Ardently Loved Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Also by Lory Lilian

  Rainy Days

  Remembrance of the Past

  His Uncle’s Favorite

  A Perfect Match

  Sketching Mr. Darcy

  The Rainbow Promise

  A Man with Faults

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Ardently Loved

  Copyright © 2018 by Lory Lilian

  Cover by Cloud Cat Designs

  Layout by Ellen Pickels

  Dedication

  Heartfelt thanks to my wonderful editors and dear friends Ellen Pickels and Margaret Fransen for their invaluable help in publishing my books.

  Special dedication to lovely Sophie Andrews (“Laughing with Lizzie”), a bright, talented, beautiful young lady who inspired me, induced me to write this story, and also proposed the title. Ardently Loved would not exist if I hadn’t met Sophie in England last year, so it can be considered her story too!

  Chapter 1

  In a corner of the family dining room, Elizabeth Bennet struggled to appear cheerful while she looked at her elder sister, Jane, and her betrothed. The chamber shone from the fire, the candles, and the happiness on the faces of the newly engaged couple.

  Elizabeth’s smile widened as her heart melted with devotion and gratitude. Jane’s felicity was everything she had prayed for in the last year.

  After months of separation, uncertainties, and sorrow, Mr. Bingley had finally returned to Hertfordshire, and his lasting love needed only a few days before he proposed to Jane. His boldness was rewarded with heartfelt acceptance and blissful felicity. Their time had finally come; their long due happiness was finally granted to them, and the wedding was scheduled for December 5. Why that specific date, nobody could tell. Mrs. Bennet suggested an engagement of no longer than two months, and both Mr. Bingley and Jane agreed.

  From the day of his proposal, Mr. Bingley became a daily visitor at Longbourn and a dinner guest every evening. Mr. Bennet enjoyed his company and encouraged him to return often. Mrs. Bennet—whose nerves bore the excitement reasonably well—declared that no son could be as perfect. All the struggles caused by his sudden departure a year ago had been long forgotten, as were Lydia and her husband. Five thousand a year easily dispelled the image of a handsome uniform, even for Mrs. Bennet.

  While she rejoiced in Jane’s happiness with all her being, Elizabeth’s soul was torn to pieces, just as her hopes were scattered in the wind. She had often said that all she desired was Jane’s happiness and that she expected nothing for herself, and now those words proved to be foolish. She did want more for herself—unreasonably more.

  The man to whom her happiness was tightly bound, the man who had captured and held her mind and heart from the day she met him wandering Pemberley’s grounds was far away. More than a fortnight had passed since Lady Catherine’s disturbing visit, and he had not returned. He had sent Mr. Bingley a letter, explaining that unexpected business kept him in Town for an uncertain amount of time.

  Elizabeth feared she knew the reason: either his aunt made him change his intentions, or he had never entertained thoughts of the kind she had imagined.

  Whether she had been wrong in guessing his feelings, or he had allowed himself to be convinced otherwise by his aunt, the pain was equally sharp to Elizabeth. And the more she considered it, the more she understood the reasons for his behaviour.

  Yes, he had shown her and her relatives nothing but kindness and generosity when they met in Derbyshire. And he had done everything to convince Wickham to marry Lydia. He took the full burden of paying the scoundrel’s debts and saving her family from ruin, meanwhile refusing to accept any gratitude for his benevolence. But the notion of his bonding with the Bennet family, becoming Wickham’s brother, and renewing his proposal to the woman who, so unfairly and furiously, had rejected him was beyond imagination. It was an impossible outcome, and Elizabeth forced herself to admit it.

  She had once called him the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry; now, she had to live with the thought that he was undoubtedly the last man in the world she could expect to make her another marriage proposal.

  And how could it be otherwise? When he confessed that he ardently loved and admired her, she reviled him; to his affection, she responded with anger and insults. The remembrance of his expression—pale, astounded, hurt—became more vivid every day and haunted her every night. How could she expect him to forget that if she could not?

  She also recollected—with agonising clarity—each moment they spent together at Pemberley: his tender gazes, smiles, warm voice, friendliness, and the touch of his fingers on her hands… The memories gave her shivers and overwhelming regret when she realised she might never be closer to happiness and might never learn how it would feel to be ardently loved by Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth knew such thoughts only harmed her more, and she struggled to push them away—without success.

  Against her own wisdom, she did not abandon the hope that he would return. After all, her judgement had been wrong many times before. But while he remained far away, Elizabeth painfully learned the true meaning of longing and sorrow. Yes, she had dearly missed her family while she was separated from them, but that pain—the grip that squeezed her chest, the ache that trapped her body and mind—she had never felt before. Whether he returned or not, Elizabeth understood now that her life would never be the same once she realised that she loved and admired Mr. Darcy—perhaps as ardently as he once loved her.

  The sound of voices startled Elizabeth, and she smiled at Jane, whose conversation she had not heard.

  She was disappointed, sad, and angry with herself for being more preoccupied with her own shattered dreams than with Jane’s fulfilled ones. Jane needed her; Elizabeth was the only one who knew the hidden turmoil behind Jane’s apparent tranquillity and peaceful felicity.

  The future Mrs. Bingley often wondered whether she could be the perfect wife Mr. Bingley deserved, and whether his friends would approve of her—since she knew his sisters did not. She both dreamt and dreaded the notion of marrying so soon. She could hardly bear a moment without her betrothed, but she was frightened by the idea of being with him all the time, as she feared she might not rise to his expectations. For each step and each decision, Jane asked Elizabeth’s opinion. For every doubt, she needed Elizabeth’s reassurance. For every concern, she leant upon Elizabeth’s strength. In all those situations, Elizabeth did little except embrace her sister and smile, as she knew how groundless such concerns were. She had no doubt that Mr. Bingley was the best-suited match for her sister and they would have a blissful life.

  From across the dinner table, Mr. Bingley was casting an adoring glance toward his betrothed—as though he wished to prove Elizabeth’s musings—then addressed his companions.

  “I just received a letter from Darcy today,” he said happily, and Elizabeth’s fork trembled in her hand.

  “I hope he is in good health?” Jane inquired gently. Mr. Bingley thanked her with another tender look.

  “He
is—at least, I believe so since he did not say otherwise. But then again, he rarely says a word of his own troubles; he is more preoccupied with other people’s problems.”

  Elizabeth understood his meaning but avoided interrupting her future brother. More than anything, she was eager to hear the news but did not dare to ask. Fortunately, the gentleman was keen to share.

  “He has an interesting proposal, but I am reluctant to consider it before I discuss it with you. He suggested I should host a private ball—a dinner party or something—to honour my engagement with Jane. He believes I should invite the families of consequence from Meryton and perhaps several friends from Town. He thinks it would be a good way to introduce my future wife to all my acquaintances…”

  “A ball? What a lovely idea!” Kitty cried, but she was instantly stopped by Mr. Bennet’s glare.

  “A wonderful idea indeed!” Mrs. Bennet immediately approved of this for her daughter. “And what an honour for Jane! You must invite all four and twenty families we visit regularly. Do you have many friends in Town, Mr. Bingley? I know you have a house there; you must have some important friends.”

  “A ball? Would that not be too much trouble?” Jane asked timidly.

  “Anything that pleases you cannot be too much trouble, my dear Jane,” Mr. Bingley replied.

  Jane blushed, and Mrs. Bennet smiled approvingly. Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes and glanced at Elizabeth to share his amusement, but to his surprise, his second daughter did not seem as diverted as he expected.

  Mr. Bingley continued with a trace of worry in his voice. “However, I confess I am a bit concerned. Jane deserves a ball as perfect as she is, and I am afraid I shall not be able to rise to expectations. I have never hosted a party by myself. Usually, Louisa and Caroline took care of everything. They made all the arrangements last year. If I could convince them to come and help me…” He became more uneasy as he spoke, and the reason for his distress was easy to guess. Elizabeth intervened, both for his benefit and for Jane’s.

  “Mr. Bingley, please rest assured that we shall do everything to help you with the ball. You only have to prepare the guest list and tell us what you want to—”

  “Oh, would you do that for me, Miss Elizabeth? I am so grateful! What do I want? Well—you may decide that too. I mean, you and Jane may do whatever you want! Anything you like! I am so relieved! Indeed that is a wonderful idea! I mean Darcy’s idea! And yours, of course! I truly appreciate your kindness, Miss Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth laughed, this time truly amused by his enthusiasm. Jane blushed and smiled while Mr. Bennet swallowed some wine and said, “Well, well, just keep in mind you are the one paying for the party, sir. You should not allow the ladies free will in the matter, or you will soon risk exceeding your income.”

  “I am happy to pay for anything that will make Jane happy, Mr. Bennet,” Bingley said with all honesty.

  “Exceed his income?” Mrs. Bennet intervened. “Mr. Bennet, what are you talking there? Mr. Bingley must have the best of everything! We shall help with a menu for the dinner. We must have the appropriate number of courses—perhaps a few more.”

  “On this, I count on your help, Mrs. Bennet. Even Darcy said when we dined here that he rarely enjoyed such tasteful food. He was impressed with the choices and the arrangements.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s mouth flew open. Elizabeth stared at the gentleman in disbelief, but Mr. Bingley remained serene as he paid attention to Jane and his food.

  “Mr. Darcy spoke of my dinner?” Mrs. Bennet finally uttered.

  “Yes, several times. I believe he truly enjoyed his time in Hertfordshire after we returned. Much more than last year. I think he became more accustomed to the neighbourhood. And yes, he told me he looked forward to dining at Longbourn again soon.”

  Elizabeth put her fork down, countless thoughts spinning in her head. When could he possibly have said that? And praising her mother’s food? It was delicious, that was true, but not a subject to be raised by Mr. Darcy. And when did he plan to dine at Longbourn again? She tried to find the right words to ask a few questions, but Mrs. Bennet spoke first.

  “Well, that is a surprise…Mr. Darcy…who would have thought? It is no wonder though. He is known as a man of the world with excellent taste. I am sure he has eaten all kinds of food in his life. He must keep a French cook. His comments are to be valued since he has surely dined at St. James’s several times too. I always supervise dinner preparations carefully. And Mr. Darcy is very handsome too. Please let him know we look forward to having him as a guest at Longbourn soon. And ask him what food is his favourite. I already know yours, so I can ask my cook to prepare both.”

  “I shall convey your invitation to him, and I thank you for it, madam. If we are hosting the ball, I shall have to write quite a few letters. I wonder whether Jane could help me. I am known for having an untidy handwriting. Darcy always teases me about it.”

  “I shall be happy to help you, Charles,” Jane offered shyly.

  “Excellent…I am truly grateful…and so relieved that everything was arranged so quickly! I hope the Netherfield ballroom is large enough to accommodate all the guests. Was it too crowded last year?”

  “No, not at all,” Elizabeth hurried to reassure him; then she felt her cheeks burning.

  The previous ball at Netherfield had found her hating Mr. Darcy and wishing for Mr. Wickham’s presence. She remembered being so angry when the latter did not appear and the former invited her to dance. Back then, she considered that particular half hour the most unpleasant time she ever spent at a ball—despite Mr. Darcy’s excellent dancing skills. She spoke to him and attempted to offend him throughout the dance. She believed him a cruel man without honour who denied his childhood friend his rightful legacy.

  How could she have been such a fool? Why did she never question Wickham’s words? How could she trust him so implicitly? Had she been so vain, so conceited that a compliment and partiality from Mr. Wickham—compared with Mr. Darcy’s earlier rejection and offensive remark—made her blind to everything else and completely obscured her judgment?

  “Will Mr. Darcy attend the ball?” Elizabeth heard herself asking before she realised it.

  “I am not sure. I have not yet replied to his letter, but I shall inquire about his plans. In fact, I shall demand that he come since it was his idea. However, he might refuse since I know he has some business in Town and rather loathes balls anyway. But he will certainly come for the wedding. He promised me as much.”

  “Mr. Darcy seems a busy man,” said Mr. Bennet.

  “He is, sir. He takes excellent care of his estate and also provides guidance for his aunt’s properties. And I know his uncle Lord Matlock seeks his advice occasionally. I witnessed such conversations several times.”

  “Mr. Darcy’s uncle is a peer?” Mrs. Bennet asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, ma’am. His grandfather on his mother’s side was an earl, and so is his uncle now.”

  “Dear Lord—that is quite astonishing. And he praised my dinner! Wait until I tell Mrs. Phillips. She and Lady Lucas disliked Mr. Darcy, but I always said he is tall and handsome. And he dances quite elegantly—that is, when he does. He did not favour Lizzy at first, which is not surprising since Lizzy is neither Jane’s beauty nor Lydia’s liveliness, but in the end, he changed his mind and danced with her last year. I remember how astonished we all were!”

  “Mama, let us not speak of the past.” Elizabeth attempted to end the awkward conversation. “I believe both Mr. Darcy and I have improved in manners since last year.”

  “Your manners have always been flawless, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley offered generously. “As for Darcy, he is not as bad as he appears on first impression. He just has a tendency to settle things to his liking, but that is only because he wishes the best for his friends and family. And he is uncomfortable in large gatherings. He might be
tired of all the attention he has received since he was a young boy. But I tell you: there is no better or trustworthy friend and no more generous gentleman. Anybody who knows him well will testify to his character.”

  “Well, If he possesses only half the traits you mentioned, he has every reason to be proud,” Mr. Bennet replied in jest. “My brother Gardiner also speaks very highly of Mr. Darcy. He was quite impressed after his visit to Derbyshire. I understand Mr. Darcy own a large estate and an impressive library.”

  “It was a lovely surprise to meet Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Elizabeth at Pemberley. Their presence was a delight. Darcy also enjoyed it exceedingly; he told me as much. I was happy to see him and Miss Elizabeth on friendlier terms than they were in Hertfordshire.”

  “My brother Gardiner said, in his experience, that Mr. Darcy’s estate is among the most impressive—outside and in,” Mr. Bennet said. “I doubt I shall ever have the chance to see it for myself, so I am giving him full credit.”

  “Pemberley is wonderful indeed,” Elizabeth added, suddenly flustered. “I saw many lovely estates during our trip to the north, but none as enchanting as Pemberley. It is perfectly situated, with woods and hills around it and a clear lake on one side. Everything is neat and clean but also warm and inviting. It is a perfect balance of natural splendour and human touch. You would like it very much, Papa,” she concluded without noting that her change of tone drew her father’s attention.

  “Well, as I said, I doubt I shall see it with my own eyes, so I thank you for your vivid description, my dear. I am surprised that you seem to have such pleasant memories of a place owned by none other than Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth swallowed some water and carefully answered.

  “Papa, for my past misunderstandings with Mr. Darcy, I have my share of the blame. Fortunately, I believe we have both gained in wisdom since we first met. Mr. Darcy was very kind and generous with us when we visited his home. I confess I did not expect to have such a pleasant time at Pemberley, but it was a trip I shall never forget. I have my uncle and aunt to thank for that. My only regret is that it ended much too soon…”