Kara Louise - Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

She thought with a shake of her head how accepting either man’s offer would have secured her family’s welfare. Unfortunately, her family now found themselves in less than desirable situations.

The passage of a year, and Mr. Darcy’s letter had shed new light on certain beliefs she held regarding him, particularly in his dealings with Mr. Wickham. Time had done little, however, to dull those feelings of anger and resentment toward him for his actions in separating Jane and Mr. Bingley. It was very apparent to Elizabeth that Jane still bore the effects of a broken heart.

Elizabeth’s anger directed at Mr. Darcy for those actions was more potent than her anger at his unfeeling words to her as he declared that he loved her despite the fact that her station in life was so decidedly beneath him.

As Elizabeth considered this, she almost laughed. If only he could see me now! Then he could say with even more conviction that I was decidedly beneath him, and he would certainly congratulate himself that I refused him!

She reflected on the news she’d heard today that her youngest sister had been allowed to return to the Forsters’ as well as the report that Netherfield had been sold. That last piece of news put to rest all hopes that Mr. Bingley would once again return. Both pieces of information left her with a disconcerted ache inside. As far as Lydia was concerned, Elizabeth could only hope that she would show some restraint in her usually unseemly behaviour. And it would make little difference to Jane if Bingley returned to Netherfield, as she was now in London. But it seemed to remove any last ray of hope that Jane may have clung to regarding Mr. Bingley and his affections.

There had always been the hope that they would see each other in London, but that had not come to pass, most likely due to the Gardiners’ residence near Cheapside. Mr. Bingley would only be associating with those in superior circles, and their paths were unlikely to cross.

Elizabeth brought a slightly unsteady hand up and covered her mouth with her fingertips as she felt her anger against Mr. Darcy rise. Mr. Darcy had made no attempt to put to rights the erroneous information he had given his friend, even when Elizabeth had so adamantly assured him of Jane’s love for Mr. Bingley. She shook her head as she realized he would have no reason—no inclination—to do her that favour. The gnawing thought about forgiveness tried to surface, but she again pushed it down.

She stood up and walked over to her bed, picking up a book from the corner table. She threw herself down on the bed and opened it, hoping to attend to the words on the page and remove from her mind those intruding thoughts. But she could not. If anyone in her family had ever experienced true love, if anyone was deserving of true love, it was Jane, and Elizabeth could not understand why it had been stolen from her. No, she could not forgive Mr. Darcy for that. She did not think she ever could. The gnawing inside grew stronger.

The next few days brought a flurry of activity to the Willstone residence as everyone readied themselves and the home for the arrival of Mrs. Willstone’s sister, Rosalyn. Elizabeth eagerly looked forward to meeting this young lady who was merely a year older than her. Mrs. Willstone hoped that the two young ladies would enjoy each other’s company in the weeks ahead that Rosalyn would be staying with them in London and then this summer in the country. Elizabeth was certain they would, if she found Rosalyn to be as affable as Mrs. Willstone.

Rosalyn arrived on Thursday afternoon that week. Elizabeth was sitting in a rocking chair in her room with a light coverlet over her. She had briefly dozed off with a book in her hands while Emily napped, and was awakened by the sound of the bell ringing, announcing the arrival of guests. Knowing that Rosalyn was due to arrive today, she promptly stood up, smoothed her dress, and went to the dresser mirror to readjust her hair.

She slipped into Emily’s room and gently nudged the girl. Emily slowly opened her eyes and looked at Elizabeth.

“Did I oversleep, Miss Bennet?”

“No, Emily. I am awakening you because I believe your aunt Rosalyn is here.”

The little girl fisted her hands and rubbed her eyes, yawning as she did. “Do you think she brought me a gift? She oftentimes brings me something.”

“We shall see. The sooner we get you ready and go downstairs, the sooner you shall find out.” Elizabeth leaned down and gave her a big smile. “Now, let us dress you in that pretty yellow frock you picked out earlier.”

Elizabeth helped Emily dress and then brushed out her brown curly hair, adorning it with ribbons. She then escorted her into the drawing room where the Willstones and Miss Matthews were gathered. The younger of the ladies, dressed in a fashionable gown and standing slightly taller than Elizabeth, rose and opened her arms for her niece.

“Emily! I am so delighted to see you! My how you are grown!”

“Do you have a surprise for me?”

“Watch your manners, Emily,” Elizabeth whispered.

Miss Matthews looked to Elizabeth with a friendly smile. “You must be Miss Bennet.”

Mrs. Willstone brought her hands together in delight. “Miss Bennet, may I introduce you to my sister, Rosalyn Matthews? And Rosalyn, this is Elizabeth Bennet.”

“I have heard much about you through Lorraine’s letters, Miss Bennet. She writes that you are doing a wonderful job.”

“And I have heard much about you from your sister’s very own words. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Matthews.”

Rosalyn looked down at Emily with a conspiratorial look. “And if you heard anything from Emily, you know that I always bring her something.”

“Did you? Did you?” Emily squealed and jumped with excitement.

“Well, let me look in my bag here and see if there is anything you might like.” Rosalyn’s light blue eyes twinkled.

Emily clasped her hands together with a burst of anticipation as she anxiously watched her aunt look down into her handbag. “Now, let me see. Do you suppose this could be for you?” She slowly pulled out a lacy embroidered handkerchief.

“Noooo,” the little girl laughed.

Elizabeth smiled as she came to suspect that this was the manner in which this always passed between the two.

“Oh, here is something you might enjoy,” Miss Matthews whispered, glancing up at the young girl. She pulled out a small, leather-bound book. “Would this be it?”

“Noooo!” Emily cried, standing on her tiptoes trying to look into her aunt’s bag herself.

“Hmmm,” Miss Matthews continued. She began to pull something out of the bag and peered closely at it. “No, I do not think this could be it.”

“What is it?” asked Emily, barely able to control her countenance.

“Just a little doll… but no, this could not be it.” Miss Matthews looked over to her niece, a grin teasing the corners of her mouth.

“Yes! I am sure that is it!” Emily reached out her small arms, palms upright, eager to see it.

Miss Matthews slowly pulled the doll out of the bag and put it in Emily’s hands. The girl laughed with unrestrained glee. “How beautiful she is!” the young girl exclaimed. “Does she have a name?”

“I thought you might choose a name for her.”

“I shall call her… ummmm…” She tapped her fingers against her lips. “Elizabeth! I shall name her Elizabeth. May I go play with her?”

“Certainly,” Miss Matthews said, “if it is agreeable to your mother and Miss Bennet.”

The little girl looked at her mother and then at Elizabeth, who each gave her an assenting nod.

Emily proudly carried her new doll off to the corner of the room, and Elizabeth began to follow.