"Then it was your doing. It was your advice that led him to suddenly quit Netherfield and return to town."
"It was my unasked for interference that unnecessarily separated you from Bingley all that time. If it had not been for me you and Bingley might have been married months ago. He had planned a short trip to London, expecting to return in but a few days' time. Miss Bingley, her brother, sister, and I followed after him, and convinced him to remain in town and to forget you. I convinced him that you were no more than an adventuress." Jane bowed her head, and Mr. Darcy, who had risen and begun pacing as his agitation grew, sat beside Jane, took her hand in his, and said softly, "I believe that Bingley went to London to purchase this very ring. He would have returned to Hertfordshire and asked for your hand before the year was out." He let her hand go and rubbed his hands over his face. "I have offered my apologies to Bingley, and good man that he is, he has forgiven me. I hope that someday I may be worthy to be called your friend again, Miss Bennet."
"You did what you thought was in the best interest of your friend," Jane countered, "and while you erred in your judgment--."
"I had absolutely no right to pass judgment," Mr. Darcy blurted out, causing Jane to shudder and his friends across the lawn to turn in his direction. It was Jane's turn to be agitated, but unlike Mr. Darcy, no evidence of her inner turmoil was visible to the naked eye. Lizzy would have known Jane's heart at that moment, but Lizzy was not there. After a moment of pained silence, Jane turned to Mr. Darcy and asked about her sister.
"Did Lizzy know of this?" The simple question pierced Mr. Darcy's soul. He could only nod in reply. "And that is why she refused your proposal?" Mr. Darcy heaved another sigh and told her everything that had transpired between himself and Elizabeth in Hunsford.
"Even as I thought you unworthy of my friend's regard, I could not help falling in love with your sister. I fought it every way I could, but to no avail. I accused Bingley of contemplating a marriage to someone of little fortune, no connections, and--forgive me for saying so--an unsuitable family." Jane bowed her head, but made no protest. Mr. Darcy rose and began to pace again, aware that Miss Bingley and her brother were watching his every move. "I was arrogant, self-righteous, and conceited, Miss Bennet. I felt that in marrying you, Bingley would be marrying beneath himself. Yet even as I persuaded Bingley to leave off his romance with you, I found myself falling hopelessly in love with Eliz--Miss Elizabeth. I grew more wretched every time I saw her. I could not will myself to forget her. Every time I looked upon Bingley's miserable face in London, I felt like a complete hypocrite.
"Finally, when I encountered your sister again in Kent I could no longer deny what I felt, and I went to Miss Elizabeth and proposed." He stopped pacing and stared at a patch of verdant grass. "I botched it terribly. I fancied myself to be desired by her. I loved her so much--we seemed so alike in heart and mind, I assumed that she felt for me what I felt for her. I had no idea how much she despised me..." Jane began to protest but Mr. Darcy spoke on. "In my blindness, I could not see that I destroyed every chance of succeeding with her when I separated you from Bingley. Nor did I understand that she saw me very differently than I saw her. My proposal was a travesty. I insulted her, your family...I gave her every reason to never want to see or hear from me again. She told me that I was the last man she could ever wish to marry." Mr. Darcy paused, his breathing ragged, he looked pale, spent, and dejected. Jane rose, took hold of his arm and tried to comfort him.
"Mr. Darcy, I am so very sorry for you. I had such hopes that you and Lizzy..." Mr. Darcy looked at Jane, his eyes almost feral. He laughed bitterly.
"No, Miss Bennet. Do not attempt to deprive me of my due. I do not deserve your sympathy. I do not deserve your saintly kindness. And I most certainly do not deserve your sister." He gently pulled away from her, and went indoors. Mr. Bingley went to Jane and she laid her head on his arm, tears welling up in her eyes.
• • •
Miss Bingley swept past the footman who held the door open for her and ran after Mr. Darcy calling out his name. He stopped, but did not turn to face her.
"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! A word, sir, if you please." Miss Bingley's appeal was met with silence, as Mr. Darcy focused on the stairs that lay before him.
"Mr. Darcy, I could not help but see your confrontation with Miss Bennet just now." Miss Bingley paused, and Mr. Darcy turned his head slightly to listen. When she remained silent he said, "Yes?"
"I do not know what you said to her, but she seems very upset. I want to apologize for speaking to you as I did before..." Mr. Darcy was confused by the juxtaposition of these two statements. He turned and faced her fully.
"Madam, I do not grasp your meaning." Miss Bingley looked at Mr. Darcy's face and was astonished by what she saw there. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face was drawn and he was pale. For a moment she could not speak, and Mr. Darcy made as if to turn away.
"Mr. Darcy, I was wrong to ask you to lie to my brother. How much more clever, not to mention effective," she said slyly, "To speak to the prospective 'bride' directly?" Mr. Darcy's face turned beet red and his lethargic demeanor was replaced by rage. But instead of lashing out at the frightened woman, he abruptly turned and sought the solitude of his room, where he stayed until it was time for dinner.
• • •
For a while, Jane and Mr. Bingley simply stood there in the garden, Jane too emotional to speak and Mr. Bingley unwilling to further upset his fiancée. Jane grew restless, however, and so they began to wander aimlessly about the grounds. Mr. Bingley was extremely curious as to what had transpired between his future bride and his dearest friend and could only surmise that it had something to do with Mr. Darcy's revelation in London. But he refused to pry--he simply waited to be of use, ready to support Jane in any way he could. After a few minutes, Mr. Bingley noticed that Jane was crying. He offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully, but she continued to let her tears flow freely.
"I wish there was a way to turn back the clock and undo all of this," Jane said finally, with a sigh. Mr. Bingley did not quite know what to make of her comment, but he was prepared to listen patiently. "Mr. Darcy," she continued, wiping at her eyes and cheeks, "Lizzy, you, me...I wish there was someway to put things right."
"Things are quite 'right' between us, I should say," Mr. Bingley offered. Jane smiled at him indulgently.
"Yes, they are my love," she said, stroking his cheek. "But your friendship with Mr. Darcy must have suffered for this...and Lizzy..." Mr. Bingley frowned.
"What of Miss Elizabeth," he began to ask, but Jane suddenly froze. She glanced at Mr. Bingley and her eyes grew wide.
"Forgive me, Charles. I must leave at once. I know I was supposed to dine with you this evening, but believe me, I have an urgent matter to attend to and I must go at once." Jane turned and would have run back toward the house, but Mr. Bingley caught her arm. Jane turned back.
"Please, Charles. You must assure Mr. Darcy that I bear him no malice for what has occurred and that I am not leaving Netherfield to avoid his company. He will probably not believe you, but you must convince him because it is true." She looked Mr. Bingley in the eye and exacted a silent promise. He wanted to speak, but instead kissed her and let her go. Jane ran off, stopping only to turn back once more and assure Mr. Bingley that she loved him and would return on the morrow.
• • •
Olivia was absorbed in practicing a difficult piece on the pianoforte when the parlor door opened to admit Colonel Fitzwilliam. She blushed furiously, for she had resorted to the instrument to distract herself from the almost constant temptation to fantasize about her reunion with the man who now stood before her, resplendent in his red coat, with the improbable addition of a large basket over his arm. Olivia rose and went to greet him, suddenly unsure of herself. The Colonel, however, putting the basket aside, grasped Olivia's hands and drew her very close. Then he flushed, slightly and stepped back with an embarrassed laugh in which Olivia joined him. Mr. Crenshaw
came into the room and greeted the Colonel warmly.
"How are you, my boy? None the worst for your travels, I gather," he said. He made small talk for a few minutes, as Mr. Crenshaw was wont to do, then he pointedly suggested that the Colonel take Olivia for a walk. Colonel Fitzwilliam obeyed immediately.
"How was your trip, Colonel?" Olivia asked, as she and the Colonel strolled arm in arm.
"It was mercifully tedious and uneventful," the Colonel replied with a smile. Olivia squinted at him quizzically. "Had it been interesting and eventful, I might still be in Brighton, rather than here in the presence of far pleasanter company," the Colonel explained with that smile that made Olivia's knees grow weak. "What have you been up to in my absence?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, since Olivia seemed unequal to keeping up her end of the conversation. But she suddenly came out of her trance and spoke up excitedly.
"I have convinced Lizzy to come to town. She is to arrive tomorrow, and if you would now do your part--"
"You did what?" the Colonel cried, stopping in his tracks to turn on the bewildered lady. Around them, people stared as they walked by.
"I convinced Lizzy to come to town," Olivia replied reasonably. "You asked for my help in reuniting her with your cousin. I have invited Lizzy to stay with me until the wedding. I reckoned that you could persuade Mr. Darcy to come to London--." Before she was able to complete her sentence, the Colonel had rolled his eyes and walked off. He abruptly came back and erupted.
"You fool! You silly, scheming little... Why on earth did you do that? Do you have any idea what you just did?" Olivia's eyes were wide and beginning to brim with tears and Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately regretted his outburst. "I am sorry, Miss Crenshaw," he said, reaching for his handkerchief. "I seem to have a penchant for making you cry..." Olivia snatched the handkerchief from him and turned away. The Colonel sighed.
"Miss Crenshaw...Olivia...I am sorry. It is just that you have ruined--." Olivia spun around.
"Ruined what?" she demanded. She looked into the Colonel's eyes and he felt awful. He took her arm and led her to a bench where they could speak more privately.
"Well? What have I done that is so terrible? You did ask for my help," Olivia reminded the Colonel. He shook his head.
"So I did. But I did not ask you to invite Miss Bennet to town!"
"So I was to help you, but I was not permitted to show any initiative," Olivia replied. "Forgive me, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I am unused to following orders," she said sarcastically. The Colonel smiled.
"Well, you had better get used to it, young lady." Olivia's eyebrows shot up.
"What is that supposed to mean? And what is it that I am supposed to have ruined?" The Colonel ran a hand through his hair.
"I just had a letter from my cousin Georgiana telling me that Darcy went into Hertfordshire a few days ago to visit Bingley." Olivia's mouth formed a small "O." "I knew that he had an invitation from Bingley before I left Derbyshire and that he planned on accepting it, but I did not know when he would be going. When I last spoke with Darcy, he said something about getting some major piece of estate business taken care of before leaving Pemberley." Olivia looked at the Colonel with a smirk.
"Perhaps," she said, "You are not as good an officer as you think. I may be a civilian-- and a girl civilian at that--but it seems to me that the officer in charge should inform his troops of his strategy if he expects them to carry out his commands." The Colonel stared at Olivia for a moment, lost in the beauty of her smile. Then he gathered his wits about him and suggested that they go back to the house and map a new strategy--together.
• • •
Mr. Darcy lay prostrate on the huge four poster bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt wretched, physically spent by the afternoon's exertions. He considered summoning his valet to pack his things, but he thought better of it. He would give his host the satisfaction of throwing him out of Netherfield, if Mr. Bingley chose to do so. Mr. Darcy slowly realized that he actually felt better about himself than he had in some weeks. He had atoned for his sins and while his heart was still mourning the loss of his beloved Elizabeth, he was able to find some comfort in knowing that she now knew that he truly loved her. Mr. Darcy knew that Elizabeth would give his letter a fair hearing, even if she chose to never speak to him again. He turned over on his stomach and tried to nap, but just as his eyes closed there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened to admit Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy sat up and braced himself for an ugly scene.
"Are you all right, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked mildly, coming to sit beside him on the bed. The question disarmed Mr. Darcy, who was unprepared for such a question.
"I feel better knowing that the truth is out, for all the good it will do any of us. I am sorry, Bingley. I know my confession must have hurt Miss Bennet deeply but I could not allow her to go on believing--." Mr. Darcy stopped and bowed his head. Mr. Bingley put a fraternal hand on his shoulder. Mr. Darcy stiffened momentarily, then relaxed.
"Jane would not say what you spoke of, but I believe she was more concerned for you than herself," Mr. Bingley said. He hesitated a moment before adding, "What did you tell her?"
"I told her the plain, unvarnished truth about how I had separated you two." Mr. Darcy threw his head back and glanced at the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut. "I am sorry, Bingley, heartily sorry for all the trouble I have--"
"We have been through this before. What is done is done. I am only concerned now about the future." Mr. Darcy's bitter, ironic smile made Mr. Bingley cock his head to one
side in question.
"You, at least, have a future to look forward to," Mr. Darcy said softly. He stood and strode to the window. "As for myself..."
"Does this concern another Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, rising to join him at the window.
"Yes, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said with an edge of exasperation. "Elizabeth Bennet learned of my interference between you and her sister, and I have paid the ultimate price for it. I have lost her forever."
"How did she learn of it?"
"Who knows--sometimes I think that woman knows more about me than I do," Mr. Darcy answered abstractedly, more to himself than his friend. Mr. Bingley interposed himself between Mr. Darcy and the window, grabbing the man by the shoulders.
"Are you in love with her?" Mr. Darcy knew he didn't need to reply. "Well, what are you going to do about it, man? Go to Longbourn; talk to her! Beg her forgiveness!" He shook Mr. Darcy's shoulders for emphasis. Mr. Darcy was slightly amused by this sudden display of passion, but he pulled away from Mr. Bingley and walked away.
"I cannot!" He shouted. "Not yet," he said in a much softer tone.
• • •
...My dear friend, you simply must come to town. My dear Colonel Fitzwilliam (I now feel that I may rightly refer to him as "my Colonel," but you must come to London if you would know why!) has gone off to Brighton or some other dreadful place for a few weeks and I am desolate...
Elizabeth smiled and refolded Olivia's letter, placing it on the bureau before returning to her chore. She and the maid had laid out a number of dresses and she was trying to decide which to take with her to London. It was now late June, and Elizabeth would have to make alterations to a few of the gowns she was considering if they were to be worn in the hot weather. She sat on the bed and picked up the first gown and using a tiny pair of scissors, began to clip the threads that attached the long sleeves to its bodice. Elizabeth was some time at her task, and as she finished the second sleeve, she heard the sounds of someone running up the stairs.
"Lizzy?" cried Jane as she burst into the room. Elizabeth, alarmed, jumped up, scattering the contents of her sewing box on the floor. "Oh, I am so sorry," Jane said, stooping to pick up the fallen items.
"Jane! Whatever is the matter?" Elizabeth said, looking at her sister quizzically. Jane seemed abnormally agitated, even nervous. Elizabeth stooped to help Jane pick up the pins and spools of thread then took the box from her and led her to the bed. "
What is it, Jane? Has Mr. Bingley--"
"Oh, no! It is not Mr. Bingley," she said with a blush. Jane had ridden home from Netherfield intent on preventing Elizabeth from leaving Hertfordshire, but now that she had Elizabeth before her, she knew not how to proceed. It was quite possible that Elizabeth would have no wish to speak with Mr. Darcy, or that she knew of his coming and had purposefully planned to leave. Elizabeth, for her part, grew more worried with each second of silence. Finally she blurted out her frustration and bade Jane to speak.
"What is it, then? Jane! Tell me something! You have me half scared out of my wits," Elizabeth cried.
"It is Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth was surprised by Jane's mention of his name, but was still in the dark. Jane took Elizabeth's hands and looked into her eyes meaningfully. "He is here, Lizzy. At Netherfield." Elizabeth paled. She withdrew her hands from her sister's and sat numbly.
"You must leave off your plans of going to London tomorrow, Lizzy," Jane asserted in her quiet yet insistent tone. Elizabeth glanced at her, then rose slowly and went to the window that faced west, toward Netherfield.
"Why should I, Jane?" Elizabeth said with a voice that betrayed her emotions. "He is here to see his friend, Mr. Bingley. Why should that concern me?" Jane rose and went to her sister. She once again took hold of Elizabeth's hands.
"He told me everything, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to pull away, but Jane held fast. "He told me of how he had felt contempt for our family, how he separated Charles and me, how much he loved you...and how you refused his proposal because of what he had done. Oh, Lizzy, why did you not tell me before?"
"To what end?" she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It could do nothing but add to your pain." Jane squeezed Elizabeth's hands tightly as confronted the frustration she had felt since she had spoken with Mr. Darcy.
So Long, Sentiment Page 13
