Despite his years of experience, Darcy couldn’t help feeling a little appalled as he thought about it. He had experienced guilt over his rather mild attempt to trifle with Elizabeth previously, but that had been nothing compared to this.
Darcy was, at heart, a conventionally reared male. He had flirted, but never - in the whole of his bachelor existence - touched an innocent, young lady this inappropriately. Having a younger sister he, of necessity, held traditional views on matters of female virtue. Blatant sexual overtures were reserved for experienced women or the light o’ loves that he visited in town. To him this was a rule not to be broken. Most decent young men in society felt the same. They had sisters and even if they didn’t, they understood why innocents were off limits. Young women were reared to be naive and defenceless: they needed to be protected until they were married off early.
Men like Wickham flouted convention, publicly glorying in their predatory behaviour. It was one of the reasons why Darcy despised him. To Wickham - who refused to pay for his pleasures - girls fresh out of the schoolroom were easy targets. For a good looking man like him, it was simply a matter of offering a little flattery and false affection and then slowly increasing his physical demands, all the while persuading the young victim that succumbing physically to him would be the ultimate proof of her love. Wickham had learned just how to manage this potent mixture of deceit, false affection and sexual arousal and relied upon it time after time in his conquests.
The incident with Elizabeth that morning had been completely unintentional on Darcy’s part. Another man might have seized the opportunity she gave him to walk away; but given his sister’s history, Darcy was especially sensitive. He would not be seen by her as yet another Wickham. He understood that Elizabeth was terribly embarrassed; however he would do the gentlemanly thing and speak to her privately, express his regret and make her an offer, immediately removing himself from the district when she refused which - given her independent spirit and manifest indifference towards him - he relied on her to do.
Of course, in the unlikely event that she accepted, the consequences would be serious. His marriage to his cousin, Anne would be prevented and that would wreak financial havoc upon the future of his cousins and the entire Fitzwilliam family. Knowing where his duty lay, Darcy would endeavour to make it plain when he approached Elizabeth that his proposal was really more of a gesture than anything else.
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Early the next morning, Darcy stationed himself next to a clump of trees that grew at the junction of the two lanes where he had last seen Elizabeth. The thought of what he was about to do was affecting him strangely. It had been a long time since he had felt this uncertain and he wasn’t sure whether the tremulous feeling in his gut was excitement or dread. He could put an end to it immediately, simply by walking away. No one was forcing him to do this. Yet, he was loath to give Elizabeth another reason to think badly of him and so, as the minutes ticked past, he remained glued to the spot.
He consulted his watch once again. It felt as if hours had gone by. In reality he had only been waiting for about twenty minutes when he heard steps on the slope leading down to the lower road and straightened up.
Today, as she rounded the corner, Elizabeth was less preoccupied and immediately spotted Darcy standing back beneath the overhanging branches. She stopped in her tracks, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and incredulity.
“Are you waiting for me, sir?”
Darcy stepped out, bowing politely and ensuring that he left a large enough space between them for it to be clear that he presented no threat to her.
“I am. I felt that I owed you an apology for the incident yesterday, Miss Elizabeth. I assure you that what happened was entirely unintentional. However, I am here to make amends in any way that you might see fit.”
Elizabeth knew immediately that by offering to make ‘amends’ he meant to imply that he would marry her if she demanded it. Her face turned bright red. “It was an accident, Mr. Darcy. As far as the dictates of society are concerned, there was no one nearby to witness what happened and I have not mentioned it to my family. No, you are quite safe from me and may be about your business.”
“Are you certain, Miss Elizabeth? I leave for London tomorrow.”
Immediately a twinkle appeared in her eye. “And I would be out of here as quick as a wink too, if I were you,” she replied. “It would not be wise to give me time to reconsider. After all, I might prefer you over Mr. Collins. I hear that you have much more to give.”
He smiled reluctantly at her. “It is not compulsory to better everything I say with some clever piece of impudence. I should have guessed that this would be a joke to you.” He shrugged. “Well, I have made my offer and you have refused it.”
“I have indeed. You are free to go, sir. And you may be easy: I will not change my mind and send my father after you. I doubt whether he would bestir himself on such an issue anyway.”
Darcy, realising that this could very well be the last time he would encounter the lady, found that he had one last question that needed answering in order to complete the picture of her that he carried in his mind.
“Miss Elizabeth, before we part, I have a question. It is completely unrelated to the matter at hand. However, I overheard your mother’s conversation with Lady Lucas at dinner the other day and she mentioned that you translate from both the Greek and Latin. Is that true?”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “I am surprised that she discussed it at all – and within the hearing of an unmarried gentleman. No, my skills are restricted to Latin; but to her it is all one I suppose. She will always confuse my father and me. Nevertheless, even that small ability of mine was supposed to be kept a heavily guarded secret.”
Here Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Ironically, it was my mother herself who insisted on secrecy. She is frightened that I may have my one and only chance at marriage ruined. And she might be right. Perhaps Mr Collins might run off screaming into the distance at the thought of a wife who knows a little more than she ought.”
“Would he? I would hazard a guess that a man like Mr. Collins might welcome your assistance when constructing his Sunday sermons,” said Darcy contemptuously – unwisely showing the scorn he felt for men who were in the habit of relying on women for support.
This was provocation indeed! Elizabeth found it hard to resist delivering a rebuke. “You might be right. Perhaps he is broadminded enough to tolerate a bluestocking for a wife without feeling threatened,” she said purposely misunderstanding him. In fact, it seems that Jane and I were wrong in our judgement of him. Now that he is living amongst us, I find that he is not the sinister figure that we had originally thought he might be.”
Darcy was reluctant to approve of Collins on any level. Frankly, he was repulsed at the thought of a bright spirit like Elizabeth marrying such a pompous bore. But at this point he pulled himself up, realising that if he was to prevent himself from getting in any deeper, he must put a swift end to their conversation.
“Well, I am happy that it has all turned out so well for you Miss Elizabeth. May I bid you farewell and wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of the fine vicar,” he said sardonically, and then bowed in a deliberate manner before resolutely turning back towards Netherfield.
As he strode away, Darcy - while relieved to have the matter behind him – couldn’t help feeling slighted. Elizabeth had ridiculed his offer and yet appeared to accept with equanimity the lowly future that would be hers when she married his aunt’s clergyman. Her indifference to him must be real.
He wondered (a little vindictively) how she would like Lady Catherine. As the wife of Mr. Collins, his aunt would loom large in Elizabeth’s life, providing her with a formidable challenge. Here he began to feel a little sorry for the young lady, until he was struck by the lucky thought that she had overcome the flat despair that she had shown at the Lucas’s dinner party fairly quickly.
No matter the situation, Elizabeth Bennet see
med to be a resilient young woman. Undoubtedly she would survive his aunt. But would his aunt survive her - that was the question. He smiled, just thinking of it.
_________________________________
It was not without some regret that Elizabeth stood watching Darcy go. He was undeniably attractive and his wealth and power alone would be a considerable aphrodisiac for most women. She knew that he had departed thinking that she, a country girl, had ridiculed his offer and - given his arrogance - she was happy to have him think it. But in truth, Elizabeth was very much a creature of her time. Her cousin’s conversation with her mother had alerted her to Darcy’s real importance in the world and today she had been genuinely astounded that such an eminent man would even consider that he owed her the courtesy of a proposal of marriage. He had exposed himself most unwisely today. She would not take advantage of the situation; but many other young women would have.
Of course, it spoke well for his integrity that he had approached her. However, they would never have suited. On first meeting him, it had taken five minutes in his company to establish that he was domineering; she, on the other hand, had been raised by a father who encouraged her to take pride in her ability to think clearly and speak freely. Darcy might have told Charlotte that he admired her intelligence, but he moved in a rigid society that didn’t tolerate free-spirited women. Had they married, there would have been every possibility of being utterly under his control. Collins could be manipulated into giving her a little breathing space; Darcy never!
Also there was that unexamined sense of apprehension linked to the tug of attraction she had felt when she had looked down at his sleek head as he kissed her hand in the parlour at Longbourn. Now, with his proposal, a half-formed idea of the total power such a person might have over her in marriage had reared its head. It flashed through her mind that to be under the dominion of such a powerful man and to be attracted to him at the same time would be a little frightening. Who knew what she might have to sacrifice just to survive in such a relationship. Collins’ offer - when it was made – would be much safer. Her feelings would not be involved; she would merely be doing her duty. He would not control her. Her dignity, her heart, her very essence would be left safely untouched.
While Elizabeth regretted having said too much to Darcy in her attempt to navigate her way through a delicate situation - in essence there was nothing she would have changed. It was in her nature to use humour to defuse tension and a half-hearted proposal from a handsome, eligible man was enough temptation to make any spinster tense. Then too, Darcy had a strange effect on her. He was intelligent and in his presence she always gave in to the irresistible urge to show off with a smart wisecrack. He was bad for her self-discipline.
All in all, it was a good thing that the man was leaving the district. She, for one, would certainly be less confused.
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Darcy, having rehearsed what he intended to say to Bingley on the way home, had been surprised when his friend had shown no disappointment at the news that he was planning to cut his stay short.
“I have urgent business back in London,” Darcy had said as they sat down to luncheon. “I must leave early tomorrow morning. You will give your sisters my apologies when they arrive? Unfortunately it can’t be helped.”
Bingley shook out his napkin with great deliberation and placed it on his lap. “They are due here the day after tomorrow but I’ll be damned if I won’t join you on the journey back and prevent their departure from London. I think I’ll close up this place for a while. My sisters have not been so keen to immure themselves in the countryside that they won’t be pleased to learn that the experience has been postponed. In fact, were you not here as an enticement, I very much doubt that Caroline would have agreed to come away from the city at all.”
Darcy overlooked this last comment but asked, “Why leave on my account, Bingley? You were enjoying the hunting.”
“I have calls to make when I arrive in London.”
“This is the first time that you have mentioned having other arrangements, Bingley. I hope that you haven’t been marking time here on my account.”
“No. The timing of the matter is entirely at my own discretion,” said Bingley, looking so self-conscious that Darcy immediately concluded that a woman was involved.
He swallowed a mouthful of ale and idly wondered if the woman could be Jane Bennet. At that point he pulled himself up short. This is Bingley’s affair: I will leave him to it, he thought uncharacteristically. For myself, I’ve had more than enough exposure to the Bennet family.
Chapter 15
“A broken heart is a very pleasant complaint for a man in London if he has a comfortable income.”
George Bernard Shaw
London 1812
In the street below, the light was beginning to fade. The shouts of children at play had ceased and the park had fallen silent. It was that melancholy time of day when youngsters and their retinues of governesses and nannies had left Grosvenor Square for home, where their busy day would no doubt end in the nursery with a simple supper and bed-time story. As Darcy watched, lights began to glimmer through the trees on the far side of the square. Below him, a small creature left the shelter of a bush and scurried across the darkening road.
Time for a Courvoisier he thought, as he contemplated the long, lonely evening stretching ahead. Shaking off his gloomy mood, he walked over to the sideboard where a tray of crystal decanters and glasses sparkled in the warm circle of light cast by a nearby table lamp. Impulsively, he poured himself a double measure of cognac and walked back to the window, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
Back at his station behind the sweeping drapery of a green velvet curtain, Darcy looked down idly on a middle aged woman hurrying through the quiet street. She was dressed respectably but it was unusual for a woman to be unescorted and on foot, especially at this time of day. She was carrying a small leather portmanteau and he wondered if she was on a professional call: a nurse or perhaps a midwife.
This interest in the minor activities on the square was unusual for Darcy and was part of an attempt to turn his thoughts away from the gloom that had been plaguing him since his awakening at Netherfield that morning. Not even the physical exertion of the long ride to London had managed to dispel his dark mood; yet he was strangely reluctant to seek relief in the company of others and had told Rutherford that he was not officially ‘at home’ to callers until the next day. It was then that he planned to let his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam know that he was back in town, as he had become impatient to learn how matters were progressing in the matter of Wickham’s capture. But just for this evening, Darcy wanted time on his own: time to think things through.
‘Thinking things through’ meant revisiting the conversation he had had with Elizabeth Bennet the previous day. On the ride into London, flashes of yesterday’s discussion had come back to him and only an hour ago, he had questioned whether his current discontent might be directly linked to her refusal. He had consoled himself with the thought that it was normal to dislike being rejected, even when you knew that it was for your own good. Any suspicion that his feelings for her might be something more than attraction was vehemently dismissed. From experience, Darcy knew how desire distorted one’s judgement. No woman was without flaw and even under the influence of his current longing, he was aware that Elizabeth was completely unsuitable for him.
This unwelcome feeling was a momentary madness that would crumble under the weight of his family’s expectations. He had obligations. Any partner other than Anne de Bourgh would result in him marrying to disoblige the Fitzwilliams. Even a wife who brought with her a large amount of political and social influence would not make up for their disappointment and so far, no one he had ever met had been worth the bother.
The problem, as he saw it now, was that he had come away when his admiration of Elizabeth was just beginning to take hold. He hadn’t had time to become critical and ultimately disenchanted, as
had happened with women that he had lusted after in the past. Well, he would keep himself busy over the next few weeks and by then he should be over the worst of it.
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“Would you mind if we took a leisurely walk around the square, Fitz? I have been cooped up in the house for too long,” said a restless Darcy.
Richard Fitzwilliam, who was in the act of placing his hat and gloves on the hall table, nodded.
“Not at all. I would welcome the opportunity to stretch my legs. But Darce, surely you did a lot of walking in the countryside? You only returned home last night.”
“I did. However, to be honest, the house feels oppressive just at the moment. Perhaps I should write to Georgie and bring her down from Pemberley after we have put this Wickham thing to rest. She would add life to the place.”
Richard Fitzwilliam nodded, his lively, blue eyes resting fondly on his cousin as he fitted his cocked hat back over his sandy curls. Here was the Darcy he knew and loved: always well-meaning but never stopping to think before he organised everyone around him. Some things never changed.
“That’s as long as she wants to come up to London, Darce. Georgie will do anything you ask, but remember that she had just been through a major upheaval and is probably relishing this time on her own. You don’t want to interrupt the process of healing. By the way, how has she been recently?”
It was a firm rule with Darcy never to discuss private family matters in the hearing of the staff, so he waited until they were past the footmen and had stepped onto the pavement before replying.
“Amazingly well. So much so, that I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention this matter with Wickham to her at all. She might not approve. In one of her recent letters she told me that she had all but forgiven him. She seems to have the absurd idea that he did her a good turn – ‘alerted her to the very real possibility of evil in the world’, was how she put it.”
The Golden Apples of the Sun Page 11
