Chapter 1
Never had Rosings felt so far from the parsonage; nor had Darcy’s knees ever felt so weak or his heart pounded so wildly.
His head was spinning, while Elizabeth’s voice sounded again and again — angry, sharp, accusatory. Less than half an hour earlier, he had been hurrying in the opposite direction — to the parsonage, to talk to Elizabeth, to open his heart to her and to offer her his hand in marriage, his heart, his life. He had expected nothing but immediate acceptance and gratitude. Instead, he had received rejection, accusations, hate, and contempt.
For months he had struggled to conceal his feelings for her, being certain that she had guessed his admiration and welcomed it. For as long as he had been convinced, she could not be his choice of wife, he had distanced himself from her to avoid raising any expectations. Then she had happened to be staying with her friend, the former Miss Charlotte Lucas, at the same time he was visiting Rosings, and that coincidence seemed to be a fated sign. Against his judgment, his reason, his concerns, he had listened to the voice of his heart and proposed to her, anticipating a sweet burst of joy, a delightful engagement, and a happy marriage. How could he have been so wrong, so foolish? How could he have misjudged her feelings so utterly and completely? How could he have mistaken the contempt in her eyes for admiration? How could he have judged as teasing something that was just mockery?
He finally reached Rosings and hurried up to his room, while Lady Catherine called out to him. Once inside, he locked the door and demanded his valet inform everybody that he was unwell and would not attend dinner. He was not in the mood for either food or company, but he needed a drink, so he filled a glass with brandy while sinking into an armchair. He felt angry and disappointed with Elizabeth for offending him, but mostly for trusting Wickham.
That she was furious with him for separating Bingley from her sister, he could understand. But he had done it out of kindness for his friend, and he did not regret it.
However, to believe Wickham’s lies and to accuse him of disregarding his father’s dying wish and condemning his childhood companion to poverty — that was outrageous! Perhaps she was no different from all the silly women who had allowed themselves to be deceived by Wickham, after all. Perhaps he had been wrong to admire her and to assume there was more to her than there really was.
Now all was lost, all was gone. He had made a mistake that he would always regret, but fortunately, once he left Kent, he would never see Elizabeth again and would bury that painful memory.
After he emptied his glass, Darcy rang for a servant, requested some food, then filled another glass.
As soon as the servant returned, he ate a little and drank a lot, his anger overwhelming him. His hunger was sated, but instead of calming him, the brandy only increased his restlessness, and the details of his confrontation with Elizabeth returned, vivid, clear, and hurtful.
‘Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…’ she had thrown at him, just before she had called him the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed on to marry. The last — as in the worst man in the world. That was her opinion of him. Like a simpleton, he had considered himself the only man in the world worthy of her affection. How ridiculous was he?
He heard footsteps, and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam entered after knocking a few times.
“Darcy, where have you been? Lady Catherine asked you to join us for a game of cards.” He paused a moment, then continued, “What happened? Are you unwell? Upon my word, you look very ill!”
“I am not unwell, only a headache. Nothing a rest cannot fix.”
“You have always been a poor liar, Darcy. And you rarely have a headache unless something particular causes it.”
“Or perhaps I rarely mention my headaches to you, Cousin, unless you ask particular questions.”
“Ah, you are obviously in a bad mood. My concern clearly irritates you, so I shall not insist further.”
“I apologise. Your concern is appreciated, but indeed I have a headache and am in a bad mood.”
“Then I shall allow you to sleep, and hopefully you will feel better in the morning. Shall we leave the day after tomorrow, as discussed?”
“Yes.”
“Speaking of headaches, Lady Catherine was displeased that Miss Bennet declared she had one too, which prevented her from visiting, and she was even more displeased that you did not join us for dinner for the same reason.”
“Lady Catherine’s displeasure is not my main concern,” Darcy said, and the colonel laughed.
“I am sure of that. I just mentioned it because the reason for both your absences is very much alike. I was surprised since Miss Bennet seemed quite well when I met her earlier today.”
“You saw her earlier?”
“Yes,” the colonel answered. “She was taking a walk, and I kept her company. We had a lovely conversation too.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. We had a very pleasant and lively conversation. We even talked about you.”
“About me?” Darcy repeated.
“Yes. I emphasised your generosity and loyalty, and I illustrated it by mentioning how you protected your friend from an imprudent marriage. I fear Miss Bennet did not seem quite as impressed by that as I expected.”
The colonel was obviously joking, but Darcy frowned.
