by C. P. Odom
Elizabeth was taken aback by the vehemence of Charlotte’s arguments, and she finally confessed that she did not doubt Mr. Darcy’s sincerity. She flushed in embarrassment as she continued, “I must admit that I have no present reason to believe him unprincipled or unjust. I have rejected my previous opinion of his character based on — I am embarrassed to admit — the vile charges made by Mr. Wickham. Even though his manners are proud and repulsive, I must accede that you are partly right.”
Charlotte was pleased at the concession. Elizabeth was so independent of mind that she was more than capable of defending her points against all arguments, but there were other thoughts she wished Elizabeth to consider.
“Lizzy, I want you to listen to me now,” she said, as she leaned forward to take Elizabeth’s hand. “I have never thought Mr. Darcy to be as prideful as you believe, but put that aside for now. I want you to consider that he is not the same as the young men we saw in Hertfordshire. He is not even the same as his friend, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy has had many weighty responsibilities thrust upon him at an age when other young men think only of dances with the prettiest girls at the next ball. He has had the responsibility of managing a great estate in the country as well as maintaining a household in town. He has even had the care of a much younger sister. In all of these, he has acquitted himself admirably, even while being betrayed by his boyhood friend and pursued by every mother with an unmarried daughter in both town and country. Then, you tell me he was so inarticulate when he made his proposal that he had to pull out written pages to settle himself! If you would have my opinion, I think what you have been calling pride and conceit is more a mask of protective reserve to put on in uncomfortable social situations. Oh, I am sure that he does need to amend his manners in some regards, but that is a task that a good wife could accomplish.”
This last statement made Elizabeth blush; the idea that she might have the power to soften his manner was not without attraction.
“And,” Charlotte continued, “I cannot comment on the reason for his letter because of my husband’s wishes, but you must give credence to the logic of his arguments. Perhaps he is too quick to make decisions for others, but after all, he has been doing it for some time now for those under his care — his sister, his staff and his tenants, even his friend Mr. Bingley, and now you. I urge you to consider carefully before you reject him again. It could not only prove harmful to your reputation and that of your family, but you may also be rejecting a man who, with his own talents and disposition, in many ways could be the best match for you in terms of your own character. Do promise me that you will try to think very carefully on this.”
While Elizabeth could agree with the logic, Charlotte’s rational advice clashed greatly with her feelings. However, she knew that certain of her beliefs could not bear close examination, considering the faulty basis on which they had been formed. Finally, she sighed, “You have given me much to think on, Charlotte. I feel grieved that I continue to make hasty and faulty assumptions regarding Mr. Darcy. I still do not know whether I can accept him as the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life, but I do know that I must consider it. But for now” — she sighed — “I feel in the need for a long, long walk and some time by myself.”
Elizabeth spent much time walking and thinking without forming any conclusions by the time she returned to the house. She could not rid herself of the memory of Mr. Darcy’s tenderness of voice when he made his proposal, nor could she forget his words, ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ The very memory sent a shiver down her spine, and she hugged herself in her room as she tried to convince herself that she never wanted to hear that caressing tone from him again.
There was again no invitation to Rosings though Mr. Collins did call on Lady Catherine in the afternoon, and Elizabeth was now quite anxious to return to London. After a supper at the Parsonage marked by little conversation and no amity, Elizabeth retired early to her room with many thoughts to occupy her.
Chapter 8
Sunday, April 12, 1812
When Darcy arrived in Town the previous evening, he sent a note to Bingley asking whether his friend was available to receive a visit the following afternoon, and an affirmative response in Bingley’s untidy scrawl was delivered after dinner. Thus, following church in the morning and luncheon with his sister afterwards, at the stroke of one o’clock he left his sister, Georgiana, to her music and Mrs. Annesley’s companionship and boarded his coach to take him to Bingley’s townhouse. The butler escorted him to the parlour where he found Bingley and his sister sitting on opposite couches. Miss Bingley was engaged in ignoring the book in her lap and talking to her brother while her brother was obviously ignoring her and everything else as he stared silently out the window.
Bingley turned as Darcy was announced, but his sister was quick to jump to her feet and interpose herself between them before he could say a word.
“Mr. Darcy,” she exclaimed with a smile as bright as it was artificial, “We were not informed you had returned from Kent. How went your visit with your aunt?”
“It has, at least, concluded, Miss Bingley,” Darcy replied stiffly. “Bingley, there is a matter of some importance I must discuss with you in your study.”
His shortness stopped Caroline Bingley in her tracks. Would this man ever come to see her rather than Charles?
“Yes, of course, Darcy,” Bingley replied indifferently and gestured to the door, leaving his sister staring after them, wondering with some anxiety what could bring Mr. Darcy there in such urgency and abruptness.
In his study, Bingley dropped with a loose-boned collapse into the upholstered depths of an armchair while Darcy seated himself with more care before the hearth. The younger man stared into the fireplace, and Darcy was distressed to see that he was in worse shape than he had been before the trip to Kent. He shook his head, determined to get the painful interview behind him though not at all sure how to do it correctly.
“Bingley,” he opened, “as you know, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I have been in Kent these past weeks.” Bingley listened politely but without particular interest though his awareness quickened with Darcy’s next statement.
“When we arrived, I was informed that my aunt’s parson, Mr. Collins, was newly married to a young lady that we were introduced to in Hertfordshire, a Miss Charlotte Lucas, the elder daughter of Sir William Lucas.”
“Mr. Collins?” Bingley inquired, his brow furrowing in remembrance.
“You may remember him from the ball at Netherfield when he attempted to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I seem to recall the man . . .” Bingley said
“Probably not,” Darcy said dryly, “since your eyes hardly left those of Miss Jane Bennet the entire night.”
Bingley flushed and looked away, saddened at the memory and upset at being reminded of it.
Darcy continued, “I was surprised to find that Mrs. Collins had a visitor — Miss Elizabeth Bennet — and my cousin and I attended Mrs. Collins and her friend a number of times during our stay.”
Bingley was curious but not excessively interested until Darcy’s next statement, “While there, Miss Elizabeth had occasion to question my opinion regarding the sentiments of her sister toward you. In fact, Charles, she forced me to the conclusion that my belief in her sister’s indifference was in error.”
This news drew Bingley upright as the words penetrated his depression. Agitated, he jumped to his feet. “I do not understand. What do you mean, ‘the sentiments of her sister toward me’? I assume you mean Miss Bennet?”
At Darcy’s nod, he leaned forward in urgent emotion. “Speak clearly, Darcy! What exactly does that mean?”
Darcy swallowed. This was going worse than he feared, but he had no choice but to continue. “To speak clearly then, I now know that I was entirely mistaken when I assured you in November that Miss Bennet did not care for you. In truth, Miss Elizabeth informed me that her sister’s regard was sincere and deep, and
that she was quite heartbroken when you departed Netherfield and did not return.”
“What!” Bingley exclaimed. “Miss Bennet was heartbroken? Oh, my God, what have I done?” He collapsed in his chair. Darcy was stricken as Bingley rocked back and forth, pressing his face into his hands, not saying a word but presenting a picture of such misery as to threaten to tear his heart out.
“What must she think of me?” he groaned in despair. “I left her to the derision of the neighbourhood when she loved me! What a hideous, thoughtless monster I am!”
Darcy closed his eyes in pain. Obviously, Bingley’s attraction to Jane Bennet was as deep as hers was to him. He arose and clasped his friend’s shoulder.
“Bingley,” he said slowly, “you were not completely at fault in this matter. It was I who assured you of Miss Bennet’s indifference. I stressed the disparity of your situations, and that was arrogance on my part, for which I most heartily apologize. I believed that Miss Bennet’s mother would have forced her daughter to marry against her wishes because of your fortune, and I have now been informed that also was wrong, for Miss Bennet was — and is — determined to marry for love.”
Bingley looked up in anger. “How can you know all this, Darcy? Miss Elizabeth would tell you of such? That I find hard to believe!”
Darcy swallowed and looked away, unable to face the accusation in his eyes. “Miss Elizabeth and I . . . well, we had a rather heated confrontation, and this . . . all this information came out.”
“I see,” Bingley said coldly, barely mollified.
“Bingley, there are two other pieces of information you need — or rather three, now that I think of it. First is that Miss Bennet is at this moment visiting her aunt and uncle in London and has been for these three months.”
This brought Bingley to his feet in agitation. “Here? In London? Could it be possible? But would she even see me? How could I blame her if she did not? After abandoning her as I did, why would she want to? Oh, what shall I do?”
“Second,” Darcy continued, “and this part pains me greatly, much more than my honest error in estimating Miss Bennet’s regard. I must tell you that your sister received Miss Bennet here when you were out and then returned the visit at her uncle’s home before severing the relationship. Miss Bingley told me of this, and to my discredit, I did not inform you.”
If Bingley had looked angry before, his present expression could only be termed cold fury. “Caroline did what? She did not tell me? Severed the relationship? And you did not tell me?” He paused to collect his thoughts, and at length, he fixed Darcy with a fierce glare. “I thought better of you, Darcy — much better!”
“I thought better of myself, Charles, and I must beg your forgiveness for my arrogant interference.”
Bingley said nothing — just stared at Darcy with that same glare. After several endless minutes, while Darcy resumed his seat but could not meet his friend’s eyes, Bingley ground out between gritted teeth, “I am too angry to think just now, Darcy. I think it best you leave before I say something I may later regret.”
Darcy got to his feet and turned to go. “As you wish, Bingley. I cannot blame you for being disgusted with me, for I am quite disgusted with myself.” He turned back before leaving, saying, “There was a third item. Miss Bennet’s uncle’s name is Gardiner, and he lives in Gracechurch Street. And I would strongly advise you to go there immediately since I have reason to believe the situation is not beyond repair.”
Darcy bowed to his friend and exited the room. On his way out, he was accosted by Miss Bingley as he passed by the door to the parlour; she urged him to join her for a private conversation, but he had no time for her or her attempt to ensnare him into further conspiracy.
“Please excuse me, madam,” he said with a bow, “but I must be on my way. Your brother has commanded me to leave his house.”
Caroline had never been so shocked in her life. “Charles? He did what?”
“Caroline!” Bingley demanded harshly from his study. “I will see you in here immediately!”
Caroline started to turn to Darcy, but he had already proceeded down the hall.
“Immediately!” her brother commanded again with an icy sternness she had not even dreamed he possessed.
Before Darcy could retrieve his hat, gloves, and stick from the butler, he heard raised voices issuing from the study. He shook his head in sadness as he left, even feeling a touch of compassion for Caroline Bingley. Not only had he never seen Bingley this angry, he had not believed he could be this angry. He did not know if his friend would ever forgive him, and he bitterly wondered whether he could have made a worse muddle of his private life if he had set out with that objective firmly in mind.
* * * * *
It was mid-afternoon when Mrs. Gardiner heard the front bell ring. Jane sat on the couch, reading to her two oldest cousins when the sitting room door opened and the maid brought in a card on a tray. Mrs. Gardiner was surprised to read, ‘Charles Bingley, Esq.’ on the front. On the back, scrawled untidily, was ‘Miss Jane Bennet.’
She looked over and caught her niece’s attention. “It seems that Mr. Bingley has come to call on you, Jane.”
Jane’s cheeks reddened; a look of anxiety and desperate hope in equal measure washed across her face before she managed to compose herself.
“Shall I ask him to come up, dear?” asked Mrs. Gardiner quietly, and Jane could only nod. Mrs. Gardiner turned to the maid and instructed her to show the gentleman in.
A moment later, Bingley was shown into the sitting room. His eyes were immediately drawn to Jane, and Mrs. Gardiner noted with interest that Jane sought his gaze with equal intensity but could not hold it. Her cheeks flushed again, and she had to look down.
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley said earnestly with an eager bow, “I am so happy to find you in town. I just learned of your presence this very morning from Mr. Darcy, and I lost no time coming to call. I hope I find you in good health?”
Jane answered softly in the affirmative and then remembered her manners. “Mr. Bingley, may I introduce my aunt, Mrs. Edward Gardiner?”
Bingley turned to her and bowed over her hand, “Mrs. Gardiner, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And I yours, Mr. Bingley. Would you care for some tea?”
“Perhaps later, Mrs. Gardiner. What I would very much like is some time with your niece. Mr. Darcy informed me of something this morning — something quite surprising to me — and I very much need to discuss it with Miss Bennet.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked at the young man in surprise and disapproval. “This is not a proper request, Mr. Bingley,” she said sternly. “While I understand that you are acquainted with my niece from Hertfordshire, I also understand that you have done nothing to warrant such a petition.”
Bingley hung his head in shame. “I quite understand your attitude, Mrs. Gardiner, but, unless I am misinformed by my friend, I believe that Miss Bennet will not be opposed to hearing what I have to say.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked over at Jane, and it was immediately obvious that Jane did indeed wish to talk with him. And he did appear most earnest . . .
“Jane,” she told her niece, “would you be so good as to take your cousins to their room while I have a word with Mr. Bingley?”
“Of course, Aunt,” agreed Jane, standing and offering her hands to each of her cousins, and the three of them left the room, closing the hall door behind them.
Mrs. Gardiner turned back to Bingley and looked at him with an intensity that made him swallow in sudden discomposure.
“You will pardon me if I speak frankly, sir,” she said sternly, her eyes maintaining her fixed gaze. “I am familiar with your former acquaintance with my niece, and I do not wish to see her hurt further. You quitted Hertfordshire last autumn with no warning to her, no notes or letters, and from what I am told, at a point where all concerned had reason to expect a declaration regarding your intentions. The mortification of such treatment was, as you may well imagine, extreme.
I must warn you that I will not have you again toy with my niece’s affections, Mr. Bingley!”
“I assure you that my intentions were and remain honourable,” Bingley said earnestly. “But mistakes have been made — most of them mine — and I am determined to right them. I beg you for the chance to do so.”
Mrs. Gardiner gazed at him silently for several moments, and his evident earnestness finally convinced her.
“Very well, Mr. Bingley, I will agree because I see that Jane also wishes to talk with you. But I will be in the next room, and I will leave the door open.”
“Thank you,” Bingley said in relief. He had known it was not going to be easy. If he had just come to call and talk of the weather and other trivialities, he would not have had to go through this, but he was finished with caution.
After Mrs. Gardiner sent for Jane to return, she stayed long enough to see Bingley seated in a chair across from her niece before exiting the room. For her part, Jane felt a surge of anticipation rise inside her opposed by dread that her hopes might again be dashed. Bingley’s words and manner had been uncommonly direct and forceful, and yet she was afraid to even have wishes.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, “I received a visit this morning that has completely overturned everything I thought I knew about our time in Hertfordshire. Before I get into that, however, I must confess that the primary mistake has been mine. When I left Netherfield in the autumn and did not return, I did so because I had allowed myself to be convinced of your indifference towards me.”
He saw Jane’s startled reaction and continued, “Yes, I see that this surprises you. And my mistake was that I was not firm enough to listen to my own counsel and allowed myself to be influenced by others. They talked to me of prudence, and to my shame, I listened and allowed myself to be convinced.”
