Page 62 of A Prudent Engagement

Darcy found he could say nothing. He could scarcely think.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you are greatly pained by this. I wish I could have given you this information in a way that did not hurt you so. I have known the agony of having my affections not reciprocated, and I was full heartsick with grief for many months. But I would never have wished for the gentleman to be made to marry me simply because I had developed an inclination towards him. It was right that he left once he knew that he could not return my affections and that he did not wish to marry me—my only unhappiness in the matter is that I was persuaded by my friends to chase after him rather than remaining at home for my father’s last months. But I did not know then that Papa would die.”

“Do you speak of Mr. Bingley?” Darcy asked in a half-choked voice.

Miss Bennet did not reply. Not for a while. Then she said, “If I say nothing, you will rightly assume that your conjecture is correct, and this information might one day slip from you and reach him. But in giving confirmation, I must beg you to swear to never mention anything about the matter to him. I would not see your friend’s tender heart hurt by his knowing how deeply pained I was by his—how he left was sudden and unexpected. After such a night as that ball at Netherfield… But I would never, never wish him to have offered for me if his heart had not been filled with full knowledge of having exactly the sentiments towards me that would justify making an entire life together. And the same with you. You deserve every happiness.”

Darcy pressed his lips together. “What happiness can I have now, when I am to marry knowing that my wife dislikes me? Why did you tell me? I am like Oedipus, given knowledge that destroys my happiness.”

Miss Bennet looked startled at this statement. “What do you mean? You cannot still mean to marry Lizzy, not now you know that it will make her unhappy as well.”

“I have no choice. You must understand that. I am honour bound to marry her. I made the offer, and she accepted it, and the first of the banns have been read. I cannot leave now, not as an honourable gentleman.”

“But you must go away!” Miss Bennet’s face twisted in distress. “You must! For Lizzy’s sake as well as your own. I thought you would.”

“I cannot. Surely you can see that.” Darcy grimaced. “It is now my duty to provide her that which she agreed to marry me for—money, rent for your family house, all of the pin-money that she— Oh! Why did you tell me this?”

“But—” Miss Bennet wrung her hands together. “I did not think that it would be impossible for you to withdraw. Surely you must see that Elizabeth did not tell you everything about her sentiments. She left you to think that she was in love with you. Does not that pretence of equality of feelings give you enough cause to cry off without disgrace?”

“By shouting to the world that your sister is dishonourable and I am unlovable?”

“She should not have agreed to marry you when she could not say that it was from an unalloyed inclination,” Miss Bennet replied. “One can never be truly harmed by the truth.”

“It does not matter in any case. That does not give leave for a gentleman to break off an engagement. My honour would only warrant that in the case of some gross immorality on Elizabeth’s part. Unless you have such an accusation to levy against your sister—perhaps that she also cavorted with Mr. Wickham, or—”

“Oh no! Nothing of that sort!” Then Miss Bennet frowned again. “I do not believe so. I believe that she would never do anything like that. Though I have found that I do not know her as well as I thought. But it was only anxiety for Mama’s sake, and for the sake of my sisters, that made her accept you. She is mostly good.”

“That does not matter. I have no choice but to marry her if she wishes to maintain the engagement.”

“But she will! She could not bear to disappoint Mama, especially not now she is so happy that we shall be secure. I thought—you are too good for such a fate.”

“What?” Darcy was startled by how he bellowed.

Miss Bennet had gone pale. She stared at him with wide eyes. Her evident distress only made Darcy more upset, and irrationally angry with her, though she had sought to do what was right by bringing this information to him.

He had been happy, so much happier, only fifteen minutes before.

Say not that a man is happy until he is dead.

Darcy spoke in a frigid voice. “The world cares not about the deserts of people. Fate assigns good ends and bad ends with no concern for the moral character of those whom it touches. I choose to be honourable, not to receive good deserts but because it is right. And I despise anyone who so chooses to act in an evil manner, to disregard the dictates of honour, of religion, of goodness, simply because it would be in their interest to do otherwise.”

He turned to pace again, his chest full of turmoil.

He scarcely understood what was happening.

“I made matters worse,” Miss Bennet said in a small voice. Her hands were clasped together and pressed to her lips.

She was an angelically stupid woman.

At present Darcy hated the sight of her.

“I wished to help you. And Elizabeth. Oh, should I have said nothing?”

“It is always best to speak the truth,” Darcy replied. “No matter how little good it will do for me, it is better to know than to imagine pleasant lies—do you not despise that contemptible tendency of doctors to tell patients that they will be well, simply because the physician has no knowledge of how to heal them? It is deception. There is nothing I abhor so much as disguise. I can never approve of anyone who engages in it. You have said what you wish to. Now I shall go.”

Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth was laughing with Charlotte as she helped her friend pack her trunk.