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“Please, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “We had little chance to converse at the ball the other night.” Darcy turned back, focusing intently at Elizabeth, who scarcely knew what to think. He seemed to be under the influence of strong emotion, but she was unable to discern what he was feeling. She was also unable to ascertain how she herself felt; Darcy caused the most confusing tumult of emotions in her.
Perhaps seeing that as a signal, Lord Lennox rose. “It is past time for my departure. I have another engagement.” His exit decided Darcy, who took possession one of the room’s ornately brocaded chairs. Mrs. Gardiner engaged him in conversation, making the happy discovery that her hometown of Lambton was near Darcy’s home of Pemberley. Elizabeth noticed how animated his face grew when he spoke of his home and observed how amiably he treated her aunt.
Nevertheless, Elizabeth could not escape a sense of unease in his presence. Every time he turned toward her she recalled the horrible scene in Hunsford and reviewed all of the terrible words she had spoken to him – and she realized she was coloring almost every time he glanced in her direction. Although he did not engage her much in conversation, his eyes were often upon her and having the most disconcerting effect on her. At the ball, she had been able to forget some of the embarrassing memories from their earlier encounter, yet today her mind seemed fixated on them.
She was also at a loss as to the reason for Mr. Darcy’s presence. Although she had enjoyed dancing with him, their encounter was by chance and he was under no obligation to seek out her society, particularly two days in a row. Elizabeth had assumed he would avoid her company so as to prevent the further mortification that memories of their earlier encounters must provoke. Yet, here he was in Mrs. Radnor’s drawing room, impressing her aunt with his good manners. She had longed for a private opportunity to express her regret over her behavior regarding his proposal; perhaps he might also wish to apologize, although he was so proud she could hardly credit that thought.
Having exhausted the topic of Lambton, Mrs. Gardiner turned the conversation to Paris. With a great deal of energy, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Have you taken a walk along the Seine? It is quite beautiful and I know you enjoy walking.”
“No, we have only been here four days,” she explained, uncertain of his purpose.
“Perhaps we could go now. It is not far.” His voice was level and his face neutral; she received no hint as to the motivation behind the offer.
Elizabeth glanced at her aunt, who nodded cautiously, regarding Darcy closely. “That would be delightful, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner said. Uncertain whether she was happy or anxious about this turn of events, Elizabeth left to retrieve their bonnets.
It was a beautiful early summer day. The sun shone brightly, but it was not yet excessively warm. There was no hint of rain and Elizabeth was free to enjoy the beauty of Paris. Everywhere she saw new sights to delight her: here a lovely garden, there a beautifully designed building. The French know how to make everything beautiful, she thought to herself.
They walked toward the river mostly in silence; Elizabeth was content to soak up the beauty of the city as they passed. However, she was acutely aware of Mr. Darcy; his nearness seeming to overwhelm her capacity for speech and her thoughts constantly revisited the question of why he had sought her out. Occasionally Mr. Darcy would point out a famous landmark or building; although Elizabeth appreciated his solicitude, she had read extensively about the city before her visit and had already seen many sights. It was as if he regarded her as a country miss with no education.
After a mile of walking, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, allowed that she required a rest. Elizabeth offered to sit with her, but her Aunt insisted that the two continue on and return for her later. Reluctantly Elizabeth agreed. They settled her on a bench and set out at a brisker pace than previously.
They soon reached the riverbank and started to stroll along its length. Mr. Darcy did not offer her his arm; was he afraid she would not take it? Instead he took long strides with his hands clasped behind his back and she struggled to discern his mood. She knew she must convey her apologies to Mr. Darcy, but it was so awkward. The whole situation was very anxiety provoking. Mr. Darcy paused near a pier on the river and pointed: “Along there is the left bank and here is the Ile de la Cite, ‘Island of the City.’”
Elizabeth’s anger flared at his continued assumption of her ignorance. “I know, Mr. Darcy. We have been here some days,” she said with some asperity. “Despite my lack of formal education, I do speak fair French.”
Darcy grew pale and his eyes darkened, but his face did not cloud with anger as she expected. “Yes, of course, you do. My apologies, Miss Bennet.” He said immediately and resumed walking, his eyes downcast.
Her first reaction was amazement that he apologized so readily. Her second was embarrassment that she had overreacted to his completely benign attempts to show her the city. Were they always doomed to be at odds with each other?
As they continued to walk, his face was a pale mask. Finally he spoke. “I did not intend to imply—“
Elizabeth forced herself to meet his eyes. “No, I know. I am sorry. I am afraid I am too sensitive in this matter. I do know some French, but not as much as someone who has studied it in school. It troubles me upon occasion,” she confessed.
“No, I am the one who should apologize. I do not wish to appear condescending,” he insisted, glancing out at the boats on the Seine, the vendors lining the walkway – anywhere but at her. Silence fell as she struggled for an appropriate reply.
This was the opening she had been waiting for. Taking a deep breath, she spoke: “I actually owe you an additional apology.”
“Miss Bennet?” His eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned toward her. She stopped walking and forced herself to meet his eyes.
“When we talked at Hunsford…I said many terrible and unjust things – and I believed lies I had been told.” Her face grew hot with mortification, but she forged ahead. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I am exceedingly grateful you do not appear to be bearing a grudge.”
“What did you say of me that I did not deserve?” Darcy smiled bitterly. “I was arrogant and condescending. Even ungentlemanly.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I had always thought of myself as a gentleman. No one had ever accused me of failure in that regard. Although, goodness knows, others had undoubtedly thought it.”
“But I never should have – “
He gave an ironic half smile. “I eventually discovered that I was pleased you told me your true thoughts of my character, even if it was painful. Although it took some time to reach that conclusion.”
“At least let me apologize for believing Mr. Wickham’s lies. When I read your letter I was so horrified at myself for crediting what he had said….Never before has my judgment been so faulty….” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off. She gazed down at her feet, no longer able to return his gaze as she recalled the horrible sense of shame she experienced when she had realized the truth of her misjudgments. She did not dare tell him of her even greater shame: that she had spread her negative opinion of Darcy liberally among her friends and family. He did not know and she did not wish to inflict greater pain.
“Please do not reproach yourself,” Darcy said. When she looked up, he appeared to be scanning the river, but she noticed a tightness in his mouth. The sunlight on his eyes darkened their blue to almost black. “I confess I am relieved that you believed what I wrote. I was not certain you would – or even that you would read a letter so improperly delivered.”
“I do not believe that anyone reading that letter would think you insincere…Only then did I realize my horrible error in—”
Darcy turned his
head and captured her eyes with the intensity of his gaze. “Enough, Miss Bennet!” His voice was both emphatic and strained; he seemed almost angry at her apology. “Please allow me to apologize for my abominable behavior at Rosings. The memory of what I said makes me shudder. Please permit me to make amends.”
Elizabeth wondered what kind of amends he had in mind. “That is not at all necessary, sir—”
