He had been too proud of his family position to do the truly honourable thing and marry her. He had occasionally wondered how he would forget her. He had wondered when he did marry, if he could fully embrace his wife without fleeting thoughts of how it would feel to have Elizabeth in his arms instead. Now he realised how degrading that would be for both Elizabeth and that wife, how he would be an adulterer in his heart if not in deed. He had certainly never been so attracted to a lady before and could not entirely ensure he would be again, but he had reasoned he should not be held accountable for his thoughts and that his faithfulness would be enough to offer his future bride, even if he longed for another.
On Saturday afternoon, he was so certain of his ability to resist the temptation of Elizabeth that he had refused to leave the library. Later he returned there to allow his mind to imagine a much more illicit encounter; when she actually entered the room, his control must have entirely disappeared. Yes, pride certainly came before the fall.
Now as he repented his licentious thoughts, actions, and abominable pride, he fervently wished he could go back in time to swallow his opinions on marriage and offer for Elizabeth with a clear conscience. With his heart and soul bare before the Almighty, faced with his failings for the very first time in his life, he vowed to be more humble, to put all others’ feelings and concerns before his own, and to be a true gentleman, the man he was raised to be. The reminder of his sins would be his companion for life; he could have no option but to improve himself. He should have felt a sense of obligation to her for his thoughts alone. Now it was undeniably his duty to marry her. After understanding the failures of his character, as illuminated by her, he felt a debt of gratitude as well.
*****
Elizabeth walked up the stairs after being released from Darcy’s side, barely sensible enough to avoid the broken spot on the stairwell. She could hardly credit how the man could affect her so. She resolved to put him out of her mind until she could reflect privately. Near the master’s chambers, before rounding the corner to turn to the guest wing, Elizabeth overheard two servants speaking.
“Linton, did you hear about Mr. Darcy?” a maid asked.
A male voice answered, “You know better than to repeat gossip, Aggie.”
Far from knowing all the servants of Netherfield, Elizabeth surmised the only man who would be near this part of the house would be a valet. The footmen would all stay downstairs.
“Aye, but I don’t mean nothin’ bad. The man’s a saint if one ever lived, no matter what troubles he was trying to drown last night.” She seemed very eager to share her information. “I heard his valet, Jennings, telling Mrs. Parker that she had Mr. Darcy’s personal thanks for taking care of the Miss Bennets so well. And I even saw him giving her a florin!”
“Yes, I have spent enough time in his homes to know ‘tis always this way with Mr. Darcy. He is the best landlord, and the best master,” said he, “that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name.”
“I even saw him helpin’ Susie by carrying up a water pitcher meant for the younger Miss Bennet.”
“Some people call him proud, but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only to avoid fortune hunters and because he does not rattle away like other young men.”
“Ya mean like the master?”
“Hush, Aggie. You know our master is a very amiable and good-natured man, only young and still learning. No, there are some bucks who never speak but to boast of themselves. They appear charming, but there is nothing but selfishness and conceit within. The master and Mr. Darcy are both good and honourable men. Now enough. Off to your work!”
The servants went on their way, and Elizabeth felt she ought to as well, but she could not help marvelling: In what an amiable light this puts him!
There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth’s mind, a more gentle sensation towards Darcy than she had ever felt before. The commendation bestowed on him by Bingley’s valet was of no trifling nature. He must surely have been in Darcy’s household often enough to know the truth, and yet was not likely to be blindly prejudiced in favour of him. As a landlord and a master, how many people’s happiness were in Darcy’s guardianship!—how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!—how much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by Bingley’s valet and the maid was favourable to Darcy’s character.
She arrived at Jane’s door and knocked. “Enter,” her sister’s angelic voice called.
Elizabeth was cheered to see proof of her sister’s restored health. She had slept soundly the previous night, and it did her much good. She was everything serene, graceful, and beautiful. She should be the one to leave Netherfield with an offer of marriage.
“Oh, Jane! I am pleased to see you looking so well!” Jane smiled, and Elizabeth dropped her voice. “I am positive a certain gentleman will be, too.”
Jane turned a demure shade of pink. “I wish I would have been able to enjoy his company more.” Blushing again, she added, “And Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. They are such elegant and friendly ladies.”
Elizabeth chose to nod instead of arguing with her sister on the subject of Bingley’s sisters. “You did not need to miss services to tend to me this morning,” said Jane. “I am quite recovered, as you see.”
“Nonsense.” Elizabeth stopped speaking as she saw her sister was inspecting her face.
“You look as though you did not sleep last night. You must not make yourself ill on my account! I would never forgive myself if…” Jane trailed off as tears pricked her eyes. She was such a gentle soul that it clearly pained her to think of her sister suffering any ailment, however much everyone agreed one did not die of trifling little colds.
Turning Elizabeth by the shoulders and leading her towards the door, Jane spoke again. “Lizzy, please go rest yourself until it is time for us to depart.”
Elizabeth spun around to resist her sister’s entreaties, but one look at Jane’s face discouraged her. Her sister was genuinely concerned; Elizabeth could see it by the small pinch around her eyes. Jane could be firm where she felt herself in the right.
“Very well, I suppose I should savour these last moments of quiet. Can you imagine the chatter of Kitty, Lydia, and Mama acquainting us with all the news and gossip we have missed?” Jane and Elizabeth shared a light laugh, and Elizabeth left to rest in her room.
She disrobed to her chemise and lay in bed, considering her feelings for Mr. Darcy and his proposals. She attempted to sketch his character and was puzzled exceedingly. She thought she knew the man. She prided herself on being a quick study of human character, but Mr. Darcy was proving to be more complex than she originally believed and certainly more than she had ever encountered before.
At first sight, she had recognised him to be a handsome man with a dashing figure, but he spoke to hardly a soul at the Meryton Assembly and would not dance with a lady not of his own party. Worse than that, Elizabeth overheard Bingley offer to introduce Darcy to her so he might have an agreeable dance partner, and not only had Darcy rebuffed his friend, but he also insulted her—and every other local lady—with his remarks.
In the weeks that followed, she noticed his silent and taciturn disposition. He appeared haughty and proud and made his disapproval of the neighbourhood very plain. More than once, she had seen him with a scowl on his face while looking at her person, which she thought showed disapproval. She had believed him to be rather ungentlemanly.
Then last night, he was so friendly, open, and solicitous. This morning, he offered her marriage because he felt obligated by his duty and honour, though she was not entirely sure why. Because he had held her and touched her? Because he admired her? True, if their meeting were known, it would be rather compromising, but he did not speak of that.
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. He did say that another gentleman, presumably her future husba
nd, would know.
Know what?
That she had allowed another man to touch her unguardedly? That she did not stop him?
That she enjoyed it? That even now, merely thinking about it, she felt warm as prickles of sensation coursed through her body?
Did such sensations indicate she was wanton?
Would she feel this way if any man touched her? Would she feel this way when her husband touched her? Or was it only Darcy who could elicit such pleasurable feelings within her?
Elizabeth knew she never felt such feelings before, and she had to admit her attention was frequently captured by Darcy. His countenance was striking. She had engaged in several debates with him, and she admired his intellect. He was clearly intelligent and could express himself well when he wished. He conversed with her as though she were an equal and respected her opinion, even if his own differed.
Last night, it was as if she were under a spell. Darcy was suddenly everything charming, and she was left breathless. She truly believed she was in some danger of falling in love with him. Perhaps she always had been. It was a startling thought.
She shook her head and refocused her mind. The material point was she had allowed him liberties she had always imagined herself refusing any man...and she had enjoyed them immensely. She ought to feel some sense of obligation to him.
As a girl, she had always meant to marry only for the deepest love. As a young woman, she wanted esteem, affection, and companionship, but she found she did not at present dislike Darcy so much as she had for these last several weeks. She learned he deserved her respect and esteem. He certainly was acting the part of the gallant by offering to marry her when his reputation would not be the one damaged and when he could aspire to much better. She saw he could be agreeable; perhaps she might even teach him more liveliness.
She knew she could never find a better match by society’s expectations, but was that what she wanted? What if they did not get along? One night of enjoyment, even if it seemed to erase her previous dislike, was not enough on which to base a lifetime and marriage. Would Darcy regret marrying a country girl without connections or fortune?
She began to drift to sleep at last, smiling as she remembered Darcy’s arms around her, his intoxicating scent, and the look in his eyes as he professed his admiration for her this morning. She was too tired to reprimand her wayward thoughts, but perhaps it was just as well. She thought too much.
*****
Darcy paced around the downstairs hall, waiting for Elizabeth to descend. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bingley fidgeting and looking slightly pained; parting with his angel was clearly taking a toll on him. Caroline and the Hursts were in the drawing room, waiting to be summoned to see the guests away. At last, Darcy heard Elizabeth and Jane on the stairs.
Elizabeth allowed Jane to go first, and Bingley quickly offered her his arm to escort her to the carriage.
Elizabeth was beaming, and Darcy had to catch his breath. She smiles at her sister and Bingley, not you, he told himself. He could not help dreaming of the day when he might receive such an affectionate look from her.
He moved towards Elizabeth and reached the bottom of the stairs just as she stumbled on the second to the last step, the broken one. She lurched forward and grasped his arms, near his shoulders, as his hands caught her around the waist.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before he managed to speak. “Are you well?” Her petite fingers were still pressing into him.
She looked dazed and replied breathlessly, “Yes. What timely help you are.”
“I would wish always to assist you. Here, take my arm.”
They passed the drawing room just in time for Caroline and the Hursts to emerge to fare them well. Caroline was clearly discomposed to see Elizabeth on Darcy’s arm but apparently determined it not worth the bother to see her guests outside. She gave Elizabeth a hearty handshake and Jane a tender hug before allowing the gentlemen to escort the ladies to their conveyance. She and the Hursts returned promptly to the drawing room.
Bingley had just handed Jane in when Darcy turned and spoke quietly to Elizabeth, who was still on his arm. “Allow me to offer you my hand.”
Elizabeth looked at him in confusion. Certainly he meant to hand her into the carriage, and since she had already accepted his arm, the consent was already granted. There was no need to ask permission. Then she saw a certain unguarded look in his eye and began to understand.
Darcy squeezed her hand. “Please….” Then he mouthed her Christian name, being careful not to let anyone hear or see him take the liberty. He could not explain it, only that it felt like his very salvation hinged on Elizabeth accepting this proposal.
Elizabeth was as astonished by the humility in his face and voice as she was by the humble forwardness of his manner. Looking him squarely in the eye, she replied clearly and distinctly, “I thank you. I accept.”
And thus the deed was done, and the carriage pulled away, leaving both suddenly aware of the gravity of their agreement. Elizabeth looked back and saw him standing, the corners of his mouth turned up in a shy smile. If she had to name the look, she might call it hopeful, a sentiment she shared
Chapter Three
“I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife as they were at breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner today because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”
After assuring his wife that the visitor was not Charlotte Lucas, but rather a gentleman and a stranger, Mr. Bennet paused to allow her the necessary effusions.
“A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure! Well, I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley!”
“It is not Mr. Bingley.”
His pause was, to Elizabeth, dreadful. Her heart slammed in her chest. Mr. Darcy must have sent a note requesting to call upon her father today. They had not arranged such an interview, but it could not be avoided. She dearly wished she was not causing her father pain by accepting the man she had so openly disliked only half a week before. And her mother! Darcy simply could not be in the house when she informed Mrs. Bennet.
At last, Mr Bennet continued, “It is my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”
Nearly a week away from her family had made them dearer to Elizabeth, yet at the same time, her tolerance for her mother’s effusions was less than ever. Perhaps it was simply because she imagined how Darcy would observe this scene. She winced as her mother’s shrill voice pierced her ears.
“I cannot bear to hear that odious man mentioned. Pray, do not speak of him further. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own children, and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or other about it.”
This time, she and Jane did not even bother attempting to explain the nature of an entail to their mother yet again. Their father continued to read his cousin’s letter aloud, which proved Mr. Collins to be a ridiculous person.
The man himself arrived promptly at four o’clock. He was an oddity in the extreme: a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility. His first day and evening passed with heavy tedium. It could only add to Elizabeth’s vexation. Why had Darcy not called?
*****
The next morning, Lydia and Kitty desired to walk to Meryton, hoping a certain officer had returned from his errand in Town. Elizabeth could not be pleased by the motivations of such a scheme and was disappointed to hear it supported openly by her parents. Her mother was insensible to the impropriety of her daughters being so forward, her senses so far from right herself. Her father desired only to rid himself of the noisy girls with whom he lived, and his ridiculous cousin who invaded his book room and whose folly had already been laughed at in sufficient abundance the previous day. Elizabeth had an additional reason to stay home, believing Darcy might call, but knew it to be more prudent to attend her
sisters and try to moderate their behaviour. Thus, all the young people but Mary walked to Meryton.
While on the walk, Elizabeth could not be pleased by her cousin’s attentions. He stuttered inanities to the whole group, but Elizabeth believed she detected some partiality aimed at her. Mr. Collins had written of his intention to offer an olive branch to the Bennet family for his part in the entail and that he had come prepared to admire his cousins. The previous evening, he declared he had been encouraged to marry by his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and he extolled at length the advantages of his situation and connection to that great lady.
Undoubtedly, he meant to find a wife, and Elizabeth’s mother was a determined matchmaker. Not to have her goals affronted by Collins discouraging Bingley, she had evidently guided him away from Jane, and he settled on Elizabeth as the possible companion of his future life. Elizabeth allowed a wry smile as she realised her engagement to Darcy would save her from that unpleasant fate at least and avoid the embarrassment of Collins’ proposal to her. She would escape the necessary refusal and the expression of her mother’s extreme displeasure that would follow.
As soon as the party of walkers reached the main street of Meryton, her younger sisters espied the very officer they had been hoping to hear of, as well as an uncommonly handsome gentleman who only wanted regimentals to be entirely charming. Mr. Denny instantly set about introducing the Miss Bennets to the young man, Mr. Wickham, who was soon to be a lieutenant in the militia.
They had been speaking to their new acquaintance for a few minutes when the sound of a horse drew their notice, and they saw Mr. Bingley approach. He was clearly quite happy to see Jane and declared it had been his intention to call on Longbourn to see how she recovered.
Elizabeth was surprised to see him alone. “And how is everyone at Netherfield?” she asked him. She could not account for it, but she was desperate to hear news of Darcy. His delay in calling at Longbourn awakened terrible suspicions.
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