by Jann Rowland
A careful review of all their interactions, of all the times he had come upon her when they were in Kent, and even the times he had appeared in London—particularly the first time they had met in the park and the incident in his town house—had left Elizabeth with the certainty that Mr. Darcy had, in fact, arranged to meet with her whenever possible, using coincidence as an explanation for his seeing her. That the man had purposely been putting himself in her company in such a manner could only infuriate her more—would a man who truly loved a woman not court her openly rather than stalking her as a wolf might a deer?
Well, Elizabeth was determined that this deer possessed the ability to defend herself, and the will to prevent the man from imposing his desires upon her.
On the final day before the sisters were to return to Longbourn, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner escorted them to the London menagerie as a farewell treat. The Gardiners loved their nieces and enjoyed having them stay in London; the morrow would bring a tearful parting, but for today, they would enjoy one another’s company with the exotic animals of the menagerie.
It was, Elizabeth decided, not a surprise that they came across Mr. and Miss Darcy while they were there—in fact, she almost thought the man had been holding his sister at the entrance, loitering about to ensure they did not miss the Gardiner party. Everyone except Elizabeth was happy to see them and greetings were exchanged, and they soon agreed to tour the premises together.
Feeling the force of Mr. Darcy’s gaze upon her, Elizabeth knew the man was about to request to escort her. Thinking quickly, however, she attached herself to Georgiana, intent upon avoiding his company while she cooled her temper and determined what it was she should do about him.
“Shall we walk together, Georgiana?” asked Elizabeth, latching onto her friend’s arm.
Though obviously surprised, Georgiana was not unwilling, and the two girls stepped forward into the menagerie, with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner trailing, and Mr. Darcy escorting Jane behind. A surreptitious glance revealed that Mr. Darcy was watching her, and had she not noticed the tightness around his eyes, she might have thought he was confused. She also noted the determination in his gaze, and she knew he meant to draw close to her again.
I will not be coerced, my dear Mr. Darcy, thought Elizabeth, and then she put the man from her mind.
The Bennet sisters had not visited the menagerie before, and so Elizabeth's attention was soon claimed by the magnificent beasts confined to cages in front of her. England was not home to most of them, so Elizabeth was interested to see and read the descriptions in front of each cage, and as new experiences were always welcome, Elizabeth focused on the things she was seeing, rather than the person of her objectionable suitor.
And what a sight the animals were to see! They saw huge, grey elephants, with long trunks and large ears, and they saw a golden tiger with its black stripes, pacing the confines of the cage, growling at all those who approached. There were zebras and monkeys, and a tall giraffe, whose head seemed to reach up to the very sky itself, its own black spots standing out against its pale yellow fur. And then there was the lion, the majestic creature with the long mane that lay before them, proud and tall, seemingly unconcerned with what was occurring around it. It was before the lion cage that Elizabeth finally allowed Mr. Darcy to approach her, where he had obviously been wishing to do it for some time before.
Not blind to the man, Elizabeth had, in fact, noted his continuous looks in her direction, witnessed how he had seemed to only have eyes for her, though he spoke in an amicable fashion with all her relations. She was annoyed at how he had carried out his courting—if, indeed, that was what he had intended—and she was determined to put a stop to it.
Thus, when the party moved on to the next animal exhibit, Elizabeth stood still, looking at the great lion before her, thinking to herself that it was ironic that their conversation was to take place in front of the magnificent creature. Mr. Darcy was an impressive man, she was forced to confess, but he was also possessed of enough pride for a hundred lions!
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy as he stepped toward her and bowed. “I see you are enjoying the exhibits.”
“I am, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, not taking her attention from the specimen in front of her.
“I understand from the Gardiners that this is the first time you have visited,” said Mr. Darcy.
If Elizabeth had not been so put out with the man, she might have taken pity on him for valiantly trying to make conversation with her. She was certain he had seen her pique, but he had attempted to ignore it.
“No, I have not had that pleasure. But unless I am incorrect, I believe that you have been here several times.”
“This is not the first time I have come with Georgiana,” replied Mr. Darcy. “It is one of Georgiana’s favorite places. In fact, she particularly enjoys seeing the lion.”
“Then it is truly fortunate that we met here today,” said Elizabeth, keeping her tone bland. “I would not have dreamed it possible that we would meet here, of all places, by mere chance.”
The hesitation was obvious, and his momentary loss of composure could not be missed. He did, however, attempt to respond as if nothing was amiss.
“It is, indeed,” replied he, though he did not say anything further.
Provoked beyond all endurance, Elizabeth turned a glare on the unfortunate man.
“We did not meet by chance, Mr. Darcy. I am not certain how you managed it—whether you planned it with my relations, or if you just casually asked after our plans today, and my sister or my aunt obliged you—but this was no accident.”
A raised eyebrow challenged Mr. Darcy, daring him to attempt to contradict her. But though he wavered, to his credit he did not attempt to gainsay her. Instead, he sighed and, meeting her eyes, he said:
“No, Miss Elizabeth, it was not an accident that we met here today.”
“And who was it that betrayed our plans?”
A slight smile came over Mr. Darcy’s face. “Does the identity of your betrayer truly matter? I assume you will not castigate them for my interrogation.”
Elizabeth regarded the man and then allowed him the point. “Very well, Mr. Darcy. We have covered the fact that you have imposed yourself upon us under the semblance of chance. But I believe I have detected a pattern to your behavior. We met many times in Kent under similar circumstances, and I now suspect they were not coincidence, as I had always assumed. Can you confirm my supposition?”
Looking very uncomfortable, Mr. Darcy did not say anything, seemingly looking for a way to escape his predicament, but the look in Elizabeth’s eyes must have told him it was a fruitless endeavor, and he sighed and shook his head.
“We did not always meet by my design; a few times when you walked I came on you by chance, though after a while I did begin to frequent that path in the hope of meeting you.”
“And did you influence Lady Catherine to invite us more often than might otherwise have been the case?”
“You think Lady Catherine can be influenced?”
Thoughtful, Elizabeth allowed him the point. “And the day we met in Hunsford?”
“That was fortunate happenstance,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I did have business in the village that day, after which I had planned to call in the parsonage, since I did not see you while walking.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Then you have been attempting to put yourself in my company. What I cannot understand is why.”
The look Mr. Darcy directed at her suggested he was shocked she would ask such a question. “Can you not guess, Miss Elizabeth?”
“That you admire me, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth testily, “is quite obvious, though I will own that I found the notion difficult to credit at first. But I am questioning your methods, not your feelings. Is it not the usual mode for a man to declare his interest in a woman openly? And yet you have crept about, contriving these coincidental meetings between us, as a weasel sneaks into a barnyard to make off with a hen. How can you account
for it?”
“Would you have me declare my interest openly in front of Lady Catherine?” asked Mr. Darcy, an incredulous note entering his voice. “Do know that on the morning before we left, before my uncle arrived, she was about to send for Mr. Collins to demand you be sent back to your relations immediately? She saw through me, even when I was attempting to keep it from her. How much worse would it have been if I had openly declared my interest?”
“Of course, you could not declare your interest openly in front of Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth, struggling to keep her voice even. “But surely you could have made me aware of it!”
“I was trying to improve your opinion of me!”
“Improve my opinion?”
Mr. Darcy paused, and he touched his temples, as if he were suffering from a headache. “I . . . I realized when I first came to Kent that you did not like me. I wished to improve your opinion before I attempted to court you.”
“I am still not certain how you went from dislike to admiration,” snapped Elizabeth. “Our mutual antipathy was well-known throughout the neighborhood. I cannot fathom why it suddenly became important for you to change my opinion.”
The look with which the man regarded her suggested he thought her bereft of wit. “Mutual antipathy? I know not of what you speak, Miss Elizabeth. Though I understood in Kent that you had no high opinion of me, my opinion of you was never so low.”
“The words ‘she is not handsome enough to tempt me’ mean nothing to you?” asked Elizabeth, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And all the times we argued, at Netherfield when I stayed there or at the ball Mr. Bingley hosted?”
“I never looked on you with disfavor, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, his stance stiff with offense. “Yes, I spoke those words, and I have long been heartily sorry for them. I did not speak them with intent to disparage you—rather, I was simply attempting to induce Bingley to leave me be.”
“That is still no excuse for speaking them.”
“No, it is not, and as I said, I apologize most unreservedly. But those arguments to which you refer, were, in fact, delightful debates to me. I have never been anything but admiring of everything about you, Miss Bennet. Why else would I seek to change your opinion of me?”
The man before her was unknown to her—Elizabeth could not conclude anything else. All the attempts she had made to understand his character had been in vain, and she could not for a moment determine exactly what kind of man he was. His attentions had not at all been onerous—in fact, they had been pleasurable at times, for he was an intelligent man, and was interesting, when he took the trouble to be so.
But he had also thought nothing of her, given the way he had gone about his courting. And Elizabeth was not about to stand for such disrespect.
“Did you not think, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, almost shaking with anger, “that the best way to change my opinion of you was to engage me in conversation openly, to put yourself in my company and display your interest so that I, at least, was aware of it?
“And do not speak of Lady Catherine!” cried Elizabeth when she saw he wished to interject. “At any time, you could have informed me of your intentions. You could have been open with me. You could have let me know that you wished to know me better. Instead, you snuck around, arranging these meetings without my knowledge or consent, behaved as a fox stalking a hare, rather than a man attempting to make love to a woman.”
“Would you not have turned me away?” asked a sullen Mr. Darcy. “I am sure you thought me the worst of men. I felt your opinion needed to be changed before I could attempt to open myself to you.”
“I suppose we shall never know,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened in response to her assertion. “You will not, even now, give me a chance? I have attempted to show you the real person I am behind my mask. You would turn me away?”
“That is the problem, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “I do not know you. Are you the proud, disagreeable man who deemed all Meryton to be beneath him, the man who ruined the prospects of a childhood companion, the man who I suspect helped turn his friend against my dearest sister, breaking her heart in the process? Or are you the intelligent man, the one who speaks to me as an equal, who pays me compliments, and ardent attentions? Do you respect me? I do not know Mr. Darcy. I cannot know you, as I have never been shown exactly who you are.”
As Elizabeth continued to speak, Mr. Darcy’s countenance became positively stony—more like the man she had detested in Hertfordshire, than the man she had grudgingly grown to respect in Kent.
“It seems to me, Miss Elizabeth, that you have a vested interest in Mr. Wickham, for I assume it was he to whom you referred?”
“It was,” replied Elizabeth.
“And must I be forced to forever respond to the slander perpetuated by a libertine? Must Wickham continue to dog my steps, meddling in my life, and doing his best to ruin me and mine? As I told you before, Miss Elizabeth, you should not give credence to everything he says. In fact, I am surprised that he has not already managed to lose your esteem.”
“The man has done little to earn my disapprobation, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth, though at the back of her mind, the inconsistency of the man’s words concerning Georgiana tugged at her consciousness. “In fact, I was not often in his company for several months before I went to Kent.”
“Oh, has he found some young heiress to pursue?” asked Mr. Darcy, the cutting edge of his sarcasm not lost on Elizabeth.
For a moment, she paused, for she was forced to own that it was almost exactly as Mr. Darcy had described, for had not Miss King recently inherited ten thousand pounds? And had Mr. Wickham not started to pursue the girl after her inheritance became known?
“I know not,” said Elizabeth. “But Mr. Wickham has not attempted to charm me.”
“And did you spread his tale of woe about the neighborhood, like a good little acolyte?”
Shocked, Elizabeth gasped. “Of course not! He told me in confidence, and I did not repeat it.”
“But I assume he was not the only one you told.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge that it had happened exactly as Mr. Darcy had said. Mr. Wickham had, indeed, told others, and it was now known throughout the community. Once again, Elizabeth wondered exactly what had happened between the two men.
“Then please, Mr. Darcy, share with me your side of his tale. Prove him incorrect.”
“Miss Bennet,” replied Mr. Darcy, unamused by her request, “I have always allowed my character to speak for me. I am not in the habit defending myself against the slanderous words of Mr. Wickham.”
“Then there seems to be nothing more for us to say.”
They stood there for a moment gazing at each other, and Elizabeth thought that Mr. Darcy was waiting for her to recant her words. She had no intention of doing so, however; Mr. Darcy had proved amply that he had no respect for her, and she would not enter so unequal a marriage as this.
“And this is your final resolve?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“It is.”
“You know what I can give you. I am a wealthy man who can give you consequence and importance, provide for you and any children we might have, and ensure that you—and your family—want for nothing. Furthermore, I am a man who loves you ardently, and I am convinced that given the opportunity, you could love me in turn. Will you throw this all away in a fit of pique?”
For a moment, Elizabeth paused, thinking of the truth of his words. But in the end, she could do nothing but refuse them.
“I cannot throw away that which I have not attained.”
Mr. Darcy threw his hands up in the air. “I am having difficulty in giving this credit. I have shown you the greatest of favor, Miss Elizabeth, by ignoring my upbringing, by fixing my attentions on you, despite the disadvantages of your situation. The behavior of your family, your ties to trade, your lack of a respectable dowry—all these things make it difficult for you to attract a man of fortun
e. Can you think that another man such as I will ever pay attention to you?”
“If all I cared for was a man of fortune, then you would be correct.” Elizabeth was almost shaking with anger. How dare he say such things, given his association with the haughtiest, most ill-bred termagant of a woman? “But I care to be loved, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Collins made the same arguments to me, and yours move me no more than did his.”
“I am not Mr. Collins, and his situation cannot be compared with mine.”
“No, but your application is no less offensive for all that. I have told you I wish to be loved, Mr. Darcy, but in all honesty, I wonder if you are capable of loving anyone other than yourself.”
Her words hit him like a bludgeon, as his eyes widened and he looked at her with shock. But it was not long before the shock faded and the haughty indifference with which she was intimately familiar replaced it. He bowed and motioned in the direction their party had gone, and Elizabeth, though she had not been able to think on the matter in the emotion of the moment, wondered where they were.
“Then there is nothing left to say. Shall we return to our party?”
Nodding, Elizabeth turned and walked with him, soon espying the other members of the party in the distance. She knew as she approached that her family had seen something different in their manner, no doubt due to the stony anger they both displayed, coupled with the distance between them as they walked. Jane in especially directed a worried glance at Elizabeth.
Soon, Mr. Darcy gave their excuses and he left with his sister in tow, and Elizabeth was grateful that at the very least, Georgiana appeared to be unaware of what had happened. When they were gone, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped she had not just made a serious mistake.
As soon as was practical upon their return to the Gardiner home, Elizabeth fled to her room. There was nothing on which she could focus her attention other than the scene which had just played itself out in the menagerie. An incongruous thought crossed her mind that it was fortunate that the menagerie had not been busy that day, for she was certain she and Mr. Darcy had created quite the spectacle!