The vows were spoken, enthusiastically by Bingley, and with quiet sincerity by Jane, and as she turned a fraction to watch their faces, Elizabeth caught a glance at Darcy, and their eyes met. They both looked away, as if stung, and she was left with the impression not of disdain but more of sadness; indeed his whole face was thin and lined, as if he had been eating too little and sleeping poorly. Something inside her softened, and again she felt inexplicably drawn to him, no matter how hopeless their prospects had become.
Custom required that they should leave the church side by side, and there Darcy remained as the congregation poured out to salute the happy couple, now waving from the chaise that would take them back to Netherfield, where the wedding breakfast awaited.
Impulsively Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm, and as he turned she said with a sad smile: ‘Life goes on.’
‘Your sister looked radiant as well as beautiful, and will make Bingley an excellent wife.’
His tone was subdued, as if he were taking care to be polite. Unable to resist a small dig, Elizabeth said: ‘You don’t feel that her affections were too little expressed, as on a previous occasion?’
This procured the hint of a smile. ‘I see you have recovered your spirits, Miss Bennet. Your complexion too is restored to its former perfection.’
‘Is your party staying for the breakfast?’
‘Yes. We plan to remain at Netherfield overnight, before setting off once more for Derbyshire.’
Elizabeth’s heart jumped at this unexpected opportunity, and while her courage was high she pressed on. ‘It may be asking a lot, Mr Darcy, but could we meet in private after the breakfast? Perhaps it will prove pointless, but there are some things I would like to say.’
He started, before replying stiffly: ‘Certainly, if you wish.’
Miss Bingley made her way through the throng, and bobbed an exaggerated greeting. ‘Miss Eliza, how charming to see you again, and looking so much better than before! Mr Darcy, you should have seen the condition of her face, it put me quite off my food for the whole evening!’ She took Darcy’s other arm. ‘Come Mr Darcy, my sister is in the carriage with Georgiana, and you are keeping us waiting.’
With a sigh, Darcy released Elizabeth’s arm, and they parted.
As the breakfast dragged on, with many courses and much jollity, Elizabeth passed most of the meal in a quiet conversation with Georgiana—but with her mind so fixed on the forthcoming meeting with Darcy that sometimes she lost the thread. Eventually people began to leave, and Darcy, after a word with Colonel Fitzwilliam, suggested that all four of them, Georgiana included, should take a walk around the grounds for some fresh air. On reaching the edge of the formal gardens, Colonel Fitzwilliam declared the exercise sufficient for his needs, and invited Georgiana to accompany him back to the house, so leaving Elizabeth alone with Darcy.
‘Another charade to protect my reputation?’ Elizabeth teased, as they walked through a copse towards the river.
‘Nothing of the sort,’ he replied gravely. ‘After so long in town, Georgiana is easily tired. She will soon recover her strength once we are back at Pemberley.’
They came to a rustic bench, only slightly damp after several rain-free days, and on Darcy’s suggestion paused to admire the view. For a while they sat in awkward silence, until he prompted: ‘What was it that you wished to say?’
Elizabeth took a deep breath, and in a voice tinged with desperation began: ‘I have been distressed by our last meeting in London, where I am afraid we did not understand one another.’
‘The outcome seemed clear enough to me. Having endured such shameful treatment on my behalf, you naturally despised me, and desired above all else to absent yourself from my company …’
Elizabeth raised her hand. ‘Mr Darcy, this is why we must talk, not through innuendo and facial expression, but through sentences carefully formed in the King’s English. We do not read one another’s countenances well, and you have certainly misinterpreted mine. Will you allow me to say what I truly think of you?’
He sighed. ‘If you must.’
She faced him with a slight smile, and with careful diction, as if speaking to a child, said: ‘Attend carefully, sir, since for once in my life I am not jesting, and mean everything I say. I consider you the finest man that I have ever met, or am ever likely to meet. Never have I encountered such courage, intelligence, decency, and genuine kindness, all united.’ She paused as he gasped, and his body rigidified, as if in shock. ‘What is more, I recant every word I have spoken in criticism of your behaviour towards that monster Sir Osborne Kaye. You were right to rescue Bertha, at the risk of incurring his spite. Having done so, you were right to fight him rather than giving in to the bully, as you put it, by conceding him an apology. By killing him you removed a pestilence that had already afflicted dozens of lives, and would have damaged many more. In short, your instincts were selfless and honourable, and in condemning you I only revealed my own superficiality. I hope I am wiser now, and that you will allow me to express my love and admiration. I realise of course that this declaration comes far too late, and that you can never feel about me as you once did.’
He stared at her, his movements suddenly animated. ‘Why too late, Elizabeth?’
‘Is it not obvious?’ She slapped the bench in frustration. ‘I am a dishonoured woman, Mr Darcy, another man’s bit of muslin. I saw revulsion written plainly on your face when I told you of Arthur Kaye’s attentions …’
‘Yes, but with myself, not you!’ Darcy interrupted angrily. ‘Elizabeth, how could you believe this of me?’
‘I thought …’ She hid her head in her hands, suddenly overcome. A handkerchief was gently pressed into her glove, but the kind gesture did not stem the flow of tears, and letting herself go she wept her heart out, as if purging herself from months of anxiety and humiliation. He retreated to give her space, and waited in silence until she was done.
‘Excuse me.’ She blew her nose, set the handkerchief demurely aside, and faced him with a shy smile.
‘Evidently my facial language was ambiguous, and I too should have employed the King’s English,’ he said.
‘And had you done so, what would you have said?’
‘That my feelings are unchanged from Hunsford, except that my admiration is greater than ever now that I have benefitted from your courage and ingenuity. That your sacrifice shames me, so that I feel unworthy of you.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Also that I would like to lay my hands on Arthur Kaye and tear him limb from limb.’
Elizabeth giggled. ‘But you have not heard the latest reports. Sir Arthur has found God and is daily repenting his sins. We may hope that before long his character will be reformed.’
‘I still prefer my solution.’ He leaned forward to take her hand. ‘But we will leave Sir Arthur in the hands of his maker, for there are more important matters to settle. Elizabeth, will you marry me?’
He spoke with confident ease, as if certain of his reception, but his face fell as she answered slowly: ‘I would like to, and yet—I cannot. It would not be fair to you.’
He stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’
She moved closer and touched his arm. ‘Let us be calm. I want to talk about this seriously.’
He began to protest, but caught himself, and after a deep breath replied: ‘I am listening.’
‘There are two obstacles. The first is basic, and in my view has been the main cause of our frequent quarrels. I am not prepared to play the role conventionally assigned to a gentleman’s wife. In marrying you, I fear I will gain companionship only at the price of freedom. You will regard yourself as responsible for me, as you are responsible now for Georgiana. You will see it as your right, even your duty, to protect me and take decisions on my behalf.’ She turned to meet his eye. ‘Can you deny it?’
He sighed. ‘If you are asking whether I am concerned for your welfare, I confess you are right.’
‘Reflect on your behaviour in the months before the trial. Time and again you hav
e intervened in my life, either directly or acting through my uncle, with the aim of protecting my safety or my reputation.’
‘And were my fears groundless?’ he returned. ‘Look at what happened!’
Elizabeth coloured. ‘I would remind you, sir, that in all probability you owe your life to my rash display of independence. Look at what happened when you refused to apologise to Sir Osborne Kaye! Each of us took decisions that might have proved fatal. No-one can say for sure whether we were right or wrong; that is not the issue. What matters is whether we are free to choose our own destiny. Why should you enjoy this freedom while I may not?’
‘As mistress of Pemberley, you will not be powerless. I will be more than happy for you to make up your rooms as you wish, and to choose your own servants. You will enjoy a substantial allowance for purchasing your clothes and jewellery.’
Elizabeth smiled sadly. ‘You are more than kind. How can I explain this to you?’ She paused a few seconds. ‘This may shock you, but it is not to be helped. I ask for no part of Pemberley. If you choose to feed and house me I am grateful, but Pemberley is yours and should remain so. You may control Pemberley, its neighbourhood, and the whole county of Derbyshire for all I care. What you may not control is this.’ She reversed both her hands to point to her own body. ‘This part of the universe is not yours. It belongs to me. I will decide what happens to it. I will decide where it goes, and what it says, and what it is allowed to do. Not you, nor my father, nor my uncle, nor the Prime Minister. Me. Elizabeth Bennet. Are you following, sir, or is my meaning still unclear?’
There was a long silence, but she saw by his thoughtful expression that he had understood; indeed at times he seemed to suppress a chuckle, as if he found her tirade funny, but was afraid of offending her.
Eventually he said: ‘And if you express a desire to do something foolhardy, what should I do?’
‘Give your opinion, as you would to any gentleman friend, then leave me free to decide.’
A thought seemed to strike him, and he regarded her more sternly. ‘And what of deceit, Elizabeth? Am I hallucinating, or was there not an occasion on which you tricked me into doing your will by withholding information?’
Elizabeth blushed. ‘It upset you deeply, I think, to be deprived of control in this way.’
‘Indeed it did.’
‘It was wrong of me.’ She met his eye directly. ‘But at least the experience might help you to understand what it feels like.’
He recoiled, and again she saw the point had struck home. He smiled suddenly, and replied: ‘And if I renounce command, do you renounce deceit?’
‘Gladly!’
‘It will be difficult to break a habit of assuming responsibility.’ He regarded her seriously. ‘But I will try, Elizabeth. I understand what you are asking, and I promise I will try.’
‘You had better succeed as well as try, sir, otherwise I shall run away.’
‘Then I will try very hard.’ He spread his arms. ‘Are we in agreement now? Is the impediment removed?’
‘I believe so. However, you will recall there was a second issue.’ Elizabeth’s voice quivered, and she turned away, struggling to keep her composure.
‘Must we speak of it now?’ he asked kindly.
‘I fear we must.’ She faced him again, with her voice under better control. ‘I apologise in advance, for what I have to say will embarrass you as well as me. But we have to face reality, and the reality is that it would be unfair for me to accept a proposal of marriage from you, or indeed from any other man. Let me explain.’
‘Mr Darcy, I understand your very proper objectives in taking a wife. You will wish us to have children, so as to procure an heir for Pemberley. As a man with normal appetites you will hope to enjoy the, ah, physical side of marriage, and as a man who is also kind and considerate, you will wish your wife to receive these attentions willingly and with delight. I cannot in all honesty promise to satisfy these requirements. Frankly, the prospect terrifies me.’
She held up a hand as he tried to interrupt. ‘I know what you are going to say. Obviously my first experience of intimacy with the opposite sex was discouraging to say the least. But if I am honest, I have always feared the physical side of marriage, this unknown quantity whereof we are not supposed to speak or even think. Your husband will guide you is my mother's only counsel: but what use is that, when the die will already be cast? For years I have pushed these fears to the recesses of my mind, but after Arthur Kaye's visit to my cell, they returned centre stage, for his intentions were entirely plain.
‘In addition to this, we have to consider your own reactions. Imagine how it will feel to be intimate with me, in the knowledge that I have been dishonoured by another man—and such a man! When you kiss me, will you not feel acutely the awareness that you were not the first? Will your love not be tinged with disgust?’
Again he considered this, rather than replying immediately. ‘Obviously I would have preferred us to marry under different circumstances. But no, I don’t believe my feelings for you will be affected.’ He opened his palms with a sigh. ‘In any case, much as I hope for an heir, my desire for your companionship is paramount. If for any reason we cannot enjoy normal marital relations, I will still consider myself fortunate to have you as my wife.’
Elizabeth coloured, moved by this declaration. ‘The good fortune would be all mine, sir. But still, I cannot in fairness do this to you. If only there was some way of being sure.’ She looked into the distance, frowning in concentration. Suddenly struck by a solution, she began to giggle. Aware that he was observing her closely, she tried her best to suppress this outburst of frivolity, worthy of Lydia or Kitty, but without success.
‘What is so amusing?’ he smiled indulgently.
‘A very shocking idea,’ she said, still giggling. ‘I hardly dare tell you.’
‘Try me.’
‘You will pronounce me a wanton and never speak to me again.’
‘I’m waiting, Elizabeth.’
She looked around to ensure they were alone, before whispering: ‘We could make a trial in secret, before we are engaged to be married.’
He frowned. ‘You mean, perform as man and wife …’
‘Exactly. Then we will know for sure. Either I will like it, or I will not. Either you will be revolted by thoughts of my earlier disgrace, or you will not. If we both pass the test with flying colours, we can proceed in confidence to the altar. If not, we can part as friends and in time you will marry someone else.’ She gave him a teasing glance. ‘I believe such assignments are not considered so prohibitive for a gentleman.’
He regarded her with an expression midway between amusement and embarrassment. ‘But even if such a course can be contemplated, how can it be arranged?’
‘As a man of the world I leave that to your imagination, sir. I believe private assignments are often engineered between a gentleman and his chère amie. A discrete closed carriage, a secluded remote inn—you will know how it is to be done.’
He shook with laughter, humour finally triumphing over confusion. ‘We are surely mad, Elizabeth, to be considering this at all.’
‘Nevertheless, those are my terms. Try as you might, you will never persuade me to proceed with an engagement in fear that I cannot perform satisfactorily as a wife.’
Chapter 37
Scarcely a day had passed since Jane’s wedding when the neighbourhood was abuzz with more gossip about the Bennets: the second daughter, Lizzy, had unexpectedly been invited to spend Christmas at Pemberley. According to Mrs Bennet, the main source of this information, the invitation could have only one interpretation: Mr Darcy was besotted with Elizabeth and their engagement was imminent.
The invitation came in fact from Georgiana, on the evening of the wedding, and Elizabeth went directly to her parents to obtain their consent. Mr Bennet had some doubts, preferring that the scandal surrounding Darcy should have more time to die down first. However, he was overruled by Mrs Bennet, who was adamant that t
he opportunity should not be lost. Scandal indeed—what did that matter when set against an income of £10,000 a year? As usual in these disagreements it was Mr Bennet who gave way, desirous as ever of a quiet life; so it was that on the very next day Elizabeth joined Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Darcy on their northward journey.
They set off at first light, breakfasting on the road, and soon after midday joined the route that Elizabeth had taken with the Beaumonts to Coleorton. Not wishing to push his horses too hard, Darcy had planned for frequent rests, his objective being to reach the village of Lower Harlestone, west of Northampton, by dusk. There several rooms had been reserved at the Fox and Hounds Inn, and Elizabeth was easily accommodated by sharing with Georgiana. By supper time the temperature was falling fast and there was talk of snow.
Next morning, Georgiana descended with the news that Elizabeth was suffering from nausea and headache, perhaps through something she had eaten, and did not feel fit to travel. After a hurried discussion, Darcy decided that Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam should proceed with the servants to Pemberley immediately, so as to minimise the risk of being delayed by snowfall. He, Darcy, would stay behind to attend to Elizabeth, and when she was feeling better they would follow in a post-chaise hired from the innkeeper.
After dozing during the afternoon, Elizabeth awoke to find a light dusting of snow on the passing fields.
She smiled at Darcy, sitting opposite in a typically grave pose. ‘Where are we?’
‘Past Hinkley. We should reach Market Bosworth soon.’
‘Ye Old Red Lion Inn. How did you choose it?’
‘I made discrete enquiries at the Fox and Hounds. It should be a pleasant spot, but out of the way. Certainly I have never stopped there before, so we will not be recognised.’ He drew a small package from his greatcoat pocket. ‘Will you do me the honour of wearing this ring? It was my mother’s.’
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