“I had an interesting conversation with Mrs Collins that helped me understand a great deal that-that…perplexed me.” He looked between Mrs and Miss Bennet. “I-I wonder whether I might speak to Miss Elizabeth for a moment.”
Miss Bennet swung her gaze to her sister, while Mrs Bennet narrowed her eyes at him. He was afraid she would demand answers he would rather not offer at present. For the first time since he entered the room, Miss Elizabeth spoke.
“I would prefer it, Mama. Whatever Mr Darcy has to say to me, it seems he would be most comfortable saying it in private. Shall I take him to the back sitting room?”
“You will be cold there, Lizzy. Why do you not stay here? My mother and I can go to her room. Will that not be cosy, Mama? I shall ask Mrs Hill to bring tea.” Miss Bennet stood and smiled reassuringly at Mrs Bennet.
The two ladies departed, leaving the door ajar. As he prepared to speak, Darcy hoped no one was eavesdropping.
CHAPTERFORTY-SIX
Elizabeth was greatly startled to see Mr Darcy enter the drawing room. She had expected to never see him again once he and the Bingleys had departed the neighbourhood so hastily. After Miss Bingley’s note, in which she all but announced her engagement to the gentleman, Elizabeth prayed she never would. Knowing his position in the world, she accepted that he would require more from his bride than she could offer—not that he had ever so much as hinted he was developing an attachment to her. While she did not agree with the common thinking amongst society, she had spent weeks—since the assembly in October, truth be told—guarding her heart against feeling too much for the gentleman, knowing prudence dictated he would marry another sort of lady. But to see him make a woman such as Miss Bingley his wife would infuriate and sadden her. Elizabeth liked him too much to want that. She was not entirely sure she believed Miss Bingley’s account of her connexion to Mr Darcy, but she gave it slightly more credence than not. After all, it would easily be proved false, so why would she risk the lie?
For weeks, Elizabeth had kept the depth of her feelings carefully suppressed, only allowing herself to fully experience them when she was alone. Never had she met a man like Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. He had a broad understanding, he was the most interesting person she had ever known, and the way he spoke about his sister and family, and those under his protection at his estate and town house showed that he was also remarkably attentive. To add to it, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, and he showed that he valued her opinion and cared about her feelings. It was only natural that she had been drawn to him from the time of their first dance together, and after their unexpected meeting the following morning, he had owned her heart. Never before had she experienced such a sense of powerlessness. She yearned for more than friendship from him, and upon occasion, it seemed he did not want to give her even that. What was a lady to do when she could not have the man she wanted more than she knew it was possible to desire anyone?
He stood and began to pace, while her eyes followed his movements. Before long, he stopped by the fireplace and observed her.
“My aunt called me to Rosings to help with a minor matter. I am accustomed to handling many of her affairs, her husband having died some years ago. Last Friday—I cannot believe it has only been four days—she mentioned inviting her new parson to dinner the next day. As she told me about him, to my shock, I realised it must be your cousin. You cannot imagine how I dreaded the meeting.”
“But why?” Her brow furrowed.
He stared at her for a moment. She felt like she was drowning in the softness in his eyes. “I expected Mrs Collins to beyou.”
“Me?” Elizabeth was so shocked, her mouth hung open.
Swiftly, he took the seat next to her; she almost expected him to clasp her hand, but he did not.
“Soon after Mr Collins returned to Longbourn, Miss Bingley told me he was to marry one of his cousins. She assured me it was you. I was puzzled, I admit, but I could see what good friends you were, and naturally, it would benefit your mother and sisters if one of you became Mrs Collins. I should have simply asked—you or your father, if I dared, or I could have used some subterfuge to discover the truth, as loath as I am to employ such tactics. But I hesitated. I tried once or twice to talk to you about it, but something always happened to prevent me from speaking plainly to you about him. I was a coward and afraid you would confirm that you and he were attached. The night of the Netherfield ball, I finally decided I would have to be more forthright and discover whether you were engaged or soon to be. I planned to call at Longbourn the next morning.”
“But instead you left,” she interjected. Another time, she would wonder how Miss Bingley came to believe William was going to marry her—as if she would have ever agreed to it. She loved him dearly as a cousin and brother, but it would very quickly grow tiresome to have a husband who always needed your advice before he knew how to act, who depended on you to explain things to him.
“I awoke on the twenty-seventh to find the Bingleys were already preparing to depart. They told me their sister had urgent need of them in town. There is more, but it is not important to this part of my story. After we were in town perhaps a fortnight, during which I attended to business affairs and saw acquaintances I had been neglecting during my stay here, I called on them and said I intended to return.”
“You did?” Elizabeth could not determine what such a disclosure made her feel—a fluttering in her stomach, heated, dizzy, hopeful, frightened.
“Miss Bingley told me she had received a letter from the housekeeper at Netherfield. In it, she wrote about your upcoming wedding. There was no mistake about it. You were very soon to be Mrs Collins.”
“I never— Everyone in town knew it was Kitty! The banns were read the Sunday after you left.”
“She lied to me. Both she and her brother—people I thought of as dear friends—lied. I could reach no other conclusion. I had a long conversation with your sister that evening at Rosings. I could not leave Kent until Monday—my aunt abhors people who travel on Sunday, and I still had work to complete for her—but as soon as the sun was up, I was gone. I had to see you right away.”
Elizabeth’s heart swelled, and she almost reached for him. Silently, she chastised herself for leaping to conclusions about his meaning, but he had been anxious to seeher!
“Well, not-not immediately, obviously since that was yesterday,” Mr Darcy said, shaking his head impatiently. “After much debate, I decided I ought to talk to the Bingleys first, so that I could tell you and your family the truth about what they did and why. I went to them as soon as I reached London. It was terrible, and I shall tell you another time, should you like to know. They have deceived me cruelly, and would have done the same to my sister, which I find unforgivable. This morning, I departed town to come here.”
His manner of speech was babbling and, combined with his evident nervousness, rather charming, as much as she was full of sympathy for what he must have suffered. More and more, she began to hope that his return meant what she had never allowed herself to believe—that he might love her and choose her for his wife, despite the great differences in their circumstances.
Swallowing against the dryness in her mouth, she asked, “Why did you want to talk to me alone?”
There was a long pause, his lips moving several times as though he was on the verge of speaking but was reconsidering his words. At last, he said, “I wanted the chance for us to-to become true friends without misunderstanding between us, to assure you I am…”
“The most admirable gentleman I have ever been fortunate enough to meet?” Her heart pounded against her ribs.
The look he gave her was one of wonder and, if she was not mistaken, the same hope she was experiencing.
“If that is your purpose, you will make quick work of it. I do not understand everything that happened with Mr and Miss Bingley, and I shall request you explain it to me anon, but you have said enough to assure me that deception is why you left as you did,” Elizabeth said.
“And why I stayed away. I was so confused. I had hoped your heart was free and I might win it, then I worried you were destined for another, and soon after, convinced you were.”
