by Janet Aylmer
His aunt paused and, getting no response from him, she then said, with every appearance of expecting a favourable reply, “Darcy, you will appreciate why I was most seriously displeased. You must give me the assurances which that ungrateful young woman has withheld.”
To reinforce her point, she went on to repeat sentiments that, although less explicitly, she had told him many times before.
“As my nephew, you and Anne are formed for each other. Both of you are descended on the maternal side from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable, honourable, and ancient, though untitled families. You have been destined for each other by the voice of every member of our respective houses. You are not to be divided by the upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune!”
There was a silence for a few moments and she awaited his reply.
Darcy found himself quite calm, now that the time had come for him to speak. He looked his aunt directly in the eye as he began.
“I have the greatest respect for my cousin Anne, and for you, and that will continue,” he said. “However, I would wish to achieve in my own marriage the happiness and affection which my mother and father shared. As to whom I should marry, that is a private matter which I do not intend to discuss with anyone. It is not my wish to offend, but the intervention of others is not calculated to assist me, or to influence my choice.”
Lady Catherine regarded him with alarm and dismay, and her voice rose to an angrier pitch as she said, “Are you refusing to give me the assurance I seek? She is a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Such a marriage would be against the wishes of all your friends! Your alliance would be a disgrace; her name would never even be mentioned by any of us.”
She looked again at Darcy for a response, but he remained silent.
“Are you refusing to honour the agreement between your dear mother and myself? Will you not promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”
“My mother told me of no such agreement. I know myself of none. I have no wish to upset you, and I have every respect for my mother’s memory,” Darcy replied, quietly. “But, as I have already said, there are other considerations to which I give priority.”
“I cannot believe,” said his aunt, “that you are willing to put aside the wishes of your nearest family in this matter!”
Darcy looked at her without expression, and said nothing.
And although Lady Catherine continued in the same vein for fully fifteen more minutes, he would not yield.
Eventually, his aunt left, in as angry a mood as he had ever seen her, without the assurances that she had sought.
32
Darcy found himself with such a mixture of emotions after Lady Catherine had left that it was some time before he was able to think calmly.
He was at first at a loss to know how the idea of an alliance between himself and Miss Elizabeth Bennet might have occurred to his aunt.
Then he recalled that Mrs. Collins’ family lived in have Hertfordshire. The news of Bingley’s engagement would travelled to his aunt by that route, and might have prompted speculation about a liaison between himself and the sister of Jane Bennet. It would be also from her chaplain, Mr. Collins, that Lady Catherine would have heard of the recent marriage between Lydia Bennet and Wickham.
His aunt had apparently therefore made a special journey to Hertfordshire, for the sole purpose of obtaining a promise from Elizabeth Bennet which, in her own words only four months ago in Kent, that lady should have been more than happy to give.
Yet she had refused to provide such an assurance.
He could well imagine that Miss Elizabeth might have been more than offended by Lady Catherine’s manner of address. Indeed, he had to acknowledge that he and she shared the disadvantage of some close relations who cared little for discreet conversation. However, he did not believe that his aunt’s outspoken comments would have prevented Elizabeth from speaking her views plainly.
“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
He remembered only too painfully those words she had said to him only a few months ago in the parsonage at Hunsford; and others—
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you.”
And, above all,
“Had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner...”
How those words had tortured him since then! What a contrast did Miss Elizabeth’s answer to Lady Catherine now appear, which had just been repeated to him,
“ . . . that his wife must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine?”
Those words touched in him such depths of emotion as he had rarely felt able to admit to himself before.
They indicated a state of mind in the speaker which had seemed to be impossible only a few months ago. He found it difficult to believe that Lady Catherine would have had any reason to fabricate such a remark.
Was it conceivable that Elizabeth Bennet had really said those words? For the first time since she had rejected his addresses in April, he felt some confidence that she might have changed her mind about marriage to him.
Darcy had seen at Rosings that she would have not been in any awe of Lady Catherine. Surely, she would not have hesitated to tell his aunt what she thought, if she had been irrevocably decided against him?
Darcy reflected that he should at least be grateful to Lady Catherine for making the journey to Hertfordshire, if only for the nature of the intelligence which she had brought back with her, and his first thought was to return to Netherfield the very next morning. Then he recollected that he had made arrangements to see his cousins in Brook Street again the next day.
In any case, his agitation of mind was such that it might be more prudent to keep to his original arrangements, and delay his departure.
So Darcy contented himself with sending a note to Bingley, congratulating him on the happy news, and advising that he would be returning to Hertfordshire himself at the end of the week.
The next two days seemed to pass very slowly and, though Darcy reviewed the conversation with his aunt to himself, both by day and during each night, he was no nearer any certainty in knowing what Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s true feelings might be.
However, he did resolve that he could not bear much more delay in finding out, and decided that he would accompany Bingley on his first visit to Longbourn once he had reached Hertfordshire.
“Darcy! I am the luckiest of men, and my dear Jane and I have been waiting to share our joy with you!” said his friend when Darcy entered Netherfield.
“I can see,” said Darcy, “that you are as happy as I had expected! And are you now a welcome member of the Bennet family?”
“I have been at Longbourn every day since I wrote to you. Their kindness is overwhelming, and Mr. Bennet is being everything affable,” said Bingley. “Mrs. Bennet seeks to meet my every need, and my dear Jane’s sisters are all attention, especially Elizabeth, as I wrote to you.”
“But you will not guess who has been a recent visitor to Longbourn,” his friend went on.
Bingley then related the intelligence already known to Darcy, which reminded him of an encounter only a few days ago in town.
“Your aunt Lady Catherine! Apparently she came to see Elizabeth, for they went off into the copse and had a long conversation together. Jane and I did not know who the visitor was, or I would have greeted her myself, and so we went to talk without interruption in the shrubbery. My new sister must be a great favourite of your aunt’s from her visit to Rosings at Easter, to be so favoured!”
It was impossible to compose any answer to this that could be conveyed to Bingley or that Darcy was prepared to reveal. Indeed, his friend’
s comment was so far from the truth that Darcy decided to change the subject immediately.
“So you and Miss Bennet are to be married before the end of the year?”
“Yes,” replied Bingley, “and we shall live at Netherfield, at least to begin with.”
Darcy reflected to himself that such an immediate proximity to Mrs. Bennet would not be his own preference, but then his friend was of a less demanding and much more forgiving disposition than himself.
Bingley then went on to enumerate all the many qualities in the eldest Miss Bennet of which he always had been convinced, and of all his expectations of enduring felicity.
Darcy listened to this recital with more patience than he might have found in the past. There was pain indeed in hearing of happiness that he might be unable ever to replicate for himself. But the occasional mention of Miss Elizabeth in his friend’s words was of some small comfort to him in his own present uneasiness of mind.
Darcy was about to ask whether the arrangements for the following day included both the elder Miss Bennets when his friend pre-empted him.
“I am going to Longbourn again tomorrow to see Jane. You must join me, and perhaps we can take a walk with some of her sisters into the countryside round about, if it proves to be a nice day. I know that Elizabeth enjoys the countryside. Indeed, she had told me that she had great pleasure when she was in Kent in walking through the park at Rosings.”
This reminder of his most recent visit to Kent brought back so many unhappy memories for Darcy that he thought that they must be visible on his face.
But Bingley continued to talk about his pleasure in his new situation until it was time to retire, and did not appear to notice Darcy’s distress.
Part Seven
DARCY: I can remember some expressions which might justly make you hate me.
ELIZABETH: Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.
33
After greeting her family the following morning, it was agreed that Bingley and Jane Bennet, and Darcy with the Misses Elizabeth and Catherine Bennet, should take a walk together. To begin with, they went towards the Lucases, be-cause Kitty wished to call upon Maria. With Bingley and the eldest Miss Bennet walking very slowly and lagging behind, Darcy and her sister Elizabeth continued on together. To start with, both were silent.
Darcy was contemplating the best way to start the subject he wished to address when she began to speak:
“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours.”
Darcy glanced at her in surprise.
Could it be that she had in mind his aunt’s recent visit, notable, if the account he had heard was accurate, for Lady Catherine using language that would have given offence to any one? His aunt’s remarks had hardly been calculated to improve his companion’s opinion of his family.
But she continued, “I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”
Darcy, who had thought that his actions were a secret known only to her uncle and aunt, and to Mr. and Mrs. Wickham, was taken unawares.
“I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” he replied, in a tone of surprise and emotion, “that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness.”
He added, more cautiously, “I did not think Mrs. Gar-diner was so little to be trusted.”
Her quick reply soon gave him comfort at least as to that.
“You must not blame my aunt. Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars.”
After a few moments, she continued, more slowly.
“Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble... and bear so many mortifications . . . for the sake of discovering them.”
Darcy immediately recollected the last time they had spoken privately together at Lambton, and the distress that she had confided to him, in the knowledge that he would not betray it. He recalled his decision then to pursue the fugitives, no matter what it cost him, so that she could regain that peace of mind which he believed that only he had the power to restore.
“If you will thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone.”
“That the wish of giving happiness to you, might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny.”
He chose his next words with care, remembering part of another conversation which they had had at the parsonage at Hunsford in the Spring.
“But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe, I thought only of you.”
She was silent and, after a short pause, Darcy then added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.”
The chasm of pain which this opened up, unhappily so familiar over the past few months, came vividly to his mind, and he had to pause and gather all his resolution before he could continue.
“My affections,” he paused, “and wishes are unchanged.” He stopped, and then went on, “But one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”
It seemed to him a very long pause, although in fact it was only a few moments, before his companion began to speak.
“Mr. Darcy, I recollect now with great distress the manner in which I replied to your offer in April....Although I was then certain that I spoke with justice and without prejudice, I have long since come to a completely contrary view. My understanding at that time of Mr. Wickham’s situation, and his own and partial account of your role in his affairs, had influenced my mind to an extent which I now consider to have been unpardonable.”
She went on quickly, “Although I then felt also that you were misguided about my sister’s feelings for Mr. Bingley, I hope that I also now have the honesty to acknowledge the difficulty for someone not very well acquainted with Jane to have been aware of them.”
She paused, and he took a quick glance at her before she continued speaking.
She had uttered the next sentence, and had begun another, before he was able to comprehend the full import of what she was saying.
“As to my own affections, it is some time since I came to realise that, far from maintaining the sentiments that I expressed in April, my future happiness depends on your having a continuing regard and affection for me. Indeed, my feelings are such that I am so very happy to accept your present assurances.”
And at last she raised her head, and met his eyes for a moment, before dropping hers again before his gaze.
They walked on, and it was some distance before Darcy had sufficient control of himself to speak.
“I find it difficult to find words which can adequately express my emotions...to be confident...to know that you return my affections,” he began.
“And our separation, since we parted in Derbyshire in July, has only served to confirm how valuable and necessary to me is your regard. That you could ever consent to be my wife has at times seemed to be so impossible that I have been close to total despair. It has been a dream which it seemed could never come true.”
He glanced at her as he continued, “And you will have to remind me very often from now on that I am not dreaming!”
He saw her smile at this, although she could not encounter his eye, and he went on to tell her how important she was to him, and for how long he had hoped for this day.
They walked on. There was so much to be thought, and felt, and said.
Darcy recounted his aunt’s visit to his house on her return through London, how Lady Catherine had related her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth.
“She thought, by repeating her conversation with you, to obtain that promise from me, which you had refused to give. Some of what she told me,” said Darcy, “taught me to hope as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. One phrase in particular,
“ . . . that my wife must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine?
“Words cannot express how I felt when I first heard her repeat those words, except that at last I had some hope that we might one day find happiness together.”
Darcy stole a quick glance at Elizabeth, and thought that her face was luminous with such a smile that... but he recollected himself and went on to say,
“I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that, had you been absolutely, irrevocably, decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”
He saw that Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.”
“What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour to you at the time, had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”
Darcy demurred at that. “I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me.”