Her sisters both answered, and from his seat near the fireplace, Mr Bennet chuckled and evidently also spoke; Elizabeth saw their lips move, but she heard none of it. She was occupied by the belief that the thoughts of at least one other person in the room mirrored hers—someonehadwanted to marry her, and she had wanted to marry him too. The perfect gentleman for her, in fact, though she had not told anyone that was how she viewed Mr Darcy. Had events transpired as she had supposed they would, she might be seated by his side this evening, anticipating exchanging marriage vows with him on the morrow. Instead, she wanted to scream at him, beat him with her fists, and demand he tell her why he had abandoned her.
CHAPTER TEN
Elizabeth’s first prayer during the wedding ceremony was for the happiness and continued well-being of her sister Jane. The second was more personal. She begged God for help forgetting her love for Mr Darcy. She struggled to keep her composure and hide how perplexed she was at what had become of their connexion; at times, she felt as though she lacked the strength to remain standing. Briefly, she wondered whether her current desolation was what he had experienced after she refused him in Kent. If so, she regretted how foolish she had been. If only they had both behaved better last autumn and spring, all of this unhappiness might have been avoided!
Watching Jane and Mr Bingley depart, Elizabeth began to calculate how soon she could steal away and seek solitude. It was not particularly cold, and she might go for a walk. Lost in her musings as she stood by a window, she did not notice Mr Darcy approach. When she felt a presence behind her, sheknew it was him without even looking. Her heart began to beat quickly.
“We must talk, but not here. Somewhere alone,” he whispered urgently.
She said nothing for a moment. Despite having wanted to speak to him, a part of her dreaded the notion after witnessing his behaviour over the last two days. However, it was necessary. Without a confirmation that everything between them was at an end—and ideally an explanation as to why—she would not be able to set aside her feelings for him.
“Please,” he said, evidently taking her silence as an indication she would refuse.
“Meet me on the path between here and Netherfield, by the three pine trees, in an hour.” She brushed past him, not liking how desperate she felt being so close to him.
Feeling the cold December wind whistling through the trees, Darcy watched Elizabeth walk away, her final words still ringing in his ears: “Do not be so ungentlemanly as to force me to hear you when I do not want to!” At once, he felt completely empty and full of something ugly and sickening. He had known their conversation would be difficult, but his imaginings had not prepared him for how terrible it was to witness her pain and fury and know it was because of his behaviour. He wanted to run after her, take back what he had said, make it as though they were beginning again—even better, travel back in time to September and propose before he left for London. Why had he entertained the ridiculous notion that Bingley and his new wifedeserved a period in which everyone’s attention was on them alone?
He was not usually a man who showed his emotions, but Darcy was close to tears and utterly exhausted. He stepped towards the closest tree and sat on the ground, not caring that it was cold and damp or what it would do to his clothing.
As hard as it was to live with his decision when he was away from Elizabeth, seeing her, he was not certain he could bear it. The impulse to throw himself at her feet and beg her to be his wife and confront whatever difficulties arose from their marriage together was nearly overwhelming. But surely his sister must be his priority. Even Elizabeth would agree to that if she fully understood the situation. Georgiana’s welfare was a charge put upon him by his father, and it was one he endeavoured to fulfil out of love; it was not simply a duty he might seek to diminish. He had failed her in Ramsgate—oh, how he had failed her!—and he would not do it again, even though that meant giving up the woman he loved and desperately wanted as his wife.
Burying his face in his hands, Darcy dug his fingers into his skin. How had his life come to this? He had been so happy! Indeed, when he had travelled to town, a more fanciful person would say he floated above the ground. He was in love, and unlike the previous spring, he had good reason to believe—toknow—the object of his affection loved him in return.
Then Lady Catherine had to interfere.
Darcy sighed and murmured, “I ought not to blame her.” While his aunt had agitated the others, nothing she had said was truly false. The Bennetsdidhave connexions in trade, and one of Elizabeth’s sistershadmarried Wickham. Darcy wondered whether Lady Catherine would have hesitated to say his name if she had known how angry it would make the earl,countess, and their sons, but she did not know of the near disaster at Ramsgate.
His memories took him back to the day that had changed everything two months earlier.
Having heard that his uncle and aunt had arrived in town, Darcy called on them. The day being pleasant, he walked from his house in Berkeley Square to theirs in Grosvenor Square. The butler directed him to the sitting room reserved for the family. There, Darcy found not only Lord and Lady Romsley but also his cousins Viscount Bramwell and Fitzwilliam—and Lady Catherine.
He greeted his relations, adding, “I did not expect to see you, Lady Catherine.”
The look she gave him was nearly venomous, which puzzled him.
“You did not bring Georgiana?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“She will join us later. Her music master is coming this morning.”
“I am here because we have something very important to discuss,” Lady Catherine announced.
“Yes, do finally tell us why you have made this unexpected visit.” The earl’s tone suggested he was not pleased by it.
“Darcy is on the point of making a grave mistake—one that would be a disaster for him and this entire family. He intends to make an offer of marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy was so shocked by her words that he could not immediately respond.
“Marriage?” the earl said, while the countess, eyes wide, said, “We had no idea you were interested in any lady. Who is Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Why do I not know the name?”
Fitzwilliam stared, evidently surprised; his eyebrows werearched in silent question, and Darcy nodded to confirm Lady Catherine’s information.
The earl and countess immediately began to interrogate him—who were Elizabeth’s people, in which county did she live, how had he met her? Lady Catherine sat, her spine rigid, with a smug expression that further alarmed Darcy. Bramwell watched with an amused smirk; he was used to his parents quizzing him about any lady he so much as glanced at.
Darcy had hoped to put off telling them until after he had proposed and secured Mr Bennet’s permission. He sought the best way to present Elizabeth to them. “Her father’s estate is in Hertfordshire, neighbouring the one leased by my friend Bingley,” he said.
“Her father may be a gentleman,” Lady Catherine interjected, “however, her mother’s people are in trade!”
“Trade?” Lord Romsley’s hard gaze swung to Darcy.
