“I apologize. I must have been mistaken.”
He awaited a response of some type, but Jane was unable to speak. She had never intentionally hurt anyone, and she could not bring herself to do so now. Even so, she knew she must act.
A deep breath seemed to make her lean more precariously, and she used the momentum to take a step forward. Unfortunately, it took her off the path, but he caught her up in his arms before she ended in a bush.
“I beg of you, sir …” her words fell away as fresh tears flooded her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.
“Hush,” Mr. Bingley held her to him as he rocked gently. “I was correct, you are unwell.” His hand rubbed her back as he softly hummed.
They stood in this manner for Jane knew not how long. Her mind screamed for her to push away and find Mr. Darcy as her mother had instructed. Her body refused to obey, taking what last bit of comfort she could from the man she loved and praying it would last forever.
Eventually, he drew back. Her eyes remained glued to his pressed white shirt. A hand came into view as he lifted her chin with one finger. When their eyes met, Jane felt as though she would dissolve into a puddle of tears once more.
“Darcy and Miss Elizabeth sent me to find you. Perhaps we should return to them. I am certain your sister is concerned for you.”
Jane’s head rocked backward and forward as she stared at his mouth, attempting to focus on his words. “Mr. Darcy was with Lizzy?”
A smile curled one side of his lips. “Yes, I believe they were seeking your father on important business. Who would have suspected? Your sister and my friend?”
Jane shook her head as she clung to him. “No. Mama will not be pleased. It was to be me.”
Mr. Bingley frowned. Until that moment, Jane had never seen such an expression upon his countenance. It appeared so out of place.
“You?”
“I was to be found with him, but Lizzy pushed me away.” Her head throbbed, making thinking more difficult. Had Lizzy compromised herself intentionally? Did she desire Mr. Darcy for herself? I thought she disliked him.
“What are you saying?” Mr. Bingley’s normally warm expression appeared hard; his jaw clenched as though he fought to control his temper. “Has Darcy made advances to you?”
Jane shook her head, causing the world to spin once more. Though Mr. Bingley’s hands still held her arms, it was merely to keep her upright; the comfort she had found there was gone. She knew whatever fleeting feelings he had for her were slipping away. Holding her head higher, she spoke the words which would bury them forever.
“Mama believes I should marry Mr. Darcy. He is a gentleman who is not easily swayed by his family and friends.”
Mr. Bingley flinched as though he had been struck and he released her. “As I appear to be?”
Her resolve slipped away and she returned to the bench. Her knees gave way, causing her to drop harder than she intended. He began to move her direction, but stopped.
“Is this what you believe of me? That I would abandon you if pressed by my family and friends?”
Jane took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Have you ever corrected your sister?”
His brow drew together causing a line, so unfamiliar to his countenance. “Caroline is …”
“I know how she is,” Jane snapped. “She is rude and condescending towards those she believes inferior, like my sisters. Have you ever attempted to correct her behaviour?”
He frowned, staring at the paving stone just in front of her feet. He said nothing, giving Jane her answer.
“I ignored it, believing that if we wed Miss Bingley would suddenly accept my family, but you know that is not true. How could we ever be happy with her constantly pointing out my family’s inadequacies?”
“Do you truly believe I would allow her to do so?” Mr. Bingley sounded as though she had mortally wounded him.
“I have seen no proof you would not. She insults Lizzy, who is far superior in mind than Miss Bingley ever shall be. She laughs at Sir William, one of the most congenial men of my acquaintance.” Jane shook her head once more as she brought a hand to her forehead. “If this is the way of your world, I do not wish to be a part of it.”
A sneer crossed his lips. “Yet you would. You would gladly join that circle on Darcy’s arm. As Darcy’s w-wife.”
Her tears began anew, coursing down her cheeks. Her voice was but a whisper. “I have no choice.”
Mr. Bingley dropped to his knees before her. “How can you say such? I stand before you.”
Jane shook her head slowly. “Papa …”
“I sincerely doubt your father would support your mother’s schemes. Though he is not the most attentive man I have met, he does not appear completely lacking in compassion.” His hands encompassed hers. “Surely he would not force you to marry where there was no affection.”
“I know not what he would do now.” The tears continued to flow. Jane began to feel as though she would drown in them and welcomed the release. Oh, to be free of this pain.
Mr. Bingley’s expression turned thoughtful. “What has changed? Mr. Bennet appears no different than I have seen him before.”
Though she knew she should remain silent, Jane found herself unable to do so. “He is dying.” The words tore from her as fresh grief ripped her asunder.
Her beau moved quickly to the seat beside her and drew her to him once more. “No!”
She could do nothing but nod against his shoulder. “We shall be lost. Mr. Collins will send us away. It is my responsibility to provide for my mother and sisters. I am the eldest.”
“It is too much.”
His words tore through the remains of her heart. Mr. Bingley had no desire to take on her family. How could I expect him to do so?
His arms tightened about her. “It is not your responsibility, Jane. Your mother cannot demand it of you. To throw away your happiness for her security? I will not hear of it.”
Slowly, his words permeated the fog of her grief. She sat back, taking in his countenance. There was a determination she had not seen before.
“I will speak to your father at once.” He smiled as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “But first we must see to your wellbeing. Come.”
Mr. Bingley stood and pulled her to her feet. Placing her hand about his arm, he moved them slowly through the dark paths of the garden toward a distant door, away from the crowds and prying eyes.
“Mr. Bingley,” Jane whispered as they reached the side door.
“Yes?”
“We have not finished discussing your sister. I beg you would not make assumptions of my accepting you without settling all matters between us.” She kept her eyes downcast, but her voice was firm.
She felt the tension return to his form. “I understand,” he said.
The door opened and they stepped inside. Mr. Bingley motioned one of the footmen forward. “Please have the maid who attended Miss Bennet during her illness sent to the guest room that was used at that time.”
The man nodded and moved away quickly. Mr. Bingley escorted her up the back stairs and led her to the room. At the door, he bowed over her hand. “I shall wait for you below.”
Jane removed his jacket from her shoulders, but hesitated before returning it to him. “Have you not been too long from your guests? Perhaps it is better if you return to your ball, sir. I shall find my family once I am presentable.”
“Is that what you desire?”
She felt the heat of his gaze upon her, but could not find the strength to look at him directly. Instead she nodded and held out his jacket.
He inhaled slowly as he accepted it. “Very well.” His voice was cold, unfeeling.
Before she was forced to watch him turn and walk away, Jane pushed the door open, entered the room, and closed it behind her. Sobs overcame her once more and she sank to the floor. She thought she heard her name just before his soft footsteps carried him away.
CHAPTER six
Elizabeth crossed
her arms over her bosom and, with piercing eyes, she repeated her question to Mr. Darcy. “Did you refuse to bestow the living upon Mr. Wickham?”
It was clear Mr. Darcy had believed himself prepared for whatever Elizabeth might have asked, but, even so, she had caught him unguarded. Disbelief, followed closely by fury, filled his features. His voice was low and barely controlled when he replied. “Yes, I did, and it was done for the best.”
“Why?” she demanded.
A look of distaste covered his features. “You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns.”
“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?”
“His misfortunes!” Darcy repeated contemptuously as he ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
“And of your infliction,” cried Elizabeth with energy.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, drawing her attention. His lips were pursed as he slowly shook his head. She allowed her gaze to fall to her hands, which she folded properly in her lap, as reality settled upon her. While they sat there arguing, all of Meryton was speaking of her being found in Mr. Darcy’s arms. She looked up to see that gentleman’s tortured expression. Their futures were irrevocably entwined, but here they would decide the manner in which it progressed; in bitterness or understanding. Could there be an opportunity for joy? His earlier expression showed he thought it possible.
With a deep breath to calm herself, she raised her eyes and lowered her voice. “I remember hearing you say that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. I would hope you are very cautious as to its being created.”
Mr. Darcy held her gaze and she hoped he saw the pleading in her eyes. He looked away. After a moment, he began pacing the length of the room as he spoke.
“Knowing the companion of my youth as I do, I am certain he kept his lies as close to the truth as possible, all the while casting me in a poor light; something he has perfected over the years of our acquaintance.” He looked her in the eyes and spoke with conviction. “You are aware, of course, that his father was my father’s steward and my father was his godfather. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge. His own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education, and my father knew that only too well.” He paused and glanced at Mr. Bennet. “My father was fond of George and had the highest opinion of him, hoping the church would be his profession.”
He released a deep breath and paused once more before the fireplace. Reaching out, he placed one hand upon the mantelpiece as he stared into the flames. “Being of the same age and in close proximity to see him in unguarded moments, I was well aware of his vicious propensities, the want of principal, if you will.” Mr. Darcy shook his head, his jaw clenched.
A moment of silence ensued. When Mr. Darcy spoke again, his voice was lower. “My father’s attachment to Mr. Wickham remained so steady that in his will he particularly recommended it to me to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow, and if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds.”
A small gasp was heard from Mrs. Bennet, but no more. Elizabeth watched as Mr. Darcy pushed off from the mantelpiece and returned to his pacing. His posture revealed a man in great pain, as if he were standing before them with his inner being left bare.
“Within half a year, his own father passed and he wrote to inform me he had resolved not to take orders. He hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment by which he could not be benefited.” Mr. Darcy waved his hand in the air as though dismissing a thought. “He stated he had some intention of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein.”
A few steps brought him before Elizabeth; his countenance filled with disgust. “I cannot say I was not pleased with his decision. I knew Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. It was settled quickly. He resigned all claim to assistance in the church, and accepted in return three thousand pounds.”
“Three thousand pounds?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “But that is four thousand in total!”
“Indeed! Enough to set him up in a good situation, if managed properly.” Mr. Bennet cast a discouraging glance in his wife’s direction and she regained her silence.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not understand how either of you can say you refused him.”
Mr. Darcy took the seat beside her. “For about three years I heard little of him, but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. He assured me his circumstances were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained. He dared remind me of my revered father’s intentions.”
Colour rose up the gentleman’s neck and covered his face as the indignation he certainly must have felt upon receiving such a request returned. Elizabeth frowned, shaking her head in a slow contemplative manner.
His searching gaze scoured her countenance. “You understand. You would hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, and all that followed. Each letter became more desperate and more bitter.”
He raised his hand to his forehead and drew it down over his countenance until he cradled his chin. Clearly he was weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he looked to Mrs. Bennet beseechingly.
“What next I must say cannot be repeated. It would destroy my family and all those related to me.”
Silently, she nodded. Mr. Bennet laid a hand upon his wife’s and met Mr. Darcy’s eyes, also nodding his assurances. The younger gentleman closed his eyes and grimaced as though he struggled within himself.
“Last summer, without my knowledge, and certainly without my consent, Mr. Wickham met repeatedly with my sister and, with the aid of her companion, persuaded Georgiana to believe herself in love. She agreed to an elopement. She was not yet sixteen.”
Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes when she thought of Mr. Wickham’s description of Miss Darcy as being very, very proud. Without thought, she reached out to him and Mr. Darcy gripped her hand tightly.
His voice held a hint of desperation. “Something moved me to surprise her with a visit and, thankfully, I arrived the day before they were to leave for Scotland. She confessed all to me. I wrote to Mr. Wickham and he left the place immediately. Her companion was dismissed. Their chief object was unquestionably my sister’s fortune which is thirty thousand pounds, but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. Had he succeeded, his revenge would have been complete indeed.”
His shoulders drooped and he bowed his head. “The only other that could cut me so deeply would be if he were successful in turning you against me.”
Elizabeth swallowed around the lump in her throat. As he had spoken, her feelings had varied so radically. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror oppressed her. Though she wished to discredit his words entirely, she was at last unable. The account of their connection was exactly as Mr. Wickham had related, including the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy. Only the revelations of the will differed.
As her mind continued to review each brief encounter with Mr. Wickham, she was suddenly struck with the impropriety of their first conversation. Furthermore, his boasts of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy were inconsistent with his desertion prior to this evening’s ball. In truth, the only good she knew of him was that which he told himself.
Her cheeks burned as she realized her own prejudices toward Mr. Darcy had allowed her to accept Mr. Wickham’s tales without reservation. She was content to allow the lieutenant’s charm of air and address, and the regard which his social powers had gained him, confirm every misconception she held for Mr
. Darcy. She suddenly felt blind, partial, prejudiced, and absurd.
Yet when she forced herself to look, she found the gentleman’s steady gaze upon her. Though he still attempted to appear unaffected, the tightness of his lips suggested his hopes hung upon her response. Humiliation forced her to look away, but she held tight to his fingers.
“I am ashamed of how I have behaved.” Her voice was soft; filled with embarrassment. “There is no validation for the way I have treated you. I have been blinded by my vanity. Mr. Wickham flattered me, while you looked at me with distain …”
“Never! Elizabeth, how could you believe such?”
“Your own words revealed it. You told Mr. Bingley I was tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt you. Following that, I found you often watching me, as though searching for fault.”
Mr. Darcy swallowed hard. He opened his mouth as though he would reply, but no words were heard. Finally, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I, too, can offer no justification for my words the evening we first met. The best I might say is that I was determined to find everything and everyone in Meryton wanting. Indeed, it had been some time since I found pleasure in anything but Pemberley. I am not a social being. I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”
Elizabeth’s brow rose. “Ill qualified or unwilling to make the effort? You are friends with Mr. Bingley. I know with verity you did not know him as a child. At some time, you made his acquaintance and took pains to encourage the connection.”
He shook his head. “Bingley is different. Who could not befriend him?”
“I sincerely doubt many in the first circle of society would reach out to the son of a tradesman.”
Mr. Darcy laughed harshly. “You do not know them. There are many who require his funds and will overlook his connections.”
“But would they claim him as their friend? Or rather, I suspect, play down the connection when he is not about.”
The gentleman frowned. “You are correct, of course. Perhaps I would do better to say that I am uncomfortable in the presence of ladies. Since my majority, I have felt myself on display.”
A Beneficial, If Unwilling, Compromise Page 4