Lizzie couldn’t meet his eyes. “I am… Thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw her aunt and uncle standing not too far behind her, and she realized that she must make an effort not to seem as entirely flustered as she truly was.
“How is your family?” Mr. Darcy asked suddenly, his voice slightly high.
At this, Lizzie looked up and met his gaze. She could see no signs of disdain in his eyes. He appeared entirely civil, if a little flustered himself. “They are well, thank you for asking.” Lizzie did her best to emulate his tone, but she was sure that her face alone could give away her overwhelming embarrassment.
Mr. Darcy nodded at this, and to her shock, he actually offered a small smile. “I am glad to hear it.”
Lizzie found that every word she knew had suddenly escaped her, and she might have just stood there gawking for ages if not because Mr. Darcy inquired further about her presence in Derbyshire. He did not sound scornful at all, but his sentences came out in such a hurried manner that his own awkwardness was blatant. The conversation was painfully uncomfortable, more so because the perfectly civilized -dare she say, gentle even- behaviour of Mr. Darcy prevented Lizzie from focusing on her irritation at his bad character and therefore ignoring the painful awkwardness of the situation.
When at last he excused himself from her presence and disappeared into the building, Lizzie was left reeling with mortification. All she could think of was how terrible her presence there might seem, and even worse, how Mr. Darcy may have perceived her. Having just heard his person described so favourably by someone, Lizzie could not help but want to know whether his opinion of her -which had once been high enough that he wished to marry her beyond his own reservations- was still kind or if any good opinion had already been irreparably shattered.
Lost in these thoughts, Lizzie was almost entirely silent as she followed her aunt and uncle on a walk to explore the woods they had so wished to see. The two of them were not blind to her sudden change in mood, and after some coaxing, Lizzie was able to pull herself together enough to resemble her usual self. That is, until they were once again joined by the man who now occupied her thoughts.
Mr. Darcy maintained his earlier gentleness, and when Mr. Gardiner and his wife were introduced, he fell into easy conversation with them. Lizzie made an attempt to join in the conversation at first, keeping her expressions as impartial as possible by merely remarking on the beauty of the land, but even this she felt might be misconstrued by the man whose affections she had shunned and so she lapsed back into silence. She listened though, to the conversation and noted with secret delight that her relatives demonstrated their intelligence and good manners without failure. She wondered how surprised Mr. Darcy was upon discovering that these people, who were closely related to the Bennets, presented no signs of the reprimandable qualities that he had condemned of her family before.
It was evident that the Gardiners were, in turn, thoroughly charmed by Mr. Darcy. Lizzie, having a very high esteem of their opinion, noted this with some conflict. Their approval of his character meant that her own observations of his civility had not been imagined.
At some point in their conversation, Mr. Gardiner said, “We brought our Lizzie along for our tour of Derbyshire to take her away from Longbourn for a bit. She’s to be married soon, you see, and we don’t know when we might have the opportunity to have another outing like this again.”
If Lizzie had been uncomfortable before, now she simply lacked the vocabulary to describe her feelings. Out of a sense of what she could only describe as morbid curiosity, Lizzie looked up to see Mr. Darcy’s reaction to the news. The ghost of a smile that had briefly graced his features just moments prior now melted away, and Lizzie felt her chest tighten.
Mr. Darcy opened his mouth to say something, and Lizzie waited as if frozen in expectation. It was a long time before the words finally left his lips: “Congratulations on the engagement.”
Lizzie did not know what she had expected to hear. Anger. Disbelief. Scorn. She did not expect to receive his congratulations. She did not expect that he would be able to meet her eyes as he said it, and look at her in such a way that seemed to express many things that were far from any form of hatred. She certainly did not expect to feel the overwhelming desire to be able to find the words that would somehow return a smile to his face.
“Thank you,” was all she could say, and no two words had ever felt so inadequate on her tongue.
Mr. Darcy accepted this, however, and with a dignity that she could not imagine anyone possessing he resumed his conversation with the Gardiners, with enough ease that only Lizzie could notice that the news of her engagement had in any way affected him. How so, or to what extent, she could not be sure, but he had indeed been affected (how could anyone not be, after hearing that the person who refused them has now accepted someone else?) and she derived no pleasure at all from this.
As they began their walk back to the house, Mrs. Gardiner’s pace slowed enough that she and her husband began to trail behind the younger two. At first, Lizzie fidgeted and struggled to find words.
“Lovely county,” she said.
“I think so,” he replied amiably.
And silence.
“Pemberley was only about a mile or two out of our path,” she spoke up.
“It has been worth the visit I hope.”
“Very much so,” Lizzie nodded honestly, then paused, taking a deep breath before adding almost all in one beat- “We were assured that your family would not be here today. Your housekeeper said you would not be back until tomorrow, we did not wish to intrude.”
“It’s not an intrusion,” Mr. Darcy responded without hesitation. Then he explained that he was not supposed to be there until tomorrow as she had been told, but that business had forced him to return earlier than planned. He added that his sister would be coming soon, and to Lizzie’s thorough surprise, he mentioned that she wanted to meet Elizabeth and hoped Lizzie would grant her a visit the next day.
After everything that had happened, Lizzie could not fathom how Mr. Darcy could possibly have said anything to his sister that could have made her think of Lizzie in high enough regard that she wished to meet her. She had spent the past months believing that Mr. Darcy would be angry, no, furious at her! She held no illusion that any of the warm sentiments he had expressed could possibly remain after the events in Kent. This revelation that he had apparently maintained a good image of her, coupled with his greatly improved manner, filled Lizzy with a sensation that she could not quite name. She was pleased, she knew, and a part of her felt shame for how easily her vanity allowed her to be flattered. Yet another part of her felt guilty for having so adamantly held her accusations of disregard to his person, even when he had -in the letter he gave her following his proposal- redeemed his character in regard to his relationship with Mr. Wickham, and despite his assurance of his genuine belief that Jane had not been interested in Mr. Bingley and therefore that he had thought he was saving his friend from the pain of rejection.
Somehow, during their walk back to the house these thoughts that were consuming Lizzie’s mind subsided enough to allow her enough presence of mind to follow a conversation. The topic between her and Mr. Darcy, as they walked ever more distantly from her relatives, shifted to Lizzie’s recent travels. They compared experiences and praised the beauty that Derbyshire had to offer in each area, and for a while Lizzie was actually close to feeling as though she was at ease. She was never entirely calm, however, as she could not help but feel her heartbeat begin to race whenever her arm accidentally brushed his, or when his gaze met hers directly and did not immediately shift elsewhere.
It seemed a small reprieve when the four finally made it back to the house. While Mr. Darcy invited them to join him inside, Mr. Gardiner politely declined and Lizzie thought that at last she would have time to organize her thoughts. It didn’t help her clarity of mind when Mr. Darcy very kindly handed her into the carriage, or when his hand lingered a second longer th
an it needed to on hers and this once again sent her heart racing without her consent.
That evening, naturally, Mr. Darcy was at the centre of her aunt and uncle’s conversation. They spoke of his civility, and his pleasant appearance, and they lamented his involvement in what they considered to be Mr. Wickham’s past difficulties, for they too had heard the rumours that Wickham had shamelessly been spreading. On this, perhaps out of a sense of debt, Lizzie thought she owed it to Mr. Darcy to defend his reputation. She spoke the truth of the story, to the surprise of her aunt and uncle, and declared Darcy innocent in this matter.
Discussions ended shortly after that, as everyone retired to bed. Lizzie’s thoughts were much too loud to allow her sleep, but she lay back and stared at the ceiling in an attempt to rest. She tried, several times, to turn her thoughts to Mr. Milford and Longbourn and the engagement. As much as she tried, her treacherous mind always ended up bringing her back to Mr. Darcy. She was to see him again in the morning, and to meet his sister. Some voice inside her said that this would be somehow an improper action on behalf of an engaged woman. This voice was silenced by reminders that Lizzie had already turned down Mr. Darcy’s affections and hurt his pride in the process; he could not have any remaining feelings for her.
And Lizzie did not wish otherwise. She had rebuked him for a reason, and she certainly had no desire to rethink that decision. Lizzie kept repeating these thoughts to herself; the last thing she remembered thinking before being claimed by sleep was that she wished she had seen Mr. Darcy’s softened manners before she refused his proposal so adamantly.
Chapter 8
During the next couple of days, Darcy remained a constant presence in Lizzie’s world. He and his sister came to visit Lambton at times, and her aunt and uncle went back to Pemberley with Lizzie at Mr. Darcy’s invitation. Having had the opportunity to meet Georgiana Darcy, Lizzie was pleased to find that the younger sister of Mr. Darcy was of a very pleasant disposition, if exceedingly timid, and she rather enjoyed her quiet company. As for Mr. Darcy…
She could not explain how his manner had changed in such a way from the reserved and arrogant countenance he had presented in Hertfordshire, but Lizzie found it increasingly difficult to justify any resentment towards his person any longer. His every word and action betrayed nothing but gentleness, and he never gave any indication of resentment towards Lizzie. It was quite the contrary. The knowing looks that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner would periodically send her way only increased her suspicions that, perhaps, against all probability, Mr. Darcy’s affections remained unchanged.
A letter from Mr. Milford arrived at Lambton early one morning. Lizzie was struck with a guilt that she could not explain. She had done nothing wrong, and yet she could not deny that her husband to be had occupied very few of her thoughts since the day she went to Pemberley, and this seemed a fault on its own. It was made worse by the fact that another man had made himself a fixed point in her every reflection.
Lizzie read the letter and she had to sit down. When her aunt came to see her to ask if she was ready to go to the day’s appointment at Pemberley, she found her niece in such a distraught form that she asked if she was ill.
“I am well, very well, actually,” Lizzie did her best to smile, but it seemed that the effort was too great. “I’ve received a letter from Mr. Milford. He has set a date for his return to Longbourn. August 08th.”
“Why, Lizzie, that is little more than a fortnight away!” said Mrs. Gardiner. She didn’t say that it was wonderful news, as should be expected, and this small slight did not escape Lizzie’s notice.
“Yes, he hopes to have the wedding only a week after.”
“I would expect he should be eager to have the ceremony,” her aunt nodded in understanding, but still no congratulatory statement was spoken.
“I care for him,” Lizzie said so suddenly and in such a high pitch that her words sounded unnatural even to her own ears. But, she did care for him. He had been kind to her, and she had been enchanted by him from the start. He was handsome, and clever, and she could go on and on listing his good qualities. She tried to do so, but as usual her thoughts slipped away from her, and her list began to focus on the qualities of a different gentleman.
Mr. Darcy was undeniably handsome. She had done her best to ignore this plain fact for a long time, mostly due to the way he had spoken about her own lack of beauty early on in their acquaintance, but she could avoid this truth no longer. Every time she saw him now she felt her gaze drawn to him, and she saw his elegant features: the fine line of his jaw, the deep set of his eyes and the smooth curve of his mouth -but oh! Beauty alone would have been easy enough to dismiss. It was his character, which now exuded dignity, grace, and intelligence, that made it impossible for Lizzie to pretend she did not enjoy every second spent by in his company. She could not pretend that every time she saw him walk away from Lambton, or she climbed into a carriage to leave Pemberley, she wasn’t already thinking of when their next meeting should happen.
Lizzie wished that she could talk to someone. She thought her aunt might be a willing listener, but to confide such improper thoughts, and then to have her aunt watch with knowing eyes every future interaction between her niece and Mr. Darcy, it was too dreadful a prospect. Lizzie did the only thing she could do: she said nothing. She kept her every thought regarding Mr. Darcy to herself, only nodding politely or answering in monosyllables whenever her relatives brought up the subject of the man’s admirability, and hoping that any blush they noticed would be interpreted as the bashfulness that many women suffered from when they were around handsome men.
Lizzie was quieter than usual as they rode to Pemberley for dinner that evening. Her aunt, possibly sensing some sensibility on Lizzie’s part, did not probe at her niece or questioned her silence. Once at the grand house, they were received with the usual warmth. Lizzie kept her participation in the conversation minimal, but Mr. Gardiner was more than up to the task of maintaining a flowing discussion. He talked of the benefits of fishing versus hunting, and, having recently gone fishing with their host on the river that coursed the grounds of Pemberley, spoke with great enthusiasm about the particular river’s abundance and variety of fish. The conversation did not lull after their meals were finished, and Lizzie decided to take advantage of this and momentarily excused herself from the table, supposing she would not be missed.
She had already visited the house enough times that she did not need to wait for a servant to guide her. She walked out to the front of the house, grateful for the long daylight hours of summer the moment she saw that the sun had barely just set and the sky had only just begun to darken. It was still light enough for her to admire the river and the woods as she let the breeze caress her. She closed her eyes after a time, focusing her senses of the sounds of nature and letting her turmoiled thoughts unravel with them.
She stood like that with her eyes closed long enough to feel the wind become chilly and begin to goose over her flesh. When she opened her eyes, it was not the darkness that had descended upon the landscape that surprised her, but the unmistakable figure that stood before her.
Mr. Darcy was half turned away from her, with his neck twisted so that he could look at her. Lizzie did not move, and she was glad for the night that had fallen and could easily hide the colour on her face.
“You were gone for some time,” he said apologetically. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I am,” Lizzie said quickly, putting on a smile to confirm her words, but it wavered and fell flat in no time. “I… I like the fresh air.”
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy smiled, in a way that suggested he saw this as an endearing aspect of her personality, but then his smile faltered as well. “Forgive me, if I have been improper.”
“No,” Lizzie was quick to say. “Not at all.” I have, she added in her mind. And the blame is yours, though not for ill intention on your part.
“Then I ask permission to be improper, just this once.” As he spoke, he turne
d so that he could face her fully, and he took a step closer to her. His eyes were searching her face, though she did not know what he hoped to see, and for a moment, Lizzie thought that he was about to kiss her. Her heart nearly raced out of her chest, but Mr. Darcy did not make such a move. He did not wait for Lizzie to answer before speaking, almost in a whisper that was only clear to her because of the lack of distance between them. “Do you love him?”
Lizzie did not need to ask to know whom he was referring to.
“If you can tell me that you do, I will not interfere,” he went on, leaning down almost imperceptibly until he was so close that Lizzie could catch hints of the scent of peppermint and wine on his person. “I will not stand in the way of your happiness. But I must know that your happiness is the reason you are marrying him.”
Yes, Lizzie thought, as she had told herself so many times since the moment she replied to Mr. Milford’s proposal. What reason could she have to feel anything else? And yet she couldn’t speak that single syllable, despite what every sensible part of herself was saying.
She was filled with such longing in that moment that she thought the emotion might simply overwhelm her. She wanted to tear her eyes away from Mr. Darcy’s, from the same longing that she saw reflected in them; but she couldn’t look away any more than she could voice the answer to his question.
“Mr. Darcy…” her voice came out like a plea, and whatever else she might have said would forever go unspoken because the sound of approaching footsteps startled the two of them and they all but jumped away from each other.
When Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, accompanied by Miss Darcy, exited the house, they found Mr. Darcy and their niece standing rather awkwardly at arm’s length from each other. Mr. Darcy stood so rigidly that he might have snapped, and Lizzie had crossed her arms tightly although she no longer felt cold in the slightest.
Confusion, Confession and Conviction Page 39