“Actually, it was Edward who convinced me to let you know my feelings. I sought you in here today, but when I saw you, I nearly left before I began. I wanted to say so much for so long I blurted out without thoughts of civility. Edward assured me you do not wish us to marry either.”The last line was more of a question than it was a statement.
Anne opened a discussion which he did not anticipate, but which he welcomed. Darcy was taken aback by the speed with which she broached the subject. Clearly, Anne felt the pressure of getting everything out between them before Lady Catherine discovered them. “Cousin Anne, I am astounded to hear such protests, but it seems Edward is a reliable courier.Without wishing you harm or reproof, I do not feel your mother’s wishes would serve either of us well. Our dispositions are too much in contrast.”
“That is a relief, Fitzwilliam,” she nearly whispered.“I fear your dark, brooding nature. Did you know I have been afraid of you since we were children?” He looked a bit shocked at her words. “My mother will be looking for me; I will leave you now. Thank you for allowing me to speak in earnest and in haste. It will give the situation ease when we both choose to look elsewhere for our mates,” and as quickly as she entered,Anne took leave of the room.
Darcy shook himself in disbelief; Edward told him recently Anne was not what she appeared to be. Obviously, his cousin did have “charms” of which he was unaware; he always thought himself to be an astute observer of others; then how could he not have seen Anne as she was? It had really been a day of new beginnings—first with Elizabeth and now with Anne.
On the third day Darcy so met Elizabeth, he encountered some resistance on her part, but he prepared himself for her reluctance. “Miss Bennet,” he began upon meeting her “accidentally” again,“I have purposely come to meet you here.” His words registered a mild shock upon Elizabeth’s face. “After leaving you yesterday at the Parsonage, I recalled a particularly pleasant prospect I believe you would enjoy. I came here today in hopes of having the pleasure of showing it to you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she stammered, “that will not be necessary.”
“I understand if you are too tired. I should have thought better than to intrude myself on your time again,” he said apologetically. “The walk was one of my late mother’s favorites. I forgot about it until Lady Catherine reminded me of it,” he lied.“I simply thought you might find it a pleasant choice for a solitary walk.”
Elizabeth hesitated briefly and then assured him if it was not too far, she would take pleasure in seeing it. She took his proffered arm.Walking along the narrow, winding path, she often moved in closer to Darcy for support, as the footing was a bit bumpy with tree roots. He would gladly pick her up to carry her, but he resisted any rash impropriety. In less than ten minutes’ walk, they emerged from the thick-trunk tree-lined path into a clearing painted by the sun. Darcy pushed aside some branches and allowed Elizabeth to step into a field of vibrantly colored wildflowers—primroses, blue-bells, wild hyacinths, and anemones. He enjoyed the gasp she emitted upon seeing what the clearing had to offer.
“Mr. Darcy,” she exclaimed,“this is magnificent!”
He could not stop the smile erupting from inside him. Elizabeth stepped away from him and nearly ran toward the field. He watched as she stopped suddenly, spread her arms full wide, and turned around and around, looking skyward with joy. He did not expect such unencumbered pleasure, but he did not find anything critical about Elizabeth’s actions. She walked through the field at several angles, stopping to enjoy the various flowers; then she strode purposely back toward him. “Mr. Darcy, you honored me by sharing this clearing with me. I cannot understand why you chose to do so, but it will be a treasured memory of my trip to Rosings.”
“My mother loved nature, Miss Elizabeth. I believe she would have been pleased to know you approved of her favorite refuge,” he offered.“Are you ready to return to the Parsonage?”
“Yes, Sir, I believe I am.” He extended his arm, and she took a firmer grip than previously, anticipating the pathway’s unevenness. Her rich, mellow eyes sparkling as she turned around and around in the field filled Darcy with happiness. He loved Elizabeth Bennet; the realization of admitting his feelings flashed through his being; no more would he say he loved her eyes or loved how she spoke her mind; no longer would he think of his feelings being only a strong attraction; Darcy loved Elizabeth. It was as simple as that: he loved Elizabeth. Finally openly acknowledging his devotion for her to himself, Darcy wanted to scream it to the world. Instead, he forced himself to swallow hard and say, “I am pleased my intrusion was not unpleasant, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I believe I told you earlier not all intrusions are unwelcome, Sir.”
“Our acquaintance has been long enough for us to know something of the other’s preferences.” She looked at him with questions hidden behind her eyes; Darcy knew Elizabeth would now expect him to make known his intentions—he shared his mother’s favorite refuge with her—he told her of his wishing to share precious parts of his life with her; he realized fully Elizabeth could no longer doubt his purpose. The companionable silence returned between them, broken only by small civilities about the weather and their respective families and books recently read. He left her at the Parsonage’s door, but this time as he strode away he allowed himself the pleasure of turning for a final look at her; Elizabeth stood transfixed and looking toward where he brought up; he touched the brim of his hat to bid her farewell and strolled away. After he turned, he did not see her grimace, nor did he observe her perplexed stare.
Tomorrow—he thought as he walked to Rosings; tomorrow he would offer his hand to Elizabeth. He would leave Rosings in two days; therefore, tomorrow would be the day. The prayer the Devil answers, he reminded himself. Let the Devil beware, Darcy thought. He would declare his love for Elizabeth; she would accept; and then Darcy would deal with those whose censure would surely come. Tonight he would prepare a proper proposal; he would tell Elizabeth how his regard for her grew despite their differences. He imagined her happiness at his declaration.That evening Darcy slept well with the knowledge on the morrow Elizabeth would be his.
When he found his way to Elizabeth’s favorite pathway, reality dashed his hopes. Edward walked with her, and they conversed intimately. He could hear her soft laughter and see his cousin’s animated gestures. Darcy felt as if someone ripped his heart from his chest; his plans for the proposal not only ruined, but he witnessed her enjoyment of his cousin’s company; the green-eyed monster known as jealousy ricocheted through him. Darcy withdrew without their seeing him and returned to Rosings unnoticed.
He watched from the study’s window as his cousin returned to Rosings. He tried to note any changes in Edward, but none of any consequence were found. Darcy stepped back from the window and moved to where anyone going by the door would think the room to be empty; he could not check his emotions to converse with Edward or any other member of the de Bourgh household at this time. He needed to find another opportunity to engage Elizabeth, assuming Edward had not offered intentions of his own to her.
The longer Darcy sat and examined the situation, the more reasonable he became. Edward as a second son could not afford to marry Elizabeth; he said as much to Darcy before they came to Rosings. Edward may find Elizabeth attractive, but he talked to everyone, just like Bingley, both amiable gentlemen. As his reason returned, Darcy knew he could see Elizabeth tomorrow. What would four and twenty hours change?
Much to his surprise, he discovered from one of his aunt’s maids Lady Catherine invited the Collins’s household to Rosings for tea. At least, Darcy would have the pleasure of Elizabeth’s company this evening, and although Edward liked to monopolize her time, tonight Darcy would spoil his cousin’s plan. Tonight, Elizabeth’s attentions belonged to him.
The Collinses’ arrival came at last, but to Darcy’s dismay, Mr. Collins offered Lady Catherine his sincerest apologies for his cousin had taken ill. How could Elizabeth be ill? She seemed in health t
his morning when he observed her in the park.
Darcy went through the motions society demanded, but he could not separate his mind from the thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet. If she was ill, he must do what he could to comfort her. Now, he fully understood how Bingley felt when Jane Bennet took ill at Netherfield. Possibly her illness was a sham; she expected his offer this morning only to find Edward in the park in his stead. Of course, did they not congenially meet in the park each morning? Her distress of not seeing him today created her illness, or it could be a means of their being alone; yes, it must be so.
Convinced of the latter, Darcy excused himself from the party using the pretext he and Edward would depart in six and thirty hours, and some business still needed addressed. Edward, he assured the gathering, better entertained than did he. Returning to his chambers, Darcy retrieved his greatcoat, hat, and walking stick, and not wishing to be seen by his aunt’s guests, he took the back stairway of the servants’ quarters. He had to be to Elizabeth, and he had to be there now. He had a purpose—a purpose that would ironically change his life forever. He rang the bell, and a servant admitted him to the inner room where he found Elizabeth agitated and flushed. His hope sprang from the depths of his love for her; obviously, she awaited his appearance. He came forward and immediately inquired about her health although in countenance, Elizabeth appeared more flustered than unwell. “I came with a wish of hearing you are not suffering,” he extended his excuse.
Coldly civil, Elizabeth answered him. “As you may see, Sir, I am well.”
Naturally, his coming not to her earlier upset her. Darcy tried to recall exactly what he wished to say to her this morning; he planned his speech carefully, drafting it several times. He accepted the seat she offered, but his nerves would not allow such constraint; he had to move, and within a few moments, he paced about the room. Elizabeth’s eyes followed him, but she knew not what bothered him. Finally, he turned to her, and he stood with agitation building, knowing he must say the words soon or lose his opportunity. Silence ensued for several minutes before he could compose himself; eventually, he approached her and blurted out,“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Elizabeth remained silent, and Darcy convinced himself she waited only to hear of his deep regard for her; so, he continued. “Miss Elizabeth, my regard for you began when we first met in Hertfordshire. I was, admittedly, foolish to not seek out a proper introduction at the assembly, but my station in life does not allow me the luxury of associating with those of inferior society, and I was at first blind to your worth. At Netherfield, I found worthy your devotion to your sister, as well as your kindness to Maria Lucas and others who sought your good wishes. Of course, I struggled for several months as to my feelings for you. One must realize the superiority of my family’s connections had to be a concern for our alliance; the censure and disdain we are likely to encounter with such an unequal match was another consideration, but after much self-reproach, I accepted the inferiority of your family’s connections, and I offer you my hand in matrimony.”
Fully expecting her acceptance, Darcy watched as a gamut of emotions flashed across Elizabeth’s face; most of which he could not read.When she spoke, he froze with the vehemence lodged in her words.“Mr. Darcy,” she began slowly,“in such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and, I hope, will be of short duration.” How could he have so misread her mind? “The feelings which you tell me have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.”
His ears deceived him; Elizabeth refused his proposal. Disdaining any visual form of weakness, Darcy worked hard to compose his thoughts and control his rage before speaking to her again, but his hurt and anger showed clearly visible, and he did not speak for what seemed to be an infinite moment. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said, “And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor of civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”
She turned on him angrily.“I might as well inquire why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations.You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you—had they been indifferent, or had they even been favorable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining perhaps forever, the happiness of a most-beloved sister?”
So, she knew his part in separating Bingley from Miss Bennet. From where had Elizabeth heard it? Edward—Edward unknowingly told Elizabeth of his deceit. How she must hate him—although what he did, he would do again—he did it for Bingley’s own good.
Her continued condemnation of his actions interrupted his thoughts.“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you.You dare not, you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other—of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind. Can you deny that you have done it?”
Darcy pretended to be unmoved by her words.“I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success.Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.” He showed her no remorse for his actions, and he even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
The shift of her shoulders and a rise of her chin should have warned Darcy there was more to come, but he doubted her defiance. He could claim his allegiance to Mr. Bingley in the affair with her sister, but she knew of other offenses, which turned her opinion against Darcy; and she began to attack him with the plight of Mr.Wickham at Darcy’s hands.“But it is not merely this affair on which my dislike is founded.Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr.Wickham. On this subject what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?”
Wickham’s name—she spokeWickham’s name. Jealousy crushed his heart; his worst fears confirmed. George Wickham, the man whom he most detested in the world, smote Elizabeth. How could that be? Coming in close to let his true feelings be known, he approached her. “You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns.” Darcy’s tone changed, and his color heightened.
With fervor, Elizabeth closed the distance even more as she challenged,“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him.”
Nearly spitting out the words, Darcy replied contemptuously, “His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed!”
Energized by their encounter, Elizabeth’s response accused Darcy of reducing Wickham to a life of poverty by depriving him of his rightful income. “You have done all this! And yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule.”
“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, “is your opinion of me! I believed if anyone knew me it would be you, Miss Elizabeth, but according to you, I am a calculated manipulator. I thank you for explaining it so fully.” Darcy turned to face the woman to whom he foolishly gave his heart. “But perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design.”Yet, he could not stop at that; he was angry; he was devastated; his own pride hurt—attacked and destroyed. Darcy never sought
favors from another; he never needed to do so; being reduced to applying for adoration and respect offended every fiber of his being. He taunted Elizabeth satirically by describing how he could have applied for her hand with false compliments, but he prided himself on always speaking the truth; and truthfully, he had qualms about an alliance with Elizabeth.“Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?—to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”
If Darcy thought Elizabeth would accept his words as the voice of reason, he greatly mistook her. His rebuke infuriated her, placing her motives for preferring Wickham as being superficial. Unaccustomed to being questioned on her judgment, she prided herself on being an “observer” of society.“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, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.”
Darcy stiffened at these words; he prided himself the most upon being a gentleman, and she called him on this matter; his color paled as she continued her ridicule.“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
Darcy could stand it no more: “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.” And with that said, he hastily quit the room and the house; yet, he could not do so without one last wistful glance at her.
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