiate himself with his noble patroness and her distinguished guest, if only he had been the one to discover Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth did not wish to confess to Charlotte that she had indeed seen the man and, fortunately enough, had struck a different path before he saw her. Instead, she stayed silent on the subject.

“Lady Catherine’s prognosis is good news indeed.”

“Pray forgive my impertinence for I must beg your indulgence. You see, dear Eliza, my curiosity must be satisfied, especially in view of your having remained at Rosings keeping vigil over Mr. Darcy until he was out of danger.

“Is there something you have yet to tell me about the nature of your relationship with the gentleman? I am no stranger to the fact that Mr. Darcy and you were alone here at the parsonage on the evening before his accident.”

“Oh, Charlotte, I have been suffering in silence with the weightiness of this all for so long. I fear if I do not unburden myself, I will surely go distracted.” Elizabeth explained that Mr. Darcy did indeed spend time with her alone, but what unfolded between them was such as to form the groundwork for disapprobation the likes of which might never be undone.

She accounted for her walking the next day and the colonel coming in search of her and beseeching her to go to Rosings because of Mr. Darcy’s harrowing ordeal and how she was compelled to heed his request.

“But why would the colonel leave his cousin’s side and come in search of you? Surely he had an army of qualified people at his disposal to attend his relation. Why would he think to solicit your services?”

“It appeared he was acting under the misguided notion that Mr. Darcy’s recovery would be aided by my presence.”

“No doubt you agreed,” said Charlotte. “Otherwise you would not have gone with the colonel. You certainly would not have stayed by his cousin’s side for so long as you did. What are you not telling me?”

Knowing Charlotte’s practical, astute nature as well as she did, Elizabeth suspected it would prove impossible to conceal the truth of what had taken place in that very room from her intimate friend. But how much of the truth was it safe to reveal?

“After our altercation, Mr. Darcy wrote a letter to me to explain his side of the story about certain events that unfolded in the past and the colonel came across it. Rather than think it odd that his cousin would write to a single lady to whom he is wholly unconnected, the colonel supposed there was a deeper connection between Mr. Darcy and me than there is.”

“You might have corrected his misunderstanding. Why did you not?”

“I know the colonel and Mr. Darcy boast of a close connection as cousins and friends, but I could have no way of knowing the extent they confided in each other. I suppose I was acting out of some odd sense of loyalty to Mr. Darcy by not sharing the details of his personal life with another.”

“The more you talk, the more I sense there is a deeper story that you are not confiding in me. What are the details of Mr. Darcy’s personal life that you know of but that you suppose he would want concealed from others? What exactly happened between you and Mr. Darcy that evening when the two of you were alone?”

“Oh, Charlotte, Mr. Darcy offered his hand in marriage to me.”

“Eliza!”

“Except, I refused his offer, for you see, I had no choice, not after learning what he had done and from Colonel Fitzwilliam’s own mouth.”

“What did Mr. Darcy do?”

“He was the reason Bingley never returned to Hertfordshire as promised. Mr. Darcy took it upon himself to persuade his friend of Jane’s indifference. I always suspected the gentleman’s sisters were instrumental in separating their brother from Jane, but to learn that Mr. Darcy bore the greater share of the blame—how could I possibly have accepted the man who had been the means of my sister’s heartbreak?”

Elizabeth concluded the discussion by telling Charlotte that while Mr. Darcy’s actions had played a part in her refusal, it was also the ungentlemanlike manner of his proposal that made her consider him the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed on to marry and indeed, she had told him as much.

Confiding what she could about his letter to her intimate friend, Elizabeth admitted to feeling more than a little distressed about the accusations she had made against Mr. Darcy. “I am absolutely ashamed of myself. I can think of neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Wickham without feeling I have been absurd.