* * *
1 “The Ash Grove” is a Welsh folk tune that first appeared in print in 1802 inThe Bardic Museum by Edward Jones, although some believe the song is older than that. These lyrics were translated by Thomas Oliphant and appeared in the 1862 Volume I of Welsh Melodies, Withwith Welsh and English Poetry.
2 “Cease Your Funning” was a song in John Gay’s 1728 ballad opera, The Beggar’s Opera. Called “the most popular play of the eighteenth century,” there has been a debate about the source of Gay’s melody. Some believe it borrows from “The Ash Grove.” Although the words do not look similar in metre, the melody must be similar enough to cause confusion.
Chapter Nineteen
Before more than a quarter of an hour, long before she had reached the end of her tears or felt herself composed for sensible conversation, Darcy knocked on the door that led to their shared sitting room. It made her jump.
“Elizabeth?” She made no answer. “Elizabeth, darling, please.” He sounded desperate, but she could not face him now.
After several minutes of silence, she heard him walk away as she numbly sat on her bed and stared at the door. Her tears had not ceased, but they had lessened in severity, and she chose to look for a handkerchief, finding one on the table next to her bed. Seeing her newly embroidered initials on it made her sob again.
Recovering herself to a degree, she twisted her damp handkerchief between her hands as she tried to sensibly consider Darcy’s revelation. If he had only thought they shared the sorts of intimacies they had explored since the wedding, she would not have been so hurt. His concern for her health, his belief in her condition lasting for several months, all spoke to him believing she had entirely given her virtue to him before marriage, or even an engagement, and was with child.
Did he truly think so well of himself? If she did not entirely trust that he had been telling the truth—he had never been with a woman before—she might have thought he was self-assured with due cause. His every touch, however, showed his respect and reverence for her. His hesitance without clear encouragement and approval from her was not the touch of a practiced rake.
If he did not think himself so talented in the ways of charming women, then something about his encounters with her must have made him so confident this seduction took place. She recalled how ashamed she felt after allowing him liberties in the library. At the time, she was unsure herself if she was wanton. She had enjoyed it. She even conducted an experiment to discover if the sensations Darcy elicited were possible from any other man. It took her weeks to determine her feelings came from love, but understanding her husband’s thoughts on the reason for their marriage brought all her concerns to the front again.
No matter her doubts on herself, this was one situation where his opinion did matter immensely. If he thought she would give her virtue to him unmarried, how could he respect her? Would there ever be trust between them? If she was so weak for him, would Darcy believe her capable of these acts with any man?
Yet, he did trust her. Perhaps he thought she allowed him so much because she cared for and loved him? How could he think that when she was uncertain of her past feelings until this very day? She searched her memories. Before that night at Netherfield, she had mocked and teased him every chance she had. She could not understand how that could be taken as encouragement, but the poor man was so unpractised in the ways of love. The hurt on his face when she declared she did not even like him before that evening told her he must have believed otherwise.
Elizabeth next recalled his odd satisfaction every time he heard the word pleasure. She blushed deeply as she recalled how many times she used the word, all the more as she noticed how much he enjoyed it. If his flawed memories of the evening were anything like what they had shared in the last few days, then he quite earned the smug grin he wore.
Remembering when she first used the word, she gasped. How much of this misunderstanding was due to them talking past each other on such a topic? She had enjoyed the evening in the library. Darcy was pleasant, playful, and very attentive to her. It did bring her pleasure, but he imagined a different set of events entirely and assigned another meaning to her first declaration! She had unknowingly encouraged his blind understanding of events. Even her mother hinted at believing something of the sort took place, and Elizabeth refused to understand.
She always passionately responded to him. Her first reactions in the library lacked entire encouragement, but she never attempted to stop him. Once betrothed, however, she happily followed his lead on their intimacies and took the initiative many times. Certainly nothing she had said or done since becoming engaged would make him believe she did not harbour tender feelings for him.
What of him? He was an honourable man. She was certain in her opinion. How could he have thought he was so capable of going so far? She could not believe it of him!
It was clear he had desired her, but such temptation could not have been entirely new to him. Elizabeth was not so vain as to think herself capable of enticing him when no other lady had. Were his feelings so strong that he could not restrain himself? Yet he had in recent days, even when she begged. Did he think the alcohol could affect him so entirely? Elizabeth admitted she had little experience with such, but images of Mr. Hurst too dazed and tired to be of any use came to mind. She shook her head. She could hardly suppose how Darcy had reckoned it in his mind.
She turned her thoughts again to the matter of his honour. Other men might give in to their carnal lusts with little thought, but Darcy was not one of them. As much as she credited herself with needing more than a physical desire to agree to such acts, she also believed Darcy needed more. If she took offence to the argument that she would have succumbed to Darcy’s seduction because she was a weak female, she could not claim Darcy would attempt a seduction only because he was a man and prone to lust.
Earlier in the day, she was certain she was half in love with Darcy even while she was at Netherfield. It was the only way she could have enjoyed his touch, but she had welcomed it long before she was certain of her feelings. To criticise Darcy for desiring the same before truly knowing his feelings was hypocritical. She agreed to marry him before she knew she loved him; if he had no memories of the night, might he have thought he promised her matrimony even if he did not understand all of his feelings?
Promises of matrimony and seductions turned her mind to Jane and Bingley. Her aunt insisted it was easy to lose good sense when in love and committed to one another. She even went so far as to say the desire for such was natural. Jane really had anticipated her vows, and Elizabeth had not condemned her, partly because she was still uncomfortable with the events of the night that led to her own betrothal. The scripture, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone,” came to mind.
Jane insisted she and Elizabeth could never have acted wrongly were they not in love and betrothed to honourable men. Elizabeth had to allow at the time she agreed. When she honestly searched her heart, she had to admit she could not hold herself as more righteous than Jane. If faced with that temptation, she might well have succumbed. If only she had some proof Darcy had thought of her in such a light before his proposal!
She reached for a fresh handkerchief to wipe the last of her tears when she recalled Darcy had hers in his pocket that evening. She had thought he was going to return it to her the next day, but now she wondered if he had not meant to keep it.
What man who only lusted for a woman would keep her handkerchief, like a token? If it were only lust on his side, would he have remembered the song she sang at Lucas Lodge? Would he have so gently tended to her? He made no demands, no attempts at anything greater.
Unfolding the handkerchief, a piece of paper fluttered out. With trembling hands, she picked it up and read.
Darling Elizabeth,
I wanted to write you verses as I watched you slumber, but I find I cannot do you justice, and so I turn to an expert. I would jest that my poor attempts might starve away any inclination you
feel for me, but I refuse to allow it to be so. For, as you have said before, ‘Everything nourishes what is strong already.’
She was a Phantom of delight1
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
-W
Elizabeth could scarcely breathe when she was finished. Such sentiments could not be put on. Once again, Darcy’s every action showed his love, even if he chose not to pronounce the words.
She could not believe he was capable of feigning the look that affected her so greatly at the time, the same look that she undoubtedly knew now as love. Yes, Darcy was in love with her even then, for such ardent love could not be the work of a moment any more than the love she felt was. How unjustly she accused him of idle talk!
Now she only wondered what evidence he had to make him think such things. The time had come to approach her husband and finally have a clear conversation. Firming her resolve, she opened the door to the sitting room.
*****
Darcy had never hated himself more. It did not matter that he was innocent of seducing Elizabeth; how many times had he imagined it? For weeks now, he had been convinced of his faulty pride and selfishness. Of course, Elizabeth had not liked him then. He gave her no reason to!
His sweet Elizabeth must have only accepted his proposal out of concern for her reputation, that he had taken too many liberties with her. Any hope of earning her love vanished. His greatest fears were coming true.
The silence, or what he thought was silence, remained between them for several minutes. He looked up and was alarmed to see she had left the room. Believing she must have fled to her chambers, he went upstairs and approached the door connected to their sitting room. She did not answer, but he could hear her weeping. After several minutes, her rejection of him settled in, and he sat on a sofa to consider matters.
Many things now made sense to Darcy. He must have returned to the library to retrieve Elizabeth’s handkerchief, which he had found earlier in the day and never had any intention of returning to her, and brought the brandy decanter with him to his room. From there, things took their usual course.
Elizabeth’s first refusal now made perfect sense. Mr. Bennet, and later Mr. Gardiner, must have known the truth from Elizabeth. The situation with all the other proposals in the area due to Mr. Black’s sermon must have assured them that Elizabeth’s virtue was still intact. Even Bingley confessed the sermon as his cause for proposing to Jane.
Attempting to recall his conversation with Mr. Bennet, Darcy was rather sure he never plainly spoke of his perception of that evening. Instead, he confessed he had never even had such thoughts of another lady. That was why the older gentlemen did not treat him with the harshness they treated Bingley after the ball!
Elizabeth could not be with child. Darcy blushed deeply. He had a rudimentary knowledge and recalled Mrs. Bennet’s words on Elizabeth’s delayed courses. Now the blood on their bed linens made sense as well.
How could he have thought she would be vulnerable to his arts? How insulting to her!
For weeks, he wrestled with disbelieving he had acted so ungentlemanly and was always careful to take the blame, but he did not consider how demeaning the very idea of it would be to her. If he had believed himself immoral, then surely she presumed he believed her equally so.
That was certainly far from the truth. He had made a terrible presumption in her regard for him at the time. He had convinced himself that he had proposed, and their affection and passion mutually, and naturally, grew from that moment. It was not strictly proper, but he had not believed she consented to a meaningless encounter. Certainly nothing she expressed since their engagement was improper. He hoped she would believe him when they spoke again, for now he could clearly see the hurt he had caused her.
He sat in silence for nearly an hour, praying for her forgiveness, when the door to the sitting room opened. She sat next to him, and he tentatively took her hand.
“William, I need to know how you could believe this of us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, us. I am hurt you could believe it of me but shocked you could believe it of yourself.”
“I could not remember what passed that night. I awoke with some blood on my bed linens, along with your bloodied handkerchief. I remembered meeting you in the library. I knew what my thoughts tended to before you entered. I had been drinking and believed my senses were addled. Then when I met you the next morning, you were hurt somehow. I still have not made sense of that, although I have made sense of the handkerchief.”
“A step was damaged on the stairwell, and I twisted my ankle.”
“The same place you stumbled into my arms just before leaving?”
“Yes. You had thought I was with child, did you not?”
Darcy shook his head in self-reproach. “I overheard your mother speaking to Mrs. Gardiner. She was convinced it was so.”
“I believe you are too honourable to seduce any lady. You have overcome temptation before.”
“I assure you, there was nothing honourable about my thoughts. Other ladies have attempted to entrap me, and I have felt desire in moments of infatuation but never succumbed. My feelings for you were well beyond that, and I made no attempt at stopping my thoughts; I indulged them as often as I could. I should have offered you marriage based on them alone.”
Elizabeth gasped at his confession.
“Please, Elizabeth.” Darcy knelt before her. “Please, listen to me. I never thought you wanton. My lustful thoughts were not because of your behaviour in any way. I resolved long ago to have no woman but my wife, and the only reason I thought myself capable of this sin was my desire to have you, not just in my bed, but always at my side.”
“Did you believe we were committed to each other?”
“Yes, I could never dishonour you, even in my thoughts. In my heart, marriage is what I most desired.”
“You would propose marriage in...in your thoughts?”
“Yes.”
“Do I understand from your meaning that we would anticipate our vows?” He blushed and looked away. “And you still try to tell me you respected me and did not think me immodest?”
“I know my thoughts were ungentlemanly, but they were not a reflection of you. I saw only what I wished to see. I rationalised you must have cared deeply for me, and once we were betrothed, however recently, our mutual regard overtook our good sense. Can you ever forgive me?”
“But you did truly desire to marry me?”
“More than anything, until I realised I loved you. I believed only you could bring me happiness. It took me some time to realise that feeling was a true, deep love. Now I only wish you could return the feelings.”
“But I do love you!” she blurted.
He shook his head. “No, do not pretend with me. You could not possibly love me, not now. Not after the hurtful things I have believed of you.”
Holding his face with her hands, she looked at him in earnest. “Is there anything I could say or do that would kill your love for me?”
“No, but it is not the same. I have known I loved you for weeks; I have loved you for even longer. Your feelings are too new, built upon a falsely good impression of me.”
“It is not the same, but it is similar. I doubted your honour and believed you would say one thing to me and feel another way. After I swore to trust you and vowed to never hurt you! I was only shocked and hurt. I know my own mind and my own heart. I love you, not because I believe you are perfect, but because I see you are the very best of men. You are too harsh on yourself. We recently discussed all men are created equal. Did not Jane and Bingley indulge in the very acts you believed we had?
“I allowed you some liberties, and I felt nothing but trust and affection. I cannot say what might have happened had you... had we been carried away by our passions.
I was very quickly becoming aware of feelings for you. I cannot condemn you for concluding what I do not know for certain would not have happened.”
“Elizabeth, I cannot concede that,” Darcy said vehemently. “You would have refused me even if I proposed marriage! No matter how run away you were with feeling that night, I have seen you struggle to sensibly determine your feelings for me. My vain pretensions refused to see how your feelings have grown. Instead, I believed you regarded me then as highly as I did you and were only slow to allow it to develop into love. You would not have accepted my proposal until you were more assured of my character, and without the proposal, you certainly would never welcome those kinds of attentions.”
“Perhaps, but without this misunderstanding, would you have proposed?”
Darcy was silent for a moment. “I loved you, even if I did not know it. I would have offered for you eventually.”
“Aha! Eventually. Who knows what may have arisen? Mother was pushing me towards Mr. Collins, and you have already pointed out I might have married anyone else long before now.”
“You never would have agreed to marry him!”
“Not in present circumstances, but nothing in life is guaranteed. You know this very well. I might have woken up one morning and found Papa dead. I would have had an obligation to my family then. You might have left Netherfield. What if Bingley never offered for Jane and gave up the estate? How would you ever find me again?”
He stood and gathered her in his arms. “I told you once before that I was always meant to find you, and this morning, I told you I would never let you go. You are mine, and I am yours.”
“Yes, that is all that matters now. Everything has nourished our love.”
A Sense of Obligation Page 24
