by Linda Phelps
“I have no wish to deny it,” said Darcy. “And now I rejoice in my success. Towards Bingley I have been kinder than to myself.”
Elizabeth stood and faced him. “Is my sister then like Mr. Wickham, one who you feel you may harm at will? Is that how you enjoy the use of your wealth and power?”
“You take an eager interest in that man’s concerns,” said Darcy, his voice rising in anger. That the detested Wickham was considered by the woman he loved to be a victim was a fact that depleted his store of feigned manners.
“And why not?” cried Elizabeth. “You have deprived him of that independence that would make these years ones of comfort for him. And yet you speak of him in a tone of contempt.”
“And this is the estimation in which you hold me! My faults, in your view, are heavy indeed. But perhaps they might have been overlooked if I had not hurt your pride by acknowledging honestly the difficulties I faced in coming to a decision about offering you my hand. You would have had me conceal my true struggles, pretend I never doubted my course. You would not have spoken to me like this if I had falsified myself by denying that my scruples were ever a part of my deliberations.”
Elizabeth looked at him in utter scorn. “You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy. If you had spoken in a more gentleman-like manner, it would have not changed the outcome. “You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
No words could have been clearer. Elizabeth did not want him, had never wanted him. In fact she disliked him to a degree that he could not have imagined in an enemy. “You have said quite enough, madam. 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 my best wishes for your health and happiness.
With these words Darcy left the room and the house.
Mr. Darcy’s Journal (Rosings)
It is almost dawn. The accursed birds begin their courting rituals, singing their songs of love. I have not slept nor do I expect to. Elizabeth Bennet has rejected the offer of my hand; She has made it most clear that she considers me to be a prideful man who thinks himself superior to all others. Sadly, I can see that from her view I am exactly that. How differently I thought she—and everyone—saw me; a well-bred man with geniality towards all, whether they are his equals or not.
The manner in which she denied me opened my eyes as nothing else has.
She detests me. Her final words are clawing at me as I write this. I believe I will remember them until I die.
“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
Much of this consummate dislike seems to rise from her belief that I separated her sister Jane Bennet and Bingley. It is true that I did that, but I had not believed that Miss Bennet would be unduly hurt by this act. I misjudged entirely the depth of her feelings. I thought only of protecting Bingley from an unfortunate alliance with a woman far beneath him.
Then I consider that I would likely not have acted differently if I had known that Miss Bennet would suffer. She was to me only a pretty woman, a pleasant dalliance for my friend. I believe that their separation would leave her unmoved.
I wonder now if I was universally disliked at Netherfield. There is no question that Mrs. Bennet did not favour me. I do not know the reason for her antipathy, but she did not hide her feelings. She was ready to quarrel with me any time we were in company. Why? And Elizabeth herself shares her mother’s opinions, although she did a perfect job of hiding them from me before tonight.
What I took from her as encouragement was in point of fact merely a demonstration of civility, and all the time she had hatred in her heart.
I have written her a long letter, explaining what she has misconstrued and apologizing for my arrogance in approaching her. Much of the reason I wrote the letter has to do with Wickham. She has been taken in by his usual story of ill use by me. The thought of her allying herself with such a creature is more than I can bear. She must know the truth, not only for her own sake but for that of any wealthier female he may make victim of his charms. I trust her discretion entirely, so felt free to tell the story of Georgiana’s seduction by him. This is what I wrote:
‘With respect to the weighty accusation that I have injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of the Pemberly estates. My father, by way of showing his appreciation, took Mr. Wickham as a god son. My father supported him and saw him well educated, hoping he would take the church as his profession.
My father was very fond of Mr. Wickham, but as I became older, I thought less of the ways we had played together as children and more of his dishonesty, which consisted largely of the pretense of affection for people in whom he was interested only for their money. My father died before he could realize what Wickham had become. Wickham received one thousand pounds at that time and I received a request to see that he prospered.
A valuable family living waited for him, but he informed me he had decided against taking orders, might take up a study of the law, I gave him three thousand pounds for this pursuit, but he lived a life of indolence and dissipation.
The money was soon gone, and he came to me asking for the living he had been originally promised. It had in the meantime been given to a more worthy candidate. Considering that my father’s obligations to his god son had been more than paid, I refused to help him. We parted on bad terms, which gave me hope of having him out of my life from that time forward.
However, last summer he again came to my notice. I rely entirely on your discretion when I tell you this story. I tell it to you to illustrate his character as no other words can.
My sister Georgiana is ten years younger than I. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I have shared a guardianship of her since our father died. Last summer she went to Ramsgate, accompanied by the woman who oversaw her household. And there Wickham appeared. Georgiana had known him since childhood, and thus fell easy prey to his charms. He persuaded her to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement. She was only fifteen at this time, and her knowledge of the world was extremely limited, which must be her excuse.
I was fortunate to join them unexpectedly a day before they were to leave together. Georgiana immediately told me what Wickham had planned, I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately. His chief object was unquestionably my sister’s fortune, but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement.
This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which Wickham and I have been concerned together. I do not know what manner of falsehood he has imposed on you, but for the truth of this narration you may appeal to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions.
I will find a way to put the letter in her hand in the morning. If she follows her usual paths it will not be difficult. That will be the last time I see her. Fitzwilliam and I leave for London early.
Will I ever again be able to visit Rosings without memories of my disastrous attempt to win the hand of the woman I love assailing me?
Miss Georgiana Darcy’s Journal (London)
My dear brother is back from Rosings. He arrived quite unexpectedly with our cousin Fitzwilliam. I insisted on returning to our house immediately upon hearing of his arrival. What a joy to escape the management of the Bingley sisters!
However, Brother seems to be in very low spirits. There is no sign of the ‘surprise that will delight and astonish’ he promised me. He shows none of his customary interest in me and my improved skill at piano and harp. Fitzwilliam, with whom I discussed the matter, has no knowledge of a reason Brother is so low. I would comfort him if I had an idea of what has so disheartened him. Can he have made an offer to Anne and been refused?
Miss Bingle
y’s Journal (London)
Darcy is back! He returned yesterday, surprising us all, for he had made no provision to be welcomed. Dear Georgiana returned dutifully to her home, and we did not see her again until she and Darcy called upon us.
Although Darcy is by nature a quiet man, he was even more so in our drawing room. One would think something troubles him, if not for the fact that I caught him several times looking at me. He had the same air of speculation, as if he were assessing me, which I often detected when we were at Netherfield. Since I looked very well, I can assume his conclusions were in my favour.
Can he perhaps fear I will refuse his hand if he offers it?
I think I will no longer trouble myself with concern that he will marry his cousin, Lady Anne.
Darcy’s Journal (London)
I had hoped that my return to town would provide me with distraction while I wait for my heart to cool. I had determined not to think of Elizabeth Bennet nor recall any minute of the night on which I offered her my hand. However, at the oddest moments I am reminded of her; when I see the spring flowers that now adorn the house, when I hear a sweet female voice, such as that of my own Georgiana. When a carriage approaches, I find that I imagine it is she who comes to call. Have I ever before been captive to my own irrational hopes?
William Longstreet sat easily on a sofa next to Caroline. “You look well, Miss Bingley,” said he. “Is this bloom a result of the spring in the air or…?”
“Or what?” said Caroline.
“Or that Mr. Darcy is back from his travels?”
“Of course I am happy to see him,” said Caroline. “All of us find that his presence heightens our enjoyment when the families meet,”
William coughed. “Heightens your enjoyment does he? Mr. Darcy?”
“If you suggest that his inability to behave as frivolously as you customarily do makes him in any way a lesser companion than you yourself, I promise you, Mr. Darcy is admired by all for his steadiness and rational conversation.”
“But can he tell you the tale of Miss Beauchamp and her brother’s tutor that is now going the rounds?” said William.
Caroline looked at him, “I have heard no such tale.”
“That is because I have not called in three days. I am always first with the best stories, as you know, but rather than earn credit for my special knowledge, I give you the chance to be first with the reports. You must see that as a measure of my devotion.”
“Your devotion!” said Caroline. “In any case, I pray you do tell me of Miss Beauchamp and her brother’s tutor.”
William obliged, while Caroline encouraged him with cries of “No!” “You don’t mean it!” “I would never have thought her capable of such a thing!” The story was so entirely satisfactory that Caroline thought of calling for the carriage immediately to take her to the houses of various friends so she could make them current with events.
“Now I have proved my worth,” said William, “I pray you will be free with invitations to visit you at Netherfield, once you are there for the summer. I will bring five good stories with me each time I come.”
“Netherfield?” said Caroline, in a tone that indicated she did not quite recognize the name. “Oh, Netherfield, in Hertfordshire. But Mr. Longstreet, we are not to go there this summer, or any summer for that matter.”
“But why not,” asked William. “I only saw the place in December, but it seemed to me that it would be delightful in the summer when town can be so insufferable.”
“My brother has decided it is not quite the type of country home he looks for. I believe he will give up the lease at Michelmas. He intends to look elsewhere.”
“I am astonished and disappointed,” said William.
“You look as if you are,” said Caroline. “Why is that so?”
“I will be honest with you. I had hoped to become better acquainted with Jane Bennet and her sister.”
Caroline sat in silence for a moment. “You are attached to Jane Bennet?” she said.
“No, of course not, although I will not say I dislike the possibility. She is pretty and sweet. What more does a woman need to attract a man?”
“A bit of money?” said Caroline. “And a family that will not shame one with outrageous behavior?”
“I have irritated you,” said William. “I beg your pardon.”
“You have not irritated me,” said Caroline sharply. “I am only astonished that you have apparently fallen in love with Jane Bennet.”
“And her sister,” said William.
Caroline stared. “Which sister? How do you know her sister?”
“I met Miss Elizabeth Bennet when she was in London for two days. She had stopped to meet her sister before they returned to their home. Longbourn, is it not?”
“Lizzy Bennet,” said Caroline. “And how did you find her?”
“Somewhat fatigued after her journey from Rosings Park.”
Caroline froze. “Lizzy was at Rosings Park?”
“Yes, to be sure. You must have heard as much from Mr. Darcy.”
“Indeed I have. It slipped my mind for a moment.”
“As to how I found her, she is also pretty and sweet, but with a certain playful charm that her elder sister has not. She strikes me as an exceptional woman. I should like to know her better.”
Caroline struggled to make her words merely conversational. “You are aware, I pray, that she has no fortune.”
“Why should that matter to me?” said William. He looked at Caroline so directly that she was forced to lower her eyes. “I do not have my brother’s wealth, but I have been named quite handsomely in my father’s will. Further, a portion is to come to me when I marry, so no wife of mine will be faced with poverty.”
“Thus any Bennet sister at random might become your wife?” said Caroline. “You can do better for yourself here in town.”
“I admit I have had an interest in one other woman for some time,” said William, “but she seems unaware of my feelings. I do not expect that I can ever win her affections.”
“Then let me express my sorrow at my inability to offer you a venue for courtship of your admired Lizzy at Netherfield,” said Caroline. “You will have to find some other excuse to stay in Hertfordshire.”
“I had hoped to rely on you and your brother for that,” said William, “but if I put my mind to it, I’ll surely think of a way.”
Miss Bingley’s Journal (London)
William Longstreet called today and this once had some news that I could savour. Jane Bennet has left town for Longbourn. Now Charles is safe from any chance encounter.
But there was other news. It seems that Lizzy Bennet was staying at the parsonage at Rosings Park while Darcy was in residence in the house of his aunt, Lady Catherine deBourgh. I wonder he did not mention this. One knows that he had need of greeting her on occasion, but surely nothing more than that occurred between them. Perhaps he did not feel the need to reveal this trivial matter to us.
Lizzy Bennet is also back at Meryton where she can flirt with the officers until she manages to win an offer from one of them. Let us hope he takes her to Ireland or France or wherever it is that officers go when there is a war.
Still I am curious. Lizzy is not to be trusted. At my instigation Louisa asked Mr. Darcy if he had seen her while he was at Rosings. “Yes,” said he.
“And was she in good spirits and health?” asked Louisa. “Yes,” said Darcy, and not another word. He had earlier told us much more than we wanted he hear about that Bennet cousin, the rector, and Lizzy’s friend, Sir William’s daughter who married and went to take charge or Rosings parish.
That was Lizzy’s excuse for being there. She was visiting her dear friend. It was purest coincidence that her visit coincided with that of Mr. Darcy!
Louisa exchanged glances with me when he said as much. We are both convinced that she has her ‘fine eyes’ on Mr. Darcy, with intent to win his love. If only she could have heard him speak on the subject of Charles marrying Jane Be
nnet, with her intemperate family and lack of dowry! She would have known then that her plan could never succeed.
Louisa wonders if Darcy is recovering from the effects of her brazenness. One with his breeding would have been hard pressed to remain civil while she put herself always in front of him. Certainly he recognized that she had plotted to meet him. He has spoken in the past about his dislike of devious women. If he did not do so before, he must now recognize her real character.
One wonders why William Longstreet is so eager to be our guest at Netherfield. Despite his suggestions, I cannot believe he has an interest in either of the elder Bennet sisters.
Darcy’s Journal (London)
I believed I had successfully forgotten Elizabeth until today, when Bingley introduced the idea of a summer at Netherfield. Louisa had assured me that he intended to give up the place when the lease ended, but he seems not entirely certain that he desires to do so.
Georgiana longs to be away from the odors and dirt of London now that spring is come. What am I to do? It is unthinkable that I could return to Netherfield, where it is a certainty that I would meet with Elizabeth, nor would it do a service to her. She considers me to be the most despicable creature in England. My absence can only promote her comfort. Further, as the women have become so intimate, Georgiana would be expected to stay at Netherfield with Bingley’s sisters, and how can one guarantee that she not come in contact with Wickham?
As against this thinking, it would be a bit of restitution if Bingley were to renew his acquaintance with Jane Bennet. Now that I understand how wounded she was by his defection, now that I recall how he wished to return to Netherfield to see her again, I rather wish they would make the match.
How can I explain to Caroline and Louisa that I no longer object to such a marriage? I cannot tell them that I hoped to make such a marriage myself.
Then comes the question of why we do not all summer at Pemberly? I cannot speak the truth, which is that having pictured Elizabeth in the role of mistress of the estate so many times, seen her in the gardens and on the paths and in the great gallery or across from me at the breakfast table, her image would haunt the place for me. I cannot go there at present.