His gaze was dark and his expression deeply hurt, and he seemed willing to say more, but he did not.
“Sir, I—”
“For proof of my dealings with Wickham, you may apply to my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam for confirmation. He is well aware of all the details.”
She found nothing to say, and even if she had wished to, she could not speak. Her mouth was dry, her heart was pounding, and her hands were shaking.
“We should make haste, Miss Bennet, it is raining already,” he said abruptly. “The Parsonage is only around the corner. If you do not need my further assistance, I shall leave you.”
With that, he mounted and departed in haste, with Angus following him.
Elizabeth remained still, gazing after him, with the rain pouring around her.
A while later, all wet, she entered the Parsonage, her head spinning with many more questions than she had before and with the pain in her chest she could not escape.
She went to change, and in the solitude of her room, she recollected all her conversations with Mr Wickham. He had related his story to her within two days of their first meeting, and that struck Elizabeth with its impropriety. Why would he trust someone he had only just met and did not know well enough to confide in? Also, as soon as Mr Darcy left Hertfordshire, Mr Wickham had spread his story around the neighbourhood. Not even that had bothered her at the time as she had been too occupied with hating Mr Darcy and accusing him of Jane’s suffering. Everyone appeared now in a new light. Mr Wickham had not revealed his story to her because he considered hertrustworthy but because he thought she was silly enough to believe it! A silly simpleton she had been, fooled by a charming smile and pleasant manners.
She did not even doubt Mr Darcy’s words. His revelation was too full of anger and feelings to be a fabricated story or a deception. Unlike Mr Wickham’s narration, which had been calm and steady — and she had believed it immediately. A silly, stupid simpleton she had been — and she made a fool of herself in front of Mr Darcy too! Now he had good reason to despise her, indeed.
He had suggested she could apply to the colonel, which she did not need to do. But she desperately needed to speak to him again, apologise for her stupid accusation, and perhaps — if he would forgive her, which was very unlikely — finally ask him about Mr Bingley.
Chapter 3
That night was even worse than the previous one; restless and burdened with self-reproach and guilt, Elizabeth barely slept at all. Adding to her torment, it had rained for the rest of the day, with no opportunity for activities out of doors. Mr Collins went to Rosings, despite the rain, but returned quickly.
Elizabeth had planned to stay in Kent for another fortnight. She had exchanged two letters with Jane so far but in neither of them had she mentioned Mr Darcy. Mrs Gardiner’s letters revealed that Jane’s spirits had not improved at all, which upset Elizabeth and increased her anger towards all those who had caused it.
After her discussion with Mr Darcy, when she had found out how she had been fooled by Mr Wickham, Elizabeth thought more of Mr Darcy from all perspectives. The most important aspect was the suspicion that he had caused Mr Bingley to leave Netherfield.
Mr Darcy might have intervened, together with the Bingley sisters; it was more likely that he he had than he had not. However, if Mr Bingley’s affection for Jane had been sincere and strong, how could he have allowed himself to be so easily persuaded to not return? Did he possess not enough will?Or strength? Or perhaps no real interest in the woman he pretended to admire?
It was like she had not wanted to marry Mr Collins but had done so anyway because her mother forced her. How could this be an excuse for a man who was the master of his own life? Could his affection be shallow? Could he be a shallow man or just a weak one? If any of those possibilities were the case, did Jane really need such a man?
When the second day came with more pouring rain, Elizabeth felt low in spirits. The day passed slowly, with annoying conversations in which Mr Collins participated more than Elizabeth could bear.
In the afternoon, the rain did not stop but the sun came to the Parsonage in the form of a note from Lady Catherine, inviting them all to dine at Rosings. Mr Collins was so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude that he needed a few moments to remember to breathe again. Charlotte smiled as a supportive wife should, while Elizabeth struggled not to roll her eyes in vexation.
When Charlotte wrote back to accept the invitation, Elizabeth understood she would see Mr Darcy again, without having a chance to speak to him privately at all. Under Lady Catherine’s scrutiny, any word needed to be carefully pondered.
For dinner, Elizabeth arranged her appearance with extra care and put on her best dress. Restless, with a hole in her stomach and chills running over her skin, she tried to guess what Mr Darcy might be thinking about her. Their discussion made her presume that he suspected she might have a deeper interest in Mr Wickham than mere friendship. Was he mocking her for her foolishness?
Or did he loathe her for her accusations? Did he finally consider her an enemy, which he had denied a few days ago?
“Cousin Elizabeth, make haste! Lady Catherine’s carriage is waiting! Can you believe such consideration? To send us her carriage! And take your umbrella! Lady Catherine abhors to drops of water dirtying her floors or wet dresses at her dinner table. My dear Charlotte, come, come!”
With such agitation, they entered the carriage and shortly after stopped in front of Rosings. They all climbed down, and Elizabeth’s heart pounded harder.
They were invited into the dining room, where Lady Catherine received them with an air of irritated superiority.
“I hope your shoes are dry!” she said before greeting them. “Anne is very fragile, and I would not wish her to slip and fall.” She then asked a servant to dry the floor, even though it had already been done.
Elizabeth cast a quick glance at Mr Darcy; he was sitting in a corner by himself. Colonel Fitzwilliam came to greet them and invited Elizabeth to sit next to him.
“Darcy, come and sit next to me,” Lady Catherine requested. “And you, Mr Collins, here. Mrs Collins and your sister may sit there.”
With such orders, each took their designed place, and the first course was served.
“Lady Catherine, allow me to say again how grateful we are for this invitation,” Mr Collins said.
