The honesty of his confession did little to cool Elizabeth’s ire, though she forced herself to take several calming breaths before replying.
“What possible grounds did you have for believing you could discern Jane’s feelings for your friend?” she asked, her voicesharper than she intended. “If she was as mercenary as you think, would not some in our neighbourhood have set their sights upon you as a possible husband? Did you not notice, MrDarcy, that neither my mother nor any other lady in the neighbourhood pressed their daughters in your direction? I certainly made no effort to gain your good opinion.”
She paused for a breath, trying to calm herself before she spoke again. “Yes, we had all heard of your ten thousand a year, but even that was little inducement to risk encouraging their daughters towards a man who so plainly disliked us all. Regardless of your reputed wealth, even Mama has her pride.”
Nothing she had said was untrue, yet the silence pressed heavily between them. Darcy stilled, his eyes fixed upon her with an intensity that unsettled her, but she determined not to squirm under its weight.
His shoulders fell—so unlike his usual confident posture—that Elizabeth could not help but look at him more carefully and notice the lines etched across his brow.
“I admit, I had not considered that,” he said, sounding almost shaken by the realisation. “Until Sir William remarked upon it during our dance, I had not noticed my friend’s preference for your sister. He spoke of their marriage as though it were certain, and so I observed them that night, believing myself impartial. Bingley was obviously enamoured with her, for he is often enamoured with a lovely lady, but I could detect no obvious feeling on her part. Still, I must acknowledge the truth of your words. I thought to spare my friend from disappointment. Perhaps it was not my place, but he has long relied on my advice. To think that I urged him away from your sister, if her heart was engaged…I have wronged her greatly.”
Elizabeth felt a pang. Although she could not excuse the harm done, neither could she take any pleasure in seeing him so repentant. His pride—so formidable in every previousencounter—seemed stripped away, leaving behind a man almost vulnerable. She forced herself to remain steady, recollecting that compassion must not give way to indulgence.
With somewhat less vehemence, Elizabeth made her other objection to his proposal. “What about how you have treated MrWickham? How can you defend your actions in that case?”
Darcy seemed to study his boots intently for a moment, and Elizabeth noticed he seemed to clench his fists before slowly releasing them. When he looked up, Elizabeth saw his pain written across his countenance, but also a determination she had never seen before. Finally, he spoke.
“What I have to tell you is known to very few, save those directly involved. I believe I know you well enough to trust you, but I must have your word that this shall remain a secret.”
Elizabeth nodded before he proceeded in a voice scarcely above a whisper. “Georgiana had her heart broken this past summer. Wickham followed her to Ramsgate, conspiring with her companion, and persuaded Georgiana to elope with him.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught, imagining the young heiress deceived by a person who ought to have been looking after her.
“He convinced her that I would approve once they married, even claiming she would be doing me a favour by marrying in this manner. I arrived in time to prevent it, but I could not shield her from hearing him call her a pale, tedious creature, that her fortune was her only merit. She believed herself in love with him, and to hear him speak thus nearly broke her. She has not fully recovered.”
The poor girl.To have been deceived by Wickham’s charm, only to be crushed by his contempt, pierced Elizabeth’s compassion. Sympathy rose swiftly—for Miss Darcy’s suffering, for Jane’s sorrow, and even, against her will, for the man before her, who now bore the weight of both. To think that she had once considered MrWickham a friend, going so far as to championhim at the Netherfield ball to this very man. Elizabeth recalled the words he had said at the ball—‘MrWickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends; whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain’—and finally realised why he said it.
There was still the matter of Jane, which she held against him, but was he truly entirely guilty of that wrong? Perhaps he ought not to have advised his friend as he did, but if MrBingley was overly dependent on MrDarcy’s advice, was he not also partially to blame? After all, it had been MrBingley who had talked to Jane almost to the exclusion of all else while he was in the neighbourhood.
Yes, MrDarcy’s choices had wrongly inflicted pain on Jane, but Elizabeth could appreciate the sentiment. Would she not have done the same if she were worried about her sister being taken in? Did she not also protest when Charlotte came to tell her of her engagement to MrCollins, knowing that her friend did not love the man?
She considered, pressing her hands together in her lap, steadying herself before she trusted her voice. Before she could respond, MrDarcy spoke again.
“I would never knowingly inflict such heartache on anyone. I regret the pain I have caused—though it was never my intent. When I return to London, I will do what I can to make amends. Do you believe your sister would still wish to see him?”
“I think she would.” For a long moment, Elizabeth examined MrDarcy. “Are you in earnest? You would inform your friend of my sister being in London?
“If he is in London. As soon as I may, I will do what I can to correct my errors in judgement.”
“Thank you,” she said finally. “But MrDarcy, if we might return to your purpose for being here, I would like to make one observation.”
“Yes,” he said, looking at her with something like trepidation in his aspect.
“You mentioned earlier that you did not wish for your friend to enter into an unequal marriage, but would that not have been whatyouwould have been entering had you marriedme? I do not love you, nor have you even attempted to court me. Since you so obviously think poorly of my family and me, why would you wish for the connexion?”
MrDarcy stared at her, and she grew slightly uncomfortable as she waited for his response. When he did speak, she had to check her astonishment. “I thought I was courting you. Every day, when I met you on your walks, was that not a courtship? I spoke to you more than I have any other lady, and I have paid you far more attention than I would a mere acquaintance.”
Unable to contain her laughter from the absurdity of their misunderstandings, she shook her head. “I thought you were punishing yourself for my audacity in walking these groves unchaperoned. I was certain you thought it your duty to keep me company, or some other nonsense. How could you be courting me if you did not speak to me beyond civility?”
They heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, and they came to the sudden awareness that the Collinses had arrived at home. “Might we speak more later? Perhaps in the morning on our walk? Perhaps—” MrDarcy twisted his gloves in his hand. “Perhaps, we might, at the very least, endeavour to become friends.”
Elizabeth smiled at this request but only had time to nod before the Collinses and Maria Lucas entered, their astonishment evident at the sight of MrDarcy in his home.
“MrDarcy!” MrCollins bowed so low as to seem in danger of losing his balance. “What an honour, what an unexpected honour, to find you beneath my roof. Indeed, I am quite at a loss to comprehend how it is that you should be here whenyour esteemed aunt expressed herself most strongly upon your absence from dinner. She was, I regret to say, exceedingly displeased, and I hope that you would hasten to make your apologies to her now.”
Catching sight of Elizabeth with MrDarcy, MrCollins stopped short. His eyes fixed upon her, and his deportment altered. He raised his voice, as though determined that MrDarcy should hear his contempt for the impropriety of the situation.
“But surely you knew it was unnecessary, not to mention unwise, to visit my cousin alone. Did she invite you here in some attempt to draw you in? Is that why you were absent from Lady Catherine’s house? Whatever she has attempted, I will, of course, support your account on the matter, sir. Lady Catherine could expect no less from me.”
