He shook his head as he stumbled forward. The finest woman, possessed of the least unstable mind he had ever yet encountered, yet even she defied all hope of
understanding. A dashed monstrous thing was this, for if he could not comprehend evenher,what chance had he of domestic harmony if forced to choose another?
He had wished very much to see her safely into the arms of Mrs Jennings, but she would not even permit him that much. That look, contempt bordering on open
hostility, he would not soon erase from his memory. There was nothing else for it; she would have her way, and come ruin or harm, she would not accept another word from him.Why?
He trudged slowly, painfully to the water gate, caring not whether an army of his own footmen awaited there to escort him back to his own house. What could it
matter? He might as well bow his head meekly to the noose, might as well have Anne de Bourgh, for there was no consolation prize, no second-place award when
the only right woman would not have him. All the rest were on a level field, and all would be a bitter compromise to a man who hadalmostattained perfection.
His mood subsequently dark and cheerless, he was hardly surprised when he wandered back through the gate, empty and alone, and saw none other than his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, stepping off the barge. He sighed and could almost feel himself grow an inch shorter.
“Well, Darcy,” his uncle growled, “I expect you have some sort of explanation for all this?”
Darcy pursed his lips, then dropped his eyes to the ground. “None whatsoever, Uncle. Let us go back.”
“My dear cousin, I must protest. What inducement could have brought a respectable young lady to such a venue, and without a chaperon?”
They were safely aboard a barge now, and mercifully, William—if that was really his name—had been nowhere in sight on their path from the Gardens. She was free to hang her head all she liked. It was not as if Collins were perceptive enough to discover her melancholy! “Sir, I was not without such protection, as I have indicated. My friend Mrs Jennings was awaiting my return at her box when you happened upon me.” That was half true, perhaps. She was invited but not necessarily expected. She doubted whether that semantic would trouble her thick-headed cousin.
“But who can such a woman be? I have not been introduced to her! Who is she, who could demand the attention of a lady of my family and detain her the whole of
the day, keeping her away from her own family and her betrothed?”
“Sir,” her teeth clenched, “our betrothal has not been made official. I will ask you to kindly not refer to it as such! I have still four weeks, as per the agreement with my father.”
“My dear Miss Elizabeth,” he adopted that grating air with which, no doubt, he issued his sermons, “you can have no possible objection to such an agreeable connection as I have proposed. Indeed, your circumstances are likely to decline still further in that time, and we both know the distress and worry you are certain to relieve in your most excellent mother by forming an honourable alliance. Your elder sister is certain to profit by our marriage, for the disgrace of your younger sisters might be overlooked the more easily.”
“I am not yet twenty,” she reminded him firmly. “My father has assured me that until such a date, he will afford me his protection.”
“Protection! My dear cousin, pray do not speak as if I would take advantage of a young lady. My suit is honourable, as your good mother will attest. Moreover, it is only my very great forbearance and what I believed was your own excellent character which persuaded me to extend such an offer, for as my most esteemed Lady
Catherine de Bourgh exhorts, we are to condole with those in trial and offer succour to those who suffer.
“I confess, an alliance in such a case is perhaps questionable to my own interests, but I feel it incumbent on my role as a clergyman to seek to aid the innocent while still pronouncing fit judgment upon the guilty. I am quite certain that your merits and My Lady’s excellent advice will render you a perfectly respectable companion for a clergyman, and we have the advantage of distance from Hertfordshire in my quiet abode in Kent. Surely, all due circumspection and prudence dictate that our marriage should take place at once, the sooner your family’s dignity may begin to make a recovery.
“It is, of course, my own generosity of spirit which leads me to offer to be the means of your family’s salvation, and I flatter myself, no other would be so magnanimous in the circumstances. But,” he comforted her, “where one ventures, perhaps another may follow, and perhaps by our excellent example of felicity, Miss Bennet and Miss Catherine may also one day be suited with respectable marriages. You must understand, Miss Mary and Miss Lydia,” he spoke the names as an anathema, “must content themselves with their lot, but you need not suffer more than you have already done.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks burning. “Sir, as I have once informed you, you are the last man in the world who could make me happy, and I am convinced I am utterly
incapable of making you so. I grant you my full blessing to withdraw your offer, with no recrimination on my part.”
“I may be forced to do so, my dear cousin, much as it would pain me to be seen as the sort of man who would disappoint any lady! But I have heard the most
distressing rumour, and it was that rumour which led me to find you in the very place I had feared. Are you here in the company of a gentleman? I beg of you not to dissemble,” he held up a hand of generosity, his forgiving smile pasty in the darkness. “Pray, were you imposed upon or beguiled into a liaison? Fear not that I will publicise your disgrace, but of course, I must then break off our engagement and submit to your honourable father and most excellent uncle my reasons for withdrawing.”
She sealed her lips and stared at the water.
“Dear cousin, I beseech you—”
“I was invited to be the guest of Mrs Jennings,” she stubbornly retorted, unwilling to hear more of his self-aggrandisement. “I was not the only guest of her party, for there was indeed a gentleman I had never before met among her guests.” Perhaps it was a slight stretching of the plain truth, but as Mrs Jennings herself would not have disputed that pronouncement, she felt quite safe. “Had you the decency to pay your respects to the lady, your anxiety would certainly have been relieved on that head.”
“Impossible! For Lady Catherine has issued her decree, that we are to present ourselves at once, and no offence given to any person could be more of a ransgression than disrespect to my great lady.”
“I am not suitably dressed to meet such a grand personage,” Elizabeth pardoned herself. “Another day must suffice, for I intend to return directly to my aunt and uncle. They must be concerned for me, even if you will not allow that my friend might be.”
