by Eden Forster
“There is a gentleman with him, Mama,” said Kitty. “Who can it be?”
“Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose. I am sure I do not know.”
“La!” replied Kitty. “It looks just like that man who used to be with him before. Mr. what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man.”
“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy! Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure, but I must say that I hate the very sight of him.”
Surprised and concerned, Jane looked at her sister Elizabeth. She felt for the awkwardness that must attend her sister subsequent to their pleasant meetings with the gentleman in town mere days ago. Their mother talked on and on of her disdain for Mr. Darcy and her resolution to be civil to him as Mr. Bingley’s friend. This resolve was enough to calm Elizabeth considerably.
On the gentlemen’s appearing, both Jane and Elizabeth received them with tolerable ease and, in Elizabeth’s case, with propriety of behavior free from any symptoms of her secret agreement with Mr. Darcy.
The first quarter hour in the gentlemen’s company was not without a fair degree of mortification as Mrs. Bennet attempted to garner Mr. Bingley’s approbation. He was received by Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civility that made her daughters ashamed, especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of her curtsey and address to his friend.
However, Mrs. Bennet’s purpose was not to have Mr. Bingley all to herself. She wanted him to commence the long delayed courtship of her eldest daughter. She remarked upon the pleasant weather and suggested that Jane and Mr. Bingley might enjoy a walk to Oakham Mount. It only made sense that Bingley’s friend should join him; hence Mrs. Bennet told Elizabeth to walk with them too. The young people could scarcely wait to go along with the scheme.
When Darcy and Elizabeth were at liberty to speak openly, she said, “I cannot believe you spoke with my father without first consulting me, sir. What could have been your purpose? And what, pray tell, do you imagine would have happened should my mama have learned of your visit?”
“It is only natural that I would speak to your father, out of courtesy if nothing else, for I intend to be spending a great deal of time with you and he ought to know why. It’s a good thing I did, too, since you confided the entire scheme to him yourself.”
“Yes, well, I felt I had no choice in the matter.” Elizabeth went on to explain her reason for confiding in her papa—how Mr. Collins’s letter had left her with no other recourse.
Darcy said, “Your mother, does she know any of this?”
“No, she does not and really it is better this way. Who is to say how the news that I have declined another marriage proposal would affect her?”
Darcy halted his steps. “Another marriage proposal, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Sir, I’m sorry if you find the news that you were not the first gentleman to offer me his hand in marriage disquieting.”
“Who was this man, or do I even want to know?”
“I am afraid it is not very important. He has since married another, which means there is no risk of his changing his mind and offering for me again. You are quite safe, sir.”
“Still, I simply will not desist until you tell me all there is to know about the man who would be my competition.”
“I will tell you if you insist, but prepare yourself to be astounded, if not appalled, for you see the man was my cousin, Mr. Collins.”
“I—I never knew. I imagine it took a great deal of courage on your part to spurn an offer of marriage from the man who stands to inherit your father’s estate. That is to say nothing of your willingness to spend time in the man’s home, after rejecting his hand, for the sake of visiting your friend. I would say, however, that this information serves to increase my esteem for you immensely, Miss Elizabeth. You are quite unlike any woman I have ever known.” Trailing his fingers along her chin, he gazed into her eyes. “Is it any wonder that I admire you as ardently as I do?”
Darcy did not always call on Elizabeth at Longbourn. Just as he had done at Rosings, he contrived to meet her during her early morning rambles. These were his favorite times because it was just the two of them. He could only suppose their time together met with Elizabeth’s approval as well. Earnest discussion of their favorite wishes was not uncommon, particularly their opinions of marriage.
One day, Elizabeth said, “Did you ever pause to consider what might happen were you never to marry, Mr. Darcy?”
“It is my duty to marry; to beget Pemberley’s heir. Although a son of Georgiana’s might suit, I would much rather it be a son of yours—our firstborn son.”
Darcy’s assertion gave Elizabeth to think of what her future as his wife might entail. He spoke of a first-born son. With four sisters, she knew that wanting a son and conceiving a son were not one and the same thing. What would happen if she were unable to give him a son?
“Granted, Mr. Darcy, you wish to have a son. But have you given any thought to how many children you should like in total?”
“Two sons and two daughters would be my idea of perfection.”
“You seem to have given this some thought.”
“Indeed, I have.”
“Why two of each sex, if I may ask?”
“I always supposed that Georgiana would have benefited greatly from having a sister. I know I should have enjoyed having a brother in addition to my sister … someone closer in age to me.”
“I must confess that it has always been one of my favorite wishes to have a brother as well. How different things would have been for our family.”
Darcy said, “It is indeed a blessing that our children shall not suffer such concerns. Once we are married, neither shall you. You shall always have a place at Pemberley even when, or if, I depart this earth before you. Stopping and encouraging Elizabeth to do the same, he trailed his fingers along on her cheek. “Pray when that day does come, that yours will be the last face I see.”
Chapter Seven
The ensuing days allowed for any number of such encounters. Mr. Darcy seemed determined to make the most of every moment of his self-imposed schedule to win Elizabeth’s heart. Through it all, she determined to do or say nothing that would allow anyone to suppose she suffered the same ill feelings toward him as when they first made each other’s acquaintance.
When it was just the four of them, Jane and Bingley walked along side by side in mutual admiration, and Darcy and Elizabeth trailed behind, having allowed the former couple to outpace them. On that particular day, Elizabeth said, “How is Miss Darcy getting along in town?”
“Georgiana is doing very well. It means a great deal to me that you would ask about her.”
“Your sister is a lovely creature.”
Darcy wondered what Elizabeth would really think of his sister if she knew what he had been keeping to himself. She really ought to be told, he reasoned. Darcy said, “My sister suffered a trying time last summer. It is a story known only to a few people, which includes Colonel Fitzwilliam. I doubt he would have confided it in you; however, if you knew what it entails then you would understand why I reacted to Wickham’s being in Meryton as I did last autumn.”
“I confess, the colonel did tell me a little about your history with Mr. Wickham. He said nothing of your sister.”
“He and I agreed that it is something that ought not to be discussed with very many people; however, I believe you need to know.”
“You may depend upon me not telling anyone, I assure you.”
“I appreciate your saying that, Miss Elizabeth. I would not want there to be any secrets between us, even where my sister is concerned.”
“Pray what happened to Miss Darcy last summer and how is Mr. Wickham involved?”
Elizabeth listened as Mr. Darcy began speaking at length about Mr. Wickham’s ungentlemanly behavior toward young Miss Darcy. Throughout Mr. Darcy’s speech, Elizabeth asked herself what manner of man would prey on such a young lady, an innocent nearly half his age, and persuade her to beli
eve she was in love with him. What manner of man would persuade a young woman to go against the wishes of her family and consent to a scandalous elopement? All this had been attributed to a man whom she once admired.
“I am sorry to hear that, sir. Thank heavens you arrived in Ramsgate when you did.”
“Indeed. A day later and Wickham’s revenge against me would have been complete and I would have been forced to spend the rest of my days referring to him as my brother. I can scarcely imagine a harsher fate for my sister or for myself.”
Some days were better than others were. Elizabeth had been particularly embarrassed earlier that morning when Mr. Darcy overheard her youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, complaining about what a disagreeable man he was when they first met him and how he had not changed one bit since then. Even her next eldest sister, Mary, could not be prevailed on to vouch for his character.
Thus, Elizabeth was more than a little concerned by the way things ended when she and Mr. Darcy parted for the evening. She wished her family would only see that he was not at all as they thought. He was kind and considerate. She wished she had told him that she regretted her part in making everyone aware of his insult. Then, too, there was the part Lt. Wickham had played in ruining everyone’s opinion of Mr. Darcy. She felt complicit in Wickham’s scheme to poison everyone against Mr. Darcy as well. She wanted to express her regret for having been so open in her harsh sentiments toward Mr. Darcy. She was ashamed of having thought more highly of the likes of Mr. Wickham than she thought of Mr. Darcy. She really believed that she ought to be the one seeking to make amends for her poor judgment. She would make a point of telling him so when they were together the next day, she promised herself.
His early morning leave-taking from Hertfordshire left Darcy feeling a little unsettled. The strong downpour made it unlikely that he and Elizabeth might meet and thus he was compelled to write a letter to Mr. Bennet explaining his reasons for leaving so suddenly. He prayed his letter would find its way into Mr. Bennet’s hands without delay.
His last parting with Elizabeth was less pleasant than it might have been. Her younger sisters’ indictments against him had been severe and had given him to know how deeply he had wounded Elizabeth with his rude remark that she was not handsome enough to tempt him. Until that moment, he had not truly understood the depth of her family’s disdain for him owing to his callousness. No wonder he faced heavy odds indeed in trying to win her heart, he surmised.
His purpose for being in town was strictly to conduct business. He was not expecting guests. No one other than Bingley new he was in town and Darcy wanted to keep it that way. He was taken by surprise when his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam strolled into the room.
“I see the rumors are true. You have returned,” he remarked, settling himself in a chair across from his cousin. “I hope this means you plan to attend the dinner party at Matlock House this evening. The lovely Miss Granger will be there if that is any inducement.”
“I am afraid I will have to disappoint you. I mean to finish my business in town so I might return to Hertfordshire.”
“Surely you do not intend to travel at this hour. I see no reason for you not to dine with the family this evening. Your presence in town during the height of the Season has been sorely missed.”
“I can well imagine that what you say is true. However, what would have been my purpose in being here? I have no interest in being on display as a possible husband for a flood of eager mothers and their single daughters. You know where my heart lies.”
“Ah, you are determined to win Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s good opinion, I surmise.”
“Indeed, I am. I shall not be satisfied until she has agreed to be my wife.”
“It doesn’t seem you’re making progress.”
Darcy said, “I confess that words of love do not flow freely from her lips, but the look in her eyes gives me reason to hope.”
“By my estimation, you do not have much time before your self-imposed timetable has elapsed. Then what do you plan to do?”
“It is true that time is running out. That is why it is important that I return to Hertfordshire.”
“Once again, I must prevail upon you to join the family for dinner. Besides, your being away from Hertfordshire may be the best thing for you in terms of winning Miss Elizabeth’s hand. There is something to be said for the power of absence making one’s heart grow fonder.”
The next two days came and went with no word on when or even if the Netherfield party would return. Elizabeth supposed it was just as well that her father was away from Longbourn on business. Were he there to witness her low spirits because of Mr. Darcy’s defection, he might consider her disappointment fodder for laughter. More than once he had questioned her, asking if she had made up her mind about the gentleman and not once was she able to answer him with conviction.
Elizabeth was not only disappointed that Mr. Darcy had left Hertfordshire under circumstances eerily similar to the manner of Mr. Bingley’s leave-taking the previous autumn, but Mr. Bingley, who had returned to town a day or so before Mr. Darcy’s leave-taking, had not yet returned either. Finally, she knew how Jane must have felt all those months ago, to be so ardently courted one day only to be abandoned the next. Thus, the sisters consoled each other. A few weeks past, Jane—having kept her silence regarding Mr. Darcy’s attention to her sister long enough—had finally prevailed on Elizabeth to tell her everything that she had been keeping to herself.
Jane had listened, and wondered, and waited throughout her sister’s speech. When at last it was Jane’s turn to talk, she said, “Dearest Lizzy, a man like Mr. Darcy is not inconsequential. Why would you make him wait for an answer when clearly saying yes to such a man is in everyone’s best interest?”
Elizabeth could not tell her sister the reason she had initially refused Mr. Darcy. In doing so, she would subject her sister to misery that she need not suffer at all. In addition, there was the very nature of the agreement. She and Mr. Darcy had agreed to tell no one. Elizabeth felt a little guilty that she had not kept up her end of their agreement in telling her friend Charlotte. Jane’s gentle admonishment to Elizabeth at the time was to consider carefully what she was about in putting off Mr. Darcy’s proposal of marriage. She reminded Elizabeth of their friend Charlotte’s philosophy that happiness in marriage was merely a matter of chance, and that, given the opportunity, Jane would not be reticent in allowing a suitor to understand her character ever again. Jane argued that Mr. Bingley had not made her an offer, but she hoped that would soon change for it was her duty to marry well. Elizabeth, on the other hand, did enjoy such an opportunity. The part of her eldest sister’s speech that now lingered in Elizabeth’s mind was Jane’s advice for Elizabeth to consider how her life would be without Mr. Darcy. Those very words weighed on her mind when she closed her eyes to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth’s eyes shot open and she stared around in the darkness. It took a moment for her to realize that she had been dreaming. Her dream had been most disturbing. One by one, the events of her dream replayed in her mind.
She had refused Mr. Darcy’s hand after he called on her at the Parsonage House and she had been fully justified in doing so. Having met the colonel in the lane when he was making his annual tour of the park, he had told Elizabeth how Mr. Darcy had congratulated himself on saving his friend from a most disadvantageous alliance. The colonel did not say that Mr. Darcy’s friend was Mr. Bingley and neither did he say the lady involved was Elizabeth’s sister Jane, but Mr. Darcy admitted the scheme to Elizabeth later when the two of them were alone. This after he had offered her his hand in marriage in words that would hardly recommend his suit, yet had been delivered with all the certainty of an acceptance. Elizabeth vowed she would never marry the man who had been the means of ruining her most beloved sister’s happiness.
Were it not the middle of the night, Elizabeth would have arisen from her bed and headed down the stairs and out the door for a solitary ramble to eas
e her restless mind. However, it was the middle of the night. Only sleep would do. “It was just a dream,” she whispered, turning over, determined to fall back asleep.
“But it is not merely this affair,” she said, “on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital that I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you defend yourself? Or under what misrepresentation can you impose upon others?”
“You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns,” said Darcy, his tone less tranquil, his color heightened.
“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?”
“His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy contemptuously. “Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
“And of your infliction,” cried Elizabeth with energy. “You have reduced him to his present state of poverty. You have withheld the advantages that you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! And yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule.”
“And this,” said Darcy, quickly crossing the room, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” he added, ceasing his steps and turning toward her, “these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed had I concealed my struggles and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination, by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? Should I congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”