He smiled sadly. Perhaps if he had shown Elizabeth his admiration more she would have accepted him, or at the very least discouraged him. No, he could not wish for either situation. For her to accept him out of gratitude would never be enough, nor could he repent her refusal. He had learned much about himself and at the very least attempted to love her as she deserved.
“No, I asked. She refused.”
“She refused?”
Anne’s astonishment annoyed rather than soothed him. “She has more integrity than anyone I have met. She does not want my money or connections and was convinced, very rightly so, that I lack a quality of character.”
“She must be mistaken somehow.”
“No.” He could talk of this no more. “I...I do not know what the future holds for me, but I do hope you can find peace and happiness. If you would prefer, I could tell your mother my long-held resolve.”
“I have no desire to marry. While she believes she has a claim on you it avoids the concern of finding other suitors.”
“If you like. I might suggest avoidance is not always the best tactic.”
“You have made up your mind then?”
“On what?”
“Her relations live in London. She will be in London. You can choose either to avoid her or court her good opinion.”
“I must give her credit to know her own mind, Anne.”
She smiled at his words. “But a woman’s mind is not immoveable.”
He could never deserve Elizabeth, it would be foolish to try again but Anne seemed disinclined to understand. “I should go. I wish you well.”
“Safe travels, Fitzwilliam.”
He squeezed her hand and then walked to the door. Lady Catherine nearly fell onto the floor, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was just outside the frame as well. Raising an eyebrow at them both he looked to his cousin. “Is the carriage ready?”
“Yes…”
Lady Catherine interrupted. “Surely you will not be leaving Rosings now!”
“I do regret needing to depart today, but so we must.”
He boarded the carriage, and as it passed the Parsonage he could not help glancing at it, wondering where Elizabeth was, how she was feeling and feeling a stab of pain at leaving her presence again.
*****
The very next day the Parsonage party was invited to dine at Rosings. Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without wondering how the lady would have behaved upon presentation of Elizabeth as a future niece. The great lady bemoaned the loss of her nephews and added:
“They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely; more, I think, than last year. His attachment to Rosings certainly increases.”
She glanced at Anne, and Elizabeth could not help but feel envy. Surely he did not actually propose to Anne so immediately after declaring nearly undying love to herself, though. Undoubtedly, if Anne and Darcy were actually engaged Lady Catherine would be regaling them with the announcement. But did he speak with her? Give her a reason to hope? Of course Anne would hope for him. What woman would not wait years in hopes of an honourable and handsome gentleman? She would wait for him. No, she told herself. No, it could not be called waiting when you once refused him.
“Miss Bennet, you seem out of spirits this evening,” Lady Catherine commanded her attention.
“Forgive me, your ladyship. I am still recovering from my headache of last night.”
“I think you do not wish to return home so soon. I have told Mrs. Collins I expected you to remain for two months complete. Surely Mrs. Bennet can spare you another fortnight.”
“My father cannot, however, and I believe we ought to abide by the original plan and arrive in town next Saturday.”
Lady Catherine again attempted to persuade Elizabeth to remain longer, but at last accepted Elizabeth’s refusals. She then had many more questions, and copious advice, nay instructions, about the journey, and Elizabeth was thankful she had reason to pay attention. Her mind desired to wander, but it was not safe to reflect in the company of so many others.
In her time remaining at Kent, she indulged in many solitary walks. She found herself recounting Mr. Darcy’s last words to her, their final conversation, and she frequently pulled out his simple letter which she carried with her everywhere. At times, she convinced herself she entirely imagined her change of feelings toward the man. One conversation and the knowledge of his innocence in regards to both Jane and Mr. Wickham could not entirely undo all of her previous dislike, could it? But deeper down her heart knew the truth. Their many conversations she now took in a different light.
She considered, too, his words on her vanity. He spoke them in anger and bitterness, but they were true. She thought well of her own opinion, and every successive fault she imagined in Darcy supported the prejudice she formed against him on the night of their first acquaintance. Nor was she immune to Wickham’s preference to her. She was embarrassed by her behaviour and words to Darcy. From the beginning, she had always tried to provoke and pain him.
She considered all the things she would rather do differently, but then would resolve it was just as well she would never see him again. Nothing has changed; she repeated to herself over and over again. She had rejected his suit and must now abide by her decision. He would not renew it, her words could not be undone. Meeting again could only bring pain and misery, perhaps to them both, and she could not wish for it. But her spirits were so depressed she could not even appear tolerably cheerful.
On the morning she departed for London, Mr. Collins drew her aside in one final effort to inspire regret or envy in her. Amidst his prattle, he said something which particularly caught her attention. “My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other.”
Elizabeth could hardly suppose such was the case with Charlotte and Mr. Collins yet it might have been for her and Darcy. “We are so alike,” he had said. But these regrets would not do. It could only bring heartbreak for her, and she was soon to see Jane, who would need all her attention.
During the journey, Maria rambled on about all the times they had been invited to Rosings and the stories she would have to retell. Elizabeth could only consider what she would have to conceal, even from her dearest Jane.
Jane looked well, although Elizabeth felt she barely got to study her with all the activity Mrs. Gardiner had planned for the ladies on their brief stay.
On her third evening in London, they attended a play. For reasons Elizabeth still did not wish to think about, she found it dull. It was as though only part of her was aware of anything going on.
During the interval between acts, they went to retrieve refreshments and were greeted by some acquaintances of her uncle. A Mr. Johnson was introduced to Elizabeth. He seemed amiable and had many clever things to say about the play. She had rather wished to not meet with anyone and kept attempting to defer to her aunt or Jane, but he seemed to direct his comments to her directly. When she was finally readying for bed, Jane spoke to her.
“Mr. Johnson seemed very interested in you, Lizzy. I think if we were to remain here a few more weeks he would ask to call.”
She sighed. Did Jane still hope to meet with Bingley? “Would you rather stay longer? I am certain we need only ask.”
Jane shook her head. “No, I am resolved to return home. Mamma may fuss over me, but I am tired of London. I only thought you may wish for some amusements and, if you attract the eye of an amiable and handsome suitor, then we should hardly discourage that.”
“Oh, do not think of me. You are by far the prettiest of us and the sweetest tempered. You will surely marry first, and if I have very good luck then I may meet another Mr. Collins in time though truthfully I expect to be a doting aunt and spoil your children. No, I wish to return to Longbourn, to our family and to my ga
rdens.” To where I belong and among people who do not expect good behaviour from us.
Jane allowed the topic to drop, and the sisters soon fell asleep.
*****
That same evening Darcy paced the floor of his study. He held a letter he received two days ago from his cousin Anne in one hand. The paper was nearly balled together in his fist.
She is to depart for London tomorrow and will have arrived by the time you read this. In case you do not know, her relatives are Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of Gracechurch Street, near Cheapside. I believe she is only to remain for a few days.
She has been very subdued, seemingly full of regret. I do not think she suffers from implacable resentment as you do. I am my mother’s daughter and so I feel compelled to add: it is ungentlemanly of you to not call on an acquaintance when you know of her presence, and it is terrible that you may be the cause for her lack of spirits and yet you seek no way to ease her sufferings.
The last line angered Darcy each time he read it. Her mother’s daughter indeed! He did pause over her reprimand on gentlemanly behaviour. It was so close to Elizabeth’s own admonishment, and while her statements were built on faulty beliefs, he had later the same night she said them determined she was correct. It was a true gentleman’s duty to put others at ease, and he only ever thought of himself. But this was the raw of it. He knew Elizabeth would not wish to see him. It may be society’s mandate to call on acquaintances, but it would be selfish and ungentlemanly to impose his presence on Elizabeth. Lord knew how much he wanted to see her again. He had imagined her as a beautiful flower, his for the taking but too late learned he must be the attentive gardener, who approached with humility and reverence, to know how to secure its bloom.
His hand tightened around the crumpled paper. How did Anne propose he ease Elizabeth’s sufferings? What was she suffering from? That her sister was cast aside by Bingley? He thought to their last conversation, even as the memory brought pain. Elizabeth forgave him of his involvement. Did she wish for Miss Bennet to have another chance to meet with Bingley? He could think of no other way that he was the cause of Elizabeth’s lack of spirits.
It was difficult to imagine her behaving so in any case. His own melancholy was due to regrets. He had believed he was not a vain man—he had told himself he cared little for what the world thought of him. He knew himself to be good, but he had no humility. He never considered how others felt, how he made others feel. If he held prejudices about how those with less wealth and rank than him behaved, then surely they held prejudices about the rich. They likely thought all rich men and women like his aunt, and he gave the populace of Meryton—and perhaps most places he visited—little reason to think otherwise.
He felt at every turn he had made a mess of things with Elizabeth Bennet; constantly leaving things undone. Even in their last conversation she had asked if it was good-bye for them and he had not the strength to say the words.
In exasperation, he ripped the letter in two, then tore it again and again. Finally, he was left with only fragments of the letter. Breathing heavily after his savage display he deposited them in the rubbish bin. He thought he had finally bested Anne’s words when the final piece of the letter fluttered down. Sufferings. It glared at him and accused him.
His jaw clenched, and he considered again his cousin’s remonstrances. How dare she be so officious as to suggest he visit Elizabeth? How dare she assume she understood Elizabeth’s feelings more than he did! And how dare she imply Elizabeth was suffering because of him; because of how he left things. The only thing that could concern Elizabeth was Bingley not caring enough for her sister.
Pacing once more, he considered his thoughts. He had felt himself exonerated from Elizabeth’s charges about his involvement in separating Bingley and Miss Bennet. Now, he paused. Was it officious of him to direct Bingley to follow him so much? How did he presume to know Jane Bennet’s feelings? He could think of only one way to ease Elizabeth’s suffering, if only he could put his pride aside.
After ordering his carriage to be readied, even at the late hour, he arrived at the Hurst townhouse just before supper was served. They had been to the theatre, and he was invited to enjoy the light repast with them. Afterwards, he asked to speak with Bingley alone. His friend seemed melancholy again but agreed.
“Bingley, I have quite the confession to make and I cannot express enough how sorry I am for my intrusion into your affairs.”
Furrowing his brows, his friend asked, “What do you mean?”
“For quite some time now I have had you in leading strings and would direct you whom to talk to, where to go...whom to court...or not.”
“I am grateful for your assistance.”
“But I have behaved like an overbearing mother. You are capable of making your own decisions, especially in regards to your own happiness, and I have selfishly guided you in certain directions.”
“I cannot fathom how your actions have been selfish. Rather, I see you suffer with Caroline’s attentions.”
Darcy sighed. “I hope not all my actions were due to selfishness but they certainly were last fall.”
“We were in Hertfordshire...”
“And there I believe you quite liked Jane Bennet. I had not felt the need to counsel you away from her at the time, your admiration seemed no deeper than usual and once in town you seemed in no hurry to return to Netherfield. But as I consider things now, I believe I did you a disservice. I saw you throwing yourself into events with fervour, and I wonder if it was in an attempt to forget Miss Bennet.”
Bingley was silent for a long moment before answering very quietly. “You are correct.”
“I did not think it at the time, but it makes sense. It is what I always suggested you do when you admired a lady before. Only tell me why you decided she would not suit.”
“You and Caroline made no secret how you found her family and connections.”
Darcy cringed; it was as he feared. “I was not as vocal as your sister but I did share her concerns.”
“I must say it is the first time you did not suggest such things to me. I had supposed you hoped I could make the decision on my own this time. I did not let you down, my friend.”
Darcy’s heart broke a little at the pride in Bingley’s tone. He resolved to confess all. “Perhaps I did, but mostly I was quieter than usual about the matter because I struggled with my own feelings for Miss Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth Bennet! Elizabeth ‘not handsome enough to tempt you’ Bennet?”
“Yes, although I assure you I soon found her more tempting than any other woman I have met.”
“Darcy...”
“What do you take me for? I proposed marriage to her!”
“What? When?”
He let out a deep sigh. “I met with her in Kent again. Her friend in Hertfordshire, Miss Lucas, had married her cousin, Mr. Collins—who you will recall is my aunt’s reverend. She was visiting Mrs. Collins. I had tried for all the months we were in town to forget her, to overcome my feelings and I could not. I decided to risk Society’s ire.”
Bingley’s face could not be more surprised. It wounded Darcy to realise his best friend thought him incapable of overcoming his prejudice for love. He recovered soon enough and muttered a congratulations.
Smiling sadly, Darcy replied, “I thank you, but there are no congratulations in order. She refused me.”
Again, Bingley showed shock, although less than before. Evidently Elizabeth’s dislike had been observed by Bingley.
“I deserved it. She was under some misinformation from Mr. Wickham—he is more wicked than I have told you—but even still, I did not behave in a gentlemanly manner. I had concealed my regard, maintained my reserve and appeared haughty and above my company. She knew nothing good of me, and I arrogantly assumed there was little need to court her or earn her good opinion.”
Bingley did not reply and instead looked at the glass in his hand, so Darcy continued. “She also believed I kept you from declaring your lo
ve to her sister.”
Darcy observed his friend’s absorption of that news. His grip on the drink tightened, and his face paled a little.
“She is wrong, of course. You barely said a thing to me.”
“Yes, but I am the one who hammered the methods in your head.”
“I am my own man!” Bingley cried.
“Bingley...I wonder if there was a point where it would have been worth it to you to follow your heart. For myself, when I believed Miss Elizabeth returned my affections, I was resolved regardless of the logical arguments.”
“I think you are right...I sometimes fear that a lady will come to feel true attachment to me, and I will propose out of mere gratitude.”
Shaken by his friend’s confession, Darcy nearly confessed his knowledge of Jane’s feelings but remained silent.
Bingley asked nervously, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I have recently been reminded it is ungentlemanly to not call when an acquaintance of yours is in town. Miss Elizabeth is visiting her relatives on her way home from Kent. I also know Miss Bennet is there as well. I have known her to be in town since January.”
“You never mentioned a thing!”
“Miss Elizabeth told me she planned to come. Later Miss Bingley spoke with my sister about it. Miss Bennet even called on your sisters, although I did not know of it until the other week. I have learned the civility was not returned for over a month.”
“A month!”
“Yes. And again I apologise for my intrusion. For not only should I have called since I knew of her presence, I should have shared that information with you as an acquaintance of theirs, in any case. I was not much worried about your own ability to meet with Miss Bennet. I selfishly wanted to avoid any mention of any Bennet.”
“Again I ask why you are telling me this now.”
It brought unimaginable pain to think it, but Darcy knew what he must do. He always followed his duty. “I intend to call on Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth tomorrow, and I wanted to know if you would like to come.”
One Autumn with Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Anthology Page 25