by P. O. Dixon
“It would not be like that, Miss Elizabeth. No one would ever know of my part. I want you to be secure and well-provided for. We will not see each other if need be. Your sisters are welcome to come live with you,” he stood, prompting her to take a step back to maintain the distance between them. “I intended no disrespect. You must know that. I only wish for your happiness. I do not want you to have to consider being someone’s governess,” Darcy asserted.
“I would be living in my own establishment, with servants, and a carriage, for Heaven’s sake! Clearly, if not yours, I would be perceived as some wealthy gentleman’s mistress!” she shouted.
“No... you misunderstand,” was all Darcy could say before Elizabeth interrupted.
“And what about after you have married? I imagine your wife might have something to say about such an arrangement.”
With stoic resolve, he replied, “I will never marry.”
“Then you, sir, are either a coward or a fool!” Elizabeth angrily hissed.
Darcy was taken aback by her scathing insult. “A coward?” he repeated contemptuously.
“Yes, a coward—of the worse kind; for how else might one describe your behaviour? How dare you say you will never marry when your family and your poor cousin Anne fully expect you to marry her, and have done so for years?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Surely, you do not believe that will ever happen. I would sooner marry Richard,” he said in a voice of cool indifference.
“Perhaps you should. You two are far better suited to each other... two peas in a pod,” she retorted derisively in response to his sarcastic remark.
Instead of dwelling on that particular line of discussion, Darcy answered back, “You presume to accuse me of being a fool!” He spoke in a cold, arrogant tone that could no longer be repressed despite his feelings for her, such was his dismay.
“Only a fool would say that he will never marry, especially someone such as you with so much to offer.”
“Then what does that make you, madam?” he asked disparagingly.
“Mr. Darcy, I wish to marry but only for the deepest love. As I am in love with someone I evidently will never have, I guess that makes me a fool as well.”
“Then, in that we are equalled, because I am in love with someone whom I can never have.”
“It is different, and you know it! You are a wealthy man—your own master; you may marry whomever you choose.”
“No, I cannot. I doubt you will ever understand. My sense of duty and loyalty to my family dictate that I choose a wife from the highest circles. Rather than go against those expectations by offering marriage to the only woman I will ever love, I choose to remain single.”
“Then, you are a greater fool than I suspect!” She had heard enough. Resolved, she flatly stated, “Good day, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth stormed out of the room before he could reply. She could not wait another moment to escape his presence.
The tumult in her mind was now painfully great. Elizabeth was so sorely disappointed in Darcy. He expressed absolutely no regret for his actions. He was utterly convinced of his righteousness in the matter; no amount of discourse on her part would convince him otherwise. How could he not see that he had insulted her with his largesse, and in so doing, deeply wounded her?
Elizabeth had already packed in the days leading up to the wedding everything she intended to take with her. She instructed her maid to send her possessions to Gracechurch Street once she had left Darcy House. All that remained was to impart her decision to Darcy, a message best conveyed in a letter. She did not want to set eyes on him, not just then.
Elizabeth paused at the doorway for a moment, to have a last look. Then, she made her way to the street where she took a public carriage to Cheapside, completely oblivious to all the attention she attracted as an unescorted young woman in Grosvenor Square. Her former maid followed her instructions and delivered the letter to Darcy once Elizabeth had gone.
~ ~ ~
Darcy was not in the mood to see anyone after his bitter quarrel with Elizabeth. However, upon discovering it was her maid requesting his audience, he agreed to see her. The young maid quickly handed him the letter and left his study without a word. Pondering its meaning, he sat down at his desk and braced himself for the worse.
Dear Sir,
Allow me to start by saying that the time I have spent here in your home, with Georgiana and you, has been among the most fortunate times of my life. I thank you for that.
You thought that I would never understand what you meant in saying that you would never marry, because you could not marry the woman you love. I do understand. I know that I am the woman whom you think you love. I know that your pride, your arrogance, and your belief in your duty to your family rule you. I also know that you do not love me enough to overcome any of those perceived obstacles.
Who willingly denies someone they love a chance for true happiness? As regards the arrangement you have offered me, does it allow me the opportunity to meet and fall in love with someone else? Does it allow me a chance at marriage and motherhood? Or does it require that I must be locked away in Mayfair, forever under your protection?
What would possibly tempt me to accept such an arrangement?
You have astounded me with your latest act. From the moment that I accepted the position as Georgiana’s companion, you have attempted to direct every aspect of my life, often-times in a manner that can only be described as heavy-handed and officious. Are you so convinced of your own omnipotence that you truly believe it is up to you alone to provide for my future? After all this time, do you know nothing about me?
You say you did all of this because you do not want me to be anyone’s governess. What makes you think I ever plan to? Did you even once think to ask me of my plans? Of course, you did not. Given your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, you believe you know what is best for everyone; why bother to seek anyone else’s opinion?
You have finally convinced me that you are the most self-absorbed person I have ever had the misfortune of knowing and that you are the last man in the world to whom I would wish to be indebted.
I reject your offer. It is time we say farewell. You see sir, I have my own purpose and meaning for my life. I am ready to take my chance for true happiness.
I release you. I release myself. We both deserve something wonderful.
Elizabeth Bennet
~ Chapter 12 ~
Perception Equals Truth
And this is her opinion of me? This is the estimation in which she holds me. Such were his recurring thoughts, as Darcy absorbed Elizabeth’s words, reading the letter repeatedly. According to her calculations, my faults are heavy indeed! Elizabeth views me as self-absorbed. All I ever do is think of her. Self-absorbed? Me? This is not happening to me. Darcy was in complete denial.
He continued in that attitude for hours into the night, feeling sorry for himself. Elizabeth thought so little of me that she would deliberately misconstrue my intention, and throw it back in my face bundled conveniently with a whole slew of unfounded accusations. What was I thinking? I offered her a secure future... financial independence. This is the gratitude I am to receive! Darcy thought to himself, She is wilful. She would cut off her nose to spite her face if it meant defying me. He soon began vividly recounting the many times she wilfully opposed him over the past months. Why did I even bother? I could do almost nothing to please her. He was terribly angry with her.
At around midnight, Darcy began to consider his options. If I could only see her. If she had not left my home so abruptly, I might have made things right. How I wish that she had stayed and given me a chance to explain things from my point of view. Given another chance, I will convince her to see things differently. If not, at the very least we might part on amiable terms—if only.
~ ~ ~
Darcy remained sequestered at Darcy House for days. He did not eat, he did not drink, and he slept little, if at all. The loss of Elizabeth from his life devastated him, and he felt comple
tely powerless to do anything about it. He lost interest in all things. When Richard called on him, he immediately knew the source of Darcy’s despair.
Refusing to pull any punches, Richard exclaimed, “For God’s sake man, did you think the false sense of domestic bliss you created for yourself would last forever? Sooner or later, it had to end.”
“Richard, I do not wish to discuss this with you. I simply wish that you leave me alone.”
“I hate seeing you like this. The only other time I can recall you like this, was after the death of your father.”
“I dare say that whatever I feel now, it is not exactly the same as then.”
“Then why carry on this way? You are merely feeling sorry for yourself for a situation that you orchestrated and continued to carry through, to the point of obsession.”
“For the last time, I do not wish to discuss it. Perhaps you are trying to help, but that is not what I want. Please leave!” Darcy shouted angrily.
“Do you expect me to leave you here like this, wallowing in self-pity?”
“It is all that I ask. I will be fine. Please leave me alone,” Darcy beseeched.
“The family has already journeyed to Matlock for the summer. I plan to join them shortly. Say you will come with me. You ought not to be all alone.”
Resigned, Darcy mumbled, “Thank you for the invitation. You go ahead, and I will consider joining you later. You have my promise.”
After a week, Darcy was well on his way to having memorised Elizabeth’s letter when a different stream of thoughts plagued him. What was I thinking? Unfortunately, I was not thinking at all. Of course, the arrangement I offered would lead to the wrong conclusion. Elizabeth was correct; regardless of my intentions, perception equals truth. I wanted desperately to keep her in my life, to protect her. Instead, I ended up offending her and deeply hurting her. How she must hate me. She as much as admitted to me that she was in love with someone. She has lived in my home for well over a year; how could I have missed that she was in love with someone?
Wait a second; is Elizabeth in love with me?
~ ~ ~
Darcy returned to the one place he knew he could find peace and solace, the place that had always provided him with a great sense of comfort when he needed it most—Pemberley. It was there that the truth of Elizabeth’s words began to take hold. He was a self-absorbed person with a selfish disdain for the feelings of others, just as she had accused. He admitted how selfishly he had behaved towards Elizabeth. As she had observed earlier, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too, regardless of how negatively it affected her. As selfishly as he had behaved towards Elizabeth, the woman he loved, it hardly compared to how he had treated so many others.
Perceived widely as a man of integrity and honesty among the people of Derbyshire, Darcy vowed to live up to that reputation in all aspects of his life and to become a better man. He doubted that Elizabeth would ever want to see him again, but at least he could honour the memory of their friendship by striving to be more worthy. It was time to take decisive steps in his life.
Darcy wrote to his solicitor and granted him authorisation to contact Madame Adele, the proprietor of the brothel he had patronised for so many past years, to end, formally, his exclusive arrangement with Antoinette. For the first time in his life, he paused to consider the circumstances of the women in that establishment. Was it through force or by choice that they had come there? Darcy was familiar with stories of young women among the tenants at Pemberley who fell from grace. They had been forced into marriage by their parents; even worse fates had befallen them when marriage was not an option. Which of life’s ill-fated circumstances might have led to Antoinette ending up in a brothel, he wondered? As he continued to ponder what might have led her into that life, he considered her situation might not have been as dire as most. She had likely escaped some of the dreadfulness that many of the other women had been forced to endure. Whether his selfish arrangement ultimately proved to her detriment or not, he considered that it could not be kind to cast her abruptly into the harsh reality of her world. Perhaps she might fare well if given another chance in life—one with more favourable odds.
He reckoned there were establishments of some sort which opened their doors to unfortunate women, broken off from society, seeking a second chance in life. Was it something in which she might be interested? He had no way of knowing. He shuddered to think of the physical intimacy he had shared with this woman he knew nothing about, other than a name, which may or may not have been properly represented. He realised that while there was no doubt that she was a victim of society and wealthy men like himself, and she was likely penitent and redeemable, it would be presumptuous of him to think he knew what was best for her. Part of his instructions to his solicitor was to use his discretion to ease the process of securing a second chance for her, should she wish it. He would bear the cost as reparation for his moral duplicity. Albeit not an overly magnanimous gesture, it was a start.
Darcy thought about the events that initially set him upon the path of patronising a brothel. He recalled his father’s words to him when he had lost his innocence. Wealthy young men are responsible to respect the virtue of innocent maidens. Honourable and decent masters do not cavort with servants. It is the only responsible and socially acceptable sexual outlet for a young gentleman of his standing. Although Darcy sincerely doubted he would ever have a son of his own, given that he had no intention to marry—if by chance he did marry and have a son, he doubted that he would introduce him to that particular rite of passage for privileged young men.
~ ~ ~
Darcy found that Pemberley no longer offered the solace he desperately needed. He felt as if its walls were closing in on him; it seemed such a lonely place. He journeyed to Matlock to visit his family. He needed to face up to all that he had put them through, beginning with his cousin Anne.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Anne had returned to Matlock with the rest of the family after Georgiana’s wedding. The single-most incentive in Lady Catherine’s travelling such a distance had been to garner her brother’s support. She had been anxious to have Darcy move forward with the matter of marrying Anne, and she had been terribly vexed that her brother did not share her sentiments. She had tirelessly laboured each day of her stay to convince him of the benefits of the match, but to no avail. Such was her absolute joy when Darcy arrived that her happiness knew no bounds. She thought that he had finally come to honour his duty to his family. Immediately upon his arrival, Darcy sought Anne’s private company. Lady Catherine was beside herself, thinking that at last her fondest wish was on the brink of being fulfilled.
It was the first time in Darcy’s adult life he ever recalled spending time alone with Anne. Elizabeth’s admonishments in that regard were painfully true. From the time he entered puberty, he knew he did not desire his cousin Anne. It was too easy to ignore his aunt and not actually confess his lack of intention. If he had spoken up sooner, Anne might have met and fallen in love with someone by now. How would he know that? It was not as though he ever spoke with her on the matter. Darcy realised that his silence could easily pass as his tacit consent to the union. It was the most cowardly thing he could have done, and the injured party was his own flesh and blood.
Darcy was all that was kind and gentle as he told his cousin that he never had any intention of honouring his late mother’s wish that they marry. He went to extraordinary lengths to express his remorse, so much to the extent that Anne interrupted him.
“I would not be nearly as hard on myself, if I were you. I have attempted to tell my mother for years that there was nothing between us. She simply refused to listen. Soon, it became easy to follow your example and say nothing at all. It will be good to have it all out in the open, for now it will be much simpler when we meet our soul mates.”
“I never thought of you as being a romantic,” he awkwardly confessed.
“I do not doubt it, Cousin. I am sure you never thought of me at all,” she expresse
d.
Darcy could not decide whether she was nursing a broken heart with that last statement. He said, “I have been unfair to you. I apologise. If I have hurt you as well, then I apologise even more so. I have been a dreadful cousin, but if you will allow me, I promise to behave better from this point on.”
“Do I really have a choice?” she teased, prompting Darcy to end his worrying. Anne reassured him that she bore him no ill feelings.
Darcy’s conversation with Lady Catherine did not flow nearly as smoothly. She was positively livid! Lord and Lady Matlock rushed to the drawing room to try to temper her wrath.
“Catherine, what is the meaning of this? You were heard from upstairs,” demanded Lord Matlock.
“This young man has the audacity to tell me that he will not marry Anne. My beloved sister and I planned this union at his birth. You must persuade him to behave honourably,” she insisted, persisting in her attempt to gain her brother’s support.
“What do you expect me to say? I have told you time and again that I have never agreed that Darcy and Anne should marry. It is our intention that he marries an eligible lady of the ton, someone with the prestige, the wealth, and the beauty befitting the mistress of Pemberley. Anne would never suit him. Why can you not see that?”
Before Lady Catherine could speak, Darcy interrupted, “My lord, I must confess that I have no wish to honour your plans either, as regards my marrying anyone. I have no intention of ever marrying.”
“No intention of ever marrying?” Lord Matlock loudly echoed. “Do not be absurd! You are the master of Pemberley. You owe it to your family to marry and produce an heir, if for nothing else, then for the sake of Pemberley. I will not hear of this foolish notion of yours that you will never marry.”