“Forgive me for speaking so harshly,” Charlotte continued in a softer tone, “but my own situation is far different from yours. I am not pretty, I have no fortune, and I am nearly too old to be considered suitable for marriage. My options are limited in ways yours are not, at least not yet. You may look down upon me for my willingness to marry only to secure my own comfort, but I am not ashamed to be practical given the realities of my life.”
Elizabeth was silent as she pondered her friend’s words.
“I have always valued your good sense,” Elizabeth replied after a time. “I cannot agree with your position, but I do understand it.” Elizabeth continued walking, weighing her words. “My father also values your good sense, as you are the lady he is considering.”
Charlotte stopped, dragging Elizabeth to a stop with her.
“Me? Why should he consider me?”
Elizabeth was glad to see the surprise on Charlotte’s face. She had worried, during Charlotte’s impassioned speech, that perhaps her friend had been hoping for a match with her father.
“Why not you? He wishes to have an heir, so he is looking for someone young and healthy, but as I said, he also wishes to marry a woman of good sense.”
It was now Charlotte’s turn to be silent and consider her friend’s words.
“What are your thoughts, Eliza? You know mine, I would have no difficulty in accepting your father. He is a far better prospect than I had considered possible. I will admit, as I was helping at Longbourn the idea passed through my mind,” with an embarrassed blush she quickly added, “Much the same way I might think about Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy proposing to me – an interesting daydream to be sure, but nothing I considered possible.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I have found many thoughts passing through my head of late that have shamed me upon reflection, so I do not hold it against you that such a thought about my father should have crossed your mind.”
“How would you and your sisters react? I must know your feelings on the matter.”
“Jane and I have already talked. While we may be initially disconcerted with the change, we see the benefits of his choosing you. My father would not make you an offer if he believed such a change would make us uncomfortable.”
Charlotte smiled. “I thought not, but I needed to hear from you that you would not resent me.” They continued walking. “I do not think I could turn down such an opportunity even if you would resent me, but I would mourn the loss of our friendship.”
Elizabeth nodded, understanding that Charlotte’s world was not her own. Sacrificing a friendship would be hard for Charlotte, but not as hard as becoming dependent upon her brothers and with no real status of her own.
“I will take this opportunity,” Elizabeth announced primly, “to inform you that I have no intention of calling you anything other than Charlotte.”
Charlotte glanced sideways with a mischievous smile. “And I was so looking forward to you calling me Mamma.”
~ ~ ~
Darcy looked out the window of the sitting room at Longbourn. He had come with Bingley today, thinking on his vow to keep watch over Elizabeth. She had already been out on a walk when they arrived and he did not feel he could make his escape just yet.
Bingley and Miss Bennet spoke softly in a corner as Miss Mary played. Her music was much improved from the last he had heard her play at the Netherfield ball. Perhaps too much of an audience made her nervous. She had seemed nervous earlier as she had attempted to converse with him, but her nerves must have settled once she gave up the effort and went to play.
Practice had him ignoring the younger girls as they tittered and gossiped to themselves. He had similarly learned not to hear Bingley’s sisters when they behaved in much the same way.
From his vantage by the window, Darcy could observe Bingley and Miss Bennet, though he could not hear most of what they said. He did not need to hear the words, he was more interested in their expressions and movements as they spoke.
If he paid close attention, he could see the moment Miss Bennet was paid a compliment from the way her color slightly rose and she would fidget with her gown. While a compliment from another could draw the same blush, she would not fidget.
As the two became more engaged in a conversation, he noted that Miss Bennet would start to reach for Mr. Bingley before pulling her hand back and brushing at nothing on her gown. Then there was the tilt of her head when she listened to Bingley speak. Most women tilted their heads in such a way, quite often an affectation of interest used by women in ballrooms. In Miss Bennet’s case, the angle of her head combined with the particular smile she gave him were unique to her interactions with Bingley.
Individually, none of these gestures would have led him to believe a woman’s heart was touched by a particular gentleman. After observing Miss Bennet closely since the day of the funeral he had come to recognize that these small actions were only made in Bingley’s presence. He had watched her interact with other gentlemen. She was always polite, and paid attention to whomever spoke to her, but her attentions to any one of these gentlemen were the same. Only with Bingley did he see any variance in her countenance or behavior.
Those who knew her intimately might be able to ascertain her relative interest in one gentleman over another, but Darcy doubted many could. Elizabeth likely understood her sister’s heart. Close as they were, he was certain they could carry on a conversation in silence through looks and gestures. He did not fault himself for believing Miss Bennet indifferent to Bingley – had he not made an intensive study of her features and behavior with others he would never have been certain of her interest himself.
He owed Bingley an apology and a retraction of his objection. Looking at the couple smiling at each other, he doubted his input would be necessary. Bingley seemed to have found his own way.
Darcy shifted and looked back out the window, away from the obvious happiness the couple took in each other’s company. Bingley had always made friends quickly, why should Darcy be surprised the man had found love first as well.
Not true. Darcy and Bingley had each found love at about the same time. Bingley, however, enjoyed a reciprocation of feeling from his beloved while Darcy was despised.
No matter. He could not have offered for Miss Elizabeth anyway. He did not need fortune in a fiancé, but he did require a greater social standing. He could not align himself with someone whose relations and connections in life were so decidedly beneath his own. He owed his family better than that. The Master of Pemberley had responsibilities, regardless of what Fitzwilliam Darcy may wish.
He would see to Miss Elizabeth’s safety as best he could. Once he felt certain she was safe from Wickham he would leave this place and never return. He would meet someone else and she would fade from his memory.
Darcy watched as the subjects of his musings walked to the front gate. His immediate inclination was to rush out the door to ensure Wickham did not touch her or speak with her further. He held his position, knowing such a move would only push her contrary nature into his arms. Perhaps if he went out and greeted Wickham as an old friend, Elizabeth would separate herself from the man as a means of aggravating Darcy.
He did not need to go out to them. Standing in front of the house, Wickham was unlikely to do anything unseemly. Elizabeth was safe, even if Darcy was not by her side. The scoundrel may continue to poison her mind with his words, but he would do nothing to harm her body at this time.
Darcy ground his teeth as he watched Wickham take Elizabeth’s hand. After a moment, she pulled her hand back and bid her farewells. Wickham watched her walk toward the house while Darcy watched Wickham. Until the man left, he was still a menace.
Elizabeth must have entered the house, because Wickham started to turn. Catching sight of Darcy, Wickham stopped, then grinned and saluted. Anyone else would have seen a friendly gesture, but Darcy knew the menace that hid beneath. Wickham laughed, then turned and walked away.
~ ~ ~
Elizabeth ente
red the house and took off her pelisse and bonnet after having walked with Mr. Wickham. He seemed to find her often as she went for walks, but she supposed it came from having shared her favorite paths with him and his coming to enjoy them as much as she did. While her purpose in leaving the house was generally to find solitude, she never minded meeting up with Mr. Wickham. He had such happy manners, that she always found herself smiling, no matter how bleak or foul her mood may have been when leaving the house.
Today he had regaled her with stories of his youth and the adventures a young boy could have running in the woods near his home. He had mentioned Mr. Darcy joining in his games, back before he thought himself above consorting with the son of a steward. Mr. Wickham had shared a sweet tale of playing knight to Miss Darcy’s princess when she was a girl of but five or six, long before she too had become too proud to associate with those beneath her.
Elizabeth could easily imagine a young George Wickham fighting imaginary dragons with a stick as a sword. As handsome as he was now, he must have been an adorable child. She imagined a boy with long curly locks that continually fell in his face because he would not sit still long enough for anyone to trim his hair, far too eager to return to the adventures he could create outdoors.
Elizabeth smiled at the image. He had done a wonderful job of cheering her up today. Of course she may not have needed so much cheering had he not continually brought up her mother’s death.
Elizabeth knew he meant well and was only trying to console her in her grief, but he told her far too frequently that she should not blame herself or dwell on feelings of guilt. On that suggestion, she quite agreed and had been doing her best. Unfortunately, every time she saw Mr. Wickham he would speak of it again and she was once again reminded in her role in her mother’s injury.
Elizabeth stopped at the base of the stairs and looked at the spot where her mother had fallen. No signs of the accident were visible – no digs or stains on the wood – but she knew the spot intimately. Mr. Wickham was a thoughtful man, trying to put her at ease during a difficult time. He could not know how much his words only added to her feelings of guilt and failure. She wished she could tell him, but she did not wish to embarrass the man by pointing out the failure his words had been at providing comfort.
He had been so thoughtful. Seeing her fall back into grief, he had insisted upon regaling her with amusing stories until he saw her smile again. A true gentleman he was, in manners if not in fortune.
It was not Mr. Wickham’s fault that she seemed trapped in her own guilt and remorse. Their visits always ended on a pleasant note that was often the highlight of her day.
Elizabeth stepped around the spot on the floor and walked to the sitting room. She started to enter, but saw Mr. Darcy standing at the window. Why he should come with Mr. Bingley, Elizbeth could not imagine. She highly doubted he had spoken two words to anyone in the room besides Mr. Bingley or possibly Jane. Perhaps he needed to escape from Miss Bingley? The idea of him hiding from anyone was amusing enough to make her hold back a chuckle.
No one had seen her, so she slipped back into the hall. She had not the strength of mind or soul to deal with Mr. Darcy right now. The very idea of sitting with him and attempting a civil conversation was enough to bring on the early stages of a headache.
She owed him an apology. She knew she had been unfair in her accusations when they met the other day, well at least unfair in some of them. She should not have brought up Mr. Wickham, much as Mr. Darcy deserved it. It was not her place to call him out for his treatment of his old friend.
She felt justified in leveling any criticisms against him based on his behavior and words since arriving in Hertfordshire. He was a pompous, proud man and should not be surprised to be labeled as such.
She felt far less justified in her accusations against him regarding his thoughts on her mother’s death. She had no doubt he had considered the social benefits of her mother’s absence, but that was likely true of everyone she knew. Much as people claimed they did not wish to speak ill of the dead, their private thoughts were another manner. He had not said anything, at least to her knowledge, and so she was mortified to have carried on in such a manner.
Jane would never have done so. Elizabeth must look to her sister for lessons on keeping one’s composure. Jane had mastered the skill when they were still children to cover her embarrassment regarding their family. She had tried to teach Elizabeth, but Elizabeth had more often followed their father’s example and been amused by the follies around her rather than embarrassed.
She was embarrassed now and could not face Mr. Darcy. Even more, she regretted having provided him genuine reason to question her gentility and manners. Her behavior to him had been far worse than any of the indiscretions he had witnessed from Lydia or Kitty and had matched up well with the rudeness her mother had cast upon him. Elizabeth had rarely been compared to her mother, they were alike in neither appearance, stature, understanding, nor opinion. Elizabeth had considered the differences a point in her favor, so she very much regretted having behaved as rudely as her mother.
Elizabeth continued down the hall, around the spot on the floor, and up the stairs to her room. She had no desire for further company this afternoon.
CHAPTER 14
Darcy and Bingley played billiards, listening to the balls crash against each other as the thunder rumbled outside in the darkness. The ladies had already gone to bed, insisting that if their brother was determined to be in a foul mood, they would take themselves elsewhere. With the ladies now gone, Darcy had suggested billiards. Mr. Hurst was asleep in a chair in the corner, snoring.
Bingley missed another shot and grumbled. Darcy said nothing. He knew that, when he was ready, Bingley would unburden himself.
Darcy sank his shot and won the round.
“A fine friend you are. Can you not even pretend we are more equal opponents? Must you thrash me in every game?”
“But when you win, you have no doubts that your own skill, or luck as the case may be, has won the day. I think too much of you to flatter your vanity, even if your mood is as friendly as the weather.” Thunder rumbled again and Darcy raised an eyebrow at Bingley.
Bingley took a drink of his port before setting the glass down.
“And I suppose you are waiting to hear what sorrows weigh me down so you can mock them.”
“I have never mocked you when you have sincerely sought counsel from me. Now, if you do not ask my advice, then I feel I am free to offer my opinions in whatever manner suits me.”
Bingley stared into the fire.
“You have not suggested leaving for London since the day of Mrs. Bennet’s accident.”
Darcy said nothing, as no question had been asked. Bingley turned and glared at Darcy and his avoidance of the implied question. “Why have you not suggested leaving for London again?”
“Your mind was made up. I saw no hesitancy in your position and saw no use in further argument.”
Bingley sat in front of the fire and watched the flames dance.
“Then you have not changed your views on Miss Bennet?”
“My views on Miss Bennet are beside the point. What are your views on Miss Bennet?”
“I care for her. The longer I spend in her company the more time I wish to spend there. Even in mourning she is still so careful to see to the needs of everyone around her. She is the most selfless person I have ever known. I did not believe such goodness could truly exist in one person.”
“And what of her faults?”
“Faults? Miss Bennet has no faults.”
Darcy rolled his eyes and went to join his friend.
“All people have faults, Bingley. No single person on this earth is perfect. What are Miss Bennet’s? If you do not know her faults then you do not know her. Willful blindness to the defects of another’s character is incompatible with true affection. If you are considering binding your life with hers, you had better ensure that you know and accept her faults along with her virtues. To
do otherwise is to deceive yourself and only delay an inevitable understanding.”
Bingley sat, silently thinking.
“I do not know her feelings. If Miss Bennet has a fault, it would be that she does not share her emotions openly. I want to believe that she cares for me as much as I do her, but I do not know. I know you think her indifferent. Caroline and Louisa think her conniving, but I cannot believe that of her.”
“Did your sisters put you in this mood?”
“They urged me to leave for London. They are missing society and do not understand why I would waste myself out here when I could be meeting ladies far more eligible than Miss Bennet.” Bingley slumped in his seat, unable to meet Darcy’s eye.
“Caroline says that Miss Bennet is a skilled actress who is attempting to capture me, but that she truly does not love me. Any sign I could think of that would indicate her affection, Caroline assured me is a trick well known among ladies hunting for a husband.”
Bingley’s sister would be the expert on tricks for catching a husband.
“And you believe your sister?”
“I do not, but she has planted doubts in my mind that I cannot resolve. If those around me are convinced of her indifference, why should I trust myself? Am I fooling myself?”
Darcy sat back. He had not intended to speak with Bingley about his newfound understanding of Miss Bennet. Bingley had seemed confident in his choices and Darcy was content to say nothing and let his friend continue his chosen path.
Selfish disdain for the feelings of others . . .
No, he must speak. Elizabeth’s words continued to haunt him. Much as it may pain him, he must speak to Bingley and set the man’s mind at ease.
Folly and Forgiveness Page 9
