From Pemberley to Paradise, page 8
Later they all met for a delightful dinner, just to hear Jane and Kitty continue their stories. Amusing and full of joy, both sisters seemed to have had a splendid time together.
“It was the best time of my life!” cried Kitty and everybody around the table smiled. She enjoyed the attention she received from some of Bingley’s friends they met in Bath but also the elegance of the women.
Despite the entreaties the Bingleys proffered, Mr and Mrs Bennet and the girls, excepting Elizabeth, went to Longbourn that night. They wanted to sleep at home, “A sentiment,” Mr Bennet said, “only older people understand!”
∞∞∞
As much as she wanted to prolong the pleasure of being together with her sister, Elizabeth finally entered the room where she had been with Darcy, almost two months ago. At first, she wanted to ask Jane to put her in another place, but in the end, she decided to face her fears. The room was well lit, by chandeliers she had not seen the first time. Sitting on an armchair facing the bed, she wondered with a shiver what had really happened in that bed. She had some doubts and many memories, but it was almost impossible to be sure. The room was clean, the sheets immaculate, nothing to remember that terrible night.
The room had nothing to unveil, it was the same and yet so changed, but once in the bed, she remembered the sheets from that morning…her father left the room to let her prepare for breakfast…she stood up, dizzy and tired looking at the sheets…they were dirty from ashes and sweat and blood. It seemed normal at that moment, she had a little wound at her knee and her sleep had been extremely agitated. Then she remembered how dirty she was when she entered the room. Her heart stopped still in that memory…at the candles’ light, she recalled being washed up and dressed in a clean nightgown…she could feel the wet sponge on her body …someone was washing her naked body, wiping away the ashes and the sweat and blood. She closed her eyes so as not to see the scene anymore, but it remained fixed behind her eyelids. Darcy was washing her naked body, almost like a ritual because while he passed the sponge on her skin, he whispered words of love.
She was clean in the morning because he had washed her and then…
She hid her head under the pillow trying to recall the memories, it was her washing him, with the same sponge. In the end, still naked, he took her into his arms and undressed her again and…he was atop of her…his movements, she seemed to know already as she was also moving in his rhythms.
It happened! It was neither a fantasy nor a dream. She was with him that night and the undoubted revelation made her cry so hard that Jane probably heard her. She came running into her room and took Elizabeth in her arms, thinking it was painful for her sister to be in that house where she had been so close to a tragedy.
“Do not cry, little sister, you do not have to worry, nothing can happen now! I shall sleep with you if you are scared, but I am so happy to be again with you…we must forget that horrible night.”
However, Elizabeth could not contain her tears; she had to tell the truth to Jane, as she was the only one to be trusted, but Jane continued to talk while wiping her tears. “And I have another motive to be happy, my dear…what do you say about me eating all the time and losing the contents of my stomach in the morning and this constant nausea…and gaining a little weight…? Imagine! I am pregnant after less than two months!”
Elizabeth stopped crying, her gaze so different from the one Jane hoped to find in her sister’s eyes when announcing her pregnancy. Elizabeth passed in no time from astonishment to horror, leaving Jane to wonder what happened to her. Instead of a happy smile, Jane had in front of her, a stranger who was looking terrified. She started to shake her as it was far from a healthy state, almost crying, “Elizabeth, what happened?”
At her cries, Charles arrived at the door, alarmed, and only at that point Elizabeth appeared to return to reality while her sister said, “Go to sleep my darling! Lizzy had a bad dream!”
But then she turned to her and almost shouted, “What is wrong, Elizabeth?”
The words could not form on her mouth…so inconceivable were they and yet she said, “I am pregnant, too! I am sure!”
It took Jane more than a moment to recover; it was indeed the most unexpected thing to hear.
“Someone forced himself on you?” she cried, but all she could remember was the young Mr Watford, who was such a timid gentleman.
“No!” Elizabeth said. She hesitated now, but it was too late not to tell the whole truth and in the end she needed help which only her sister could give.
“It was Darcy!” she said while Jane let her go from her arms to look in her face, “Mr Darcy?” she asked, “But how, when?”
“Here, at Netherfield, that night…” whispered Elizabeth.
“I do not understand anything, please Lizzy, tell me the whole story or I shall go mad! Did Mr Darcy force himself on you?” she asked, almost enraged.
“No!” Elizabeth cried while her tears covered her face. “He was not! The doctor gave us a drug to sleep and it seems that in some situations one can act rather frenetic and uncontrolled from it! I wanted to, Jane…he asked me on and on if I agreed and I said yes all the time.”
“What…?” Jane was so shocked she could not ask more questions.
“I know, it is so strange, but in all the excitement of the night, the fear and the smoke I inhaled, everything contributed and when he came to my room I just wanted…”
Jane remembered for a short moment her night and blushed. They had decided, at the same moment, to be together—she and Charles. She could not blame her sister.
“Yet, why did you not say something, did he not propose to you, in the morning?”
That was the most inconceivable part of her story; Darcy left in the morning for London!
“I remember,” Jane said, “oh, my, I remember! It was Charles who asked him to depart in such a rush!”
“Yes…and in the morning, finding myself alone…I just did not remember!”
“You did not remember? How is that possible?” she cried again to her sister, unable to calm down. “Next morning I had that pain…in that place…” Jane said and blushed. “It took me some days to recover!”
“I know, but I thought it was because of the effort we made to put down the fire, remember the buckets…”
Jane nodded, she remembered.
“You forgot everything?” Jane asked, unbelievingly.
“Well…I did not forget, I imagined it was a dream. I had before dreams…about…” Elizabeth hesitated, “about being with a man!” she blushed as she was looking at her sister’s face.
“Do not be ashamed, I had them too!”
“I thought it was one of those dreams!”
They stood a long time in silence.
“So, you did not speak to Mr Darcy about it!”
“No, he wrote to me saying that his feelings are unchanged and he wanted to marry me…My God, now I understand his letter, he was referring to what has happened between us…he tried all those days in London to come near me and…probably to propose to me again, but I did all in my power to avoid him…I even flirted with Mr Watford…oh, Jane I am so ashamed and scared. I wrote him a letter as if nothing had happened between us! He probably thought I was crazy or a woman who usually does that…” her cries were again tragic, making Jane take her into her arms.
“Come, my dear, stop crying, we need to find a solution! We need to leave for Pemberley!”
Chapter 12
The road to Pemberley was a long series of silences, sporadic cries and constant sickness. Poor Charles had to face two morose women, but as Jane was his wife and carrying his baby, he was so happy during the trip that both of them were eager to leave him at a coaching stop. He laughed all the time, describing everything that passed near their coach, wanting them to have the best conditions even when it was proved to be impossible.
Arriving at Pemberley was a kind of liberation for all three of them. Jane was so happy to sleep in the splendid apartment prepared for them, finally able to wash the dust and dirt accumulated in four days of horrible road and precarious sleeping conditions. Meanwhile, in her room, Elizabeth prolonged the bath as long as she could, feeling like a princess, surrounded by maids who helped her wash, a princess in paradise who had to dress and go down for dinner…in hell.
She was so tormented… so desperate to be in such a splendid place while being in that awful situation. She remembered so well Pemberley from the first time she was there with her aunt and uncle, the Gardiners.
But it was not the time for happy memories. Compared to her story, even Lydia’s elopement seemed a fairy tale, yet the beautiful mansion was as magnificent as she remembered. She did not visit the private rooms then but many times since she imagined the house, the parlours, the bedrooms, even the ballroom she had never seen. Pemberley had obsessed her ever since. She could have been the mistress of that fascinating domain and in the present situation, she thought how simple things would have been if she had said “yes” to his proposal: the horrible situation she was now living—never would have happened.
But back then, she did not know Darcy. She imagined him to have all the faults in the world; she even loathed his proposal and refused it most awfully. And yet he continued to love her, at least she was under that impression. Elizabeth remembered how he wanted and tried to speak to her at Jane’s marriage but never had the chance. It seemed the whole universe had contributed to that situation. He must have thought she was mad! How else could he explain her attitude; she spent a whole night with him and just disappeared from his life.
For some time during the trip she had the horrible idea he might think she had done that before, but then she remembered their talks, his asking her if she knew what to do…her blood on the sheets that did not come from his or her wound. She was so ashamed.
∞∞∞
Georgiana welcomed them with a happy smile on her face, a reassuring presence in the noise caused by their arrival…there were so many people around, servants who were carrying their luggage, Jane laughing…Charles as delighted as ever…and finally, the two of them, face to face. Only the brief eye contact—when they made their curtseys—took her on the verge of fainting, her heart beating furiously, her cheeks on fire and yet all her body was overcome by a tremendous chill.
But the real encounter would be at dinner and she was unsure of her reactions. She could hardly handle her feelings. Jane told her it was because of her pregnancy. Her sister knew so much about their condition, ready to talk while Elizabeth just wanted to forget. How was she going to tell Darcy and yet he knew so well what happened between them, for him it was not a surprise. Most surely, her attitude had been shocking, appalling…as if nothing had happened.
Elizabeth, led by a maid, entered a cosy parlour to find the guests gathered for a drink before dinner. Darcy saw her coming and rushed to be near her before Georgiana could.
She had imagined the dinner to be a small gathering when instead she found the parlour full of guests and the first to be presented to her was a marchioness. His intention was clear, he wanted Elizabeth to know he was continuing his life and forgetting about her. And indeed Marchioness Alexandra of Derbyshire was a lady so right for him. Elegant, sophisticated and intelligent was the first impression Elizabeth had of her and that impression lasted all evening long.
Elizabeth entered the dining room led by Georgiana—who could hardly hold back her happiness at having her and Jane as guests—while the marchioness came on Darcy’s arm. They were laughing, so natural and good together that Elizabeth’s heart shrieked. For days she prepared how to tell him the truth but seeing him so happy with that lady, the task became even more horrible.
Again and again, she blamed herself for not talking with him in London, but then she also remembered so well how she had come to breakfast at Netherfield to find out he was gone. She was sure that seeing him that morning or talking to him would have transformed the alleged dreams into reality. He was also guilty of leaving her after…
The dining room took her breath away, elegant, simple and spacious with the table placed on the terrace viewing the beautiful park—illuminated by dozens of flares—it was a fairy tale scene. She looked in amazement at the unusual round shape of the table, which proved to be so appropriate for a gathering like theirs, everybody could speak with everybody and a general discussion about travelling and travellers began.
Elizabeth looked in amazement toward the enormous dining room that seemed empty, but Georgiana read her mind, smiling when she spoke, “We have different kinds of dining tables, one for each occasion. Once mama had 100 people when the Prince of Wales was our guest.”
It was what she imagined about Pemberley, splendour worthy of a king. She had to look attentively at her plate to hide the tears, but she could not go back to Hertfordshire unmarried and with a growing belly. She fought her tiredness as there was no time to be wasted; that night she must tell him the truth.
Too embarrassed by the situation, she did not have a plan or a speech; she was just determined to end her agony. So when Darcy came to invite her to walk in the park—in front of the dining room—she accepted. Surprised, at first, as the marchioness was alone, she looked at him and nodded, incapable of speaking. They were not alone in the garden, but most of the guests were on the terrace, still seated at the dinner table.
They strolled a while, going further into the park. From time to time, he told her little things about the garden or the house, he showed her where her room was, a sure sign he knew where she was sleeping.
“It is the most beautiful guest apartment of the house…” he said and for the first time in many days of turmoil, she regained a sliver of hope. If he gave her the most beautiful apartment, it meant she still had a special place in his mind.
“We have to talk, Darcy,” she said. It was the first time she called him Darcy but carrying his child gave her this right. He did not look surprised while they sat on a little bench surrounded by torches. In the distance, they could see their friends speaking and laughing, just a murmur from so far away.
“We certainly do, Elizabeth,” he said.
“But not now,” she whispered, “we must go back now and meet later this evening.”
If he was astonished the night and the flames’ dance hid his surprise. He just nodded and said, “I shall send my butler to lead you to a little parlour…” he hesitated, “…you will see where!”
The evening continued on the same joyful note, Charles was so happy to be at last among his friends that he shone. “It is the last time I shall accept to accompany two Bennet ladies!” he said laughing while his new wife made a funny, yet angry face at him.
In the past, Elizabeth would have considered such an elegant dinner, in that joyful company as one of the best of her life but lately, her life was so confusing that she hardly could stand the company of others. She would have preferred the evening to reach its end as soon as possible and finally be alone with him. She feared that conversation, but she could not live any longer with this burden.
It was long after 12 o’clock when she heard the knocking at her door, the one she waited for…yet loathed—at the same time. The time had come. She understood in an instant that the servant waiting for her was Darcy’s butler, probably the servant he trusted most and she thanked him for this delicacy. Such a servant was so devoted to his master that never would he be indiscreet.
“I do not remember your name,” Elizabeth said in a benevolent voice.
“It is Weston, madam; I am Mr Darcy’s butler, please follow me,” he said and led her through a labyrinth of halls, well lighted even at that hour. He opened a door for her, bowed and disappeared as silently as a ghost and here she was, alone, in the same room with him. Darcy was dressed in a casual outfit, probably how he passed his time indoors. She found him with a glass in his hand which he set down on a little table near the armchair to greet her. To her surprise, he did not bow but took her hand to his lips while he glanced at her with an impenetrable look. Her eyes met his with all the courage she possessed, for she was not afraid of him but embarrassed by the strange situation between them.
She looked around. They were in a lady’s parlour and the paintings on the walls told her it was not a woman of their time. Most likely it was his mother’s parlour, one kept intact since her death. Elizabeth admired the painting that dominated the room. It pictured a woman with an infant in her arms, looking at him with so much love that Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears she could not restrain. She hoped he did not see her emotion but knowing him that was improbable; he was a fine observer of people and the world.
“It is my mother’s parlour, I have passed many happy years here throughout my life. Since she was gone, I come here to find that peace that she left behind.”
She could not speak yet, so he continued more ironically, so uncharacteristic for him, “So, Elizabeth, we are alone again!”
She blushed so violently that he felt sorry for her, so he added, “Sorry, I was a little surprised by your attitude after the blaze that night! Do you want to talk…about?”
She nodded and finally said, “Yes, I want to talk…and I understand you were shocked.” And as she did not know how to begin, she added, “You have a good relationship with the marchioness.”
He was surprised by her words, “I hope you did not come so far to discuss my relationship with Alexandra!” He named her Alexandra leaving no doubts, he was very close to her. Her heart was beating, her cheeks were on fire and she could not find her words, “No, sorry, I did not intend to be indiscreet!”
Darcy breathed deeply; he was angry, she could tell from the way he looked at her and how he poured another glass of brandy.
“Why did you leave without saying a word?” she asked, not looking at him.
“Oh, my God!” he said with a voice so different from the one he had used only some seconds before. “It was not my intention but…I had to leave the room in the morning—you understand—and you were sleeping so deeply that I could not wake you up to tell you I was leaving.”
