“I am determined to make a good impression.”
“I must caution you,” Elizabeth said, lowering her voice as they moved along the portrait-lined corridor towards the library. “Papa has not seen you since last November, and your conduct in Hertfordshire left a great deal to be desired.”
“I am aware.”
“He knows you played a part in drawing Mr. Bingley away from Netherfield and Jane.”
“Which, as it turned out, proved a blessing.”
“When one has the advantage of hindsight, you are correct,” Elizabeth conceded, pausing before the library door. “At the time, we had no inkling of Bingley’s looming financial troubles. Your choice, based on your view of my family’s connections, felt like a deliberate slight. That was noted and discussed thoroughly between my father and me.”
“Are you saying he may not give his consent?”
“I am saying that he remembers you only as the dour gentleman from Derbyshire. Not the man I came to know in Kent and London.”
“Then, I may as well call my carriage and leave.”
“You would leave without so much as speaking to my father?” Elizabeth stopped walking and looked up at Darcy, the colour rising in her cheeks. “Am I not worthy of a difficult discussion?”
“No – that is, yes. Of course, you are.” He released her arm and took several paces before turning back to face her. “I cannot recall my conduct in Hertfordshire without abhorrence. I behaved in an ungentlemanly manner and am only now beginning to acknowledge fully what it may cost me.”
“Fitzwilliam…” Elizabeth began, only to be interrupted.
“Show Mr. Darcy in, Elizabeth,” came her father’s voice from the doorframe of the library, its dark wood panels visible behind him. “I shall take this from here.”
She looked from her father to Darcy, who had drawn himself up to his full height, shoulders squared, his jaw set, hands clasped behind his back. She could not quite decide whether to laugh or weep. Here stood a man braced for resistance, fully expecting to have his pride handed back to him on a platter along with a firm refusal for any relationship with a much-loved daughter.
“Papa,” she began, only to have her father lift an imperious brow, the lines of his face arranging themselves into an expression she had known since childhood to be immovable. She held his gaze for one long minute, then conceded with a slight nod. “I shall be in the family parlour.”
A curt nod from her father was all she received from him, while Mr. Darcy’s gaze lingered on her before he lifted his chin and followed her father into the library, closing the door behind him.
Chapter Nineteen
Bennet strode to theimposing desk, took his place behind it, and motioned for Mr. Darcy to sit opposite him. Once Darcy was settled, only the solitary ticking from the clock above the mantel filled the silence. Determined to command the encounter, Bennet at last broke the quiet.
“I never imagined I would see you again after the ball at Netherfield,” he began, his voice firm but not unkind. “You made it abundantly clear to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst that you held all of Meryton, and my family in particular, in the highest contempt. You declared my daughters ill-placed by their low connections, and you deemed the frivolous conduct of my two youngest completely unbecoming for any gentleman of standing. You even agreed Mr. Bingley should be advised against pursuing Jane, insisting her amiable manner revealed no particular attachment. That she treated all admirers the same.”
Bennet could not conceal his pleasure when Darcy’s eyes widened in recognition of his previously held sentiment.
“How did you…?” Darcy began, frowning. “I have only ever spoken those thoughts in private to Bingley’s sisters at his ball.”
Bennet leaned back, one arm resting on the desk. Sunlight from the nearby window gleamed on his knuckles as he tappedthe wood. “You and your companions were too arrogant to ensure the room, in which you chose to conspire, was empty. I had withdrawn there to read an express announcing my cousin’s death and my succession to the earldom. You cannot imagine how I longed to confront you all, especially those two harridans. Pray tell, how do you endure such duplicity?”
“I do not understand. What do you mean by duplicity?” Darcy said, his voice low.
“Allow me to elucidate,” Bennet replied, settling back in his chair with the unhurried ease of a man who has long since ceased to be impressed. “You are the grandson and nephew of an earl, and yet you spent two months under the roof of a tradesman’s son, eating his food and sleeping in his beds. Under that same roof, you thought it fitting to slight the daughters of a gentleman whose family held land before your uncle’s earldom had a name to put on a deed. And, before the title, before the estate, before any of it, we Bennets were still gentleman farmers who owned the ground beneath their boots and answered to no one for it.” The fire had burned low, and in the dim room Bennet’s expression was difficult to read. “The very moment you and your companions quit that room – the door had scarcely closed behind you – I resolved to remove my family from Netherfield Park and Hertfordshire entirely. I will not pretend the decision cost me nothing. It was Jane I thought of, Jane who had done nothing to deserve such censure, and Jane who I knew would feel it most acutely and say the least about it.”
“I have apologised to Lady Jane for my part in detaining Bingley in London, and explained his financial troubles,” Darcy said, fresh remorse over his previous behaviour hitting him hard. “Though meddling in their friendship was beneath me, I cannot repine the outcome. Had Bingley returned and successfullycourted your daughter, she would have been drawn into the quagmire of his impending ruin.”
Bennet leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “My man of business informed me of Mr. Bingley’s troubles,” he said evenly. “I must confess I bore you no goodwill, Mr. Darcy, yet your letter, especially your apology for branding Elizabeth as ‘tolerable’, did much to temper my anger.”
Darcy inclined his head, the tension draining from his shoulders. “I have long regretted my behaviour last autumn. Family obligations weighed upon me, and I ought to have declined Bingley’s invitation.”
Bennet allowed himself a wry smile. “Ah, but then you never would have met Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s lips curved. “True, but my aunt, Lady Matlock, is an intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Gardiner. Our paths in London would surely have crossed.”
“At least, then, my daughter would have met your exacting standards.”
