Her Voice of Reason Read online

  “Elizabeth,” he said, his expression tense, a heavy frown set over his forehead.

  She stopped smiling. “Is something the matter?”

  He nodded. “We need to go to Hertfordshire. It is good that the weather is cold, as the road will be more passable. We shall be there in two days.”

  “I do not understand. You wish to go earlier? It was settled that we shall go in a month, by the end of February.”

  “We must go now.” He took a step closer, touching her cheek. “My darling, the man came an hour ago from Netherfield with most tragic news.”

  Her eyes widened. “From Mr. Bingley? Has something happened to Jane?”

  “You sister is well. Your father, however... I am so very sorry, my love.”

  “What about my father? Is he ill again?”

  “He is dead,” he whispered. “The funeral is on Sunday.”

  Elizabeth stared at the concerned face of her husband for the longest moment, attempting to comprehend his words. She saw white snowflakes dancing in front of her eyes. They were becoming bigger and bigger. Then everything went black and she felt herself losing the power in her limbs and back. She did not fall only because her husband caught her in his arms.

  ***

  “Elizabeth, darling, you must eat,” Darcy’s quiet voice admonished her.

  They sat in the quiet corner of some inn on their way south. Elizabeth did not even know what the name of the town was, although she must have passed it when going to Pemberley last year.

  She stared at the steaming soup in the bowl in front of her. Since yesterday she had not spoken a word to anyone. Crying was the only thing she was capable of.

  “I beg you,” Darcy said. She looked up into her husband’s terrified face. “You have not eaten since yesterday. Think about the babe. You must eat.”

  With a slow movement she reached for the spoon and began to eat, forcing the thick liquid down her throat and into her stomach.

  “Would you care for some cake, Lizzy?” Georgiana enquired when she finished the soup. “It is truly delicious.”

  Elizabeth looked at her, shaking her head slowly.

  “At least she had the soup,” Darcy said to his sister.

  “I need to refresh myself. Will you come with me, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth kept staring at Georgiana, finding it hard to concentrate on her thoughts. She fell the pressure in the pit of her stomach. Indeed she had to join Georgiana to relieve herself. She stood up slowly and the next moment Darcy was by her side.

  “I will lead her,” Georgiana offered, putting an arm around her. Darcy stepped aside.

  Elizabeth realized that they treated her like a child. She did not care. She had no will inside of her to protest.

  ***

  “Elizabeth, dearest, we are here. Wake up, we are at Longbourn.”

  Elizabeth opened her eyes. She looked to the side to see the yellow walls and white windows of her childhood home.

  She moved up, reaching for the door.

  Darcy’s hand on her back stopped her. “Wait, I will help you.” He got out, then he handled her down, holding securely onto her arms.

  “Lizzy,” Jane’s voice was heard from nearby.

  Elizabeth looked up. Jane seemed as beautiful and serene as always, only her eyes were bloodshot red.

  “Jane!” she exclaimed, her voice hoarse, running into her sister’s open arms.

  They stood together for the longest time. Elizabeth heard her mother and younger sisters gathering around them, but she refused to let go of Jane to greet them.

  ***

  “How could it happen, Jane?” Elizabeth enquired later that evening. “How is it possible? Only in October when he visited us at Pemberley he was feeling so very well!”

  They were in Jane’s old bedroom huddled together in one bed as in the times when they had been little girls.

  “He was well, Lizzy,” Jane responded. “He was truly well. Then after New Year he began to lose appetite. He spent more and more time in the library. But he felt well. He did not complain about headaches like before. I thought that he was simply tired. I was so occupied with Mr. Bingley that I failed to see how very ill he must have been. Then ten days ago he put himself to bed. At first we thought that he was simply sick with a seasonal cold.”

  “Why did you not write to me about it?”

  “It was my intention, sister, but knowing how upset you become with every mention that Papa was unwell, I decided to wait until his recovery. The last two days he stopped recognizing us. Mr. Bingley decided that we should send the man to Pemberley. He was supposed to go to Derbyshire in the morning, but at night Papa died. We had to change the message he had for you.”

  Elizabeth fell silent. “It happened so quickly.”

  “It did. Had I been more observant...”

  “Do not blame yourself, Jane. You could not have stopped it.”

  “I could have sent the message to you earlier. You would have had a chance to say goodbye.”

  “No, Jane. You could not have perceived the very worst. We both believed that Papa would live long years.”

  The sisters were silent before there was a knock at the door.

  Jane rose to open it. Darcy stood in the doorway, his eyes searching for Elizabeth.

  “Miss Bennet.” He bowed his head in front of Jane. “I am looking for my wife.”

  Elizabeth got up from the bed, coming to stand next to her sister. “I will come to our room soon, Fitzwilliam.”

  Darcy’s intense gaze settled on her. “Are you well?”

  “I am well,” she said, attempting to calm him down with her smile. “Jane has been telling me about Papa.”

  “I thought that perhaps you would wish to spend the night with Miss Bennet here,” he said, his eyes fleeting from one sister to another.

  Elizabeth shook her head at him. “You do not need to be quite so formal,” she admonished him. “You can call her Jane.”

  Darcy looked at the tall blonde in front of him with great unease.

  “You are making Mr. Darcy uncomfortable, Lizzy,” Jane observed. “I am perfectly content to be called Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes before looking lovingly at her husband. “I will be right back with you, Fitzwilliam. I will not be long.”

  Darcy nodded, then bowed again and left, walking down the corridor.

  When they returned to the bed, Jane spoke first, “He worries about you a great deal.”

  “He does,” Elizabeth agreed. “He has a good reason for being concerned over me.”

  Jane watched her with confusion before understanding dawned on her. “Such wonderful news, Lizzy!” she exclaimed softly. “When exactly will I become an aunt?”

  “The first days of August or late July, I believe. As it is still very early we have not shared the news with anyone, only Georgiana and now you.”

  Jane leaned to embrace her. “I am so pleased for you, Sister. Mr. Darcy must be over the moon.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “He is. Even though at this very moment he is terrified that I would do something foolish, jeopardizing the babe’s wellbeing and my own as well.”

  Jane frowned. “Why would he think such a thing?”

  She looked down. “When the news about Papa’s death arrived, I fainted. I stopped speaking and refused to eat.”

  “Elizabeth Darcy!” Jane exclaimed. “How could you, knowing that you are carrying the little one? Papa would have never wanted that.”

  “I was not myself, Jane. I could not think or function properly when I heard the news,” she justified. “Now I feel much better, still sad and heartbroken but capable to breathe, talk and eat.”

  Jane gave her an earnest look. “Lizzy, you must take good care of yourself. Promise me this.”

  When a quarter of an hour later Elizabeth entered her childhood bedroom she saw her husband sitting in her old bed, looking mightily cramped in it.

  “Here you are,” he said, extending his hand to her.
r />   She ran to him, climbing under the covers. She lay down, placing her head on his chest. Instantly his arms wrapped securely around her and he kissed the top of her head.

  “I am pleased to see that you are feeling better.”

  “Forgive me for the way I acted for the last three days.”

  “I understand perfectly well. I acted the same when my mother passed away. I refused to speak to anyone.”

  “You were only thirteen.”

  He sighed. “True, and Georgiana was barely two years old. She cannot even remember her.”

  “And your father?”

  “I was better prepared for his death. He had been ill for a long time before. My mother was as well, however, I never truly realized that she would not be with us one day.”

  “You and Georgiana were left all alone.”

  “Those were difficult years,” he admitted. “I tried to do my very best for my sister and Pemberley. I think that Georgiana is so shy and withdrawn largely due to the fact I did not play with her often enough. She had little contact with children her age. I spent time with her, but I was always overly serious, burdened with my duties and responsibility.”

  “Georgiana loves you and thinks the world of you. You could not be a better brother and protector in her eyes.”

  Darcy put the covers higher over her arm. “Try to fall asleep,” he pleaded with her. “You need your rest.”

  Elizabeth buried her nose in the opening of his shirt, inhaling deeply, the sense of security and calm coming over her together with his scent.

  “I told Jane about the baby.”

  He squeezed her to him. “Good. She should know.”

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing motion of his fingers stroking her forearm. Gradually she drifted off into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Elizabeth and Jane sat on the wide upholstered bench in the windowsill, looking down at the gravelled path leading from the house to the road and directly to the church. It was decided that the coffin would be carried and not put onto a carriage, as it was not even half a mile to the church.

  Darcy, Bingley, Uncle Phillip and Uncle Gardiner were carrying the wooden box on their arms, walking slowly down the path. Neighbours, friends and relatives were moving slowly behind them. Mrs. Bennet and the daughters stayed home. Lydia and Wickham had not come. They were short of money and neither Darcy nor Bingley offered to send them any or even the carriage to have them brought.

  “It was a long time ago when I stopped believing in Mr. Greenwood’s diagnosis,” Elizabeth whispered.

  “The same as I,” Jane agreed.

  “He was incorrect in one respect, though. He said that Papa would die by the end of the year. He lived a few weeks more.”

  ***

  The drawing room at Longbourn was crowded with family and neighbours who had come here after the funeral, as was the custom. The conversations were hushed, the atmosphere mournful. Mrs. Bennet was seated on the large sofa with a handkerchief in her hand, surrounded by her friends. They were listening with attention and compassion to her intimate confessions of her state of mind and heart after her husband’s untimely passing.

  Kitty sat by the window together with Mariah Lucas while Mary played quietly a sad and sombre tune on a pianoforte with Georgiana sitting on a bench next to her.

  Jane and Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room with Darcy and Bingley next to them. Elizabeth was mentally and physically exhausted even though she had had a fairly good night’s rest. There were moments when she felt dizzy and sick to her stomach. She could not tell if it was the result of the crowded space, her condition, or the sorrow over her father’s death, or perhaps all three.

  She could see and feel Darcy’s eyes on her, watchful and anxious. She sent him a small smile, but it failed to diminish his apprehension as he moved closer to her, whispering into her ear, “Should you not rest upstairs? You are very pale.”

  Jane must have overheard him, as she supported his suggestion. “You should listen to Mr. Darcy, Sister. You do look pale.”

  “I am well,” Elizabeth answered, looking from Jane to her husband. “I am quite well,” she repeated, but neither of them looked particularly convinced with her assurances.

  Darcy opened his mouth, surely to disagree with her, but did not manage to say anything as the commotion at the door caught everyone’s attention.

  No one else but Mr. Collins marched in, carrying a large carpet bag in his hand, followed by the characteristic odour of his person. Close to thirty pairs of eyes settled on the newcomer.

  “What is he doing here?” Mr. Bingley asked quietly so only Jane and the Darcys could hear him.

  “Who invited him, Lizzy?” Jane wished to know.

  “Certainly not I,” Elizabeth answered.

  “My dear, dear Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Collins spoke loudly, putting his bag on the floor and extending his arms in a theatrical gesture as he stepped to the widow. “I left Kent as soon as I heard the sad news about the passing of our dear Mr. Bennet.”

  When Mrs. Bennet did not utter a single word of answer to his greeting, he continued, not deterred with her silence, “I was surprised that you have not informed me about the death of my dear cousin. After all, it is my home now. I am the new master of Lonbgourn.”

  A sob tore from Mrs. Bennet’s chest as she hid her face into her handkerchief.

  Darcy marched to the parson, speaking in a quiet but decided voice. “Mr. Collins, you are upsetting Mrs. Bennet.”

  Collins turned to Darcy. Squinting his small beady eyes, he spoke, “Mr. Darcy, what a pleasure to see you here. Your Aunt, Lady Catherine, has missed you greatly since your last visit, which ended for her in a most unfortunate way.” His accusing gaze shifted from Darcy to Elizabeth.

  “You should leave,” Darcy said, glowering at Collins from his great height.

  The parson stretched his meagre posture, raising his chin high. “It is my home now and I will not leave. Lady Catherine stressed that I should take residence of Longbourn as soon as it could be so that the Bennets could not hide more valuable furniture from me.”

  “For your information, Mr. Collins, I have read the entail contract between my late father- in-law and your father. According to it, Mrs. Bennet and her children have the right to stay here for the next three months, also they are entitled to take possession of everything that is inside the house and they might find useful for their future life.”

  “I have no intention to leave,” Mr. Collins announced sternly. “It is my home.”

  Darcy looked up, uttering one short word. “Bingley.”

  The guests watched as Mr. Collins was led out of the house by Mr. Darcy holding him from one side while Mr. Bingley was on the other. Mr. Gardiner carried Mr. Collin’s carpet bag, stepping closely behind them. Soon Mr. Collins was thrown down onto the road leading to the manor in a most unceremonious way. Mr. Gardiner threw his carpet bag with such a force that its contents spilled into the muddy ground.

  ***

  Elizabeth sat on the fresh grass in front of her father’s grave. It was the middle of March. They had stayed in Hertfordshire for nearly six weeks, but it was high time to return to Derbyshire. She knew that both Georgiana and her husband were eager to return home.

  “I am not leaving you alone, Papa,” she said, while arranging fresh flowers in front of the light grey tombstone. “Jane is here as well as Mama, Kitty and Mary. They will visit you. Jane married Mr. Bingley as you wished for her. They decided not to wait till the end of the mourning period. And I am with child, Papa. We agreed with Fitzwilliam that if it is a boy we shall name him Thomas.”

  She stared sadly at the name of her father engraved in the stone. Two large tears ran down her cheeks.

  “How I wish for you to meet your first grandchild,” she sighed. “Watch over us, please.”

  Slowly she rose to her feet. She stood for a moment, looking at the old church and tall trees surrounding the graveyard. It was a pleasant place to rest.<
br />
  “Elizabeth,” she heard from afar. On turning her head, she saw her husband and Georgiana standing by the gate. There was a carriage awaiting on the road behind them.

  With one more sad look directed at her father’s grave, she turned on her heel and walked towards her family.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  “Push, Mrs. Darcy, push!”

  “I cannot,” Elizabeth panted tiredly.

  “Push, one last time. Now!”

  “Agrrrr!” she cried out, gathering the little strength she had left after twenty hours of labour.

  Her head fell down on the pillow as the pain was suddenly gone. Soon she heard angry cry of a newborn child. She closed her eyes. She was so tired.

  ***

  “Pretty as a picture,” Mrs. Bennet declared, looking at the baby.

  “Thank you, Mama,” Elizabeth answered proudly. She could not take her eyes away from the little bundle placed next to her on the bed. Washed and dressed in a fresh shirt, her hair combed neatly away, she felt much more like herself than only half an hour ago.

  “She will have blonde hair,” Mrs. Bennet said, stroking the barely visible fuzz on the little head. “She looks just like Jane when she was born.”

  “My opinion is that she more resembles Georgiana than anyone else,” Jane Bingley noted, leaning over her mother to see her niece.

  “Lizzy, Brother is anxious to see the baby,” Georgiana reminded from the other side of the bed.

  “Allow him in,” Elizabeth assured her with a smile.

  “We should leave them alone, Mama,” Jane said, taking Mrs. Bennet’s arm.

  “You are indeed very lucky, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy does not seem displeased with the fact that the child is not a boy,” Mrs. Bennet whispered before she stepped away from the bed.

  “Mama!” Jane cried out softly, frowning disapprovingly at her mother.

  Darcy entered the room, going straight to the bed, failing to acknowledge the three other women standing in the doorway, his entire gaze concentrated on his new family.

  His eyes were fixated on the child as he sat gently on the edge of the bed. After the longest moment he lifted his eyes to his wife. “How are you feeling?” he enquired, reaching his hand to touch her cheek.