Many people had come and gone in Darcy’s life as to make him realize the absurdity of investing one’s time and self in an intimacy that might very well be gone by the next winter. His estates in Pemberley was a large one that necessitated the meeting of his tenants and other people who worked for him; in his judgement, he was a good authority when it came to the human character, but Elizabeth Bennet was one whose character he was particularly incapable of proper justification.
Every time he spent in her company endeared her to him- even those spent in silence. That in itself was so rare that his curiosity alone would grant him no reprieve from his need to go in furtherance of their acquaintance. Ever since he was a small boy, groomed for the inheritance of his father’s estates, he was pronounced a fine judge of disposition- why, he was scarcely fifteen before his father began to consult him in business matters. His great sense of judgement was how he knew of the duplicity of George Wickham and the shallowness of Miss Bingley even though both would not own up to their true self in the company of others. Elizabeth was, thus, an enigma to him, for he could not explain his attachment to her, despite his intelligence about her decided lack of scruples, as well as her family connections.
Many times now, they had talked since he came thither to Rosings- the first time in Hunsford Lane, the second was their first dinner at Rosings since he arrived, which he had pressed his aunt to invite them- for she saw no need for their company, since she had her nephews with her. Other times, he would either go in the company of his cousin or alone to the parsonage for the sake of seeing her. Though they talked to each other less than with others, he still delighted in the meeting and soon forgot about any grievances he had against her. In vain, he struggled against his attraction for Elizabeth Bennet. When he discovered her frequent ramble within the park, he made himself a frequent visitor therein, too, and though she deliberately informed him of her inclination to walk there at a certain time of the day in a hope of discouraging him from doing likewise, he refused to be swayed in that direction.
So it was that they frequently met, but had nothing of import to share with one another. They had discussed the Netherfield party’s hurried removal from Hertfordshire- and the improbability of their return; of Charlotte’s marriage to Mr. Collins- and the fortune of such match; of her penchant for walking in the park- and his likewise; of her thoughts about Hunsford and other such mundane things that could be talked about. They had discussed all there was to discuss except what was uppermost in his mind- his feelings for her.
Of all their discussions, he remembered one in particular. It was this conversation that placed a determination in his heart- a determination that kept him postponing their departure from Rosings and made them spend nigh a week in addition to the original plan of leaving two days after Easter. The conversation had happened during the Collinses and their visitor’s first dinner at Rosings that Darcy had precipitated.
That night, his attachment to her had given way to jealousy of his own cousin. With a smile, he remembered the events of that night as he walked down the lane to the parsonage.
The Collinses, Maria and Elizabeth, had all come to Rosings but he scarcely knew what the others did with themselves for he had eyes only for Elizabeth (though of course, he did all in his capacity to ensure that none was aware of his partiality). Colonel Fitzwilliam had the singular honour of conversing with Elizabeth in such an amiable tone that he had found himself incapable of preventing his eyes from looking over at them. He heard only pieces of their conversation, but enough to know that it was pleasurable enough to both; and was getting increasing irked to be held in a silly conversation about his sister with his aunt while his cousin commanded the attention of whom he wanted for himself. Perhaps, seeing his increasing inattentiveness or more likely, due to her detest for a conversation that excluded her, Lady Catherine turned from him to his cousin asking:
“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.”
His cousin replied that they were speaking of music and Lady Catherine bade them to speak louder for she professed herself a true lover of music.
“If I had ever learnt,” said she, “I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?”
Darcy who thought his escape was nigh sighed and responded that his sister was doing quite well. The lady then proceeded to render advice to the absent Georgina to be conveyed to her through her brother on how much she needed to practice to be highly proficient in all instruments.
After coffee, Colonel Fitzwilliam again, attached himself to Elizabeth and prevailed upon her to play for him, sitting near to her and so doing, leaving him at the mercy of his aunt once more. This time, his jealousy of his cousin outweighed his manners and he stood directly while Lady Catherine gathered air to fill her lungs in preparation for another talk. Without looking back to see if she were annoyed, he went to towards the pianoforte and stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer’s countenance.
When the music Elizabeth played allowed her fingers to stay, she turned to him with a smile and said, “You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? I will not be alarmed, though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
Darcy did not let out the sigh he felt. As was her practice, Elizabeth misconstrued his intentions and thought the worst of him. He was, however, too glad for now commanding her attention that he did not mind the severity in her disposition which by the by, was remarkably absent with his cousin. Only with her was he tolerant of such disapprobation and deigned it fit to reply:
“I shall not say you are mistaken, because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.”
His response prompted a laugh from Elizabeth that unbeknownst to her, caused a little flutter in his chest- that sound, he had missed so sorely.
To Colonel Fitzwilliam, she applied, “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit.” She then turned to face Mr. Darcy. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire- and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your relations to hear.”
Her words and smile made him smile so easily and he replied- “I am not afraid of you.”
“Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.”
To this entreaty, Elizabeth needed no further invitation as with the arching of her eyebrows at Darcy, she began to tell her perception of him- something he was most eager to hear himself.
“The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball- and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.”
“I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party,” Darcy felt to say in his defence, but the lady would give him no respite for she replied most sarcastically:
“True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room,” before saying to Colonel Fitzwilliam, “Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.”
Darcy, howe
ver, was enjoying the conversation too much to allow his cousin interference once more. “Perhaps, I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers,” he admitted.
“Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”
“I can answer your question, without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before” was Darcy’s excuse for the offense which was now levied against him. “I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”
To this, Elizabeth scoffed in genteel disdain, “My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault- because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's of superior execution.”
At her paradoxical rebuke, Darcy smiled and declared her right and praised her talents which he thought was mighty fine. The conversation was drawn to a sad end by Lady Catherine who was weary of being excluded from the conversation. Till they all left for home, the lady dominated the entire evening with instructions to Elizabeth on how to play even though she herself was not accomplished at the pianoforte.
The evening then had ended, but Elizabeth’s words lingered in his mind thereafter. He discovered that it was through none other faults but his that Elizabeth Bennet remained a mystery to him and thus, he made a reconciliation to understand her and this could not be done without further acquaintance. It was the reason he availed himself of all opportunity to visit the parsonage and ‘happen’ upon her in the park.
So engrossed was Darcy in his recollections that he had no inkling of his arrival at the front door of the Collinses. He pressed on the bell and awaited the invitation to come in which was not long in coming and he entered. All recollections forgotten, he eagerly looked into Elizabeth’s face as if the prognosis of her ill health might be written thereon. Indeed, her face looked seriously agitated and pale when he glanced upon it and he inquired immediately about her health. Her answer was decidedly civil to him and he wondered at it. Taking his seat near the mantelpiece, he thought best how to approach his resolve to her whilst he was not unaware of the puzzling looks she gave him. His anxiety would not allow the luxury of composure and he was soon up in his seat again.
Suddenly, he turned to her, weary of having a great deal of feelings in his chest that would rather tumble forth.
“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Immediately, he felt chagrined at such an approach, but relief was soon followed for his heart was burdened so. He could see and feel Elizabeth's astonishment for she was unable to utter a speech, even though she tried- she opened and closed her mouth and he continued his confession in a more moderate manner that was befitting.
“I must tell you that passionate love for you has heretofore attracted me to your disposition such that all senses regarding a mismatch as likely from both our circumstances are easily waived by me,” he continued, scarcely knowing what came out of his mouth in his determination to unburden his soul. “You must know of course, of your family’s inferiority to mine- you have no connections to recommend you save my partiality to you and this, I am willing to emphasize upon to ignore the rest and render the content of my heart to you. The strength of my attachment to you is unconquerable, even by all attempts as made by myself and I hope that you will thus reward it by an acceptance of my hand. I should warn you- there will always be the bridge designed by virtue of our different family connections, but I do not deceive myself into supposing that this will easily be surmountable, though it shall- in the due course of time and patience.”
Wisely, he decided not to talk of their meeting at the tavern hoping that she would mention it herself and of course, he would listen and perhaps forgive her if it was nothing too grievous with none too many people acquainted with that life she led. It was also apparent that she led that life no more- for till he left Hertfordshire, not once had he seen her at the tavern (and he had been there too many times to count) after that night as to draw his conclusions.
The proposal was the longest sentences he had ever uttered without a pause in his entire life and he felt exceedingly proud of himself for his articulations. Done, he waited for Elizabeth’s reply with an eagerness that bordered both anxiety and anticipated felicity.
She at last made an answer: “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed; however, unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot- I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.”
At first, the import of her words refused to register with him, but when they did, Fitzwilliam felt himself colour from the roots of his hair to his toes. He was glad that he was now leaning against the mantelpiece for he didn’t deem himself capable on his own two feet owning to the weight of the rejection he felt. Anger was quick to replace his embarrassment, but Elizabeth was regarding him with dreadful expectation and for that alone, he took a minute of agony to regain some semblance of composure before he uttered a word.
“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”
His words were false; he burned with the desire to know why he was thus rejected with utmost incivility on her part. She, however, had no such scruples or pretensions towards amiability for she inquired,
“Why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against you- had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”
At the accusation, he coloured again, for it was right and just but still lacking in merit for again, she failed to understand his intentions. He wondered how she came to rightly surmise the truth of their sudden removal from Netherfield and his part in separating Bingley and her sister; he could only hope that she would allow him a chance at explanation, but she continued to throw more accusations in his direction, all of which he painfully bore.
“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other- of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind. Can you deny that you have done it?” she finished.
By this time, he had retrieved most of his composure and could now gaze at her with some attempt at serenity, though it was the last of his feelings at the moment. “I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power t
o separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him, I have been kinder than towards myself.”
Indeed, if he had been as kind to himself as he was to Bingley, he would have discerned Elizabeth’s ill regard of himself and spared himself of this scene. The disdain of him was so evident on her face that he almost cringed in its wake.
“But it is not merely this affair on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? Or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?”
Her words were now in another direction that he could not totally fathom. What has Wickham got anything to do with myself in connection to Elizabeth? No sooner had the question formed in his mind that he supplied an answer to it himself- Wickham must have been spreading tales about him in Hertfordshire and Elizabeth, willing to believe the worst of him, had imbibed all his lies. It would serve him better, he thought with some melancholy, to know the details of the accusations thus spread and the extent of his acquaintance with Elizabeth.
“You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,” he observed to which Elizabeth huffed.
“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?” said she feelingly.
The incredulity of her reply made him exclaim in derisive sarcasm- “His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
When Mr. Darcy Met Lizzy Page 14
