Her reaction to his proposal was far harder to sort through. For the second time that day, he felt the urge to pout. This was personal, not a response to an unforeseen situation outside of his control. Miss Elizabeth’s rejection was a direct reaction to his conduct over the six weeks he had been in Hertfordshire. He felt very, very sorry for the perceived injustice done to him. Yet, she was right. To his shame, he was undeserving.
Although it was his inclination, excusing himself and trying to reason her out of her attitude was wrong, for how could he ever find words to justify his own offensive actions towards her and the people she loved, her neighbors and friends? The weight of his sins settled upon him and he felt rotten to the core. How dare he criticize Mr. Bennet? The older man had been correct to call him out for his treatment of Mr. Bennet’s favorite daughter. Had a potential suitor for his own sister acted similarly, Darcy would have given him the cut, forever alienating the miscreant from polite society—after giving him a good thrashing.
He spoke softly, hoping she could hear him through her sorrow.
“I am responsible. This is my error.” He looked to the opposite corner of the room and found Thornton with his back turned to them, offering them a measure of privacy while chaperoning them for propriety’s sake. Darcy cared not if the man heard him humble himself. Taking a deep breath, he expelled it, then continued. “You deserve a man of integrity who loves you with his whole heart, soul, mind, and strength.” He looked at her bowed head and hated himself for making her think she was beneath his notice at the assembly and while she was at Bingley’s estate. In truth, it was he who did not deserve her.
“You asked if I knew how to waltz and I confidently gave you the impression I am a proficient.” He scoffed at himself, leaned his head back against the headboard, and looked up to the ceiling. “I will now confess to you that I reek of inexperience. Masters have shown me the steps, for I had the stellar example of my parent’s own marriage to follow. Yet, somehow, I lost my way.” He wiped his hand over his face, feeling the torment of the moment. Darcy, again, settled his gaze on her. This time, her eyes were focused on him. Red-rimmed and puffy, they were still glorious in his sight. “You have little reason to believe me when I tell you I am sincere in wanting you as my wife.”
Immediately, her hands grabbed the arms of the chair and she leaned forward. “Then you are a fool, as much as my father’s cousin. You do not know me if you think I can be insulted, then jump to accept an offer that was being forced upon us.” She shot back at him. “I do not believe in fairy tales, Mr. Darcy. I have seen a marriage between two people equal in commitment to the happiness of the other. A marriage which gives evidence of phenomenal growth every time I am in company with the couple. A marriage that has withstood adversity and achieved matchless joy where both the husband and wife are blissful. Their children have every reason for happiness because both parents are equally devoted to their needs. When I am in their household, my senses relax and I am at ease. Tension is absent because my aunt and uncle will, neither of them, allow the sun to set without settling any differences which might have cropped up.”
She stood and walked to the back of her chair like her father had done moments before. “We have little in common, sir. We have been raised so differently, I have no doubt we would continue to struggle to find our place in a marriage. I refuse to live a life separate from my mate. I refuse to be treated less than he is because I was born a female. I refuse to attach myself to a man I do not respect and who does not respect me. You, Mr. Darcy, should expect the same.”
“And you believe I could never become that man?” He had to ask. His heart was thumping so rapidly and loudly, he feared she could hear. It felt like it would jump out of his chest at any moment. He breathed deeply to calm himself. He could not recall a time when he was as anxious.
“I believe you do not know how to become that kind of man,” she barked back at him. “Your arrogance, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, my own included, has convinced me of your unsuitability to make me happy. I am confident I could never make you happy as well.”
His mood instantly changed. Anger oozed from his pores. How dare she judge him!
“My intention is not to be harsh, Miss Elizabeth, but are you saying you have no ability to forgive? No desire to overlook a grievous error, even if made unintentionally?” He could no longer lie in her bed. It no longer held comfort. Grabbing the crutch, he stood unsteadily, his eyes never leaving hers. When she failed to respond, he spit out horrible words. “Then you have set yourself higher than the Almighty God, Elizabeth Bennet. He, at least, looks beyond the crime to the circumstances. He is willing to remove even the taint of sin, where you allow nothing.”
He stepped closer. “You are fortunate in having experience with a happy home. Since the death of my parents, I have had none. My young sister has a heart so broken and crushed, I doubt she will ever recover. I have an abundance of properties, but all of them have walls pressing in on me because they are quiet and lonely. I am chased and hunted and treated like the sum total of my value hangs on what I possess. Not one woman has attempted to see the man behind my name and my bank accounts. Not one, until you.” He ran his free hand through his hair.
“I thought you were different, Elizabeth. I assumed I had found, for the first time, someone I could have easy conversations with, someone with shared interests, who cares for a sister with the same level of heartfelt feeling as I have for Georgiana. Someone lively, who would make up for where I lack.” He stepped back, his knees hitting the edge of the bed. Her bed. “Pray, accept my apology for poorly sketching your character and for unintentionally causing your reputation harm.”
With that said, he felt weak, like the blood had drained from his veins and his muscles were no longer capable of holding him upright. He sat on the edge of the bed.
He finally looked at her, really looked at every inch of her face. He found pain and deep sorrow. Like her father had done moments before, he had caused her to hurt. Dropping his chin, his hands hung between his knees, fingers entwined. The carpet on the floor had a dark blue flower where his feet rested. Daylight and night. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and shook his head. He could still see the agony and anger on her lovely face.
“What will you do?” He had to know she would be well. He had to ask. “Is there a man you admire who would offer you his hand in my stead? If I increased your dowry substantially, would it free him to propose marriage to you? Is …” he gulped. “Is your heart attached to someone else?”
He held his breath, fearful of her reply. In his arrogance, he had never considered she might have wished to be someone else’s wife. A sharp knife plunged into his gut. This hurt was far worse than the strain on his ankle or any other injury he had sustained in his lifetime. It was a wound he did not think would ever heal.
“There is no one,” she whispered. “I … you …” She cleared her throat and returned to the chair, folding her hands on her lap after smoothing wrinkles from her skirt. “If I do not marry after the gossip my mother is spreading, I will be shunned. To not bring harm to my sisters, I must leave Longbourn, never to return.”
“And this is a better option than marriage to me?” He was incredulous. She had courage, he had to admit. Foolish courage, but it was there.
“You are not the man I thought you to be.” Now, it was her shaking her head slowly back and forth.
“I do not understand.” And he did not. What could she possibly mean?
“Your response has taken me by surprise.” Her words were hesitant. “I did not think you capable of humility.”
“And I did not think you capable of foolishness.” He responded, though immediately wished he had not spoken aloud. Disguise was his abhorrence. He would hide nothing from her. “You read Plutarch and Wollstonecraft. These are not the choices of a buffoon.”
“Ha!” She rolled her eyes as the corner of her mouth lifted. “And you have read these books?”
; “Several times, in fact.” He could see her surprise. “My mother’s views on the woman’s role in the home were revolutionary, quite different from her peers. My parents would speak of estate matters as we broke our fast each morning and father consulted her daily, keeping her involved in any aspect of the property where she held interest. I grew to my twelfth year observing the very kind of marriage you described. Do I yearn for the same? Absolutely! Have I believed it possible to achieve? Only with you.”
Elizabeth leaned closer until he could see each individual eyelash. “Are you suggesting you had considered me as a potential wife before the events of this day?”
He wanted to throw his hands up. How could she not have known? “I am confused and wonder why you have to ask? Did I not show you particular attention while you stayed at Netherfield Park? I could not look away from you. Certainly, you noticed. Even Miss Bingley was aware of my growing attachment. She is not the sharpest quill on the desk, Miss Elizabeth. How could this escape you? How could you not have had some expectation my affections were engaged?”
“I … I …” She swallowed. She did not look away from him.
He marveled at them both. Each were proud of their own intellect. Neither of them had any clue, apparently, how dim-witted they were when it came to each other.
“I have hurt you, then.” She searched his face, possibly looking for blood her words had drawn. “I have judged you harshly, based on my own insecurities and the comment you made the evening we met about me not being tolerable enough to tempt you.” She paused.
He felt the heat rising from his chest to his cheeks. How could he have spoken such a lie?
“You tempt me.” He admitted his feelings with no regard for the consequences. For the first time, he felt she might be seeing him as he was, a simple man with complex responsibilities.
She blushed. He was grateful they had matching hues on their faces.
“Do you think it best we start over?” she asked.
He appreciated her offer.
“Please, no!” He could not keep the words in. “We have made far too much progress towards getting to know each other these past few minutes to go back and start over again. I would not have you think me callous and cold where you are concerned as you did before today. Surely, you are no longer ignorant of my attachment?”
“Mr. Darcy, I do not believe ‘ignorant’ and ‘attachment’ should be in the same sentence. Possibly they should not even be in the same conversation.”
He chuckled at her smile. Oh, the relief! He felt like he had marched across France, from one end to the other and taken on Napoleon himself, and won. He was not yet the winner of this battle. Neither was Miss Elizabeth. They both bore wounds inflicted by one another. But they would survive to argue another day, it appeared.
“I will take your suggestion under consideration and do my best to remedy my error in future conversations,” he suggested.
She sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of her chair.
He waited. Impatiently. He needed to know if there was hope.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes. Breathing in deeply, Miss Elizabeth bit the corner of her lip. Nodding her head, having come to a conclusion, she finally looked at him.
In his mind, he was standing before a judge and jury. All of the arguments had been made, witnesses had been called and cross-examined, and his very life hung in the balance of her verdict.
She opened her mouth and he held his breath. “Then we move ahead?” she asked.
“Yes, we move ahead.” He wanted to jump up and click his heels, a dangerously impossible move with his injury. The bad day was finally getting better by the minute. He hoped.
Six
The afternoon turned to evening. Miss Elizabeth, no, she was now more permanently Elizabeth, continued to see to his needs, but never again crossed the threshold of the bed chamber. He caught glimpses of her only as she spoke with Thornton.
The bishop had come and gone, balking at the immediacy of the arrangements. Nevertheless, after an enjoyable chess challenge where Darcy was the victor, a special license would be available when they arrived at the small chapel attached to Longbourn estate by the time of the ceremony. The bishop would personally oversee the marriage service.
Fortunately, Mr. Collins had kept himself scarce, which pleased Darcy to no end. His friend Charles Bingley had arrived soon after his injury, but had chosen to spend the majority of his time with the eldest Miss Bennet rather than pay any attention to his friend.
Darcy contemplated the difference between Elizabeth’s care of her sister to Bingley’s concern for himself. He had to chuckle, startling Thornton from his constant folding and arranging.
A tap on the door distracted him. Elizabeth had returned.
No, unexpectedly and disappointingly, it was Bingley.
“Say, old man. Are you up for a visit?” Charles’ red hair seemed to pop through the doorway long before his face appeared. It reminded Darcy of a toy from his nursery days. The jack-in-the-box had been the object of terror for him as it was a beastly devil who had popped from the container when the crank was turned. Whenever his nurse had her back to him, he would kick at the toy, hoping it would break. Later, he was pleased it had survived. Georgiana loved the thing. She would giggle and clap her hands the millions of times he had turned the crank until that ugly monster made its untimely appearance.
“Enter.”
Bingley was no devil. He was one of the most amiable of all Darcy’s acquaintances. Younger by four years, he often begged Darcy’s opinion in all matters of life. His latest interest, coincidentally, was love and marriage.
“You devil, you!” Bingley was grinning from ear to ear as he sat himself in the chair Elizabeth had vacated earlier that day. “Imagine my surprise when Mrs. Bennet stepped into the parlor to announced your betrothal to Miss Elizabeth. I doubt I have ever seen a woman so completely undone by the prospect—Mrs. Bennet, not your intended. Wait until Caroline hears the news. I only hope I am there to see her reaction when she realizes she has lost out to a Bennet.” He slapped his leg and guffawed.
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Have you not been here all afternoon? Do you truly believe the news has not already arrived at Netherfield Park? Why, I would not be surprised if you returned home to find your sisters have vacated the premises and are on their way to London so Caroline can find another wealthy man to chase after.”
Bingley rubbed his hands together, his face filled with glee. “Would that not be a fortunate occurrence? We could hunt without having them complain of our absence and the mud tracked in on the floors. We could visit Longbourn without hearing both Caroline’s and Louisa’s screeching complaints about the Bennet sisters. We could sit where we want at the dining room table and put our boots on the seat cushions if we would like.” Bingley sighed. “Did I mention we could visit Miss Bennet? Oh, my heavens, Darcy, she is an angel.” He sighed again, this time deeper and longer.
Darcy spied the glassy look in his friend’s eyes, a look he had observed many times in the past. Jane Bennet probably was an angel worthy of Bingley’s devotion. Was Elizabeth an angel? Not hardly. The two sisters were as different as black to white. Darcy knew his own character. He would have been bored within minutes of being alone in Miss Bennet’s company. With Elizabeth? Her fire lit his tinder. He smiled at the analogy.
Bingley must have thought Darcy’s grin to be evidence of his agreement with his stated opinion. He continued. “You agree, then? If my sisters are not gone when I return to Netherfield, we can send them off to London at their earliest convenience? Or, mine?” Bingley was forever uncertain when it came to making decisions for his family. Orphaned far too young, he had immediately been pressed under the thumb of his maiden sister. Miss Caroline Bingley’s ambitions drove her to outrageous heights of self-importance. She saw herself as a paragon of the first circles and the envy of the rest of the ton. Darcy saw her as offensive and crass.
“Charles,” he drawled,
lengthening his name until Bingley finally had to take note. “I am to be married in the morning. The last thing I will want to do is spend time with my bride in company with your sisters. My ankle will prevent me from hunting anything other than a good story from a book placed in close proximity and from putting it up on your furniture. I will be removing from Longbourn its most valuable asset, which will, for the rest of my life, be attached to me. There will be no reason to return to this estate daily after tomorrow.”
“In the morning?” Bingley was incredulous. “I say, Darcy. You work rather quickly for one who is laid up in bed.”
“Yes, well …” Darcy knew his friend. There was more coming.
“Morning? You will be married in the morning? You will have a wife, will you not? Well, this changes everything!” Bingley sighed, a newly developed unattractive habit. “Should Caroline and the Hursts leave, I will be alone in that big house as you give all your attention to your new bride. I will … I will need some entertainment and doubt I will be as freely welcomed into your bed chamber as I am here today. You are correct. You will not be able to hunt or even come downstairs with that ankle. What was I thinking?” Bingley jumped up, again reminding Darcy of the jack-in-the-box. “I say, Darcy. You would not consider remaining at Longbourn, would you? I would be a diligent visitor. I could bring you whatever items you might need from your chambers at Netherfield. I could run errands. I could walk over like Miss Elizabeth did when she tended Miss Bennet.”
Mr. Darcy's Bad Day: A Pride & Prejudice Novella Page 4
