One Autumn with Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  *****

  Elizabeth collapsed into sobs as Mr. Darcy left. It was beyond her understanding entirely. She had received an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he would love her enough to propose when his own arguments against his friend’s alignment with his sister must be even more keenly felt for himself. She did wish she had behaved more civilly, although she could not repent refusing him. Upon hearing the sounds of a carriage, knowing it was the Collinses and Maria arriving home, she dashed upstairs to her room.

  Upon waking, her thoughts turned to the same subject as they did the evening before. Mr. Darcy loved her, and nothing could be the same in the world ever again. She chose to go for a long walk lest she question too much how his stares and silence were a sign for love, and wonder how Mr. Bingley’s open admiration for her sister was not. She had always known there were people with different dispositions in the world, but could love be so differently expressed? She shook her head. It mattered not. He would soon recover from his infatuation, and soon she would be at Longbourn where life may pass another twenty years without so much upsetting her ways as the arrival of two gentleman to Netherfield Park had done the previous autumn. And good riddance at that!

  She chose a different path than usual, hoping to not encounter Mr. Darcy, but too late she recognised his form. She tried to turn as though she did not see him, but he had suddenly noticed her. A sad mirror of their acquaintance.

  “Miss Bennet!” he called, and she had no choice but to face him.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she replied.

  “Would you do me the honour of reading this letter?”

  She took it but looked at it with resignation. She had thought he would leave immediately, but he quickly explained to her:

  “It is not another proposal, if that is what you think, and you likely do, as vain as you are.”

  “Good day, Mr. Darcy!” She shoved the letter back into his hands and turned, but he caught her arm.

  “I only wanted to explain myself about Bingley.” He pushed the letter back in her hands.

  “If you have a defence why not say so last night?”

  “Good God, Elizabeth! I had proposed marriage to you. I declared, in passionate terms, that I love you and you rejected me, and you think that then I would be master of myself to inquire calmly as to your misapprehension of my interference between Bingley and your sister? Do you know anything of love? Anything at all?”

  He tossed his hands in the air and turned his face from her. His profile was a handsome one but marred with pain and regret, ashen from lack of sleep. She could at least have sympathy on him.

  “I am sorry for your pain and for my loss of temper yesterday. You are correct, though; I do not know what it is like to be in love and honestly have no faith in men’s affections lasting.”

  He sighed at her words. Hopefully, he understood that she did not doubt merely his affection.

  “We are so alike,” he said sorrowfully.

  She wanted to lighten the mood, although she could not understand why she remained at all. “You also distrust men’s constancy? You see, you have already overcome your foolishness. In time, you may allow yourself to laugh over it.”

  He turned a tortured expression on her and spoke lowly. “You are quite mistaken. I do not doubt men’s affections, or mine for you at least. I had never thought much of a woman’s constancy, and now I do pray I am correct, and you will soon forget him.”

  She bristled at his reprimanding tone. She had already showed him more kindness than he deserved. “You said I was under a misapprehension about Mr. Bingley?”

  “You seem to believe I did some kind of evil to separate your sister and my friend. I did not inform Bingley she was in town; that was all. I was first told by you she planned to stay several weeks and then I heard from Miss Bingley, as she had received a note from Miss Bennet. Miss Bingley expected a call from your sister and, in a conversation with my own sister, she confessed that Miss Bennet had not called.”

  Elizabeth gasped and stepped backwards. “No! Jane called on Miss Bingley right away. The call was not returned for over a month, and not even a note came in between!”

  Darcy was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking through her claims. “I regret to say it would not surprise me if Miss Bingley used deception and discouraged the friendship. She would not have wanted Miss Bennet to call when Bingley was at home.”

  “He does not stay with you?”

  “No, why should he?”

  Elizabeth let out a frustrated sigh. “More lies. Tell me, is he nearly engaged to your sister?”

  Darcy’s face took on a hard look. “My sister is only fifteen. She is not receiving suitors for several more years.”

  “Do you desire a match between them?”

  He paused and Elizabeth perceived he would rather not admit the fact. “If they both wished it, I could not ask for a better husband for my sister. Bingley is not ready to settle to marriage now, but once his mind is made I know he would be a constant and loving spouse. They are alike in many ways as well. But that would be several years away. I swear, I have never separated Bingley from a woman based on my own motivation.”

  “But you have interfered with him before!”

  “He attracts certain ladies, usually. He is blinded by their beauty and does not see their shallowness, their want of character and, often, their clearly-mercenary ways.”

  She considered Colonel Fitzwilliam’s words again. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had spent the summer together and yet they did not arrive at Netherfield until the autumn.

  “Would you have done more to separate Jane from Mr. Bingley?” She could hardly understand why she needed to know.

  “In the past I have only needed to suggest he leave the lady’s presence long enough to reconsider. He would inevitably then meet another lady, and his infatuation with the first one quickly ended convincing me that his attachment was transitory.”

  She nodded her head. Yes, Bingley was easily inconstant but Darcy had said he knew his own affections were different. She wanted to ask him how he could be so certain but knew that would be cruel and impertinent. Instead, she straightened her shoulders.

  “Thank you for explaining, Mr. Darcy. I believe you have acquitted yourself of harming my sister.”

  “I must confess I did not perceive affection from her, but you must be more certain than I in this case. I do apologise she was disappointed by Bingley.”

  They awkwardly stood before each other. A new thought entered her mind, but she knew not if she was brave enough to voice it. However, she knew she must be fair to him, and to know for herself.

  “Did-did-did you have any other defences left unsaid last night?” She held her breath.

  He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. She knew she could not return his love, but she still wished to sketch his character. This would be her last chance to do so. She had thought he looked at her in contempt, but he looked at her with admiration. Her understanding of his character was more incomplete than she thought.

  “Do you understand what you are asking, Elizabeth?” he asked softly.

  She blushed and turned her eyes when she saw the longing and hope in his. “I...never mind, it was wrong of me to ask.”

  “But you believed him so willingly. You wanted to think the worst of me. You are so ready to give your heart to anyone but me.”

  “You are incorrect, sir. I have given my heart to no one. Forgive me. I am too much like my father. I only wanted to understand your character.”

  “I thought you did understand! I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Knew me! Knew that I loved you! Knew that Wickham was at best a liar and not to be trusted. And I thought I knew you.”

  “How...how would I know Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted? What proof do you have that you will not tell me?”

  “I suggested twice that you ask your uncle about the ability to ignore wills. I do not know what Wickham has precisely accu
sed me of. I can only surmise it is about the living he was meant to receive.”

  “I thought you were mocking my relations and boasting of your triumph over Mr. Wickham!”

  “What have I done to make you think this? When have I mocked you? While I know I pained you yesterday, my objections were sound and would not just affect me, but you needed to be aware for your own good as well! Do you not consider society might reject you because of your relations? What they may even believe of you for my interest? Had I been less selfish I never would have proposed at all!”

  She took another step backwards. He was concerned for her reputation when he had said society would think he was a fool to marry her. How could she have been so naive? No, she had never questioned if society would accept her providing her husband did. And what of Jane? She likely would have faced similar prejudices. If Bingley was not certain of his love for her, then it would be cruel to make her go through so much, only to find he had lost his affection for her. Could Darcy have even been considering Jane’s sensibilities then?

  Other than his first comments on her looks had she ever known him to mock her? Or did she just assume he did because he was so wealthy and mighty, and Miss Bingley’s dislike was so plain? He clearly thought better of his first assessment of her, she should move beyond those words as well. When she did, she reconsidered many things she had thought she understood of the man.

  She stepped forward and clutched his arms. “Tell me, tell me what Mr. Wickham has done!”

  “We should walk as I explain.” He offered her his arm, and she took it with little thought.

  As they walked Darcy explained how Wickham turned down the living provided for him in his godfather’s will. He asked instead for additional money to study law, and promptly gambled it away. Then, when the living he declined fell open, he asked for placement. When Darcy would not give it, deeming him already recompensed and grossly unfitted for a pastoral role, Wickham turned hateful and abused him verbally as frequently as possible. She did not realise how her hand unconsciously squeezed his arm tighter.

  He ceased walking, and she looked up at him, finally seeing him in a respectful light.

  “You should not blame yourself for being deceived by him.”

  “You are too kind. You certainly tried to tell me, but I was too prejudiced.”

  “Last night I was bitter and angry with your response, but as I thought over matters, I began to consider your words. From the first moment of our acquaintance, I did behave poorly—long before you supposed I separated Bingley and your sister and before you met Wickham. You have already reprimanded me for not dancing at the assembly. From then on I surely appeared haughty and proud—again you attempted to reprimand me months ago.”

  She held her breath, praying he would not mention his words at the assembly—or any of her saucy speeches—which she so desperately wished to ignore her own weakness of character exposed by them. He paused only for a moment and then continued.

  “I gave you every reason to doubt me. And Wickham has deceived many. I...I have more to tell you. I should have found a way to warn the area when I knew he arrived, although I was uncertain he would remain, or how to explain it.”

  She only nodded her head and furrowed her brow, hardly supposing what could be more serious.

  “Last summer Wickham intruded on my notice again. My sister was taken from school and placed in the care of a companion. They were to summer at Ramsgate. Wickham met her there, I know now he had a past friendship with Georgiana’s companion, it was all by design. He convinced Georgiana he was in love with her, and she with him, and to consent to an elopement. She is to inherit thirty thousand pounds.

  “I arrived a day before, by the merest chance. Actually, because of Bingley. We had visited a friend’s estate, and he soon became enamoured with the friend’s sister. I suggested we leave early to allow him to think about matters. I arrived at Ramsgate unexpectedly and there my sister confessed her engagement,” he spat the words, “to me. Wickham left immediately; never to even speak to her again. She was heartbroken.”

  “How dreadful for your sister.”

  “Yes, she took it very hard and is still convinced she would have brought shame to the Darcy name. We...we were raised to take that very seriously.”

  Elizabeth nodded her head. Of course, he would hope for a better match than her. She released his arm and walked a few paces away, her back facing him. She heard him approach behind her.

  “It is understandable you did not specifically address the topic in Hertfordshire. You would not wish to cast suspicion on your sister’s reputation. Besides we have no rich ladies. Well, Mary King has recently inherited ten thousand pounds...”

  “I am afraid that would be tempting enough to him in his current situation. But I worried because I am certain he also wanted revenge on me.”

  “Why should that matter in Hertfordshire?”

  “Elizabeth,” he said and she wondered when she had accepted he had a right to use her Christian name. He had done so several times, and she never corrected him or balked at it.

  She turned to face him, confused with some change in the gravity of the moment.

  “I wanted to keep you safe, to caution you, but also not to make you an obvious target for his ill will.”

  She suddenly realised so much. How truly wicked Darcy believed Wickham to be but would not completely describe to a lady; and how much he had cared for her even then. Since his unexpected proposal, she had presumed it only a flight of fancy due to boredom. He professed to care for her for several months, but she had seen no proof during that time. Now, better informed, she could accept even his leaving as proof of his regard. Her heart lurched at the idea of being in his care and protection. The feeling of loneliness eased, and she was tempted by a spark of madness to request he offer his hand again, but she suppressed it.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “I...I think I know you better now.”

  “And I know you better now.”

  “Oh yes, vain and simple-minded creature that I am.”

  He extended his hand and nearly touched her face before dropping it limply to his side. “No, never that. Forgive me. I was angry at myself more than you. Your complaints are just. I have appeared haughty and arrogant, and I would never wish for you to accept me for anything less than love.”

  Her heart actually ached as though it was pierced and in its pain it cried out to her that she should accept him now. Not today, her mind replied, everything is too new.

  “Then...then do we say goodbye now?”

  He visibly swallowed, but his eyes never left hers. “How am I supposed to give up trying? I know not how to go on. Loving you has become a part of who I am.”

  She trembled, longing to give in to the love he still offered. “Nothing has changed, you know. My mother’s family still comes from trade. My nearest relations still behave poorly. Society may still shun me.”

  “Nothing has changed,” he said with disaffected calmness. “Good day, Miss Bennet.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving her alone and astonished. She had not meant to discourage him entirely, to make him think nothing had changed in her regard for him. She watched his back for a moment knowing she had lost her chance forever. Gently-bred ladies do not race after men and declare newly-born sentiments and demand they propose; nor do men of such pride and sense propose to a lady who so callously spurned their first attempt.

  She looked down to the letter still in her hand and traced her name on the envelope. There was no reason to keep it now, she had heard all his confessions and believed him among the best of men. Refusing to weep she simply sat on the ground, not caring it was slightly wet from the dew still. She tore open Darcy’s letter. It simply said:

  Forgive me. I love you.

  She could contain the tears no longer.

  Chapter Four

  Darcy turned and left Elizabeth’s side, as she so clearly wanted. He could not say good bye to her. He numbly
walked back to the Parsonage and said good bye to the residents and then returned to his aunt’s house. The Colonel walked with him, and he explained he had news from his solicitor and needed to leave for London immediately. His cousin easily agreed to the new scheme.

  Lady Catherine nearly asked why he had not proposed to Anne on yet another visit, but he knew she would never directly ask him. She could only be too aware of the suspicion by this point. Looking to his cousin for the first time, in perhaps years, it occurred to him she may deserve to be privy to his thoughts.

  “Anne, can I speak with you privately?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam jumped out of his chair. “I believe we need to leave immediately.”

  “It will not take long.”

  Lady Catherine had been muted by astonishment but was soon pushing everyone out of the room. As he shook his head, the vision of Mrs. Bennet appeared and he wondered how pretentious he must have appeared to Elizabeth to criticise her family when his own behaved similarly.

  Anne sat in her chair, her hands clenched tightly together. Perhaps if he was not so acquainted with what a refusal looked like he would not have noticed how terrified his cousin looked.

  “Have no fear. I am not proposing.”

  Her head snapped up, and she asked in a trembling voice. “You are not?”

  “No. I have evaded your mother’s suggestions for years and will likely continue to do so, but I thought you should know my decision.”

  “I had thought this year you would cease avoiding the conversation, but for another reason entirely.”

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “I am not blind, Fitzwilliam. Were you too proud to ask her?”

  He smiled sadly. Perhaps if he had shown Elizabeth his admiration more she would have accepted him, or at the very least discouraged him. No, he could not wish for either situation. For her to accept him out of gratitude would never be enough, nor could he repent her refusal. He had learned much about himself and at the very least attempted to love her as she deserved.