Her mind whirled in confusion. Struggled? Inferior? Degrade?
“Despite all this, I find it impossible to deny the strength of my attachment, and it is my greatest wish that you will reward my endeavour with your acceptance of my hand.”
Elizabeth paused, unable to comprehend his choice of address. Did he suppose she would welcome such a speech? His confident stance indicated that he had every expectation of her acceptance. Despite his harsh words, the glow lingered around him, baffling her all the more; his strange proposal had indicated nothing remotely loverlike or angelic. “Mr Darcy, I thank you for the honour you have bestowed on me. I must confess that I had hoped for your declaration, and it was indeed lovelier than I could have imagined.” He took her other hand, smiling affectionately. “I am afraid, however, that I do not understand your reluctance to acknowledge your regard. Are you saying you chose to ignore the disadvantages of an alliance with me and that you admire me against your better judgement?”
“My only intent was to confess my difficulty in overcoming the scruples that had prevented my forming any serious design.”
Withdrawing her hands, she stared, unable to form a suitable response. How does one answer when the man she loves wishes he had not fallen in love with her? With a heaviness in her heart and her spirits plummeting, she sank into a chair and attempted to remain calm.
“Should I have concealed my struggles, or flattered you into believing that nothing hindered my inclination?”
The glow had faded, along with his affectionate smile. “No, Mr Darcy, I appreciate your honesty. I would expect nothing less from you.” Indeed, there was no falseness about him. She had every reason to believe he spoke with complete sincerity; he truly believed he was being forthright and that loving her was beneath him.
“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?”
In this case, his honesty did him no credit. Elizabeth paused a moment to compose her temper, then answered him with a steady voice. “Therein lies the problem, sir. I will freely admit that my fortune is far less than yours. Will I be constantly obliged to thank you for raising my circumstances?”
He sat beside her. “Of course not, but you cannot deny our differences, nor your family’s want of propriety—especially your mother.”
She flinched at his criticism of her mother. “I am well aware that my family can be a sore trial at times. Will you forbid me from seeing them?”
“I would not suggest such drastic measures, but surely, the distance between our homes will work to our advantage.”
It occurred to Elizabeth that he seemed overly fond of distance; first he sought it from her, now he would seek it from her family. Her ire rising, she struggled to keep control of herself. “That you admired me and left me reveals an inconstancy that I cannot admire. I must be able to rely on my husband.” When he attempted to respond, she stood, forcing him to do the same. Now past the point of no return, nothing could tempt her to change course. “I regret that I must decline your offer, Mr Darcy. I am sorry to lose your good opinion, nor do I wish to be the cause of your degradation or your family’s disapproval.”
“Elizabeth.”
“My inferiority, as you have twice mentioned, would always come between us. To be forever obliged to you for its improvement would cause me nothing but unhappiness. I could not bear to be continuously indebted to you for improving my standing.”
“Elizabeth, please.”
“I must beg you to forgive me for causing your struggles, sir. I hope that the scruples that prevented you from acknowledging your regard will assist you in overcoming it.” With tears stinging her eyes, Elizabeth fled from the library, bolted up the stairs, and collapsed on her bed, overwhelmed with sorrow for the loss of the man she had once hoped to marry.
Chapter 17
Darcy followed Elizabeth out of the library and watched her run up the stairs and out of sight, with Jane quickly following behind her. Sir William approached and made his bow. “May I be the first to congratulate you, Mr Darcy?”
“No, sir,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the staircase. “My suit was rejected.” He hardly recognised his own strained voice.
Sir William released a slow breath and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You must not give up hope, Mr Darcy. Sometimes these affairs call for persistence.”
Darcy heard footsteps approach but refused to tear his focus away from the stairs. If he could speak to Elizabeth another few minutes…
“What has happened, Mr Darcy?” Mrs Bennet had come into the hall and now stood before him.
“I am…uncertain,” Darcy said, unable to fathom why Elizabeth had refused him. He thought she had expected his address, and yet, he had not succeeded. Sir William whispered in Mrs Bennet’s ear; she gasped and turned pale.
“You must not despair, Mr Darcy. I will speak to Lizzy directly and will bring her to reason.” She dashed up the stairs, screeching at the top of her voice. “Lizzy!”
“Come and sit down, Mr Darcy,” Sir William said, taking hold of his arm and guiding him back into the library. “Let me call for something to drink—wine, perhaps.”
Finally emerging from his stupor, Darcy could bear to remain no longer. “No, you must not go to the trouble,” he said, desperate to make his escape. He thanked Sir William for his concern, excused himself, and quit the house.
As his carriage passed through the Longbourn gates and rode away, his mind reeled. Staring at the empty seat in front of him, he blinked in confusion, failing to comprehend what had just happened.
Rejected. Refused. Rebuffed. It defied all explanation. Had he not explained himself thoroughly? Had he not divulged every feeling he had held for her these past few weeks? Had he not bared his soul?
How he had missed her. How he had dreamt of her. How he had longed to be near her. How she had been constantly in his thoughts. How little his uncle’s approval mattered to him. How she was worth more to him than a thousand fortunes.
As they sped down the lane, the wheel hit a rut, causing the carriage to rock wildly, nearly unseating him. He reached out to steady himself, finally regaining his senses.
Realization dawned; he had disclosed none of his tender feelings to Elizabeth, as he had intended. He had hoped to impress upon her how much she meant to him, but he had failed to do so. Instead, all he had mentioned was her lesser standing and her family’s lack of connections. He had led her to believe that his suffering had arisen due to her inferior circumstances and want of connections—and now she hated him for it.
Gazing out the window, he watched the scenery pass by as the carriage careened down the road towards London. What should I do now? How shall I go on without her? Her absence these past weeks had tormented him; but how richly he deserved this torment. Did he not wilfully leave her, confident of his ability to forget her?
That lack of expectation, which Darcy had so carefully nurtured, now taunted him. The distant aloofness that had served him so well in every assembly room came back to mock him. The woman who might have brought him every happiness would never know of the torment she caused—his own doing, of course. The lady herself must be held blameless for his dilemma. Impeded by his own arrogance, he could hold no one accountable but himself. His efforts had succeeded in warning her away. However, now that he had reversed course, those negative influences that he had attempted to repress managed to make their way to the forefront and into his address. What bright, lively woman would wish to attract an obstinate, distant suitor? To be saddled with such a life partner would surely destroy the brilliance in her eyes and her effervescent air.
He shook his head at his own folly. How had he expressed his desire to marry her? By belabouring his struggles, taunting her with his superiority, and dismissing her family. Her rebuke had confounded him at first, but now he could not deny the truth of her statements. Her inferior standing and conne
ctions did not prevent his regard, as he had previously supposed, but rather his own pride separated them. If not for his lofty pretensions, he would be a betrothed man, eagerly anticipating a future with the woman of his choice. However, he had failed them both, forcing him to leave empty-handed.
***
Elizabeth sobbed on her sister’s shoulder. “Oh, Jane, if only you had heard his insults. He is ashamed of our family and our connections. My inferiority is why he went away. He could not allow himself to offer for a woman of lesser standing. I could never respect a man who thinks I am beneath him.”
Jane gently patted her back. “I am sure he did not mean it, Lizzy. However, you must admit, his connections are indeed more notable than ours.”
“No, he was insulting. A true gentleman would not have mentioned it at all.” She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “I don’t know how you bore it when Mr Bingley went away. I am sure I shall crumble to pieces.”
“I did, Lizzy, only I did not tell you.”
“You are far stronger than I.” The pain in her chest threatened to crush her heart.
Mrs Bennet rushed in and closed the door behind her. “What an uproar you have caused, Lizzy,” she said, then softened her tone when she noticed both daughters in tears. “My dear girls, you must calm yourselves,” she said, embracing them both.
“No, Mama, I want to scream. I want to blame the world for its injustice, for depriving me of my happiness,” Elizabeth said.
When Mrs Bennet attempted to dab Elizabeth’s face with her handkerchief, Elizabeth brushed her hand away. “Oh, Lizzy, you need not worry so. Mr Darcy is as distraught as you are. Go to him. You can easily settle things between you.”
Elizabeth’s ire rose to the point of bursting. “You are to blame for his disgust of me. You drove him away with your vulgar boasting of our match at the ball.” Mrs Bennet recoiled at her accusations.
Ever the peacemaker, Jane clasped her mother’s hand. “Lizzy did not mean it, Mama. She is not thinking clearly.”
Mrs Bennet shook her head. “Do you not see, Lizzy? He came back,” she said, sitting beside her on the bed. “He may have been disgusted with me but never with you. He loves you and wants to marry you.”
Ashamed of her outburst, Elizabeth hung her head and sobbed. She was no better than Darcy for insulting her own mother, just as he had done. Overcome with guilt and sorrow, she clung to her mother, weeping uncontrollably. “Forgive me, Mama. I beg you.”
Mrs Bennet attempted to console her, stroking her back and whispering gentle endearments. Despite her mother’s assurances that everything would be resolved to her satisfaction, Elizabeth doubted anything would ever be right again.
***
After two hours of berating himself for botching his proposal, Darcy arrived at his London town house, road weary and in need of fortification. As soon as he entered the foyer, Georgiana greeted him, her eyes wide with anticipation. “Are you betrothed?”
Groaning, he ran his fingers through his hair. Not only had he insulted Elizabeth, he had also failed to secure a sister for Georgiana. “I am sorry, Georgiana. My suit did not prosper.”
Her smile vanished and she blinked in confusion. “What do you mean? Does she not love you?”
“Yes, I believe she does.”
“I do not understand. Why would she not wish to marry you if she loves you?”
He closed his eyes, attempting to compose his racing thoughts: our unequal circumstances, her inferior standing, her unsuitable relations, her lack of connections. It seemed there was no limit to the depth of his stupidity. “I did not express myself well. I should not have mentioned…certain things.” He sensed a dark cloud hovering above him, darkening his mood and preventing him from realizing his hopes for a happy marriage.
She gasped. “Did you upset her?” Nodding, he hung his head, unable to believe it himself. “What can be done?” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
His chest tightened. Nothing could be done; he had irretrievably lost his chance to secure Elizabeth’s hand. However, Sir William’s voice echoed in his ears: Sometimes these affairs call for persistence. “I shall not give up hope, Georgiana,” he said, pulling her into his embrace. “Not yet.”
After reassuring his sister that he would find a way to resolve his differences with Elizabeth, he retired to his study and poured a snifter of brandy.
How had he failed so miserably? How had he allowed outside forces to impede his pursuit of his heart’s desire? He sank down into a chair and sipped the brandy.
How could he blame outside forces when the primary issue had been his own objection to the undisciplined Bennet family? Until he had spent time with Elizabeth, he cared not the snap of his fingers for any of them—her gossiping mother, her ungoverned sisters, her indifferent father, her absurd cousin, even outspoken, impertinent Elizabeth herself. His affection, so well-guarded, must certainly have come as a surprise to her. Had he not insulted her at the assembly? Despite knowing nothing of her character or circumstances, he had wilfully cut her down and put her in her place for daring to be in his presence. Fitzwilliam Darcy, of noble ancestry, educated at the best schools, and a gentleman of the first circles, had demeaned a woman in public, subjecting her to undeserved scorn.
Even worse, she had forgiven him for his slight. While he held people in contempt for lesser offences, she overlooked it and held no resentment against him. Never mind that he had spoken in haste and had not meant a word of it, intending only to dismiss Bingley, a man whom he considered a friend. Charles Bingley, who also dismissed Darcy’s faults and follies, held no ill will against anyone. Should he not be more like Bingley?
His cousin Richard Fitzwilliam, as close as a brother, who never jumped to judgement, treated everyone as his equal. His dear sister, Georgiana, had never spoken a cross word in her life. Should he not follow the example of the three people he most valued?
All of his adult life, Darcy had thought meanly of others outside his circle and beneath his station, but a woman of little fortune, whose opinion meant the world to him, had shown him how pretentious he had been. What kind of a man are you, Darcy? Would his exalted father have behaved thusly? Or his sainted mother? How Lady Anne would have enjoyed knowing Elizabeth and conversing with her. Georgiana, too, would have benefited from her sparkling repartee and quick wit.
He knew not how long he had been immersed in self-recriminations when the door flew open and Richard entered, closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong, Darcy?” he said with a worried crease on his brow.
Although accustomed to his cousin’s informal manners, Darcy became alarmed at his sudden appearance. “Why are you here in the middle of the day?”
Richard pulled up a chair beside him. “Georgiana sent for me.”
Darcy could not blame his sister for summoning Richard; he had done the same after Wickham had broken Georgiana’s heart last August. Together, they had helped Georgiana recover from her disappointment. Today, however, he required Richard’s stalwart assistance. He poured another glass of brandy and offered it to his cousin.
“This must be bad news if you are resorting to drink at this hour.”
Darcy drank the spirits and paused as the liquid spread its heat down his throat. Richard listened quietly as he relayed the story of his failed proposal. At its conclusion, Richard swallowed the drink in one gulp. “You never did express yourself well, Darcy. This is my fault. I knew of your deficient address and should have instructed you.”
“I am not completely without social graces.”
Richard shook his head. “No, but you have no experience addressing women. Believe me, I have been refused more times than I care to mention.”
“Then you have had no better success than I.”
“True, but I never insulted my intended.” When Darcy released a strangled groan, Richard placed a comforting hand on his arm. “No matter; you shall do better next time.”
“Will there be a next time?”
“U
nless you are willing to give her up, you must make the attempt. When you see her again, you will be better prepared.”
This was exactly what Darcy needed. “I must make amends. If I can speak to her and explain myself—”
Richard held up his hand. “Yes, all in good time, Cousin. We have much work to do if you are to have any hope of success.”
Yes, he would rely on his cousin to help him through this debacle. Since their infancy, he and Richard had weathered every storm together, most recently after Georgiana’s near-elopement. He recalled the latest news he had heard of their childhood friend. “By the way, it’s time we had a chat with George Wickham.”
Richard jumped to his feet. “I shall happily dispense with the bounder, if that is what you are suggesting,” he said with a scowl.
They had had this same conversation before, but on no account would Darcy have Wickham’s death on his hands. “No—nothing so drastic. I want him out of the way, preferably out of the country,” he said, swirling the brandy around the glass.” Persuade him to come meet us at the tavern of your choice.”
Richard resumed his seat. “I shall summon him to the Blue Boar, near Bromley. Shall we say Saturday night at eight?”
Darcy withdrew his purse, spilt out a few coins to pay for vails and other expenses, and handed them to Richard. “I will be there.”
***
Although Charles Bingley had been staying at Darcy House for the past week, he spent most of his days out, returning in time for supper. He entered the parlour Thursday evening with his usual exuberance, offering a broad smile and bowing grandly to Georgiana; however, he failed to notice her subdued spirits. “Well, Darcy, what news?”
How Bingley maintained his cheerful demeanour so relentlessly baffled Darcy; he regretted his friend’s joy was about to be quashed. “I’m afraid the news is not as I expected.”
Georgiana stared at the carpet.
Bingley’s smile faltered, and he leaned forward in his chair. “I hope no one at Longbourn is unwell,” he said with a grave voice.
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