by Sophia Grey
Elizabeth was speechless. Surely, that was not the reason, and yet—
“Mr. Wickham has other tastes,” he said bitterly. “And he has proven himself to be nothing more than a fiend with my own young sister in an attempt to secure her inheritance for himself.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But… that is…”
“Impossible? Do not pretend that it could be so. Mr. Wickham conspired to make Georgiana believe that they were in love, and take her to Gretna Green so that they could be married. If I had not been told of his treachery and intercepted them, he would have ruined Georgiana and taken Pemberley with it.”
“How fortunate for her that it was not so…”
“Fortunate, indeed. And now, Miss Bennet you may thank me for saving your own family from precisely the same misfortune that might have befallen my sister. Mr. Wickham has surely lost none of his old proclivities, and his presence in Meryton with your youngest sister upon his arm did nothing more than prove to me that he remains a villain in all respects. I only regret that I was not able to act sooner and prevent your own involvement.”
Elizabeth was dumbfounded by this news, and that he should go out of his way to remove a threat to her own family—she did not know what to think.
“Mr. Darcy… I must apologize,” Elizabeth stammered. “I should not have spoken to you so harshly.”
“No, indeed,” he agreed briskly.
“But, I am curious, why would you do such a thing? Why not allow Mr. Wickham to do as he had planned? If you hold me in such low esteem—”
“I have no such feelings whatsoever,” he interrupted her.
Elizabeth did not know what to think, and then something else struck a chord within her. “I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield Park again? It was vacated so abruptly last November that we did not have occasion to visit to make our farewells.”
Mr. Darcy seemed unaffected by her words and answered simply. “I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”
Elizabeth smiled thinly. “Indeed. If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle.”
“I should not be surprised,'' said Mr. Darcy, “if he were to give it up entirely. I am certain that he will find reason to stay in London.”
“I daresay that is how Miss Bingley herself described it,” Elizabeth mused. “But I have yet to find a reason as to why. Her letter claimed that it was business that kept him in London, but business that should have been concluded in only a few days time… how could he leave Hertfordshire so completely with his affection for Jane being as it was.”
“Affection?” Mr. Darcy scoffed. “It was my understanding that your sister’s affections were of only a passing nature. Something not to be trifled with. A passing fancy, nothing more.”
Elizabeth was stunned at his pronouncement. “How could you accuse Jane of something so superficial!” Rage filled her veins as she stared at this most disagreeable gentleman who had the nerve—nay, the presumption—to speak about Jane in such a manner. “I suppose I could not expect a gentleman of your position to understand such a thing. My sister is beyond reproach, and no matter what your prideful friends believe to be true about us, it is false. Jane is the very best of us all, and I daresay that Mr. Bingley, your great friend, does not deserve her affections. Nor does she deserve your harsh opinion. Am I to understand that you were among those who have spoken against Jane to Mr. Bingley?”
“You may well say so,” Mr. Darcy said simply and Elizabeth gasped in surprise and anger. “I understand all too well what it is to love below your station,” he continued angrily and Elizabeth stared at him in blank surprise.
“Oh, indeed, Mr. Darcy? You must forgive me for I cannot—”
Mr. Darcy’s hands clenched into fists and he swept his hat from his head and stared into her eyes with such intensity that Elizabeth feared that her heart would stop in her chest. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I fear that I cannot keep this secret for it is eating me from the inside out.”
“W-what?”
“I have tried to fight against my better natures, but I cannot deny my heart. You must allow me to tell you how much I ardently love and admire you.”
This pronouncement had come from somewhere deep inside of him, but Elizabeth could do nothing but stare at him. Mr. Collins had protested his most violent affections for her, and then scarcely four days hence had proposed to Charlotte Lucas—if she turned aside this attempt at a proposal, if indeed that was what was transpiring, would Mr. Darcy then offer his hand to some other young lady with the same immediacy? Was she to be cursed with terrible naught but proposals? This was not how a young lady dreamed her engagement would be. Certainly not.
Elizabeth blinked and tried to think of something to say, for it seemed clear that the gentleman was waiting for something. A rebuke? Possibly. A reply of the same? Unlikely. A pronouncement of some other nature? Certainly… but she had to say something.
“Miss Bennet—”
Elizabeth suddenly found her words and she glared up at Mr. Darcy brazenly. “I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry that you have felt any pain over this laborious emotion, Mr. Darcy, for it has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration.” Now it was Mr. Darcy’s turn to stare in surprise. It was clear that he had not expected such a vehement reply. “The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.” But Elizabeth was not finished. He had insulted her, insulted her sister, and in the same breath professed to love and admire her? It was impossible, and could not be borne.
“Had not my own feelings decided against you,” she continued, “had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of my most beloved sister? And to admit to it so blithely!”
“I do not make any apology for my involvement,” he said stiffly. “For I could not allow my own dear friend to suffer as I have.”
“Suffer?” Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, yes, how horrible it must be to love someone who you should by all rights abhor entirely. I suppose I should be grateful that you have deigned to condescend to admit your feelings for me. If this is how you would make your proposal of marriage, I would expect any lady of quality to decline it. No, you have spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.''
She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued, “You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.''
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification, Elizabeth knew that she should have close her mouth and been done with it all, but she could not. Anger coursed through her veins and knotted her stomach, and she was very much aware that she was standing in the grass outside a garden gate. This was entirely improper, and her behavior would surely have caused her dear Mama a vicious attack of nerves. But she was alone, and she did not care in the slightest what anyone might think. Least of all Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the foundati
on upon which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike that I could not now, nor ever, remove it from my heart.”
Finally, Mr. Darcy spoke, and his words were short and clipped as he did so. “You have said quite enough. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept only my best wishes for your health and happiness.”
With those words, Mr. Darcy turned upon his heel and walked away from the parsonage in the direction of Rosings Park. Elizabeth let out a furious breath and opened the garden gate. She marched down the gravel path angrily and did not care that the gate slammed shut behind her.
She took the stairs up to the bedchamber she had been given and began angrily unpacking her valise. Should she even stay here if Mr. Darcy were to be at Rosings Park? She could not bear the thought of him being so close, especially after the embarrassment of the proposal she had just received—and the manner she had refused him. She threw down her hairbrush and walked to the window that looked out over the gardens.
She could see a figure in a long coat, a tall gentleman with a hat clutched in his hand. She moved closer and saw the determined set of his jaw. Mr. Darcy. She had thought he had returned to Rosings Park, but here he was pacing in the grass. She stared at him for a long moment, wondering what he was doing, and she was just about to turn away from the window when he looked up and saw her.
Elizabeth turned away from the window with her heart pounding in her chest. What was he doing? Had he come to say more hurtful things? To tell her that he had pulled Mr. Bingley away from Jane for the good of her family as he had with Mr. Wickham? But more importantly, how was she supposed to feel about any of this?
She took a deep breath and peered around the window frame. She did not know if she could bear speaking to Mr. Darcy again, and she hoped that he would feel similarly. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that the garden, and the field beyond, were both empty. Elizabeth leaned against the wall and stared up at Rosings Park, which she could see through the trees at the edge of the hill. It seemed ugly to her now, and she did not relish the thought of going to the great house to be presented to Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s scrutiny.
11
Elizabeth was seated at the breakfast table when Charlotte came in bearing a tea laden with a teapot and two cups. “Lizzy, this is the third time Mr. Darcy has come to the house asking to speak to you,” Charlotte said as she set down the tray. “Will you not see him? He has been most insistent, and, if I may say so... contrite.”
“And so he should be,” Elizabeth said stiffly. “I do apologize, Charlotte, but there is nothing that Mr. Darcy should have to say to me that I would wish to hear. He has said quite enough already.”
Charlotte took a seat across from her friend and poured Elizabeth’s tea. “I confess that I am coming to the end of my excuses for why you cannot see him.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily as she stirred her tea. “I believe I will have to cut my visit short,” she said firmly. “I shall go back to London to stay with my aunt and uncle and then return to Hertfordshire soon after.” Charlotte looked pained, and Elizabeth felt immediate guilt for her decision, but she could not stay here if Mr. Darcy could not accept her response to his horrifying proposal.
“Mr. Collins will be bereft,” Charlotte said quietly. “We are to dine at Rosings Park tomorrow evening. Lady Catherine will be very disappointed, Mr. Collins has told her so much about you.”
Elizabeth shook her head and did her best to keep her expression neutral. Lady Catherine, she assumed, would not be disappointed in the slightest. “You will have to convey my most sincere apologies. I shall be leaving this afternoon. I have already written to my aunt and she will be expecting me in London this evening.” Charlotte sighed but did not offer any other argument.
Mr. Collins had not returned from Rosings Park when Elizabeth’s chaise arrived to take her to London and Elizabeth could not hide the fact that she was relieved not to have to bid her cousin goodbye. She was, however, deeply regretful to leave Charlotte so soon. Her friend stood with Maria and Sir William in front of the stone wall where Elizabeth had argued so vehemently with Mr. Darcy. Charlotte’s goodbye was tearful, and as Elizabeth climbed into her seat she promised that she would return for another visit very soon and would spend the time that she had originally intended.
The carriage pulled away and Elizabeth waved to the Lucas’ with sadness, but also anger in her heart. Mr. Darcy’s actions had again waylaid any happiness that she might have wrung from such a visit. If he could have been content with her answer, or if he had chosen not to reveal his true feelings at all she would have been much better off for it.
But as the carriage rolled toward London she replayed their argument over, and over in her mind. All at once, she had a flash of realization.
Mr. Darcy had removed Mr. Wickham from Meryton not for a selfish and petty reason as she had initially believed, but to do service to her family—to her. He had protected her sister as he had not been able to protect his own.
The thought was a sobering one, and very nearly made her regret the harsh words she had thrown his way. But she stopped herself short with the remembrance of his unapologetic role in turning Mr. Bingley away from her own dear Jane. No, for that she would never forgive him. As much as her sister, Mr. Bingley was a victim of these machinations, too. It would surprise Elizabeth to no end if she were to discover that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were also behind Mr. Bingley’s sudden change of heart and mind. In the face of so much opposition to a match, how could any person hold fast to their emotions?
But that question could never be answered, not by her in any case. How would she behave if every person in the world that she held in high esteem were set against the man she had chosen to love? Would she be so eager to throw her family and friends by the wayside?
Elizabeth’s emotions ebbed and flowed between anger and despair, regret and confusion, as the carriage rumbled toward London. Perhaps she would be able to find greater clarity on those rain-wet streets and in the comfort of her aunt’s company.
Mrs. Gardiner welcomed her niece to their Gracechurch Street house with open arms and a warm fire. London’s spring rains were chilly, the sky was grey and dreary, and Elizabeth had spent too long in the carriage thinking about Mr. Darcy, and what she would do about Jane. Nonetheless, she was grateful to be among family and felt greatly cheered by the warm fire and lemon tarts that her aunt set out upon the table for her.
“I did not expect you back in London for another month!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed as Elizabeth settled herself by the fire.
“Nor did I,” Elizabeth admitted with some chagrin.
“Was there something amiss in Hunsford? Is Charlotte well?”
“Oh, no. Not at all,” she said quickly as concern darkened her aunt’s expression. “Charlotte seems very… content in her new life. The parsonage is well placed and the setting pleasant and quiet. Mr. Collins is very much as I remember him, and it seems that his enthusiasm for Rosings Park and his patroness has been undimmed by marriage.”
“Ah yes, Rosings Park,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a smile. “And how did you find that great estate? I have heard talk of it before and should like to see it for myself.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Alas, I cannot tell you, for I was not afforded the chance to see it for myself. I can only tell you that, from afar, it is far too large for the two ladies who inhabit it.” Mrs. Gardiner’s smile widened just a little, but Elizabeth could still see curiosity and concern in her aunt’s eyes. “I assure you, everything is very well, but with Jane at home in Hertfordshire and so despondent, I could not devote my energies to Charlotte as I should. I have promised that I will visit her soon and make every apology while I do so.”
“Poor Jane,” Mrs. Gardiner said softly. “She is a lovely girl with the kindest soul, I cannot imagine the pain she is feeling at this moment.”
“Indeed,”
Elizabeth agreed. She longed to tell her aunt of what she had learned about Mr. Bingley’s flight from Hertfordshire, but she could not bring herself to do so. It was too painful, and she was too angry.
“She wrote several letters to Miss Bingley while she stayed here with us, and waited each day by that window,” Mrs. Gardiner pointed to a window seat that overlooked the cobbled street, “but a reply never came.”
“Do you have the address?” Elizabeth asked suddenly.
Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes widened. “I do, will you be writing to Miss Bingley while you are here?”
“Yes, I believe I shall,” Elizabeth said. But as her aunt rose to find her appointment book, Elizabeth knew that she would not be writing to Miss Bingley, she would be doing something far more daring. When Mrs. Gardiner returned, they spoke at length about the journey to the north that had been planned for the summer. Elizabeth tried to renew her enthusiasm for spending time away from Longbourn, but she hoped that by the time August arrived that everything would be settled and she would feel no guilt at being away from Jane. If all went according to her plans, there was reason to hope that it would all be well before she departed London.
Armed with Mrs. Hurst’s address in Grosvenor Street and directions to London’s West End, Elizabeth walked briskly down the street, grateful for the thinning morning cloud and the steadily warming air. London’s West End was a fashionable neighborhood, and Elizabeth could see the change in the affluence of the area in small ways as the dress of the people walking the streets became more elegant and the number of chaise’s in the street increased. There were no tradesmen here, only governesses with their charges and elegant ladies taking a turn in the morning air.
She had only just turned down a street that bordered a small park when she heard a voice that she recognized. A tall, slender woman dressed in dark wine-red silk walked ahead of her with a shorter woman wearing a sapphire colored gown. Elizabeth knew Miss Caroline Bingley instantly by the severe style of her dark hair and the glittering combs that held it in place. She would wear diamonds to bed if she could, Elizabeth thought bitterly.
