Love Never Fails Read online

  Wanting nothing more than to leave the room and the sickening presence of Mr. Collins, she controlled her breath so that she might speak clearly. “You must give me leave to choose my own future and pay me the compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy with whomever else you choose as a wife. In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family and may take possession of Longbourn estate without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally settled.”

  She rose from her chair before he could utter another word and stormed into the peace of Father’s study. Closing the heavy door a touch more resolutely than required, she leaned back against it and held her breath until she determined that she had not been followed into Father’s sanctuary.

  There were times she still expected to see him sitting behind his desk, engrossed in a book and smoking his pipe. The smell of tobacco and the intoxicating aroma of books filled her senses and she closed her eyes so she could see him. How she wished he was there to reassure her. He would never make her marry a ridiculous man to preserve their home. But why did she feel so guilty?

  Slumping her shoulders, she opened her eyes to look at his empty chair. A chair he would never occupy again. The shelves of books he had taken such pride in collecting would never again pass through his hands. It was impossible to foresee a time when she could look at a book without a large lump choking her throat.

  Elizabeth walked around his desk, letting her fingers run across the worn edge of the wood. It was as soft as cream from its years of use. Falling into his faded brown leather chair, she rested her heated forehead against the coolness of the oak desk and braced herself to face Mother.

  She found her in the garden.

  Mother balled her fists and plunked them on her round hips. "I do not understand you, Elizabeth Bennet. It is in our best interest for you to marry Mr. Collins, yet you declare that you will not have him!"

  "No, Mother, I will not have him and Father would never have expected me to marry him.” She held on to that belief with a tenacity stronger than her self-reproach.

  "Mr. Collins has been kind enough to allow us to stay here though Longbourn is now his to do with as he pleases. Surely, you could learn to think more kindly toward him given a sufficient amount of time. Need I remind you that our family's security depends upon his generosity? The least you can do is marry him."

  Mother spoke of marriage as if it were the solution to all life's problems. Her sole wish was to see her five daughters married well and, while Elizabeth was not averse to the idea, she wanted more. So much more. She refused to settle for a man she could not respect. She craved good conversation. With Father gone, she had no one to talk to. Nobody who understood her humor, not that she exceeded in smiles lately. How could she make Mother understand?

  "I cannot marry Mr. Collins. Can you not see how unsuited to each other we are? Father never—"

  Mother raised her finger into the air. "Do not mention your father. He is not here, and had he done his duty by us, we would not be in this dreadful situation. I will not have you speak of him when he was so often wrong in these matters. Had he allowed me…" Her lips pinched and she huffed out her flared nostrils. Mother’s anger at Father, though deserved in her view, pained Elizabeth more than she could know.

  "Do you not think it inappropriate for Mr. Collins to court me while I am yet in mourning?" Elizabeth stood on shaky ground. Mother would be the first to set propriety aside if it meant that one of her daughters could marry.

  "These are desperate times for us, Lizzy. If you do not marry Mr. Collins, he will have every right to cast us out of our home. Is that what you want?"

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She could not marry Mr. Collins. In the weeks since his arrival, every day brought a new reason for her to refuse him. He was ridiculous. Though politeness and indifference had tamed her sarcastic comments, Mr. Collins was the brunt of many scathing remarks made in her mind. A wife should want for her husband to hold her hand. She ought to feel her heart flutter when he looked at her. Elizabeth had been so repulsed by his touch, she could still taste the bile in her mouth.

  Crossing her arms to strengthen her resolve, Elizabeth repeated, "I cannot marry him. I am decided."

  Mother crossed her arms, mirroring Elizabeth’s determination. "Then I shall never speak to you again. Do you understand me, Elizabeth Bennet? If you refuse to marry Mr. Collins, not a word toward you shall cross my lips. Your selfish disregard for your family is not the work of a daughter deserving of a loving mother."

  Elizabeth’s gut wrenched, squeezing her firm resolve until she ached. She would do everything in her power to prove her loyalty to her family and minimize the consequences of her decision, but she would not marry a man she could not respect… much less love. Father would not have made her do it, she repeated over and over in her mind.

  Shaking her head slowly, Elizabeth whispered once again, “I cannot do it. I am sorry.”

  Pinching her lips so tightly, they turned white, Mother said, “It is your choice. If you would have me treat you as a stranger, then so be it.” Throwing her hands into the air, she turned on her heel to leave Elizabeth standing alone in the middle of the garden.

  The wind swirled around her, prickling her skin and sending chills up and down her limbs. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself, bunching her shoulders up to her ears to warm her neck. Lowering her chin, she shivered as another blast of wind reminded her of how alone she was. There would be no warming embrace to soothe her aching heart. Nobody would pat her shoulder and tell her that everything would turn out well. Elizabeth’s arms fell to her sides as she realized the futility of her solo embrace.

  Unable to return inside to Jane, who would gladly bear Elizabeth’s burdens on top of her own to her failing health, she turned toward the fields and walked.

  There was a fallen tree on the edge of a grove where she often sought solace. The surrounding trees protected her from the sharp wind and it had a lovely view of Netherfield Park in the distance.

  Sitting with her hands clutched together so that they would stop shaking, she let herself feel all the emotions she had tried to subdue at Longbourn. At first, no tears came, though they pooled together to drown her. She reached up to her mouth, gasping for breath, her fingers pressing against her lips. The pressure in her chest grew unbearable until, with a cry, the defensive walls she had worked so diligently building over the past months crumbled under the weight of her tears. Having no witnesses to her grief in the sheltered grove, she buried her arm in her spencer and sobbed as if she might never be able to stop.

  Bingley had left Darcy minutes ago, complaining of the chill in the air. Darcy welcomed the crisp breeze. It reminded him of his home in Pemberley. He rode on, keeping within view of the house lest it began to rain. He looked toward the top of a hill that afforded a view of Longbourn. Which of the Bennet sisters would Mr. Collins propose to? If he were to believe the gossip, Miss Elizabeth would soon be engaged. Not that she had much choice in the matter. It would take an incredibly strong-willed woman to refuse his offer and such ladies were hardly common. Guilt pricked his conscience, but he pushed it aside. He had done what he could.

  Darcy rode up the incline, giving his stallion free rein. The blast of wind invigorated his senses and whistled through the trees nearby. Slowing to a canter as he neared the grove, Darcy pulled his mount up short. A young lady sat weeping at a short distance. The sound of their approach startled her and she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. This was the closest he had seen her. Slowly, he nudged his mount forward. She was much more handsome than he had supposed. The tears shone off gold flecks in her eyes, lending them a brightness unique to her.

  They had not been formally introduced, but Darcy would recognize Miss Elizabeth Bennet anywhere. His gut clenched for her. She looked so lonely and vulnerable sitting alone amongst the evergreens.

  Without a word or a second thou
ght, he dismounted. Careful not to alarm her, he gently reached into his pocket to pull out his handkerchief. She needed it much more than he did.

  Walking closer to her with his arm extended, he silently offered the only comfort he could give.

  Her lips parted to speak and she looked up at him questioningly. Had Mr. Phillips delivered his letter to her family? Had she forgiven him? They had not attempted to communicate with him as he had invited them to do, and he dared not call if he was unwelcome. Was she engaged?

  A droplet of tear stuck to her dark eyelashes. His inclination was to wipe it away and fold her in his arms in an embrace so that he might absorb some of the pain she felt. The shock of his tender reaction to her intensified as her fingers touched his to accept the bit of white linen in his hand. She buried her face in it, turning to the side.

  He wished he could stay, but he would not embarrass her more than he already must have. Not even his little sister, Georgiana, allowed him to see her weep. But he could not very well leave her alone.

  Looking about and down over the other side of the hill, he saw a figure approaching. She bore what looked like a blanket. Her features, though much thinner than he remembered, were that of the eldest Miss Bennet.

  Feeling awkward and intrusive, he waited until Miss Elizabeth saw her sister before he bowed, mounted his horse, and rode back to the stables. He wanted to look back at her again. Darcy left her clutching his handkerchief in her trembling hands. He hoped she would keep it.

  Chapter 2

  Jane looked as stunned as Elizabeth felt. “Who was that?” Jane asked, sitting so near Elizabeth, she could rest her head on Jane’s shoulder.

  Elizabeth straightened out the handkerchief and traced the stitched initials in the corner with her fingernail. The letters FD were embroidered in shiny, silk thread. “He must be Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” She pulled part of the blanket out to wrap it around Jane. “It is not good for you to be out so soon after your illness, Jane. You need time to gain your strength.”

  “The fever was over a month ago,” persisted Jane. “He lent you his handkerchief? Surely, he must have said something.”

  Now that Elizabeth thought about it, their encounter was an odd one. However, it had been precisely what she had needed. She dried her cheeks and tucked the handkerchief into her pocket. She wished she could keep it. “He must have seen me crying and came over to lend me his handkerchief. That is all. You came and he left.” Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “I am glad you came.” Straightening up and clasping her hands together, she said, “I refused Mr. Collins’ offer.”

  “I had not expected you would be able to accept him, Lizzy. You love too deeply.” Looping her arm through Elizabeth’s, they stared out over the rolling fields leading down to Netherfield Park.

  “Would that I could be more practical, yet I do not really wish to change. I cannot fathom living a life of cold complacency, though there are times when I wish I could settle for less.”

  Jane squeezed her arm. “We will learn to cope with these contradictory emotions. I would not have you change, though it might ease your grief and… guilt.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I do feel guilty. I cannot yet laugh for guilt that I should be too happy. It does not seem right with Father gone. I cannot offer security to my family because the man who extends the very things we need to survive is repulsive to me. How am I not to feel guilty?” She pulled the handkerchief out of her pocket and rubbed the soft linen against her fingers.

  “Lizzy, that is in the past now and you should not choose to live in it. Remember it only for what you can learn and for the memories which bring you pleasure. That life is gone and if we are ever to be happy again, we must create a new one. In the end, you will wish you had spent more time living and less time grieving.”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Jane spoke like Father would have when his mind took a philosophical bend. “Sickness has made you wise,” she smiled weakly.

  “That happens when one is closer to death than life. It becomes easier to see things clearly. Oh, Lizzy, do not cry! I am well and improving every day, otherwise I would never have ventured out. I only want to see you happy again.”

  Tears came easily to Elizabeth, but Jane’s thoughtful words and gentleness cast a rainbow over her despair of earlier and she smiled between sobs.

  “Another basket arrived at the back door this morning. Mother is pleased because it had some fresh tea leaves and sugar in it besides some beef and baked rolls.”

  The good news calmed Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins takes credit for it, but I have my doubts. I suppose we will know for sure if the provisions stop coming and the repairs around the estate cease after having refused him.”

  “Would it not be romantic to have an admirer as our benefactor? I do wonder at the secrecy though. No notes have been left and nothing is ever said to indicate who is responsible.” Jane stood and held her hand out to Elizabeth.

  “So long as it keeps good food on the table, I will respect the gentleman or lady’s secrecy and if his or her identity is ever revealed, I will thank the individual wholeheartedly.” Elizabeth took Jane’s hand for their walk home. She only looked over her shoulder once toward the house at Netherfield Park. No horseman was in sight. More was the pity.

  There had been moments in Elizabeth’s life when she had desired Mother's silence. After three days of it, she wished Mother would say something. Anything. Even a shout would be better than her indifference. Her apathy did more to burden Elizabeth’s heavy heart than a thousand rebukes.

  Taking solace outside, Elizabeth sat near the garden pondering how best to continue. Mr. Collins had made it apparent that his interest did not extend to Mary, a hope she had cultivated. They would make a wonderful match. Mary's solemn manners and religious inclination would serve as an advantage to any parson. However, as surely as Elizabeth did not want Mr. Collins, Mr. Collins did not want Mary.

  "Lizzy," called a voice Elizabeth had not heard in what felt like ages.

  She reached her hands out, but Charlotte sat beside her, wrapping her arms around her best friend. For someone who did not indulge in emotional demonstrations, Elizabeth appreciated her gesture. Elizabeth rested her head against Charlotte’s shoulder briefly, then pulled away before her friend grew uncomfortable.

  "I am so happy to see you, dearest friend." Elizabeth pressed Charlotte’s hand between her own.

  "And I, you. How are you?"

  "The passing of time is softening the grief."

  "I am glad to hear it." Charlotte looked down at her lap and picked at an embroidered flower on her skirt. She looked at Elizabeth, her eyebrows bunched together, then looked back down.

  "Charlotte, is something wrong? Have you a complaint against Mr. Collins? I was worried when he announced his intention to accept your father’s hospitality and stay at Lucas Lodge that he might make himself a bother..." Elizabeth had been grateful for his absence and had applauded his decision to quit Longbourn after she had refused him. Though the Lucases welcomed him with open arms, she feared that his pompous manners would wear on them after the first evening.

  "No," she replied softly. Taking a deep breath, she looked Elizabeth in the eyes. "I know that you will disapprove of what I am about to tell you, but Lizzy, I hope that someday you might come to understand my reasons."

  Charlotte would never do anything nonsensical. What could she possibly mean?

  Sucking in another breath, she said, "Last evening, Mr. Collins proposed to me."

  So he had made a bother of himself. Poor Charlotte. Elizabeth reached out to touch her hand in reassurance. After all, refusing any gentleman was disturbing work— even a gentleman like Mr. Collins.

  "Oh, Charlotte, I am so sorry he presumed—"

  "I accepted him," she blurted out before Elizabeth could finish.

  All she could do was stare. She knew her jaw was open but was too astounded to bother to close it. After some seconds, Elizabeth grasped at the first words
which came to her. “I… I do not know what to say…”

  "Lizzy, please be happy for me. I am not romantic like you. My needs are simple. I only want for a home of my own. His proposal is a blessing for me as I will no longer be a burden to my family. I am content."

  She spoke so confidently, Elizabeth was almost convinced. Almost.

  "But he is ridiculous!" she exclaimed, finally unscrambling the garbled words swirling in her mind.

  "He may be to you but, to me, he is my way of securing my own home."

  Her own home... "Longbourn..." escaped Elizabeth’s lips on an exhale and she felt sick.

  "Now, Lizzy, do not concern yourself. I have already discussed this with Mr. Collins and he agreed with me completely. We would not dream of you leaving your home while you are in mourning. When the year of Mrs. Bennet's mourning comes to its conclusion, I think that we can discuss the matter with clearer heads and will be able to come to an agreeable solution for all. Even then, if you feel you need more time, I am certain I can persuade Mr. Collins to be understanding." The words tumbled out of Charlotte like a snowball rolling down a hill, faster and faster.

  Hope sprung up in Elizabeth’s heart like a sailor spotting land after months at sea. They still had a home! "You would do that for us?"

  Charlotte relaxed her posture. "Of course. You are my dearest friend. You would never cast me out of my home, and I could never do so to you either. I know how difficult these past four months have been on you and the last thing I want is to add to your anxiety." Charlotte paused, looking out over the gloomy afternoon. "This solves so many problems for me, and maybe I am selfish in asking my best friend to be happy for me, but it would mean the world to me for you to be happy too. Not just for me, but for you."