by Zoe Carter
Mrs Roberts beamed when she saw him enter her humble abode. She hugged him very thoroughly and he unbent enough to hug her in return. He brought her a vase from the window ledge, which he filled with water, and then gave her the flowers so that she could arrange them to her own satisfaction.
If Miss Elizabeth Bennet could have seen the care with which he behaved and the evident love he bore for his old nurse she would have been astonished. There was no false pride in his movements, no haughtiness or reserve, just genuine respect and affection. For although Mr Darcy had many faults – pride and arrogance being greatest among them – he also had many good qualities which were known only to those who were close to him.
Chief among them was loyalty. He had been loyal to his childhood friend, George Wickham, helping him through the death of his father and trying to curb his wild ways at university, then helping him again by seeing he was unfit for the church and giving him a large sum of money to help him in another career instead. In fact, he had gone on being loyal to George when anyone else would have given up, and he only abandoned his loyalty at long last when George committed the unforgivable sin of trying to elope with Mr Darcy’s fifteen-year-old sister.
He was loyal to others, too. He was loyal to all the old servants at Pemberley, making sure they were provided for. He was loyal to his sister, and had cared for her after her attempt to elope with George Wickham. And he was loyal to his old nurse, visiting her often whenever he was at Rosings. He brought her little treats, and over the years he had brought her many larger gifts. He had brought her the sampler which she displayed over the fireplace, for it had been stitched by his sister. He had brought her the watercolours she displayed on the opposite wall, also painted by his sister.
‘I’m very pleased to see you this morning,’ she said. ‘Come and sit beside me and tell me all about it.’
‘All about what?’ he asked, although he knew very well.
Mrs Roberts had known him since his earliest childhood and she could always tell when something was wrong.
‘Whatever it is that’s worrying you.’
‘It is nothing,’ he said.
‘Come, come, Master Fitzwilliam’ – she always called him this, despite the fact he was now eight-and-twenty – ‘tell your old nurse all about it.’
He shook his head, put a smile on his face and instead told her all about Georgiana. He gave her news of Georgiana’s new mare and Georgiana’s new puppy and a host of other things beside.
When he had finished, Mrs Roberts said, ‘I had a visitor just before you. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Such a nice young lady.’
‘Nice!’ he burst out, standing up and striding round the room, making it look smaller than ever. He had to stoop slightly so as not to hit his head on the low beams. ‘Nice! When she will not even call me a gentleman!’
The words were out before he could stop them and he immediately wished them recalled. But it was too late. They had been said.
‘Ah, so you heard that,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it.’
‘There is nothing to tell,’ he said.
But he sat down nonetheless, resting his elbows on his knees.
‘I think there is. You could start by telling me why you went to the rectory yesterday, when you knew Mr and Mrs Collins were out.’
‘How did you know about that?’ he asked in surprise.
She chuckled.
‘This is a small village, Master Fitzwilliam, and people talk in villages. So why don’t you tell me why you went.’
He drew himself up and said stiffly, ‘I went to take Miss Bennet Lady Catherine’s compliments, and hopes for a speedy recovery.’
At this, Mrs Roberts rocked with laughter.
‘It’s me you’re talking to, Master Fitzwilliam, not one of your London cronies. You can’t pull the wool over your old nurse’s eyes, so why don’t you tell me why you really went?’
‘Because I couldn’t stand to think of her in pain!’ he said with a groan, standing up again, so suddenly he hit his head on a beam. ‘Ow!’ he said, scowling as he rubbed his head.
Mrs Roberts gave a chuckle and said, ‘Sit down, my dear, and nurse will rub it better.’
Mr Darcy looked angry, and then suddenly he laughed. She had teased him out of his bad humour and into a better one by pretending that he was a child again. He saw the folly of trying to keep secrets from her and thought it would not be so bad to have someone to confide in, after all.
‘That’s right, you have a good laugh. There’s not been enough laughter in your life lately, what with Georgiana being troublesome and your estate to manage. You’ve had a lot on your shoulders, and the burden fell too soon. It’s made you dour. You need someone who can tease you out of it, and that someone is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, unless I very much miss my guess. Admit it, my dear, you admire her.’
‘Very well,’ he said, with a huge sigh as he let all his pretensions go. ‘I do.’ He smiled at her. ‘I am so glad I have you to talk to. With everyone else, I have to be Mr Darcy of Pemberley: the good landlord, the good brother, the good master. But with you I can be myself, Fitzwilliam, a person again.’
‘And what do you, the person, think of Miss Elizabeth Bennet?’ she asked.
‘I very much think I am in love with her.’
Mrs Roberts clasped her hands in front of her in delight. Her bright eyes shone.
‘I’ve been hoping for something like this, something to give you some real pleasure in life and remind you just how happy life can be. So is that why you went to the rectory yesterday, to tell her you love her?’
‘Almost. I went there . . . ’ He looked at his nurse with all pretence gone. ‘ . . . I went there to ask her to marry me.’
‘Then you’d better go and ask her now.’
‘How can you say that?’ he asked in astonishment. ‘I was standing outside the window. I heard everything she said. She hates me! She doesn’t even think I deserve to be called a gentleman! I am the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed on to marry!’
‘At the moment, yes. But people change their minds, you know.’
‘Not Miss Elizabeth,’ he said dolefully. ‘I have made such a bad impression on her that I do not think I will ever be able to wash it away.’
‘Well, you won’t if you sit here feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll have to do something about it.’
‘What can I do?’
‘You know that as well as I do, if you’ll only think about it,’ she said.
‘I suppose I could make a start by encouraging Bingley to visit Hertfordshire again. I was wrong to separate him from Miss Bennet. I thought it was for the best, but I see if now for what it was: officiousness.’
‘Yes, that would be a start. Is your friend in love with Miss Elizabeth’s sister, then?’
‘Yes,’ admitted Mr Darcy. ‘He is. I thought I was doing the right thing by discouraging him. I thought he deserved better. I thought he deserved an heiress.’
‘Like your sister?’ asked Mrs Roberts.
‘Yes, like Georgiana.’
‘She’s too young to be thinking of marriage,’ Mrs Roberts pointed out.
‘At the moment, yes,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘But in five years time she will be twenty-one, and of an age to wed.’
‘And do you really think Mr Bingley will wait five years, to marry a young woman he doesn’t love anyway? Especially as the young woman he does love is already twenty-one?’
‘No. I suppose not,’ he admitted. ‘I allowed my wishful thinking to cloud my judgement.’
‘Although, if Mr Bingley allowed you to talk him out of the match, perhaps he doesn’t love her anyway. It’s a poor sort of love that will give up on the advice of a friend.’
‘Ah.’ Mr Darcy had the grace to look ashamed of himself. ‘It was not so simple as that. I might have given him the impression that Miss Jane Bennet did not return his affections.’
‘Might have done?’ asked his nurse searchingly.
‘Very well, I did give him that impression,’ said Mr Darcy, standing up again and striding round the room, although this time doing it more carefully so he did not hit his head.
‘That was very wrong of you, Master Fitzwilliam,’ said Mrs Roberts, wagging her finger at him.
He was about to make a sharp retort when he changed his mind and admitted his fault.
‘I had better let him know I might have been mistaken,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘Might have been mistaken?’ she queried.
‘Oh, very well, was mistaken,’ he said.
He was finding it hard to admit his faults and he did so with the remainder of a grudging air, but nevertheless he was admitting them and determining to do something about them.
‘That’s better,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘We all make mistakes, Master Fitzwilliam, but we know a man – I might say, we know a gentleman – by the way he faces up to them and fixes them.’
He said, ‘You are right, of course. I am finding it difficult but it must be done. I do truly repent of the unhappiness I have caused and I will put it right. And then I must set out to show Miss Elizabeth that I have good points as well as bad; that I am a man she can admire and respect; and that I am a man she could come to love.’
Chapter Five
Mr Darcy had been shocked when he had overheard Miss Elizabeth talking to his old nurse, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was no less shocked when she overheard Mr Darcy talking to Mrs Roberts.
It happened this way. She had met Charlotte and Maria on the village green as arranged, and they had set out back to the rectory, but when they passed the bakery, Mr Harris came out. He had been sweet on Mrs Roberts for some time but he lacked the confidence to speak to her, so he had started giving Elizabeth little treats to take to the elderly lady. Elizabeth always obliged him, and this time was no exception. Telling Charlotte she would only be a few minutes, she had gone back to Mrs Roberts’s cottage with the cake Mr Harris had given her. She had been about to go in when she heard voices, and to her surprise she recognised one of the voices as belonging to Mr Darcy. She decided to wait a few minutes so that she could give Mrs Roberts the cake when Mr Darcy left. She could not help overhearing the conversation that was going on inside the cottage as Mrs Roberts was rather deaf and Mr Darcy had to speak up in consequence. Mrs Roberts also spoke in a loud voice, so as to hear herself, and Elizabeth heard the whole conversation.
She was astonished to hear that Mr Darcy had visited the rectory the previous day because he could not bear to think of her in pain; that he had been going to propose marriage to her and that he was in love with her!
This cannot be real, she thought. I must be dreaming.
She gave her arm a pinch, just to make sure, but no, she was not dreaming, she was wide awake.
Mr Darcy loves me? she thought. Mr Darcy was going to propose to me? Heavens! Whatever next?
She was baffled at first, and then affronted. But then, as she continued to hear him speak, she started to experience a slow and gradual change of feelings. He owned that he had been wrong to part Mr Bingley from Jane, and that he would do what he could to set matters right. Elizabeth grudgingly admired him for admitting his mistake and being determined to correct it if he could, but she was still angry with him for having done it in the first place.
When she heard him talking of herself, she was even more confused. Mr Darcy was in love with her? She could not believe it. And yet he was saying so, with evident sincerity, to his old nurse.
Elizabeth had not known that Mrs Roberts was his old nurse, but it made sense now she came to think about it. Mrs Roberts was known to Lady Catherine – Mr Darcy’s aunt - and was much valued by the family. The watercolours displayed so proudly, even though evidently done by a child, were signed GD, which Elizabeth now realised must stand for Georgiana Darcy. And Mr Darcy was now visiting Mrs Roberts.
That fact softened Elizabeth’s feelings somewhat further, for she admired loyalty, love and affection, and Mr Darcy displayed all three when visiting his old nurse.
Moreover, it was obvious that Mrs Roberts thought well of him. If the nurse had known him since his earliest childhood – and evidently she had – then her opinion was worth having. She knew the real man beneath the proud exterior. And, having heard him speak in so unguarded a fashion, Elizabeth felt she had come to know something of him, too.
Yes, he was proud. Yes, he was superior. Yes, he thought he could organise other people’s lives for them. But he was also a good brother, master and landlord. He was even, she admitted, a good friend, for although she still resented him for having parted Mr Bingley and her sister, she could see that he had done what he thought was for the best. He had been wrong – very wrong – but his crime was being mistaken, not being hard and cruel as she had at first thought.
And he was also tender hearted. More tender hearted than she could ever have imagined. He had been hurt by her words. He had overheard them, just as she was overhearing words now, because of Mrs Roberts’s deafness and the consequently raised voices of anyone speaking to her. And he had been wounded by them.
She had a glimpse of a different man to the one she was accustomed to seeing. Not a tall, proud, haughty man who was full of himself and his own importance, but a man who had had a lot of duties thrust on him at an early age and who had done his best to fulfil them. A man who took a brotherly interest in his friend – she might even say, a fatherly interest – displaying his over-developed sense of responsibility rather than anything else.
If he truly put things right between Mr Bingley and Jane then she might in time forgive him. She might even grow to like him . . .
But no. She would never do that. For it was not only his behaviour to her sister that had affronted her, it was also his behaviour to Mr Wickham.
Yes. Mr Wickham.
Her heart grew hard against Mr Darcy again.
What excuse could he make as far as Mr Wickham went? None at all. He had behaved very badly there. If he had given Mr Wickham the living Mr Wickham was owed then Elizabeth would be happily married by now, for she was sure that, if he had had a living, Mr Wickham would have proposed to her.
And yet, would she have been happily married? Things had come to light about Mr Wickham that made her hesitate. He had transferred his attentions from her to a newly-made heiress very quickly. Was it just sensible, or was there something mercenary there?
She did not want to accuse the charming Mr Wickham of vulgarity, but she could not get away from the fact that he had blatantly pursued an heiress and had shown, at best, a decided want of elegance and taste in the matter.
If she had married him, would she truly have been happy? Would a good living have made him a worthy husband, or would there always have been something unsatisfactory in his personality? Would she have lost faith in him after their marriage? Would she have come to see the real man beneath the charming shine, and would she have found that man wanting? She had the uncomfortable feeling that she might.
But this did not excuse Mr Darcy, of course. He had been very wrong to deprive Mr Wickham of a living.
She had talked herself around to disliking Mr Darcy again by the time he left the cottage. She saw him take his leave. Luckily, he turned in the other direction and so he did not see her standing there. She waited a few minutes and then she went in.
‘A present from Mr Harris,’ she said brightly, putting the cake on the table.
Mrs Roberts looked at her curiously, but said only, ‘Thank you, dearie. It was good of you to come back.’
‘I was happy to do so. But now I really must be going. My friends are waiting for me.’
‘Very well, dearie. I hope to see you again soon.’
‘You will,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I do not return to London for another week, and I promise to come and see you before then.’
The two ladies smiled at each other and then Elizabeth took her leave.
She had much to think about as she walked back to the rectory with Charlott
e and Maria. Luckily, Charlotte had plenty to talk about and so Elizabeth had only to listen, which meant her thoughts could wander from time to time. And wander they did, back to the cottage, and the conversation she had overheard between Mrs Roberts and Mr Darcy; the conversation in which he had said he loved her, and wanted to marry her.
Twenty-four hours ago she would have been revolted by a proposal from him. But now she felt she knew him a little better. Although she would not dream of accepting a proposal, she would not now reject it with such vehemence or bad feeling, for she knew that, in one matter at least, he was determined to make amends.
Whether his new-found determination lasted, however, remained to be seen.
Chapter Six
Mr Darcy was uncommonly nervous the following evening as he dressed for dinner. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was due to spend the evening at Rosings, with Mr and Mrs Collins and Mrs Collins’s sister, and he knew he must put his time to good use and show her that he had seen the error of his ways. He had already written to Mr Bingley and told Mr Bingley that Miss Jane Bennet was in London, staying with her aunt and uncle, and now he was preparing for dinner. He folded his cravat three times before he managed to make it look presentable, and he checked his appearance three times in the looking glass before he went downstairs. He was early, and he found Colonel Fitzwilliam in the billiard room. It was more masculine than the other rooms in the house. There was no chintz and there were no china knick-knacks. There was a large billiard table in the centre of the room, with leather-buttoned chairs placed against the walls. The curtains were a plain dark green and the fireplace was of carved mahogany. There was a plain green carpet on the floor and a drinks table placed to one side. Apart from that, there was no further furniture.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had slung his jacket over one of the chairs and he was playing in his shirt sleeves. He looked up as Mr Darcy entered the room.