Darcy’s Story

by Janet Aylmer

  She looked at Darcy as she spoke, and he thought that there was more than a hint of humour in her eyes.

  Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.

  Had Caroline Bingley been alone, Darcy might not have pursued the matter. Since, however, Miss Bennet was involved in the matter, Darcy was only too happy to promote the conversation.

  “I have not the smallest objection to explaining them. You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss.”

  Darcy paused, for this seemed to be less than likely, so he continued, “Or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

  “Oh! shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?”

  Darcy waited with expectation for the reply to this, and was intrigued by the answer.

  “Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,” said Miss Elizabeth. “We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him, laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”

  “But upon my honour I do not,” said Caroline Bingley. “I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no, I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself.”

  “Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!” cried Miss Elizabeth. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a laugh.”

  Darcy was not very sure how to take this.

  “Miss Bingley,” said he, “has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”

  “Certainly,” replied Miss Bennet, “there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”

  Darcy regarded her with more appearance of calm than he felt.

  “Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”

  She regarded him for a moment and then said, “Such as vanity and pride?”

  “Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”

  Miss Bennet turned away, as if to hide a smile.

  “Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley; “and pray what is the result?”

  “I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “He owns it himself without disguise.”

  “No,” said Darcy, rather vexed, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.”

  He stopped then, intending to say no more, but his irritation was too much for that to be enough.

  “My temper I dare not vouch for. It is I believe too little yielding, certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them.”

  Then, thinking of his inability to possess Bingley’s ease of address in company, and striving to be honest with her without regard to the disbenefit to himself, he added, “My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.”

  “That is a failing indeed!” said Miss Bennet. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.”

  Darcy, realising his error, then sought to excuse himself.

  “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

  If he had known her better, he might have expected that she would not let that rest.

  “And your defect is a propensity to hate every body.”

  “And yours,” he replied with a slow smile, “is wilfully to misunderstand them.”

  “Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share, and clearly dissatisfied at being so long overlooked.

  “Louisa, you will not mind my walking Mr. Hurst.” Her sister made no objection, and the piano-forte was opened.

  Darcy, after a few moments’ recollection, was not sorry for it, since Miss Bingley’s resentment at any attention being paid to Miss Elizabeth Bennet was clear. But he was aware that he was more than susceptible to her, especially when she adopted that teasing tone of address which could so beguile him.

  10

  When Miss Elizabeth Bennet wrote the next morning to her mother, to ask for the carriage to be sent from Longbourn in the course of the day, the reply came that they could not possibly have it before Tuesday; and that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. However, at length it was settled that they should stay till the following day. Bingley repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Jane Bennet that it would not be safe for her, that she was not enough recovered; but she was firm in accepting the use of his carriage for the next morning.

  Darcy was in two minds about this news.

  On the one hand, it was welcome intelligence. Elizabeth Bennet would have been at Netherfield for four days. That, for the safety of his heart, was more than long enough, as she attracted him much more than was desirable. In addition, Miss Bingley delighted in being uncivil to her, and more teasing than usual to himself.

  On the other hand, he felt more strongly towards her than for any woman before, and he could not keep himself from her company while she was in the same house. But the inferiority of her connections made it impossible to contemplate any future in the relationship.

  He therefore resolved that he must not encourage her, and should be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him until she left Netherfield.

  Steady to his purpose, Darcy managed to speak scarcely ten words to her through the whole of Saturday. On the following day, after morning service, the Misses Bennet returned to Longbourn.

  It was at least a benefit that Caroline Bingley could no longer trouble him about his admiration of “those fine eyes.”

  However, that night Darcy did not sleep well. Having resolved to remove the lady from his attention, he found that she persisted even more in his mind. Having decided by the small hours to remove himself from Netherfield at least for long enough to avoid the forthcoming ball, Darcy found himself agreeing at breakfast to be present, and even to assist in part of the discussion about the arrangements. Having concluded that it would be politic to support Miss Bingley when she criticised the deportment, appearance or behaviour of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he found himself doing exactly the opposite.

  In short, he found himself unable to control his own free will for the first time in his life.

  Two days later, Darcy rode into Meryton with Bingley. Proceeding up the street, he saw some of the Bennet sisters with a gentleman in clerical garb, talking to officers of the regiment quartered in the town. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in an animated conversation with a tall officer whose figure seemed to be strangely familiar.

  Bingley and Darcy, on distinguishing the ladies of the group, both rode towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley told Miss Bennet that he was on his way to L
ongbourn on purpose to inquire after her health. Darcy corroborated this with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Miss Elizabeth Bennet, when his glance was suddenly taken by the sight of the officer to whom she had been speaking—it was George Wickham.

  The countenance of both changed colour as their eyes met. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat in a salutation which Darcy just deigned to return. In another minute Bingley, without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and Darcy was able to ride on with him, his mind in turmoil.

  By what vicious stroke of fate was it that the man whom he detested and above all others wished to avoid should be in this part of Hertfordshire? He had thought at Ramsgate that he would never have to encounter Wickham again. And to see him talking to Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Of all the ladies of his acquaintance, why should she have to be in his company and subject to his attentions?

  He made little conversation on the way back and, as he entered Netherfield with his friend, it occurred to Darcy that Bingley’s invitations to the officers of the regiment to attend the ball would be likely to include Wickham. There appeared to be no way in which his attendance could be avoided, and that was a most unhappy prospect.

  ***

  The following day, Bingley took his sisters to Longbourn to invite the Bennet family to the ball. Darcy declined to go with them, seeking to avoid any further exposure to Mrs. Bennet.

  Although he had not until now acknowledged it to himself, his disdain of dancing had been modified, as far as the forthcoming ball was concerned, by the prospect that he could persuade Miss Elizabeth Bennet to be his partner.

  His reluctance at the Meryton assembly to accept Bingley’s suggestion to that effect, her refusal to accord with Sir William’s proposal at the Lucases, and her rejection of his invitation to dance a reel at Netherfield, were in his mind. It was unusual, to say the least, for Darcy to contemplate with pleasure the company of a lady in the dance. But so it was now.

  Against that was now the possibility that she might again refuse him, and that there might be others, including a man whom he heartily disliked and mistrusted, who could also seek her hand for that purpose.

  11

  As the guests arrived on the day of the Netherfield ball, Darcy stood at the side of the room, a short distance from his hosts as they greeted the company on their arrival. The officers of the regiment arrived together, with Colonel Forster and his young wife. Darcy could not see Wickham amongst them, although he recognised Mr. Denny who had been at the encounter in Meryton a few days earlier.

  Darcy had little interest in most of the other arrivals, although he noticed Sir William and Lady Lucas with their two eldest daughters. At last, the Bennet family arrived together, Miss Elizabeth Bennet in lively conversation with her father as they entered the house.

  Darcy saw her then accompany her eldest sister into the drawing-room.

  He took the opportunity to make a polite enquiry as to how she and her sister were, to which she replied with some civility. As he left her, he noted that she then looked around the room, as though searching for someone among the cluster of the officers in red coats there assembled. Darcy saw Miss Lydia Bennet walk across the room and approach Mr. Denny, who spoke to her and her sister Elizabeth, Denny looking towards Darcy as he did so.

  Darcy’s reverie was then interrupted by the music starting up, Bingley taking the eldest Miss Bennet onto the floor, and her sister joining the dance with the clerical gentleman who had been with the Bennet family at Meryton. The latter soon proved to be no kind of dancer, often moving wrong without being aware of it. Miss Elizabeth Bennet appeared to be gracious in the face of these difficulties. Darcy was gratified to see that there was very little conversation between them during the two dances. When the music eventually came to an end, the lady appeared to leave the floor with some alacrity.

  As he walked around the ballroom, Miss Bingley interrupted his perambulation to tell him that she had overheard one of the officers speaking to Miss Lydia Bennet. The officer had turned to look at Darcy, as he said that “Mr. Wick-ham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, although I do not imagine that his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here.”

  This intelligence pleased Darcy, since he had no wish to meet Wickham that evening, or indeed at all. But it also implied that all the old falsehoods about the dealings between them were being promoted again in Hertfordshire.

  He walked on until he was within a few steps of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, resolving that he must seek his chance now, before her card was filled for the evening. However, for the moment, he was too late, for at that instant she took the floor with one of the officers. Darcy continued to pace around the room for the next half hour until, at last, the music ended, and she crossed the room to join Miss Charlotte Lucas in conversation.

  Darcy quickly passed behind the company and, addressing her with few preliminaries, applied for her hand for the next two dances. Miss Bennet hesitated for what seemed to him a long moment. Then she accepted his offer without comment, and he turned away immediately, but with a feeling of satisfaction which he had rarely experienced.

  When the dancing recommenced, Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet were deep in conversation as Darcy approached to claim her hand. Together, they took their places opposite each other in the set. He noticed that the nearest of the company seemed to be taking a lively interest in the rare spectacle of his taking to the floor.

  As the first couples began the steps, they both stood silent, not speaking a word.

  Then, it was their turn. When he took her hand for the first turn, Darcy found himself close to being overcome with feelings that were as powerful as they were novel. Her touch was firm, more steady and confident than that of many women, and her balance was sure as she turned away from him and then back, as the dance required.

  He was so little inclined normally to speak whilst dancing that the absence of words to begin with did not bother him. After a few minutes, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied briefly, and was again silent. It was enough for him for the moment to be where he was, and with her.

  After a silence for some minutes, she addressed him a second time.

  “It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”

  This was very unlike the stilted conversation that Darcy was used to on such occasions and, despite himself, he smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

  She seemed encouraged by this, and said, “Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps bye and bye I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent.”

  Her confidence commended itself to him.

  “Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?”

  “Sometimes,” she replied, “One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”

  Again he found himself reflecting that the manner of her address was a refreshing change to that to which he was accustomed.

  “Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”

  “Both,” replied Miss Bennet, “for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds.”

  She paused, as his heart warmed to the disclosure that she had given more than a little thought to the subject.

  Then she went on to say, slowly, “We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.”

  He was not happy with this response.

  “This is no very striking res
emblance of your own character, I am sure. How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say.”

  Then, although unaware that he disclosed some irritation at what might be a criticism of himself, he added, “You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”

  “I must not decide on my own performance.”

  He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance.

  Recalling how she had reached Netherfield when her sister was ill, and where they had last met, Darcy then asked her cautiously if she and her sisters very often walked the mile from Longbourn to Meryton.

  “Yes,” she answered and added, “when you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”

  He was immediately aware to whom she referred— Wickham!—and he was aware that the colour came into his face. But he did not reply immediately.

  At length he said, in a constrained manner, “Mr. Wick-ham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.”

  Darcy was not prepared for the firm reply, which seemed to be based on more than a limited acquaintance between Wickham and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  “He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship, and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

  This reply indicated some measure of intimacy between her and Wickham which concerned Darcy almost beyond reason.

  But he made no answer. Indeed, he had none. If he had been feeling more rational, he might have been aware that he was blaming that gentleman for again coming into his life to damage something that mattered to him.

  At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared, seeking to pass through the set to the other side of the room. Seeing them together, he stopped with a bow to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

  “I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza, shall take place.”