“Yes, Mr. Bingley! He really is a most pleasing person.”
“Mr. Darcy seems to take much care of him.”
“Care? Yes, I really believe he does. He recently mentioned to me that he has just saved his friend from a most disagreeable match, lacking any connections.”
“Did Mr. Darcy give you any reasons for his intervention?”
“I believe there were very reasonable arguments against the lady.”
I was unable to reply to this obnoxiousness, and simply walked on, my chest heavy with the abhorrent news that had stung my ears.
As soon as I returned home, the agony and the overflowing tears brought upon a headache so severe, that I informed Mr. Mrs. Collins that I would not be able to accompany them to tea at Lady Catherine’s; the sight of Mr. Darcy at Rosings would be a vision too unbearable for me at such a sorrowful moment as this.
When they were gone, I, with the intention to infuriate myself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, engaged myself in examining all the letters that Jane had sent me since my arrival at Kent. Though they did not contain any reference to her past suffering, in context to Mr. Bingley’s sudden departure causing such a long separation, but in every line, there lingered a furtive sadness, a longing for affections which had been so brutally stolen. Mr. Darcy’s obnoxious act being the reason of her suffering ached my heart heavily and the extent, to which I had begun to detest him, could not be more. There was some consolation in the fact that he would be leaving Rosings only the following week and just after a fortnight, I would once again be in Jane’s company. Engrossed in such thoughts, the ring of the bell startled me, and my spirits were a little livened by the notion of it being Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now have come to inquire after her health. But such an idea was soon demolished, when, much to my surprise, I saw Mr. Darcy enter the chamber.
Instantly, he started pacing the room in a hurried manner, asking after my health, while doing so, and sending off brief uncertain glances in my direction. After a few moments of silence, he approached me in an nervous manner, and said,
“Long I have struggled but in vain. My passions cannot be subdued. You must allow me tell you avidly I admire and love you.”
A mixture of shock and amazement beyond comprehension passed over me and even though I tried, no words escaped my lips. My silence, which he conceived as an encouragement, made him continue in expressing his affections which he beautifully confessed yet; there was a tint of pride in context to his position, which never left his words. Despite my resentment towards him, I could not prevent myself for being sorry for him for the response he was to receive to such admirable confessions but the feeling was soon doused as I observed the assurance that dripped his tone of achieving a favorable answer.
“I am afraid Mr. Darcy that I find myself absolutely and wholly reasonable for not returning your passions with equal compassion. I’ve never held a good opinion of you and do not certainly hold you in the same regard.”
As soon as these words escaped my lips, he leaned against the mantelpiece, his jet-black frock coat, shining under the candle light.
“And am I to know the reason behind your refusal, the motivation behind such incivility? But I am sure it is of little significance.”
“I might as well ask, why with so obvious a design of insulting me you choose to tell me that you admired me against your will, against your pride and even against your own character! But I most certainly have other inducements. Had my affections been absolutely indifferent, independent of any such arguments, do you think I would have ever even considered a man, who has been the sole means of destroying, perhaps forever, the happiness of my beloved sister? You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the prime, if not the only means of separating them from each other, of exposing one to the condemn of the world for quirk and instability, the other to its ridicule for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in a melancholy of the most obnoxious sort. But it is not merely this reason upon which my dislike is based. My opinion of you was long before decided when your true nature was revealed before me by Mr. Wickham. After the misfortunes that you have inflicted upon him, how can you object upon the ill manner in which I now view you?”
“His misfortunes!” Mr. Darcy repeated mockingly, “Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
“It is not only this Mr. Darcy that makes me abhor you. From the very beginning, you have depicted nothing but conceit and arrogance of the most vexing kind – pride and selfishness towards others had convinced me that you would be the very last man in the world whom I could be ever prevailed upon to marry.”
“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings. Pardon me for taking so much of your time; I wish you the best of health and happiness.”
And, saying so, he deftly exited the room, leaving me behind, breathless and agitated.
The very notion that I had received a proposal from Mr. Darcy was shocking beyond anything. The idea that he had loved me, regarded me highly (in complete silence), and wished to marry me seemed preposterous! But his awful pride, his treatment of Jane and Mr. Bingley, soon overcame the pity which the declaration of his affections had aroused.
I continued to fidget restlessly in my seat, thinking deeply about the awkward encounter, when the sound of Lady Catherine’s carriage snapped me out of my reverie and made me realize how unpleasant I was to face Charlotte at the moment. Quickly maintaining my composure, I rose up and swiftly went away to my room where I spent the entire night, in restless thoughts, assumptions, deep sorrow for Jane, and a tint of regret searing my heart.
Chapter Eight: Sincere reasoning and shameful bigotry
I woke up the next morning with my head still possessed with the thoughts and emotions that had enthralled my mind last night following my encounter with Mr. Darcy. These lingering feelings became so toxic to my spirits that quite early in the morning, at a much different time than my usual routine, I set out of the house for a solitary walk in the park, with optimism that the cool wind rustling through the lively trees would soothe my agitated self.
I had only walked a single round, that I noticed a gentleman riding on a white horse running in my direction. At first, the person being quite far, made it impossible for me to recognize him; but as the horse galloped near, to my utmost surprise and horror, the person was none other than Mr. Darcy.
Immediately bewildered upon catching his sight, I instantly turned around and had only just commenced walking in the opposite direction that the galloping of the horse, so loud in my ears, made me stop dead in my track.
“Would you please do me the honor of reading this?”He spoke over my shoulder and handed me a neatly folded letter. I still stood facing him with my back and after a moments’ hesitation, I could hear his footsteps sounding off.
Trembling with shock, but an equal curiosity as to what lay contained in that letter; I slowly opened it and began reading:
(The following letter has been taken from the original ‘Pride and Prejudice’, as incapable I find myself of meeting Austin’s level, I do not desire to cause any injustice to her eloquent narration rendered through the all-admiring – Mr. Darcy)
“I implore you not to be alarmed upon receiving this letter, madam, over the notion of it containing a renewal of my offers which were last evening so abhorrent to you. I write to you with the genuine intention of not paining with but lieu to justify myself against the two, very substantial allegations that you placed against me yesterday.
The first-proposed was, that reflecting my famous arrogance and conceit, I had, despite of the affections shared between Mr. Bingley and your sister, separated one from the other, -and the second, that I had in pursuit of absolute inhumanity, destroyed the immediate prosperity of Mr. Wickham, consequently leaving him in extreme unfavorable conditions.
-I had not long been in Hertfordshire, before I observed that Mr. Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other
young woman in the country. –But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. I had often seen him in love, however, at the ball, when I was first made acquainted by Sir Lucas’ accidental information, that Bingley’s attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage, did I became rather serious. Following that instance, I scrutinized my friend’s every gesture; your sister I also observed- even though her look was cheerful, lively and engaging, her emotions reflected an odd indifference, or perhaps a shyness which made me convinced that Bingley’s love was unrequited-pardon me if I have judged wrong, but your sister’s tamed love with no openness, only led me to the former judgment but truly, you must know your sister better and if I have been, in some way, incorrect in my observation, I only request your mercy.
As to the other, more weighty offence, of having 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 all the Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his god-son, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge; - most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education. My father was not only fond of this young man’s society, whose manners were always engaging; he had the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, indeed to provide for him in it. My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last 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. His own father did not long survive mine, and within half a year from these events Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate economic advantage, in lieu of the preferment by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed him to be sincere; but at any rate, acceded to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. He resigned all claim to assistance in the Church, were it possible that he could ever be in situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds.
All connection between us seemed now to be dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him; but on decrease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in question – as he had not forgotten my reserved father’s intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances – and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others, as in his reproaches to myself.
After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived I knew not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said this much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother’s nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself.
About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to be a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her convenience and aid he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the indeed elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledge the whole to me. You may imagine how I felt and acted. Regard for my sister’s credit and feelings and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr. Wickham who left the place immediately. Mr. Wickham’s chief object was undoubtedly 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. His revenge would have been complete indeed.
Having said so, I now draw towards the end of my explanation, which I may only hope, were founded enough, to serve you an understanding of my reckless behavior yesterday which I most painfully regret. I have done my best to narrate to you the events that linked to the offences on which your judgment of me were based. Ignorant as you were of the background of both these allegations, I refuse to lay the blame on your oblivion for rousing my impertinence but rather my own reckless anger, which has most undoubtedly, been my enemy since many years.
May you find the answers to all your assumptions in this letter; and hopefully, it shall tame your hatred towards my conceit of which, I am most truly ashamed. I will only add, God bless you.”
As my eyes travelled across the parchment, my mind focusing on each and every word that had been most beautiful shaped in his sleek handwriting, my senses continued to suffer from a variety of emotions until I had reached the end. Every line unveiled to me a new reality. The bare truth which I had, so blindly, in my prejudice and bigotry refused! The abhorrent shame that such a revelation had cast upon my better judgment, upon my supreme observation which I had so ardently prized, slapped me in the face. I felt ashamed beyond measure, for believing every word of Mr. Wickham, of never authenticating his convictions and narrations, of believing him out rightly without even a faint doubt – but his manners had seemed so convinced, how could I have thought otherwise? Yet it was a shame of being unable to crack his façade, to see the evident hatred towards Mr. Darcy lingering in every syllable.
And, even though, I strongly refused to accept Mr. Darcy’s judgment of Jane’s affections being shy, I soon realized that there was possible truth it the observation. Jane had almost never expressed her emotions in open. But that is how Jane was. I, who had been confided in all her feelings and emotions, had obviously been unable to observe her bashfulness as an odd gesture and so it had escaped me most easily. However, to Mr. Darcy, a complete stranger, oblivious of her affections, it had clearly seemed as if the love that Mr. Bingley was so passionately expressing was not being equally returned.
Chapter Nine: ‘The night is fractured and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’ – Pablo Neruda
These thoughts must have generated such a musing expression on my face that, as I returned home, still lost over the contents of the letter, Charlotte, who seemed to have noticed it, immediately inquired about my health. I replied in the affirmative. However, the positive answer did not seem to convince her. And so she continued to remain apprehended about my low spirits, until at lunch the next day, s
he broke out,
“Eliza, Lady Catherine has invited us to a very grand ball at Derbyshire at her brother’s abode, Duke Nicholas Rostov. I would love to have you accompany us; the little fresh air and conversation would definitely be good for your health.”
Upon much insistence from Charlotte, I agreed to accompany them the next afternoon for the evening ball at Derbyshire.
It was a very chilly day. Grey clouds covered the most of the sky and the sun was nowhere to be seen; rain seemed most likely. Covering a thick shawl around my arms and bodice; I sat in the carriage next to Charlotte and commenced my short journey to Derbyshire. On the way, the fresh air and the intoxicating smell of wet earth generously contributed to the occupation of cheering my spirits and as our trip came to a close, I had become absolutely jovial. However, the merriness was quite short-lived. As we reached our destination, quite late at dusk, I realized, much to my horror, that it was in the neighborhood of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy’s affluent residence. Though he would not have been at home, the sight of the lavish dwelling, lead my thoughts back to his letter. Feeling Charlotte’s gaze upon me, I immediately regained my composure and looked out of the window.
The setting sun emancipated a rich orange shade that appeared to reflect off the pearly white building of Pemeberley with such beauty, that it seemed to vastly enhance the grandeur of this majestic edifice. The lawns stretched far and wide, and a slender lake, with crystal clear blue water, flowed at the rear. Next to it stood the equally magnificent mansion of Duke Nicholas.
As we walked inside, crossing the crimson carpet that was rolled out at the entrance, waiters standing at both sides, deftly approached us for our shawls. Settling my hair nicely upon my chest, I entered the ballroom in excited spirits.
Confusion, Confession and Conviction Page 17