“But you do plan to pursue her again?” Richard followed Darcy’s gaze.
“Yes. I must. I have no choice.” Darcy ran his fingers through his hair and tried to quell the edge of bitterness in his tone. “But I have no idea how to go about it. I believed she liked me before when she despised me. How am I supposed to gauge how she responds to me now?”
“Perhaps you should give it up. It seems a hopeless case.” Richard watched closely as his cousin responded to this sally.
“No!” Darcy’s answer was immediate and vehement.
“’Twould be the rational thing to do,” Richard suggested with the air of someone playing devil’s advocate.
“Rationality has never played much of a role in my feelings for Eliz – Miss Bennett.” He shook his head. “No, I must attempt it. I knew that the moment I saw her here.” He paused, searching for words. “She already haunts my dreams…invades my every thought…I cannot be in the same city and not attempt to change her opinion of me.”
Richard was silent for a moment, shaking his head. “I do not believe I have ever seen you like this…so agitated and unsure of yourself. You are totally lost.”
Darcy’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Yes, I know.” As he turned to go, Richard caught his arm.
“May I make a suggestion?” Richard asked. “You need to court her.”
“Court her? How?”
Richard shook his head in exasperation. “You are too accustomed to women throwing themselves at you.”
“Miss Bennet does not—”
“Yes, I know she does not. Which is precisely my point. Most men needs must take at least a few actions to make themselves pleasing to a woman. Take her for walks. Give her compliments. Bring her flowers. Write her poetry.”
“I cannot write poetry!” Darcy exclaimed.
“Maybe not, but it would be amusing to see you attempt it!” Richard’s eyes sparkled with humor. “I am merely saying that you must exert some effort to be amiable – and demonstrate that you desire her favor.”
“I have been doing that!”
Richard shook his head. “Not in any concerted way. You must show her you are dedicated to the cause.” There was silence while Darcy assimilated these suggestions. “I, for one, hope you will make progress with her,” he said with air of a man making a pronouncement.
“Why?”
“Because, despite your air of uncertainty and anxiety, you appear far happier than the man who walked into this ballroom.” Then he added waggishly: “and you are far better company.”
“Hope will do that to you,” Darcy admitted, hating the vulnerability this discussion created. “But it could easily be false hope.”
“She seemed fairly happy a moment ago.” Richard observed.
“Yes, but that could be because she was happy to see you.” Darcy said with a note of despair in his voice. “I am certain I remain the last man in the world she would marry.”
“Maybe you have moved up the ladder a few rungs. Perhaps she would now consider marrying you before, say, the butcher.” Richard grinned broadly.
Darcy grimaced. “Great encouragement indeed. I thank you.” Richard laughed as they took refreshments back to the group – and Darcy considered how to woo a woman who thought him proud, arrogant, and selfish.
Chapter 3
The next morning Darcy walked to Lady Radnor’s house, which was not far from his inn. He was experiencing greater optimism this morning. Although he would have to apologize to Elizabeth for his appalling behavior at Hunsford, perhaps then she would allow him to court her properly. If he could not win her after a proper courtship, he would know she would never be his—a thought that made him extremely anxious. He swallowed hard, trying to fend off the black despair such ideas evoked.
When he arrived at Radnor House, he found Elizabeth standing outside, at the foot of the stairs leading to the front door. “Miss Bennet. How good to see you!” He bowed. “Are you on your way out?”
Elizabeth seemed startled at his appearance and did not answer his smile with one of her own – seeming more disconcerted than anything. Darcy felt a lurch in his stomach. During the previous sleepless night he had feared that she did not truly wish to associate with him and had only been polite to him at the ball – and now she appeared to confirm this fear.
“Yes, we, umm...are going to see the Tuileries Gardens. I have heard they are very fine.” She would not meet his gaze, but glanced down the street anxiously.
He tried to fend off an impending sense of distress with the thought that she might simply be uncomfortable at their first private conversation since Hunsford. “They are very beautiful,” he replied. “If you would like, I could take you and your aunt in a hired carriage. It is quite a walk from here.”
She shook her head sharply and fidgeted with the strap of her reticule. “Thank you, that will not be necessary. We….” Her voice trailed off uneasily. Leave now! A voice in his head cried. She does not want you here. But he could not bear to relinquish the hope engendered by her presence in Paris. “We – ah—” Elizabeth seemed to be searching for an excuse, while Darcy’s hopes sank lower each second.
Then two things happened at once. The door to Radnor House opened and Elizabeth’s aunt descended the stairs. Simultaneously a very fine coach appeared from around the corner, pulling up smartly in front of the house – and Elizabeth.
The door to the coach sprang open and Darcy’s mood grew even blacker at the sight of Lord Lennox, every bit the eligible young aristocrat. Now he understood Elizabeth’s unease. She had been waiting for Lennox to escort them to the Gardens. “Are you ladies ready for the beauties of the Tuileries? He inquired of Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner. “Hello, Darcy,” he added as an afterthought.
“Lennox,” Darcy’s voice grated as he nodded a greeting.
Elizabeth turned to Darcy with a small smile that – to his eyes – appeared forced. “It was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope you will come to visit another time.” Darcy nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. She smiled at Lennox as he handed her into the carriage. Lennox helped Mrs. Gardiner in and then thumped on the side and the coach was gone.
The street was almost empty as Darcy watched the carriage glide smoothly down the cobblestones and turn at the corner. He was aware of a hollow ache in his chest. She is indifferent to me, he thought. She may already have an understanding with Lennox. Yet even in his despair he knew that he would come to Radnor House again, he had to. Silently he cursed himself for letting the colonel talk him into visiting Paris. He did not need to have his heart broken all over again.
The next day, Mr. Gardiner once again departed the house early to attend to his business. Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner had hardly finished breakfast before Lord Lennox came to call. Although it was ostensibly Mrs. Radnor’s house, the mistress herself was occupied with an ill child; however, it was clear this did not inconvenience Lennox.
After half an hour of conversation, they had already exhausted the topics of the weather and the various beauties of the city. Lord Lennox was an attractive young man, but Elizabeth found his conversation rather dull and, unfortunately, plentiful. He was recounting a winning hand of piquet he had once played at White’s when the butler announced Mr. Darcy. At this information, Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes slid sideways toward her niece; she clearly had her ideas about why both men were visiting.
Elizabeth stifled a sigh of dismay. It had been awkward enough when Darcy had appeared immediately before their departure with Lennox the day before, but must they both visit at once? It was likely to be most uncomfortable. She reminded herself sternly that neither man had set about to disconcert her, but the awkwardness still embarrassed her.
Mr. Darcy strode in, but when his eyes fell upon Lord Lennox, he stiffened perceptibly. Had the two men previously had unpleasant dealings? But, no, Mr. Darcy had said they did not know one another.
“I see you have company. I will come again another time,” Darcy said, his expression was as b
lack as that day at Hunsford. As he turned to leave, Elizabeth could not bear the pain on his face. Regardless of his proud and unpleasant manner, she knew that she had treated him unjustly and he deserved better from her. She feared that her discomposure from the previous day had appeared to be coldness to Darcy.
“Please, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “We had little chance to converse at the ball the other night.” Darcy turned back, focusing intently at Elizabeth, who scarcely knew what to think. He seemed to be under the influence of strong emotion, but she was unable to discern what he was feeling. She was also unable to ascertain how she herself felt; Darcy caused the most confusing tumult of emotions in her.
Perhaps seeing that as a signal, Lord Lennox rose. “It is past time for my departure. I have another engagement.” His exit decided Darcy, who took possession one of the room’s ornately brocaded chairs. Mrs. Gardiner engaged him in conversation, making the happy discovery that her hometown of Lambton was near Darcy’s home of Pemberley. Elizabeth noticed how animated his face grew when he spoke of his home and observed how amiably he treated her aunt.
Nevertheless, Elizabeth could not escape a sense of unease in his presence. Every time he turned toward her she recalled the horrible scene in Hunsford and reviewed all of the terrible words she had spoken to him – and she realized she was coloring almost every time he glanced in her direction. Although he did not engage her much in conversation, his eyes were often upon her and having the most disconcerting effect on her. At the ball, she had been able to forget some of the embarrassing memories from their earlier encounter, yet today her mind seemed fixated on them.
She was also at a loss as to the reason for Mr. Darcy’s presence. Although she had enjoyed dancing with him, their encounter was by chance and he was under no obligation to seek out her society, particularly two days in a row. Elizabeth had assumed he would avoid her company so as to prevent the further mortification that memories of their earlier encounters must provoke. Yet, here he was in Mrs. Radnor’s drawing room, impressing her aunt with his good manners. She had longed for a private opportunity to express her regret over her behavior regarding his proposal; perhaps he might also wish to apologize, although he was so proud she could hardly credit that thought.
Having exhausted the topic of Lambton, Mrs. Gardiner turned the conversation to Paris. With a great deal of energy, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Have you taken a walk along the Seine? It is quite beautiful and I know you enjoy walking.”
“No, we have only been here four days,” she explained, uncertain of his purpose.
“Perhaps we could go now. It is not far.” His voice was level and his face neutral; she received no hint as to the motivation behind the offer.
Elizabeth glanced at her aunt, who nodded cautiously, regarding Darcy closely. “That would be delightful, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner said. Uncertain whether she was happy or anxious about this turn of events, Elizabeth left to retrieve their bonnets.
It was a beautiful early summer day. The sun shone brightly, but it was not yet excessively warm. There was no hint of rain and Elizabeth was free to enjoy the beauty of Paris. Everywhere she saw new sights to delight her: here a lovely garden, there a beautifully designed building. The French know how to make everything beautiful, she thought to herself.
They walked toward the river mostly in silence; Elizabeth was content to soak up the beauty of the city as they passed. However, she was acutely aware of Mr. Darcy; his nearness seeming to overwhelm her capacity for speech and her thoughts constantly revisited the question of why he had sought her out. Occasionally Mr. Darcy would point out a famous landmark or building; although Elizabeth appreciated his solicitude, she had read extensively about the city before her visit and had already seen many sights. It was as if he regarded her as a country miss with no education.
After a mile of walking, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, allowed that she required a rest. Elizabeth offered to sit with her, but her Aunt insisted that the two continue on and return for her later. Reluctantly Elizabeth agreed. They settled her on a bench and set out at a brisker pace than previously.
They soon reached the riverbank and started to stroll along its length. Mr. Darcy did not offer her his arm; was he afraid she would not take it? Instead he took long strides with his hands clasped behind his back and she struggled to discern his mood. She knew she must convey her apologies to Mr. Darcy, but it was so awkward. The whole situation was very anxiety provoking. Mr. Darcy paused near a pier on the river and pointed: “Along there is the left bank and here is the Ile de la Cite, ‘Island of the City.’”
Elizabeth’s anger flared at his continued assumption of her ignorance. “I know, Mr. Darcy. We have been here some days,” she said with some asperity. “Despite my lack of formal education, I do speak fair French.”
Darcy grew pale and his eyes darkened, but his face did not cloud with anger as she expected. “Yes, of course, you do. My apologies, Miss Bennet.” He said immediately and resumed walking, his eyes downcast.
Her first reaction was amazement that he apologized so readily. Her second was embarrassment that she had overreacted to his completely benign attempts to show her the city. Were they always doomed to be at odds with each other?
As they continued to walk, his face was a pale mask. Finally he spoke. “I did not intend to imply—“
Elizabeth forced herself to meet his eyes. “No, I know. I am sorry. I am afraid I am too sensitive in this matter. I do know some French, but not as much as someone who has studied it in school. It troubles me upon occasion,” she confessed.
“No, I am the one who should apologize. I do not wish to appear condescending,” he insisted, glancing out at the boats on the Seine, the vendors lining the walkway – anywhere but at her. Silence fell as she struggled for an appropriate reply.
This was the opening she had been waiting for. Taking a deep breath, she spoke: “I actually owe you an additional apology.”
“Miss Bennet?” His eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned toward her. She stopped walking and forced herself to meet his eyes.
“When we talked at Hunsford…I said many terrible and unjust things – and I believed lies I had been told.” Her face grew hot with mortification, but she forged ahead. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I am exceedingly grateful you do not appear to be bearing a grudge.”
“What did you say of me that I did not deserve?” Darcy smiled bitterly. “I was arrogant and condescending. Even ungentlemanly.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I had always thought of myself as a gentleman. No one had ever accused me of failure in that regard. Although, goodness knows, others had undoubtedly thought it.”
“But I never should have – “
He gave an ironic half smile. “I eventually discovered that I was pleased you told me your true thoughts of my character, even if it was painful. Although it took some time to reach that conclusion.”
“At least let me apologize for believing Mr. Wickham’s lies. When I read your letter I was so horrified at myself for crediting what he had said….Never before has my judgment been so faulty….” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off. She gazed down at her feet, no longer able to return his gaze as she recalled the horrible sense of shame she experienced when she had realized the truth of her misjudgments. She did not dare tell him of her even greater shame: that she had spread her negative opinion of Darcy liberally among her friends and family. He did not know and she did not wish to inflict greater pain.
“Please do not reproach yourself,” Darcy said. When she looked up, he appeared to be scanning the river, but she noticed a tightness in his mouth. The sunlight on his eyes darkened their blue to almost black. “I confess I am relieved that you believed what I wrote. I was not certain you would – or even that you would read a letter so improperly delivered.”
“I do not believe that anyone reading that letter would think you insincere…Only then did I realize my horrible error in—”
Darcy turned his
head and captured her eyes with the intensity of his gaze. “Enough, Miss Bennet!” His voice was both emphatic and strained; he seemed almost angry at her apology. “Please allow me to apologize for my abominable behavior at Rosings. The memory of what I said makes me shudder. Please permit me to make amends.”
Elizabeth wondered what kind of amends he had in mind. “That is not at all necessary, sir—”
“It is!” He said it with such vehemence, she was taken aback. Seeing her reaction, he instantly softened his tone. “It is necessary that I beg your forgiveness – if only for my own peace of mind.”
She hurried to reassure him, alarmed at the depth of feeling he revealed. “Do not permit it to trouble you one minute further. All is forgiven and forgotten. I had long since forgiven you in my heart.” The relieved smile he gave this declaration was almost blinding. Until that moment she would not have believed him capable of such an open expression.
“You are generosity itself,” he said.
Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, Elizabeth recommenced her stroll and they followed the path in silence for a minute. Elizabeth drank in the beauty along the river – the intense colors of the summer day and the soothing movement of the water. Would she ever see Darcy again, now that he had unburdened himself? Now that she had accepted his apology, would he part ways with her?
Then she remembered his stormy face when he saw Lord Lennox’s carriage the previous day. Was it possible he still loved her? If so, how would she feel? During the last months, she had re-examined her assumptions about his character and reviewed all of their encounters in light of her new understanding, but it had never occurred to her that he would renew his addresses. No, surely my rebukes at Hunsford destroyed whatever affection he had for me!
Abruptly Darcy stopped walking and swiveled to face her. “Miss Bennet,” his words poured out in a rush. “I would beg of you an opportunity to re-commence our acquaintance, given what we now understand about each other. I would like a new beginning, putting pride and prejudice behind us.” Elizabeth was surprised at his words and attempted to decipher his agitated manner. He is nervous again. Nervous about me!
The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 4