He looked down at her. She saw him swallow and take a few short breaths. “This is grave, indeed,” he said slowly. “This alters everything.”

Darcy quickly bowed, his eyes searching Elizabeth’s face. “I must go. I will keep you no longer.”

He walked to his horse, adeptly bringing himself up onto the saddle. He turned and looked at her one last time, his eyes dark with anger, his breathing ragged. “I will send my carriage and maidservant for you once I know the route to London is safe. Good day, Miss Bennet. May God be with you.” He then gave the horse a few short kicks, bringing it to a gallop as he rode off down the street.

Elizabeth’s eyes blurred with tears as she watched him disappear around a corner, prompting her to release a sob of anguish. She realized she may never see him again.

Chapter 22

Elizabeth stood gravely still, unable to move. Mr. Darcy was gone. She could no longer see him, no longer hear the sound of the galloping horse’s hooves. The picture of him as the anger spread across his features would remain with her forever.

She fisted her hands and breathed in deeply. Presently she felt unequal to the task of putting on a smiling face for the Ketterlings, pretending that she was grateful to Mr. Darcy for his generous offer as she listened to their continued words of praise for the man. It would only cause her heart to ache even more.

She finally turned and walked slowly to the house. The window coverings moved slightly, confirming her suspicion that her hosts had observed her interaction with Mr. Darcy. She hoped if they detected either hers or Mr. Darcy’s discomfiture, their good manners would prevent them from speaking about it.

Elizabeth was grateful that they appeared oblivious to her distress. After only minimal discourse, Mr. Ketterling excused himself to cancel her journey on the carriage for hire. Elizabeth and Mrs. Ketterling returned to the sitting room, just as they had been prior to Mr. Darcy’s unexpected arrival. Mrs. Ketterling picked up her needlework, and Elizabeth opened her book. Mrs. Ketterling appeared to make steady progress on her stitches, whereas Elizabeth could barely grasp a single word on the page in front of her. Her mind was in turmoil; her eyes continually filled with tears.

* * *

It was two very long days before Elizabeth heard anything from Pemberley concerning her journey to London. While the Ketterlings ensured her comfort as much as possible, Elizabeth was eager to leave. At times she wished she had taken the hired carriage, but knew her hosts would protest, as Mr. Darcy’s offer had been so much more superior. Their praise for Mr. Darcy’s prodigious care for her was profuse.

It was in the late afternoon that a message arrived from Pemberley. Elizabeth eagerly opened it, hoping she could now travel to London.


Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

Please be advised that I will be sending one of my carriages for you at first light tomorrow. One of the maidservants from Pemberley will accompany you. She will be staying on at my town home in London, so fret not that she is making this journey unnecessarily. I have arranged for an afternoon and evening meal for you, and a room at an inn will be provided as needed. My wishes are for a pleasant journey and a suitable outcome of your family situation.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy


The note was brief and to the point. As her eyes perused the missive written in Mr. Darcy’s very meticulous handwriting, her thoughts went back to the other letter. Each recollection of that letter coming into the hands of the others at Pemberley brought with it spasms of mortification for what he must have endured at everyone’s conjectures. Yes, she had come through it fairly unscathed. She could only hope that he had been able to smooth over any rough and turbulent waters that the Willstones and Rosalyn had stirred up.

That evening, once her things were packed, save for what she would need in the morning, she sat down upon her bed. Disappointment swept through her. She had fervently hoped that Mr. Darcy would have paid another visit in the two days she had continued here. She knew in her heart, however, that it would have been highly unlikely.

The news Elizabeth had relayed to him about Wickham’s involvement in her sister’s running away was bad enough, but what her misplaced letter had cost him was another. That was her fault, and he now had to admit to his close friends, his cousin, and most likely his sister, what he had hoped to always keep from them. She was quite certain it would be terribly humiliating for a man of his standing to have to admit to being refused in marriage.

Elizabeth spent her final evening with the Ketterlings in their sitting room, as they had done every evening. Elizabeth was finally able to attend to the words of the book, but this evening Mrs. Ketterling seemed more inclined to talk than focus on her stitches. She anticipated Elizabeth seeing her aunt again and wished her to convey a message to her. Initially, she only wished her to know how much they had enjoyed the company of her niece. In the course of the evening, however, she kept thinking of additional things she would like to tell her. At length, Elizabeth suggested that she write her aunt a letter. Mrs. Ketterling agreed that would be the best thing to do, and promptly sat down at a small desk and penned a missive. Elizabeth was relieved, as she would have felt awkward passing on to her aunt the praises Mrs. Ketterling had bestowed on herself.

Even before the clock struck nine o’clock, Elizabeth excused herself. Although she would not be waking much earlier than was the norm for her, she expressed to them a wish to retire early to allow a good night’s sleep. In truth, she hoped to have some time to herself as she anticipated her departure on the morrow. Now that the time had drawn near, she felt almost completely consumed by grief, as deep as when she had lost her father.

When she finally climbed into bed and rested her head upon her pillow, she knew sleep would elude her. Her heart ached, her eyes burned from the tears she had shed, and her mind would not relinquish the images of Mr. Darcy from appearing before her. She wondered how long it would be before she could ever forget him. Perhaps never!

* * *

Elizabeth woke when the hall clock struck five o’clock. Having had mere fragments of sleep, she awoke with a heaviness that proclaimed to her the distress of her heart even before her mind clearly recollected it. She lay in bed briefly, and then sat up and stretched, touching her toes to the floor. She walked over to pick up her shawl, which lay folded on a nearby chair, and tossed it over her shoulders to take off the slight chill of early morning.

Stepping to the window, Elizabeth peered out and noticed a faint slice of light hovering over the tips of the hills in the distance. She knew the carriage from Pemberley would arrive soon.

There was a light tap at the door, and a maid announced herself. Elizabeth bid her come in, and she entered with a kettle of warm water, which she poured into the basin. Elizabeth thanked her and told her she would be downstairs shortly.

Elizabeth walked over to the basin and dipped a cloth in the water. Bringing it to her face, she pressed it to her eyes, hoping to diminish the redness. If the Ketterlings noticed, perhaps they would attribute it to lack of sleep or sadness over her youngest sister’s situation. Once dressed, she came downstairs and found Mrs. Ketterling waiting for her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Ketterling,” Elizabeth said. “There was no need for you to rise and see me off. We said our good-byes last night.”

Mrs. Ketterling shook her head. “I have every intention of seeing you off, Miss Bennet. I will see you into the carriage and make sure you are properly tended. It is the least I can do for my good friend.”

“You are too kind,” Elizabeth replied.

They were served a light meal. Elizabeth, however, ate sparingly, as she did not find herself particularly hungry. She did enjoy a cup of tea, and as she was taking the last sip, there was a tap at the door.

“You carriage has arrived, I do believe,” Mrs. Ketterling said with a wink.

Elizabeth’s heart sputtered at the glimmer of hope that Mr. Darcy would have accompanied it.

A servant soon appeared, announcing the arrival of Pemberley’s carriage. If Mr. Darcy had been present, he would have certainly been announced as well. Elizabeth’s heart sank.

Elizabeth and Mrs. Ketterling walked out as her baggage was taken to the carriage. She saw that the only ones who had come from Pemberley were the driver, a maidservant, and a manservant. The manservant easily hoisted Elizabeth’s baggage onto the carriage and secured it. The maidservant approached Elizabeth, curtseyed, and introduced herself. Elizabeth remembered seeing this young lady, who was about her own age or a little older, while at Pemberley. Her name was Anna.

Once everything was loaded on to the carriage, Elizabeth turned and wrapped her arms around Mrs. Ketterling. She had much to thank her for, and she wanted to make certain she knew she had appreciated all they had done for her. Tears filled her eyes, and this time Elizabeth was not so inclined to hide them from her, for Mrs. Ketterling would understand the reason for them.

The sun was now peeking over the tops of the distant hills. The few clouds that dotted the sky were filled with reds and yellows against the dark blue. A few stars could still be seen in the early morning dawn. This would likely be the last Derbyshire sunrise she would ever see. It would have been beautiful from atop the ridge.