One Autumn with Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  Elizabeth beamed. She personally believed she always bested Darcy in their arguments but to hear such a proud man admit it was a triumph indeed!

  “Do you allow then that Mrs. Collins’s marriage to an established gentleman is a credit as well?”

  “I suppose, although she might have been just as respectable if she married a man of good sense and honour from trade. The higher ranks alone do not hold a monopoly on those virtues.”

  “Hmm...So this gentleman whose heart you crushed was not dismissed due to being a tradesman.”

  Did Mr. Darcy just tease? “Well...I...first of all, sir, there is none whose heart I have broken.”

  “You have never refused a suit?”

  Elizabeth blushed scarlet as she prevaricated. “That is not what I have said and that is all I shall say. But, I am a gentleman’s daughter, and I think I would be more comfortable in the sphere in which I have been brought up. That is not to say I am mercenary, sir. For we know there are many impoverished peers. They would not only be above my station, and perhaps unwise to grasp at, but I would more easily be happy with a gentleman of little means but of similar education and temperament to myself than a wealthy tradesman or lofty viscount.”

  “So it is important to have a common understanding and similar interests with the gentleman to ensure happiness?”

  “I think so. I have seen unbalanced marriages. I think myself intelligent but would I understand and be content with a husband whose mind must necessarily be turned to his business at all times? Would I grow to resent a less leisurely life?”

  “I would think you would miss the capacity for your generosity.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “As a mistress of an estate you would see to the welfare of your servants and tenants. You know that gentlemen must see to their affairs as well as a businessman although perhaps you grew up learning of agriculture.”

  Elizabeth nodded her head.

  “I had thought so. A tradesman may have to worry over the profit he may divide between his investors, but it is not the same as the interest in a person’s life that a landlord has. Your care and generosity for others cannot be missed. I would also think a tradesman’s wife has more time for leisure than the proper mistress of a profitable estate, and I know your dislike for idleness.”

  Elizabeth was rather astonished. These last statements sounded shockingly like a compliment. Incapable of believing such from him, she twisted his meaning. “I think you have found the truth at last, sir! I would be far happier in the country where I may walk to my heart’s content, than in London or a market town!”

  He chuckled.

  Elizabeth could not quite understand why it seemed as though he met her by design this morning. She finally settled upon the idea that he decided to take her advice and practice conversing with people.

  As he proved pleasant today, she could not truly repent that he had singled her out for the exercise. She could think of no one else who would suffice besides Mrs. Collins. She only wondered how long he would continue the new habit. She truly was fond of solitary walks, especially when residing with Mr. Collins and in the frequent company of Lady Catherine.

  They had turned back many minutes ago and now were at the Parsonage gate. “Will you come in, Mr. Darcy?” She suppressed her smile at the fear that entered his eyes.

  “It is early for a call; I had better not. My cousin and I will call later.”

  He turned to leave, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. It was as she thought. He could not be bothered to converse with the others and only sought her company out of boredom.

  Chapter Three

  A few days later Elizabeth read Jane’s latest letter again, which proved she was not in the best of spirits, as she walked. Wishing she could bring Jane some of the flowers she so loved in an attempt to provide cheer, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and not his cousin, happened upon her.

  During their conversation, after fearing she offended him with an ill-thought remark on Miss Darcy, she quickly interjected that she had only heard of the young lady through Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

  “Their brother is a great friend of Darcy’s.”

  “Yes, I understand Mr. Darcy takes prodigiously good care of Mr. Bingley.”

  “Care of him! Yes, I am sure Darcy does take care of him. I believe Bingley to be very much indebted to Darcy from something he mentioned during our journey. Although, I am not certain he meant Bingley.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Darcy only said that he congratulated himself on lately saving a friend from a most imprudent marriage. I only suppose it to be Bingley as he is the sort to get himself into that kind of scrape, and I know Darcy spent all of last summer with him.”

  She could hardly keep the hard edge from her voice as she asked, “What reasons did Mr. Darcy have for such interference?”

  “I understand there were some very strong objections against the lady.”

  “Did he mention how he separated them?”

  “He only told me what I have told you now.”

  Elizabeth was too angry to speak. She walked in silence until Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted her rapid thoughts. “You are very thoughtful.”

  “Your cousin’s conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?”

  “You think him officious?”

  “Why was his judgment alone enough for him to direct his friend? How could he presume to know what would make his friend happy?” She was very near to crying for Jane’s loss but attempted to collect herself. “I suppose there must not have been much affection.”

  “That would be logical, but it lessens Darcy’s triumph.”

  She could so clearly see Darcy congratulating himself on such a feat that she could not speak on the subject any longer. She quickly turned the conversation to the weather for the Colonel’s upcoming travels.

  As soon as she could, she locked herself away in her room. She had always thought Darcy played a part in separating Bingley from Jane but believed it mostly Miss Bingley’s design. Now it all lay at Darcy’s door. He had wounded the most affectionate, generous heart in the world. She may never love again!

  The Colonel said there were strong objections to the lady, but they could not possibly be toward Jane herself. She briefly considered her family’s behaviour before determining Darcy would rather his friend have greater connections than worry over the sense of the bride’s relations. With one uncle a country attorney and the other in business in London, it was clear why Darcy would disapprove of Bingley marrying Jane.

  She gave in to her tears, not at all wondering why it suddenly hurt so much more to have this news confirmed: to hear that it was Mr. Darcy who organised Bingley’s defection. She had never thought well of him, never believed him particularly honourable and never believed she or anyone of her acquaintance had his good opinion, or that it would be a blessing to have it. Her roiling emotions produced an intense headache and, after some argument, Charlotte persuaded Mr. Collins to allow Elizabeth to remain behind from their engagement at Rosings. She could only add a prayer that he and Colonel Fitzwilliam did not call on the house tomorrow before leaving. She wished to never see Mr. Darcy again.

  *****

  Darcy paced around his aunt’s drawing room. Elizabeth was not here! How could she not come? It was to be her last chance to see him! Perhaps he had not been obvious enough in his attentions in the last week. She must fear seeing him again and raising her hopes for his addresses.

  He nearly proposed on their walk the other day; it was his intention to do so, but she seemed distracted. Surely she understood his hints? As much as he disliked the thought of it, he was now entirely resolved to follow her to Longbourn in a week’s time and court her there.

  Surely he could stay at Netherfield, and whatever expectations Mrs. Bennet had of Bingley must now be over. Her daughter’s actions bespoke her indifference, and Bingley showed no symptoms of preferring Jane Bennet above every other lady that had captured his attention.
He could easily return to the area without danger.

  As amiable as his friend was, Bingley would not resent Darcy for marrying the lady’s sister. He could almost feel sorry for Bingley, as another one of the ladies he admired proved indifferent. Last summer he nearly proposed to a purely mercenary woman. Darcy at least had the clear encouragement from Elizabeth. But Bingley was young yet. One day he would find a lady who enjoyed his attentions and not his pocketbook. Darcy knew from his own experience.

  He made some excuse to leave the room and did not slow when he heard his aunt’s annoyed remarks. Heading to the stables he asked the groom to saddle a horse. Poor Elizabeth! How could he leave her to think he was only trifling with her?

  Darcy soon arrived at the Parsonage and was shown to the drawing room. He was startled by her appearance. She truly looked unwell. She had been crying; it was clear to see. He was angry at himself for allowing her to feel so neglected, but a selfish part of him rejoiced to see more evidence of her affection.

  “Are you well? I heard you were unwell, that you were indisposed— that is you had a headache. I hope you are feeling better.”

  “I am.”

  Her voice was cold, and he understood the pain he must have caused her. He had to order his thoughts; they were too unruly. He sat looking at her, so lovely, but her face, etched in contempt and pain, did nothing to assuage him. He paced around the room. He had planned pretty words yet now nothing was in his head but that he loved her. For a moment his old fears and prejudices emerged. A woman was too fickle to love, or was it only that he could not inspire a lasting affection in a woman?

  At last he stopped and looked at her. She would not meet his eye, and soon the words tumbled from his mouth.

  “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  His heart pounded, and his breathing was hard, but she blushed and did not beg for him to cease. Yes, yes she was expecting his proposal. She had been desiring, perhaps for weeks or even months for him to speak. He would tell her all.

  “I have loved you from almost the beginning of our acquaintance. Your beauty and wit soon enthralled me. Then I was captivated by your intelligence, your civility and clear affection for those around you— even when it was undeserved. You, of course, may wonder why a man of my independence did not speak earlier but I thought it foolish to propose matrimony to a woman of lower birth, with such poor connections and a family so incapable of decorum. Society would laugh at me and think I was blinded by infatuation.”

  In one of the worst-case scenarios he played out in his head she would be rejected by the patronesses at Almack’s, not because she had an uncle in trade, but because it was presumed he had made her his doxy first. Elizabeth was a gentleman’s daughter but with such low connections and no fortune, in his hyperbolic thoughts he feared some would believe only one thing attracted him to her. But Lady Catherine even treated her with a certain amount of respect, surely his fears were for naught. And they could face that together, if it came to it; if their love was enough. He was growing anxious again.

  “I care not for the opinions of others now. I am my own master. I have—very sensibly I would say—tried to ignore my true feelings. It has been many months of battle, and I cannot win. I love you too deeply, and you must have seen my attentions. You have given me every hope. I must ask you to end my suffering and accept my hand in marriage.”

  He paused and assumed the confident air which always served him well when conducting business or even playing cards, regardless of his concerns. “And now I have only to await your answer.”

  Elizabeth turned red again, but her tone was not the soft or elated sounds of happiness he had so often imagined. Instead, he heard in calm civility:

  “I know it is common for women to feel obliged to a proposal even when they do not return the sentiments and perhaps, if I could feel gratitude, I would even thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion. I am sorry to pain you, it was most unconsciously done, but I am certain you will soon overcome the pain due to your other feelings.”

  His other feelings? What feelings had he had for months now but that he loved Elizabeth and only wanted the best for her? Even when he considered what was best for her was not marriage to him! Blood drained from his face when he realised she truly had refused him. In all his nightmares, this had never happened. He thought he prepared for every eventuality, but this one.

  Nor was her mode of refusal lost on him. He had never heard her so uncivil before. Good God! Had he ever even known her at all? The thought of the one woman he had believed superior to all others treating him so poorly angered him. Had it all been a design? Attract his notice just to cruelly reject him?

  He forced himself to sound calm when he would rather sob or scream. “And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”

  “If I was uncivil I would have every excuse. You so clearly desired to offend and insult me by declaring you liked me against your will, against your reason and even against your character. You even declared my family improper! But I have other provocations. Nothing could tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister.”

  He turned red, at first thinking she referenced his own sister but she continued to speak.

  “No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only, means of dividing them. You exposed one to the censure of the world for caprice and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes. You have involved them both in misery of the acutest kind.”

  He had felt remorse when he thought she spoke of his own sister’s pain, but he now understood she referenced her own sister and his friend! Bingley was certainly not censured for capriciousness nor was he miserable. Considering how Miss Bennet did not so much as call on Caroline Bingley he could hardly believe she was miserable either.

  “Can you deny you have done it?”

  “I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him, I have been kinder than towards myself.”

  Of course, all he ever encouraged Bingley to do was exactly what he had done for himself: separate from the lady in question and think over the matter. Darcy did at least consider if Miss Bennet loved his friend. In his own case, he never thought to caution his heart against such an attachment. If his friend did feel pain, it could be nothing like Darcy was experiencing.

  “It is not only this affair upon which my dislike is built. Your character was unfolded to me months ago by Mr. Wickham. In what imaginary act of friendship can you defend yourself?”

  “You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns!” This was not happening. This could not be. He was rejected by Elizabeth in favour of Wickham. Rejected again by someone he loved in favour of Wickham.

  “Who that knows his misfortunes can help feeling an interest in him?”

  “His misfortunes! Oh, yes. His misfortunes have been great indeed.”

  He was pacing around the room, trying to contain himself. It was terrifying the amount of feeling this woman could elicit from him whether it was frustration, love or anger. A man should not live like this. He began to think she did him quite a favour by refusing him.

  “And of your infliction! You have reduced him to his current level of poverty!”

  Elizabeth continued to throw attacks, blaming him for Wickham’s lack of income, as though a steward’s son would normally deserve much more than a commission in the militia at any rate. Darcy loved her, but her feelings of generosity were severely misplaced at times.

  “This is your opinion of me! Thank you for explaining my faults so fully! But perhaps these offences might have been overlooked had not you
r pride been hurt by my honest confessions. If I concealed my struggle and flattered you, I suppose you would have suppressed these accusations. But I am not ashamed of what I related. 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?”

  He knew now she was vain. He had thought her nearly without fault—except for being too kind—but if she was so charmed by Wickham then it was obvious what would have swayed her opinion. He would not have it. What a fool he was to wish for her! He offered honesty and respect and she wanted flattery and deceit.

  “You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.”

  He was not gentlemanly? He could scarcely believe her words.

  “You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”

  Impossible. Absolutely impossible. She had refused him. She did not love him; she did not esteem him, and she found him no gentleman. She had no mercy and continued speaking.

  “From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of an immovable dislike. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

  The shredded remnants of his pride demanded he pull himself together. “You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

  He hastily left the room, angry at Elizabeth, at George Wickham, Charles Bingley, Jane Bennet and whoever else had given her such a false impression of him. Mostly though, he was angry at himself. He was nothing more than a ridiculous boy again, mooning over a pretty pair of eyes in a woman who lacked not only all sense and wisdom, but any modicum of civility and compassion. He would be her fool no more.