Bingley was back on the scent. “So you worked the whole time not to be in love with Elizabeth Bennet. You hid your tender regard uncommonly well, I must say. Jane and I had no idea of it. We thought the two of you were of the same mind — that neither liked the other.” Bingley turned to Georgiana. “Yet, the most amazing revelation has not been exposed. Let me advance his story by telling you that your brother was held in esteem by no one in the Bennet family — no one except Jane.” Bingley turned a glare at Darcy. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Darcy stood and turned to the fireplace, leaning on straight arms against the mantle. He stared at the fire until his eyes stung. Finally, he mastered his remorse, began pacing, and continued, “I have wronged that lady more than can or should be forgiven. At the Netherfield ball, Sir William interrupted Elizabeth and me as we danced, and alluded to the expectation abroad in the neighbourhood that you and Jane were a fixed item. It alarmed me. I had promised myself one lovely dance with Elizabeth — a few smiles, charming talk about nothing, touching her hand — she was so elegantly dressed that night. But it was marred, first by her mention of her new acquaintance with Wickham then by the rumours of a connection between my best friend and her sister, which would make Elizabeth impossible to avoid were Sir William’s rumours true. And for the rest of the evening, her family seemed to compete to see who could most thoroughly plumb the depths of impropriety and misbehaviour.”
Bingley shook his head like a perturbed schoolmaster. “I left for London the next day, intending to return with all due haste. How long had I been gone before you convinced my sisters to decamp to save me?”
“It was but the work of an hour’s conversation. Caroline and Louisa were concerned over the alliance with the Bennets. They had feigned friendship with Jane merely because they had nothing better to do, yet I still assumed they knew her better than I, who had never had a conversation with her. We were able to easily convince ourselves she was merely a mercenary with genteel manners, and that, on your side, Bingley, it was just another fleeting infatuation.”
“And Caroline wrote to Jane that day as you prepared to follow me to London?” Bingley asked.
“Yes.”
“It was that letter in which Caroline mentioned the notion of taking me away from Jane to align me with your sister.” Bingley glanced at Georgiana, who was instantly incensed at having been so unkindly used by Caroline Bingley. “Jane had all of Caroline’s correspondence with her in London and showed the letter to her aunt. It breaks my heart to think of her pining for me while I was mooning after her. Caroline developed the theme of marrying me off to Georgiana to increase the likelihood of ensnaring you for herself, Darcy.”
Darcy nodded, a chagrined expression on his face. “Yes, so I gather.”
Bingley turned to Georgiana. “I had not been in London two days when hither came Darcy and my family. They fell upon me like a flock of harpies, emphasizing the Bennet family’s want of connections and fortune, and trying to convince me that Jane did not love me. And this is the responsibility I must accept. I did not have the confidence in myself to believe Jane could love me, and I had not the faith in my own observations, for I knew her better than anyone except Miss Elizabeth.” Bingley hung his head.
Darcy added, “Even from the distance of Longbourn, Elizabeth saw through the whole affair. She said as much this morning.”
Georgiana turned and took Bingley’s hand, squeezing it sympathetically.
Bingley concurred. “Of course she did. There are only two failures of perception that I can detect her ever making, and they really amount to the same thing. She failed to see you falling in love with her, and she failed to see Wickham for a scheming rake. Sorry to speak of him, Georgiana,” Bingley added quickly.
“It is of no consequence, Mr Bingley. It does me no harm.”
“How do these failures amount to the same thing?” Darcy asked, annoyed with Bingley’s logic.
“If you had not behaved as a complete clot from the very first, Miss Elizabeth would not have been inclined to believe Wickham’s lies. She might have liked you and, having formed no ill opinion, might have seen your affection develop. Yes, her family lacks connections and some of them have little sense of decorum, but what of that? Really, Darcy, in the face of love, what matters the rest of it?”
Darcy stared into the fire. “As I have long expected, Bingley, it is finally revealed that you are a better man than I.”
“Did you know, Darcy, it was Miss Elizabeth who suggested Jane stay with the Gardiners in London? She insisted. Mrs Gardiner told me so.”
Darcy turned to Bingley from his contemplation of the fire. “I should not be at all surprised. I imagine she hoped the two of you would cross paths. She was pushing Jane after happiness, only to have your sister squash it flat with lies involving Georgie in the cruellest way. And me, I thwarted her hopes for Jane. It was wrong of me.”
Bingley sighed. “How many times did I nearly saddle a horse and ride to Longbourn? Imagine if I had, only to find Jane gone to London…”
Georgiana rose, took the tumblers of brandy away from the men and tugged a bell pull. Darcy looked at her. “Heard enough of your brother and his best friend wallowing in self-pity?”
“Oh no, there is more to learn. I am ordering coffee. The brandy is making you both maudlin. I am having a little more port.”
The butler tapped at the study door. Georgiana opened it to request coffee for the gentleman and then resettled herself upon the settee.
“If I may pursue my own line of inquiry, Mr Bingley?” Georgiana received a slight bow from him, yielding the floor. “At Easter, Fitzwilliam, you wrote to me twice, mentioning Miss Elizabeth Bennet was at the parsonage staying with Mr and Mrs Collins. The second letter was, if I may say, heavy with implication. I was certain, at that time or soon thereafter, I would meet Elizabeth, and she might be presumed to have agreed to take on the role of the sister I have always wanted by becoming your wife. You made it sound a certainty — that you were on the point of proposing…”
Bingley leaned forward, eyes attentive.
Darcy looked from one to the other. “There are only two people who know of what I am about to tell you: Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Jane Bennet. However, Elizabeth did not tell her sister the whole of it for reasons that will become obvious. We, Elizabeth and I, are not proud of what happened at Hunsford, but I have much more to answer for than she. I moved her to anger, and she duly expressed it. That is all. She gave me in abundance the setting down I had coming. I could not possibly have accepted it from anyone else.”
Bingley and Georgiana were at the edge of their seats in anticipation of his next words.
“When the colonel and I arrived at Rosings, he wished to call at the parsonage right away as I had told him of my acquaintance with Elizabeth. I thought he would like her — who would not? — and felt my emotions were safe. We walked into the drawing room where I became every bit as stupid and sullen as I had been in Hertfordshire. She was lovelier than I remembered, and I was utterly tongue-tied. How it chafed to watch Fitzwilliam chatting so easily and she smiling and laughing with him. When I did manage to choke out the necessary formalities, the first thing she asked was whether I happened to see Jane in town.” Darcy laughed abruptly at himself. “The knowing glint in her eye silenced me. And yet, I was oblivious…so overwrought in my own feelings. It never occurred to me that she knew me better than I knew myself and did not like at all what she saw. I look back on it now with utter self-loathing.”
A servant entered with coffee, and Georgiana rose to serve her brother and Bingley.
Darcy sipped on his drink and continued. “Thank you, Georgie. Coffee was an excellent idea. So…the first week we were at Rosings, I did not call at the parsonage, and our aunt did not invite anyone to dine with us.”
“How gruelling…” Georgiana murmured.
“Quite.” Darcy smirked and nodded. “The colonel went out walking and, of course, encountered Elizabeth, who loves nothi
ng better than a long ramble. He also called at the parsonage several times, while I stayed at Rosings for my sins, fighting with my demons. When at last the Hunsford household and their guests came for tea, I had become obsessed with her. Because of our aunt’s fantasy that I am to marry our cousin Anne, Fitzwilliam was able to monopolize Elizabeth, and I had to sit and, yet again, watch him entertain her so easily. Then he asked her to play, and I wanted to strangle him — sitting next to her, turning her pages, smelling the scent of lavender.”
Bingley nodded to himself. Ah, lavender!
“Lo and behold! I am a jealous creature,” Darcy went on. “I had no notion. When I was able to escape Lady Catherine and approach the pianoforte, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam tweaked me for being so taciturn in company. She teased me and alluded to my rudeness at the Meryton assembly. Had I not been a half-wit, I would have realized my insult had touched her deeply and was unforgiven. I was much more concerned that there seemed to be some partiality between her and our cousin.
“As soon as the Hunsford party departed for the evening, I warned Fitzwilliam about Elizabeth’s lack of fortune and connection, knowing that as a second son, he must be circumspect as to marriage. He groused at me at first for my good fortune of not having to worry about such things but thanked me for the warning.
“The next day, I called at the parsonage, and finding Elizabeth alone, engaged her in an uncommonly awkward conversation, but by the end of it, I thought her friendlier. I started seeking her out, as if accidentally, on her morning rambles. The second time we met, she mentioned the grove we were in was her favourite in the park. She was trying to cry me off the place, I’m sure, to tell me where to avoid, but I was so conceited, I took her words as offering encouragement. When I met her there again, she was peevish at first… What a simpleton I was.”
“You were a man in love, Darcy.” Bingley looked kindly at his friend, even though reasons for anger were piling on by the minute. Darcy allowed himself what he would not allow Bingley.
“The next morning when I got to the grove, I found the colonel had preceded me. I heard their laughter, and I was instantly beset by the green-eyed monster. In all the time I had known Elizabeth, I had yet to say anything that made her laugh.” Darcy sighed and stood, refilling his coffee, then continued his story while pacing and drinking. “I hung about in the shrubbery, and their conversation turned more serious. In what glimpses I could catch, I saw Elizabeth grow discomfited. She looked sad, and I thought she would cry. My cousin, damn his eyes, extended his arm to her, and they returned to Hunsford. How was I to ask him what had so suddenly changed her mood? I could not — not without admitting much about myself I was not ready to face.”
Bingley and Georgiana looked sorry for him, but that changed as he went on. “That evening the parsonage crowd was to drink tea again at our aunt’s invitation, but when they arrived, no Elizabeth. She had begged off, claiming a headache. In my arrogance, I assumed she stayed behind so I might find her alone. What an ass! Making some poor excuse, which Mrs Collins clearly saw through, I excused myself and went for a walk and — what a surprise — found myself ringing the bell at the parsonage. I was admitted, and she was in the sitting room with a pile of letters…Jane’s letters as she later indicated.”
Darcy took a deep breath. “The next thing I knew, I was proposing! I told her I admired and loved her, and then went on at great length and with exquisite eloquence on the want of connection of her family and the crude impropriety of their manners, and wasn’t I a fine fellow to be praised for proposing to her anyway?”
Bingley snorted, trying to suppress outright laughter. “Darcy, you didn’t!”
Georgiana hid a smile behind her hand.
“Oh, I most certainly did. I told her my feelings of repugnance were natural and just.”
Georgiana spoke up, clearly confused. “Please speak plainly, Brother. You told her your love was natural and just?”
Darcy ruefully shook his head. “No, I meant my disapprobation of her family was natural and just.”
Georgiana could not help giggling. “Oh my…the sweet words any lady longs to hear: I loathe your family; marry me anyway.”
Bingley joined her. “Very smooth, Darcy, you silver-tongued devil…”
When his audience settled down, Darcy glared at them, setting off another minor round of hilarity. He waited until they stopped with obvious annoyance and then continued, “She refused me, of course, and I accused her of doing so with little attempt at civility. She was, at first, obviously shocked, but spoke quite evenly, stating that the feelings I had overcome to make the proposal would soothe me of the temporary discomfort caused by her refusing it.”
“She didn’t slap you?” Georgiana asked with wonder.
“Not with her hand, no, but she did it quite thoroughly with words. Not willing to leave a bad business from becoming worse, I insisted she tell me why she was refusing me. Immediately, she accused me of wilfully and wantonly separating her sister from you, Bingley, and motioned to her sister’s letters as proof of Jane’s attachment and heartbreak. I was so furious and self-righteous that I brushed this aside. Then she repeated the lies Wickham had told her about me, which fed my fury.
“I accused her of wanting flattery to cajole her acceptance, saying if I had spoken more prettily, these paltry considerations would have meant nothing to her.”
Bingley had been silently laughing, but could stifle himself no longer. He guffawed, rolling in his chair.
“Bingley, stop it,” Darcy seethed.
Bingley shook his head. “I cannot. Nor do I wish to.” He finally gathered himself enough to say, “Darcy, you condescending son-of-a-bitch.”
Georgiana gasped a little, sobered by the evidence of Bingley’s emerging resentment.
“At what point did she skin you alive?” Bingley asked.
“Oh, that pretty much put the torch to her fuse. She barely raised her voice but I could see she was outraged. She accused me of making an ungentlemanlike proposal that did not require a ladylike response and spared her pitying me. She said I was conceited, disdainful of the feelings of others, and her dislike of me began after our first meeting. Within a month of knowing me, she had decided I was the last man in the world she could ever marry. Before separating you and Jane, before Wickham’s lies, from the very start of our acquaintance, I had impressed her only with my arrogance and selfishness.”
The room was quiet. Bingley rose and poured himself more brandy. He silently offered port to Georgiana, who accepted a drop more. Darcy turned away from them, breathing heavily. Bingley poured out more brandy, nudged Darcy’s shoulder and handed it to him. Georgiana noticed her brother’s posture was the same disheartened slouch he had exhibited for weeks after he returned from Rosings.
“At that time, by your estimation, I was a will-o’-the-wisp easily swayed in and out of love and Jane a lovely and well-mannered mercenary who would, with perfect equanimity, consider my defection with little more than a nothing-ventured, nothing-gained attitude?” Bingley asked with a tight voice.
“I told myself I did not wish to see you hurt by an unfortunate marriage. I told myself I needed to protect you,” Darcy murmured. He humbly met his friend’s eyes. “Can you forgive me, Charles?”
A sniffing sound alerted the men that Georgiana was crying. She was grieved to be complicit in causing her brother to relive what she could well imagine was a devastating sorrow. Darcy handed her his handkerchief. Bingley reached for his and it released the smell of lavender from the lady who had used it two hours before. It was still moist. The misery on Darcy’s face was more than Bingley could bear. He handed the handkerchief to Darcy.
“I am not crying…yet.” Darcy waved it away.
“Take it and smell it, you great pillock,” Bingley responded. “I think you’ll recognize the scent.”
Darcy stroked the proffered fabric under his nose, then closed his eyes and inhaled. She is right; it is soothing… She is always right.
; Georgiana dried her eyes, and after several great sighs, straightened herself and addressed her brother. “Not much is ever obvious to me, Fitzwilliam, but this much is: Elizabeth has forgiven you. How did you bring this about?”
Darcy looked incredulously at his sister. “Has she?”
Bingley agreed with Georgiana. “I would wager — and I do not say this as the hopeless romantic I know myself to be — she has a good deal more than forgiven you.”
Darcy turned his wounded countenance upon Bingley. “Do not torture me, either of you. It is most unkind.”
Bingley put his hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “When I spoke with Miss Elizabeth in the drawing room, I asked her to confirm what I had learned from her aunt, and she did, very much to my satisfaction. Once I said I would write to her father, nothing would do but that I had to promise her I would forgive you. And she said the most curious thing. She said if you happened to write me a letter, I must read it.”
Darcy continued to stare at the fire, barely breathing. The hankie was wadded in his hand. Bingley, who owed him nothing, had restored him to hope — a pure, naked, fragile hope to be sure, but for the moment, it was no small thing. “The morning after my ridiculous proposal to her, I gave her a letter. It took me all night to write it. I could not defend the flaws in my character but I tried to defend my actions in protection of you, and I explained all my dealings with Wickham.”
Georgiana leaned forward to hear Darcy more particularly. “All of them?”
“Yes, little gosling, all of them. I had to, Georgie. I was fearful she had formed some attachment to him and felt she must know the truth.” Darcy went to his sister, taking her into his arms. “I would trust her with any secret. I did fear she would not believe me, and advised her that the colonel could answer any doubts she might have of my veracity.”
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 6