Previous Section, Section V, Next Section
Chapter 24
The following day brought a visit from both gentleman and as usual the Colonel did all the talking and Mr. Darcy all the thinking. Not that it concerned the ladies at all. They were quite content to be amused and charmed while they worked. The Colonel sipped coffee, ate cake, admired their work and filled the house with laughter and proved the most excellent of guests. Mr. Darcy sipped coffee, ate cake and admired Elizabeth. Any tales he thought to relate sounded quite uninteresting next to those of an officer so he remained as he always was, a young man so reserved that the only impression he left was that of haughtiness and pride.
Thus began a pattern of visits over the next few days by both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy that collectively could be considered simply to fill in time although one could wonder at why such good friends needed the addition of ladies to make up their leisure. Of course they also called alone, which caused even greater interest. The Colonel was as affable as any man could be and no doubt he enjoyed the variety that Hunsford offered but a keen observer must note that Mr. Darcy's solitary visits had more meaning as he was not a man who ever seemed to feel the need to fill in time let alone spend it visiting with ladies. He arrived at various times, always unannounced, and proceeded to sit usually in silence for long periods simply listening to the ladies. Elizabeth refused to engage him in conversation and had reached such a point of exasperation with him that she even refused to challenge him. She simply tried to ignore his presence and in doing so, his only recourse was obligatory responses and nothing more. He felt for her as much as for himself. Such acute feelings must be even harder for a lady to contain.
During their joint visits, the Colonel seemed to take delight in teasing his cousin about his silences that gave Charlotte to think that his behaviour was being influenced by something overwhelming and her first thought was Elizabeth. However Mr. Darcy had perfected the art of reserve and indifference to such a degree that as fast as such thoughts came to her mind, they just as quickly disappeared. Yet something always brought her back to the same thought. He must care for her friend. She only wished for more evidence to find it fact.
Elizabeth found this speculation less than appealing. She was sure that Mr. Darcy's attentions, what little there was of them, were nothing more than common courtesies brought on by the demands of his aunt. Although in her more rational moments she did wonder why Lady Catherine would want him to be so courteous to her. One thing Elizabeth did resolve to do was not to discuss Mr. Darcy with Charlotte. She would put anything to do with him out of her mind.
For Mr. Darcy it was a testing time. He knew that he wanted her and had little doubt that the feelings were reciprocated. Thus he chose for a while to ignore the ramifications of such a love. Until he had determined his own reaction to having her, he was not ready to deal with the reaction from his family. The public obstacles of such a connection could only be rationalised once he had resolved the private ones. He first had to discover himself with Elizabeth. He had to allow his mind to become accustomed to wanting her, having her, to enjoy the sensation that she could be his. Then he could decide what step to take next. Not that there was much decision to be made. He had tried abstinence, he had tried indifference, but nothing could pull him away from loving her. Thus as the days and nights passed, Mr. Darcy indulged himself. He allowed himself to feel his love for Elizabeth, not only in the privacy of his rooms but at all times. He smiled to himself as he thought of her, he consumed the delights that her constant company must bring and he pandered to his whims of fancy regarding nights with her.
On the Tuesday following Easter, the weather had improved enough for Elizabeth to take a walk, timed she hoped to avoid the persistent calling of Mr. Darcy. With luck she would miss him entirely. She was well into her favourite grove and beginning to pick at the dandelions popping up everywhere, when she caught a glimpse of a grey coat and black hat and within a minute was face to face with the man she had sort to avoid. He bowed politely.
'Miss Bennet, good morning.'
'Mr. Darcy, how surprising to see you here. I expected to be alone.' Elizabeth was upset that he had appeared in her favourite grove after she had told him that she enjoyed walking here alone.
'Like you I am happy to be outside.'
'I thought you preferred riding, Mr. Darcy.'
'Riding is a favourite occupation of mine but walking cannot be discounted as an excellent form of exercise. It also enables conversation which riding does not.'
'But riding also allows for long silences.'
'I think you are teasing me again, Miss Bennet. I realise that I could not be called talkative on all occasions.'
'Indeed, Mr. Darcy. I did not mean to criticise.'
'I fully understand your meaning, Miss Bennet. Shall we continue?'
She looked further down the grove and thought that it would be best to continue for a few minutes and then turn for home thus allowing him to keep going without her.
'Certainly, although I am beginning to tire a little.'
'We could rest if you would prefer it.'
'No I would rather walk, thank you, Mr. Darcy.'
'I see you have been picking the dandelions. It is quite extraordinary the way they grow anywhere. I do not think there is a place in England where I have not seen them.'
Elizabeth had not been listening to Mr. Darcy but was concentrating on reasons why he had decided to walk with her. She looked up as he finished.
'I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy. I did not hear you.'
'It was nothing.'
'Oh.'
They proceeded down the grove, walking together with just enough space between them to allow the warmth of an arm or the touch of a sleeve to interfere with each of their thoughts. Elizabeth moved slightly to the right of the path but Mr. Darcy moved with her, no doubt in case she slipped as it was particularly damp after the rain. His movements had actually been unconscious. He just had no desire to be further from her.
Elizabeth found she had walked much longer than she intended with Mr. Darcy and immediately stopped.
'I really must return, sir. Thank you for your company.'
'Thank you for allowing me to walk with you, Miss Bennet. However I must see you home.'
She turned and he turned with her, beginning the slight climb back up the path. The ground was indeed slimy and as they both looked down, he suggested they deviate to the grass at the side of the path.
'Please Miss Bennet, I think this will save your boots. Please allow me.'
He offered her his arm to avoid her slipping on the wet grass and she felt it would be rude and dangerous to reject it. She slipped her arm through his and once again he was lost in innumerable feelings. In his months of reverie on Elizabeth, he had often envisaged such walks although at Pemberley rather than Kent. The grass was indeed very slippery and she tightened her grasp on him that caused him to place his left hand over her left on his arm, to secure her. The move did not surprise her as it was a normal and gentlemanly thing to do. However for him it was akin to dancing with her and he found it impossible to speak.
They continued up the slope to the top of the small rise and then were back in the sunshine where the path had dried out.
'I thank you for your assistance Mr. Darcy. Next time I will be sure to only walk when the path is dry. This is indeed a very favourite place for me as it seems to be mine alone. It is so delightful to have a special place to oneself.'
She felt that was definite enough to make him understand that she preferred to walk alone. Perhaps this second meeting had been an accident and he did not expect her out so soon after rain. He listened to every word she spoke, joyous in the fact that she told him of her special place. They continued to walk in silence both thinking what they thought and both minds going in completely opposite directions. Within ten minutes they had reached the gate to the parsonage and Elizabeth excused herself and ran in alone. Mr. Darcy bowed and proceeded back to Rosings Park.
He managed to avoid lunch with his family, choosing instead the solitude of his room. There was business to attend to and feelings to be dealt with. The papers from his steward took longer than expected and it was tea time before he finished. His mood was mellow and he enjoyed the tea and bread with his aunt. His cousin appeared a few minutes late with a look from Lady Catherine and when he suggested that he was about to walk out, she insisted it was still too early in the year for late afternoon walks. They must be saved for June. They were thus both forced to endure half an hour of Lady Catherine's lectures on sunshine, walking, breathing, clothing, and of course weather. She asked Mr. Darcy how he found her estate, hoping for praise. Instead he had some things that he thought needed attention and offered to take care of them. As much as she loved her nephew she was not about to allow him to take any control of her estate. However, the information was enough to send her off in search of her steward leaving the gentlemen alone.
'I did not see you this morning, Darcy. Out riding early?'
'No, I was walking early. I felt in need of some exercise after all the rain.'
'Which is exactly why I was about to walk out myself. I was hoping that Miss Bennet might accompany me.'
'She has probably finished her walking for today.'
'So that is where you were this morning.'
'What do you mean?'
'Walking with Miss Bennet. I can think of no better exercise. She is absolutely delightful company. Darcy, can I make a suggestion?'
'You may make any suggestion you like.'
'That you endeavour to speak more to Miss Bennet if you intend to court her.'
'That is more presumption than suggestion. What on earth would make you think that I would court her? Impossible!'
'Darcy, we have grown up together. We are like brothers. You love her.'
'Am I that obvious?'
'Without doubt. I have never known you to be in love before. Even with your reserve you would never be this withdrawn after knowing a lady as long as you have known Miss Bennet. It took a small leap from there to see the way you look at her. This is not an infatuation, I think.'
'No indeed, it is not.'
'And how does the lady feel?'
'That is yet to be determined.'
'She must be sure of your feelings by now.'
'I assume she has some idea. We have never spoken of such things though.'
'I envy you. I would wish I could marry as I desire.'
'There are none of us who can marry as we desire. There are obligations, connections to consider.'
'Yes there are. But they can be overcome with fortune.'
'They are heightened by fortune. It is difficult.'
'Am I to assume that we are not leaving tomorrow as proposed? You are not ready to leave.'
'No I am not ready to leave. Do you mind if we delay until Saturday?'
'I have no reason to leave. Saturday it is then. Can you decide your course of action in three days?'
'I have no idea, Fitzwilliam. Would you excuse me? I must dress for dinner.'
'Of course. She will be here.'
'I know.'
Mr. Darcy strode from the room and took the stairs two at a time. He entered his room and leaned on the door to close it. A bath, yes a bath and time to think.
Dinner was at precisely the same time it was every night at Rosings Park and as usual the whole party was assembled in time. The partnerships of entry were also the same with Elizabeth and Miss Lucas entering last. The seating arrangements were not altered either as it suited her ladyship quite well. So once again, Mr. Darcy had the torment and pleasure of sitting next to Elizabeth.
She took her chair and as he sat his arm brushed lightly against hers.
'Excuse me, Miss Bennet.'
'I always do, sir,' she replied with just a hint of smirk.
He smiled to himself as he took his seat. 'I very much enjoyed the walk this morning, Miss Bennet.'
'I am glad. I do enjoy the pleasure myself as you know but I usually opt for solitude.' She raised her eyebrows at him hoping that she was enforcing her comments of earlier in the day.
'As do I. But there are increased pleasures in shared adventures.'
'I hardly consider walking an adventure, Mr. Darcy.'
'I am sure you can make adventure of most things,' he retorted.
She looked straight at him and saw the challenge in his eyes.
'Adventure is not always competition, sir.'
'I did not suggest that it was. However both have the element of surprise, at least with a worthy companion.'
'The voice of experience, perhaps?' she replied.
'No doubt, Miss Bennet,' he answered with a slow smile.
'And how goes your tour to Italy, Mr. Darcy?'
'Italy! Darcy, are you going to Italy? I will not stand for it. The continent is too dangerous,' interrupted Lady Catherine.
'Are you going to Italy, Darcy?' asked the Colonel as the whole table looked toward Mr. Darcy.
'Georgiana would like me to accompany her there. It would assist her studies in language and music.'
'I must say that it would be extraordinary. Have you been to Italy, Miss Bennet?' asked the Colonel.
'No indeed, sir. I fear that my circumstances are not sufficient to allow such tours. I have yet to see all of England.'
'I have no doubt that your circumstances will be sufficient some day, Miss Bennet,' replied the Colonel while staring at his cousin.
Mr. Darcy felt colour rising to his face and picked up his water glass. Sipping slowly he returned his cousin's look over the rim. Elizabeth had watched the Colonel's glance and felt a little uncomfortable as he seemed to be inferring something to Mr. Darcy. Perhaps the Colonel's visits had been to see her. As Charlotte looked across at her she saw Elizabeth's light blush that was mirrored by Mr. Darcy's more intense one. She gave a puzzled frown. Mr. Darcy recovered first.
'Would you like more wine, Miss Bennet?'
'No thank you, Mr. Darcy. It seems I am warm enough.' As she spoke her eyes lifted to his and despite her dislike of him, she could not help but respond in kind to his gentle look.
'I hope your trip goes well, Mr. Darcy. But I suggest you stay well away from ball rooms.'
He grinned impulsively. 'I promise to only attend balls if I am assured of the right dance partner.'
This time it was Elizabeth's turn to grin and as she looked about the table, she noticed that their conversation was being listened to by all.
'I wish you would stop talking and eat, Darcy. I do not like to linger between courses and we have all finished our soup, except you and Miss Bennet. Let the girl eat!' demanded Lady Catherine. 'She will never learn the ways of society if you talk to her all the time.'
Mr. Darcy was once again embarrassed by his aunt's condescending manner to Elizabeth but knew that silence was his best counter to her. He and Elizabeth finished their soup in silence while Lady Catherine watched intently. The second course was fish along with a haunch of mutton and a rich rabbit stew. The servants took some time to offer the various choices to the guests and it was almost ten minutes before the plates were loaded.
'Aunt, may I say that the food is excellent,' stated the Colonel.
'Indeed it is, Lady Catherine,' began Mr. Collins. 'My dear wife and I have rarely dined in such exalted company and with so many fine dishes. I must compliment you on your choice of flavours. I think a rabbit...'
'I cannot abide rabbit,' interrupted Lady Catherine. 'However my nephew Fitzwilliam adores it and I cannot refuse these gentlemen a thing. Of course Darcy prefers plainer food or some of those French dishes. I cannot abide the French. You will find nothing to eat in Italy, Darcy. I cannot abide their food either. You must take your own cook. I hope you have your own cook, Fitzwilliam.'
As Lady Catherine began to question her other nephew, Mr. Darcy felt free to continue talking with Elizabeth.
'Do you like to travel, Miss Bennet?'
'I do indeed, sir. I think travel is the greatest education.'
'Then I hope one day you will have the opportunity to see more of the world.'
'I hope you are right, Mr. Darcy, although I feel it may be impossible.'
'I think you are not a lady who finds very much impossible. You have a determination that is seldom daunted.'
'And now I think you are searching for a polite way to tell me I am stubborn, sir. That is a point on which we must agree. I seldom surrender even when I am obviously on the losing side.'
'I have yet to see you on the losing side, Miss Bennet.'
'Then never choose me as your partner at whist, sir,' she replied smiling.
'I cannot abide whist,' he responded quickly, glancing at her momentarily.
Lady Catherine then began to engage the whole table in a variety of subjects each of which she was expert in and each of which she preferred no comment from her visitors. The guests all obeyed the rules of Rosings to Lady Catherine's satisfaction until it was time for the ladies to leave the table. In this Lady Catherine chose to break with tradition.
'Darcy, Fitzwilliam, you may accompany us to the drawing room. I have need of your company and you can have nothing to say to one another after spending your days together.'
She stood and began the procession from the room with some slight alteration. Mr. Darcy delayed moving to Lady Catherine's side by deliberately dropping his napkin and bending to retrieve it. That simple move left the Colonel first to offer his arm to his aunt and Mr. Darcy in just the right place to offer his to Elizabeth. They thus entered the drawing room and Mr. Darcy was able to secure a suitable seat beside him for Elizabeth. His plan to continue in some privacy with her was foiled though by Miss de Bourgh choosing to retire which left the Colonel to sit on the other side of Elizabeth. Of course she turned slightly towards him from that moment, leaving Mr. Darcy to ponder her profile and wish that he was blessed with the same ease of manner that endowed his cousin.
'And when do you leave Kent, Miss Bennet?' asked the Colonel.
'We have just over a week before our departure. Although I have very much enjoyed the stay I will be happy to return to my family.'
'And tell me, what has been your favourite part of Kent?'
'I can hardly say. My stay has been confined to Hunsford and Rosings. However I find the grove on the south side my favourite walking spot.'
'Ah, the south side. I think that is one of Darcy's favourites as well. I have seen him riding there. Darcy, have you ever encountered Miss Bennet on your rides in the south grove?'
'I think I glimpsed Miss Bennet once,' replied Mr. Darcy, hating the way his cousin was enjoying himself.
'Then you should stop on your next glimpse, Darcy. I'm sure even you can find something to talk about on a walk with a lady.'
At this Elizabeth felt compelled to speak.
'I have no doubt that Mr. Darcy would prefer to continue his ride than stop and I have no need for company during my walks. I enjoy the solitude.'
'I have never been fond of time alone. I enjoy company at all costs.'
'As do I, sir, but not always when walking.' She smiled up at the Colonel.
She continued in talk with the Colonel for some time until Lady Catherine requested she play. Elizabeth kindly took to the instrument inviting the Colonel to turn pages for her. He sat by her and happily kept to his task with small comments that seemed to delight her. Lady Catherine continued to hold court over the top of Elizabeth's playing and Mr. Darcy was once again forced to endure a night of assorted feelings from jealousy to embarrassment. The carriage was called at exactly half past ten and the Hunsford party departed quickly with no time for any special farewells.
The following day Elizabeth was once again on her favourite path and this time secure that she would spend the time alone. However, Mr. Darcy once again appeared out of nowhere and this time she was angry. What could a lady say to make herself clear! She was thus in a bad mood before they even acknowledged each other.
'Good morning, Miss Bennet.'
'Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I am surprised to see you once again.'
'How could I resist such a beautiful day?'
'How indeed, sir.' Her tone was abrupt and she was resolved to be silent from then on, turning immediately to return to the parsonage. He naturally turned with her.
After some minutes, he began again.
'You seem to be very happy here in Hunsford, Miss Bennet.'
'It has been a pleasure to see Charlotte again.'
'And you definitely deem great pleasure from your solitary walks.'
'I try to, Mr. Darcy. However they do not occur as often as I would like.'
'Then perhaps you need a greater estate on which to ramble.'
Elizabeth sighed, expecting to hear another round of praise for Pemberley. However he did not take that thought further.
'I noticed you admiring Lady Catherine's instrument in the drawing room. Do you consider it above the one in the rear sitting room? Personally I think the drawing room too large for perfect sound.'
'I have never seen the rear sitting room, sir, and certainly not the instrument there.'
'Oh, I was unaware you were so unfamiliar with Rosings. I am sure that next time you visit you will be well acquainted with the house.'
Elizabeth was puzzled as she saw no reason why she would become more familiar with the house unless she was staying there.
'I doubt that I would be a guest of Lady Catherine's sir.'
He did not reply as he was too close to disclosing himself. He chose instead to walk quietly until they were near Hunsford. Elizabeth could only think that he meant something in regard to his cousin when he referred to Rosings. There was no other conclusion she was willing to make. Seeing the gate to home was a blessed relief as his disjointed conversation was worse than his silences. She once again hurried inside with a quick farewell.
That night the residents of each house dined within. Thursday dawned a glorious day and Elizabeth enjoyed a rather later breakfast than usual and began her walk somewhat later as a result. She avoided the grove in the hope of avoiding Mr. Darcy but instead found herself on the same path as Colonel Fitzwilliam.
She had been going over a letter from Jane as she wandered and was surprised at hearing the Colonel's voice.
'Miss Bennet.'
She looked up and they began an easy conversation on walking and Rosings Park. She enquired if they were to leave on Saturday as they had mentioned and he confirmed they would as long as Mr. Darcy did not delay it once again. She was surprised to find the Colonel completely at the call of Mr. Darcy in his travels and tried to politely make it known that she found Mr. Darcy too full of his own opinions and power.
The Colonel agreed that his cousin did like to do what he wished but he was quick to also point out that most people do and as his cousin was rich he had more opportunity than most. Elizabeth heard only of Mr. Darcy's use of his fortune and nothing more. She would never concede to anything in herself that might coincide with something in Mr. Darcy. The Colonel assured her that he found it frustrating not being able to be as free with his time as Mr. Darcy, pointing out the inadequacies of being a second son of an Earl. Elizabeth smiled to herself and remarked to him that he probably had rarely done without anything in his life. He agreed but thought this a good time to test Elizabeth and told her that in one thing he did have hardship. He could not marry whom he wished.
Elizabeth sighed, thinking he was telling her politely that any hope she had would not be forthcoming. She had never really thought that much of his intentions and it was no great loss to hear him express that. She then suggested that it was easy to like a woman of fortune. He next seemed to be making more excuses by telling her how dependent such men as he were on income.
At this Elizabeth could only imagine again that he definitely meant in reference to an offer to her and embarrassed that he would think she expected such a thing, she made light of it all by asking him the usual price for the son of an Earl. He laughed with her and they continued walking in silence. After some minutes, Elizabeth began to feel the silence and wondered if he thought her affected by his statements. In an effort to change the subject she went back to her previous topic, his cousin, and asked if he came with Mr. Darcy to keep him company and wondered why Mr. Darcy did not marry instead. She then felt that she had said too much and suggested that his sister no doubt filled the gap.
The Colonel then informed her of an interesting fact. He was joint guardian of Miss Darcy. Wishing for more information on the Darcy family and not exactly knowing why, she then asked him if it was an onerous task as girls of her age can be difficult at times. He looked rather stern as she spoke and immediately asked why she would think so. Elizabeth could not help but feel she had hit a sore point and that indeed Miss Darcy was difficult. She then decided that she had better not pursue such an issue and quickly told him that she had heard no bad reports on Miss Darcy but was simply speculating and that Miss Darcy was definitely in favour with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.
He said that he barely knew them at all but was aware that their brother was a fine gentleman and a great friend of his cousin. Elizabeth could not resist a slight slur here by suggesting that Mr. Darcy took great care of Mr. Bingley. The Colonel was more than surprised at her words but felt this a good time to assist his cousin in his pursuit of her by offering some good points in his cousin and how caring he was. He thus told her of a recent incident when Mr. Darcy rescued his friend from an unfortunate match.
Elizabeth's ears pricked at this and she had to know more. On questioning, the Colonel said that he would not like to go further as the lady's family would be upset. Of course Elizabeth was determined to hear every detail and assured the Colonel that she would not mention it to anyone and he decided that it was best to disclose it all to her for the benefit of his cousin. He related Mr. Darcy's tale of removing Mr. Bingley from the temptation of a hasty offer to a lady not suitable for him. When he saw her reaction he felt his imprudence slightly and tried to suggest that perhaps it was not Mr. Bingley but another friend. However the circumstances remained the same. Mr. Darcy had been pleased to secure his friend.
Elizabeth was finding it hard to maintain composure while she asked him what Mr. Darcy's reasons were. The Colonel only offered a vague comment as to inappropriateness of the lady and then Elizabeth asked him what methods Mr. Darcy used to separate them. The Colonel seemed to find this rather an odd question and simply replied that as far as he knew only Mr. Darcy's opinion was required.
Elizabeth could hardly speak. She was incensed that Mr. Darcy could actually do such a thing and then praise his actions to his cousin. She had long suspected such a move on his part but to hear it from such a source was extraordinary. Her silence worried the Colonel and he asked her if the information had upset her. She only replied that she felt Mr. Darcy should not interfere. He had never thought of it that way as his cousin's actions were usually forthright and determined. She went on to state clearly that she felt that Mr. Darcy had no right to impede any relationship for any reason. As she said this she realised her imprudence and softened it by adding that perhaps Mr. Darcy had been unaware of the depth of the affection of the parties.
The Colonel agreed but added that such a case would lessen his cousin's virtue in separating them. He sounded as if he was trying to make light of it all but she knew now that his words were exactly as she had always suspected of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth ended the walk with a clear loathing for Mr. Darcy and her afternoon was spent in thinking over the Colonel's words and her knowledge of what happened resulting in further dislike of the gentleman. There was not a critical adjective that did not come to mind when she thought of him and the depth of despair he had subjected on Jane. He was the worst kind of man, filled with vanity, pride, selfishness and disdain and she knew that she would find it difficult to be in his company ever again.
She developed an ever-increasing headache over the afternoon and had no option but to excuse herself from dinner at Rosings. She felt only the need to wallow in her own despair and pity for her sister now that she had a person to blame for it all.
The Colonel thought of telling his cousin about his conversation with Miss Bennet but thinking it over on his return he chose to be silent, feeling that to say anything would bring down the wrath of Mr. Darcy for interfering. Mr. Darcy heard the news of Elizabeth's headache with great distress. This night was to be his last in her company and he had spent the day shoring up his determination to secure her. This blow at her absence was great indeed. He decided he must see her and let the cards fall where they may.
As he had never trodden this path before he had no idea that it was one from which he could never return but even a sensible man cannot know everything. In fact a man who has spent so long priding himself on his sagacity is even more prone to lapses of folly and silliness. He had no direct evidence of Elizabeth's feelings yet he chose to proceed with a mind blinded to anything other than that she must feel what he felt. His bewitchment in her left him no alternative. And so he made paltry excuses about forgetting to see the stable boy and walked out, barely remembering his hat. He closed the door and began striding to his future.
Chapter 25
The determination in his departing stride belied the state of his mind. His head swam with the round of words and phrases that he had practised for many nights. He knew what he wanted to say but he knew that nothing he said to Elizabeth was accepted without a contest of some sort. She would bring up any objection she could before capitulating. That was the beauty of her and the torment. He was about to make the most difficult statement of his life and she was about to make it even harder. If she could bait him with words over whist, then who knows what she would do with this. A small smile captured his eyes and held them for some minutes before his mind sent him back to the declaration he was about to make.
He slowed his pace just a little, reducing his stride to enable more time to shore up his arguments. She would mean to accept, of that he was sure. However she had no doubt thought of all the aspects against their union and she would want assurance that he had considered them. She would first challenge him with his connections and family. He had no counter to those other than his resolve to stand by his decision in spite of their well-founded objections. She would then resort to her family and their shortcomings. He had seen her blush so often when they flaunted themselves in public. Yes that would be next. However, he must assure her that he would always stand by her no matter how badly they behaved. That should surely satisfy her. What else? His depth of affection. He must ensure she knows that nothing will lessen that. Yes, he will tell her that he has fought all the battles within and still he must have her.
Elizabeth was in her own torment as she envisaged what Mr. Darcy thought of her sister. She had never known such impertinence. He had dared to take control of people's lives and affect them forever. She could not conceive of a person taking so much on themselves. Once again she felt the weakness of Mr. Bingley in allowing his friend to influence his decision. However the fault must lie primarily with Mr. Darcy who obviously played on that weakness to achieve his desired result. His pride and conceit were without comparison. How could such a man hold his head high? She then thought over the plight of Mr. Wickham and everything fell into place. She had always believed it but now she had proof of Mr. Darcy's complete selfishness and need to control all of his world and other people's as well. She sat rubbing her temples trying to rid herself of these thoughts. At least he was to leave on Saturday. She was sorry to hear of his cousin's leaving too but it could not be helped. She had no desire to have Mr. Darcy in her sight again.
For Mr. Darcy, the moments were only slightly less tormented. The parsonage was in view and his breathing was now so exaggerated that it felt almost painful. He must relax. They would not be interrupted as all the others were at Rosings. In this he was secure. It could be settled between them without disturbance. They could both feel the warmth of the initial union without intrusion. Once again a smile spread over his face.
He opened the gate and slowly took the ten strides to the door. He had no idea why he counted the strides. Perhaps he needed to keep every fraction of the moment to remember always. Perhaps he just wanted distraction before this momentous occasion. He raised his hand to the knocker and let it drop twice. The sound seemed hollow but quickly he heard the lock move and the door was open.
'I am here to see Miss Bennet.'
He did not pause but passed through, barely giving the servant time to jump ahead of him and open the door to the sitting room. He walked straight in not waiting for an introduction. And there she was, just standing on his entrance. She was wearing her cream day dress. It suited her so. Her face looked drawn, pale. He asked after her health in a hurried manner, almost as if it was inconsequential and she bristled at his tone. Her response was frosty. He sat quickly and placed his hat on the side table. He looked intently at her as she resumed her seat, but offered nothing. She looked back, restraining her desire to tell him that she knew of his meddling. His eyes were determined and forceful, almost causing her some disquiet. What was he about?
He sat and looked across at her, so beautiful in the early evening light. There were tiny wisps of curls floating in the pale sunlight. With the light behind her, he could not see her eyes properly and he stood, realising that he must face her before he began. But how to begin. Suddenly at this most important moment of his life, he felt cursed with his lifetime of reserve. He took the two steps towards her. She looked up and the words he had so long felt came bursting forth as he told her the depth of his passion.
For a short few seconds the world of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth came to a standstill. Neither could speak or move, let alone breathe. She wrestled with his impossible words, so much more impossible because of what she knew of him. She was simply stunned. He watched and waited as those few seconds became eternity. As the colour in her face began to return, he knew he must continue before she had a chance to test him on this.
And so he began just as he had practised. He loved her to the depth and breadth of his soul. He felt a passion for her that bridged any gap in their situations. And it was not a new love but one that had been nurtured and tended for many months. She must know that nothing would drive this from him. His words were eloquent and beautiful and as he watched her quietly listen, he felt it prudent to continue.
His family would object, he knew that, but his love was greater than their objections. As for her family, he knew of their lack of decorum, their public exposure. But his love was strong enough to accept that and he would never let her down. His words had now taken on a life of their own and he went on, stating in terms that a less passionate man might have thought better of, and he told her that her low station in life was nothing to him and he had already fought himself and won the battle to have her. He finished with a heartfelt plea to accept his offer of marriage.
She had barely moved during his diatribe of justification for loving her and now he studied her intently as she formulated her reply. And what could a woman in her circumstances say? He was a man of such outstanding rank and fortune yet he loved her and obviously with intense passion. Elizabeth's initial feeling was flattery, which could not be faulted in any woman. He was handsome as well and could have had any woman in England but he had fallen in love with her. And of that Elizabeth had no doubt. His words of devotion were moving and heavy with fervour. He did indeed love her and flashes of their times together passed before her and she recalled the softness in his eyes that she had seen sometimes as he looked at her. However her mind was satiated with the rest of his words, reverberating through her. Yes he did love her, but in spite of everything abhorrent to him. It was an offer made after calculation, and her anger began to return.
She took a deep breath which he mirrored, as his body tensed for the resolution of his dreams. She spoke slowly and with no pause. She told him what any woman of Elizabeth's temperate and mood would say. She could not have him. She could not accept his offer. She offered no appreciation for anything he had said but instead felt the overwhelming need to make him feel as bad as he had made her feel with his words about her inferiority. She told him that she had no wish to hear of his affection or to receive it. She finished with a modicum of guilt over any pain he might suffer but destroyed that immediately with a surety that any hurt he might feel from her refusal could easily be overcome by his reticence to offer for her in the first place.
As he heard her first words of rejection he had moved unconsciously to the mantel, hoping to find comfort in a familiar hiding place. He was definitely not breathing and his chest took on the feel of stone. His heart beat irregularly and he wanted to hide, to not hear another word. Time slowed to a pace unfathomable. She was not fighting him; she was simply refusing him on any grounds. Please stop Elizabeth.
However she continued, stinging his heart with words of resentment. He could not fathom that she would react this way. His eyes did not leave hers but hers were no longer eyes for him. He felt the blood drain to his legs that became too heavy to move. He was suffering more than at any time in his life and every part of him showed his anguish.
Elizabeth watched his reaction and could not help but feel the intensity of the moment and even some concern for him. He looked ghastly. The quiet of the room took on immense proportions before he could manage to speak again. His mood was now slightly brushed with anger and he calmly asked her if she thought so little of him and his proposal that her few words were all she was to offer. He felt that he deserved more kindness than that. As he uttered those words his immense vulnerability seeped through him and he began to feel the familiar need to protect himself, so he feigned unimportance at what she thought at all.
He shrugged his shoulders slightly as he spoke and that movement alone brought Elizabeth's anger to the fore. She spat back with an angry question to him about why he would expect anything else after an offer filled with insults. Her temper was increasing as she spoke and unable to stop herself she moved on to the things she knew of him, of his interference in her sister's life and future.
He blanched as she mentioned Jane. She knew. How could she know? He had no words to speak until he absorbed this and still she continued. She accused him of being the main influence in Mr. Bingley's decision to leave Netherfield and never contact her sister again. Her accusations went on to include the implications to both parties that his actions had caused.
He was still silent, unbelieving that this moment was so destroyed and unable to reply sensibly to anything she had said. As she awaited his reply, he shook his head slightly, still attempting to come to grips with her refusal but she saw his look as nothing more than cold contempt. She asked him if he was ready to deny his actions.
His breathing was still somewhat ragged and his colour varied as different feelings flowed through him. However Mr. Darcy was a man of honour and he could not lie to her. He quietly replied that he could not deny his actions in any way and even remarked with realisation, that if he had used such actions on himself it may have prevented the position he was in now.
Elizabeth could not believe what she heard. There was no room in her mind to understand him in any way. She had received an offer from one of the most eligible men in the country and she was forced to reject him. And for this he must pay. In her initial emotion of being put in such a position, she only felt his arrogance and conceit and she was compelled to finish her character assassination by telling him that she had also known for months of his betrayal of Mr. Wickham and asked what defence he had for those actions.
He flushed when she said Wickham's name. Would this man forever haunt him? To have him brought into a moment such as this was more than he could bear and his reply was meant as a comment on Wickham's influence more than a taunt at her as he suggested that she had an uncommon interest in him. However, he could not talk of him to Elizabeth and must be silent on the subject of Wickham.
Elizabeth watched his cool demeanour and calm response and fumed, asking him what else would a person feel who knew of his hardships. Oh when she said that he almost laughed. Wickham had indeed been working hard in his absence. No doubt the whole of Meryton thought him despicable after Wickham's lies. He brushed off her comments with another sarcastic retort which renewed her spirit and she accused him of destroying Mr. Wickham by manipulation and neglect. In fact she found him the very worst of men.
Mr. Darcy felt like he was within his own nightmare. Of all the visions he had had of this occasion, none had one moment of what had actually happened. She despised him; she had always despised him. He thought of explanation but knew she was beyond reason in all this. He had no remedy to console her and so he paced the room as he spoke, unable to leave the situation as it was but unable to improve it. She was unjust to him and in that he must have recourse.
He turned to her and looking closely, spoke of her injustice in expecting him to simply flatter her with words of love and ignore the obvious problems of the connection. It was unreasonable and without merit and he could never make an offer to her without feeling that he had done her the honour of telling the truth.
She half smiled in that way she did when she was about to batter him with words and told him that she would still have refused him even if his words had been full of feeling and even if they had been gentlemanly.
He winced at her last words, pained beyond reason that she thought that of him. His only claim on life was his behaviour, his manners. And yet she was accusing him of the opposite, of being rude, unfeeling and dishonest. She saw his pain but it was not enough. She had to have more. She wanted him to feel every bit of her anguish and contempt and so she continued by telling him that nothing he could have said or done would have made her accept him.
For a second he felt his eyes sting as his mind battled with her words and his heart battled with her hatred. And yet through it all he saw her beauty and her strength and he hated himself for seeing it. No pain was greater than this.
And then she began again, and again he faced her, willing to take anything she had left, as he knew that it would be the last time he would be with her. She went back further in their acquaintance, seeking to ensure that he knew the depth of her derision. She had disliked him from the very first assembly and his behaviour since had only confirmed what she knew then. Within a few weeks she had decided she could never marry him.
His mind suddenly flashed with those last words and the hint that she had at one time considered it. Yet there was no time for contemplation of any sort. He had to leave. He could stand no more and he had no wish to resort to her anger. He simply told her that it was enough. He knew what she thought of him and he told her of the shame he felt in feeling the opposite. He bowed, offered her best wishes for her future and left quietly and solemnly.
Elizabeth burst into tears the moment he had left. She no longer had a sounding board for her months of anguish over Jane or her tales from Mr. Wickham. She was left with the residual emotions of expressed anger and a strange disbelief that Mr. Darcy had loved her. He had put her in an impossible position, declaring his love with words and emotions that left no doubt of his fervour and commitment and yet at the same time telling her how difficult that love was for him. She could not help but be astounded that his love was so passionate as to overcome the difficulties of the connection. And she knew in her heart there were difficulties and in fact, whether she admitted it to herself or not, they had been uppermost in her mind when she first met him, knowing nothing could come of it. Perhaps it was those very things that began her mission to find him disagreeable after his censure of her looks at the assembly. She was not, however, in a mind to feel so rational and instead spent the next two hours feeling the pain and frustration of her life. It would be some time before she could consider his.
For Mr. Darcy there was even more agony. Suddenly every sound and movement was exaggerated in his mind. The thud of the door closing was like a blow to his brain. He took the two steps carefully and retraced the ten strides to the gate. And as it closed, his mind began to race. No longer was he caught up in the vacuum of lost love. Now he was beginning to process her words and with it came the anger of a man whose life had been irrevocably changed for the worse. He had lost everything that he held dear not only within his passion for her but within himself. She had single-handedly removed every part of the wall he surrounded himself with. She had carefully removed each stone leaving him with nothing to hide within. He clenched his fists and set his jaw, his chin jutting out in determination and rage. He had not done wrong. He had done everything a man in his position should do. He had begun with a statement of passion and ended with a plea of acceptance. Could she not just have seen it like that?
And slowly he allowed her words of loathing to permeate his being. They came in a flood and he was unable to distinguish one from the other. Each statement she made was accurate in every detail but she had allowed no reasons, no sense of right in any of it. She had simply taken his actions and thought nothing more. This part of her surprised him. He had always surmised that her mind was rational and would determine right from wrong and not simply judge on actions seen or related to her. He had never felt the need to explain all things to her as she seemed able to work out so much for herself. He was a clever man and as he carefully examined their different conversations, he was now able to see what she saw, or part of it. What had made him suddenly blind to her feelings? Was he so in love so quickly that he chose not to see her resentment, her sarcasm for what it was. She had been censuring him for months yet he had been as foolish as a callow youth and seen only what he wanted to see.
He was nearly at Rosings. He could hear his aunt through the open window. He could not face anyone at this time. He must escape. He spun around and retraced his steps to gain access to the rear of the house, walking past the stables and then the kitchens. The pantry staff was stunned to see the great Mr. Darcy push past and enter the house that way. Within minutes, gossip was afoot of his appearance. One servant was sure he had been fighting.
He took the servants' stairs to the first floor and attempted to hide the clout of his boots on the timber floor as he entered his rooms. He very quietly shut the door. And then it happened. His chest emptied of feeling and became a hollow burned out shell leaving his heart to beat irregularly in the cavity. His hands began to shake and his fingers felt cold as he took on the feeling of abject grief. He sank into a chair and folded his arms across the desk as his face slowly dropped into them. And he cried.
Chapter 26
When he managed to lift his head again, his arms were stiff and his face ravaged. He had discarded his coat and waistcoat as he walked in but he had no memory of it. Gradually the workings of the house started to permeate his mind. He could hear the faint clatter of dishes, distant conversation, a laugh. He sat as a man in grief, feeling the futility of life as the world spun on with no recognition of his pain. Suddenly the servant opened the door, ready to prepare the room for the night. She started at seeing him and one glance had her scurrying downstairs with more gossip for the household. She would not be returning to Mr. Darcy's room that night.
He stood and stretched his body, attempting to alleviate his heartache with bodily movements. And once again, as he had done again and again, he relived those moments with her, those final moments. It could not have been more than a quarter of an hour yet it contained every facet of his future. And once again, he smiled at himself. A man such as he is rarely a fool but that was exactly what he was at this moment.
He checked his watch and found that nearly two hours had passed. Yes indeed it was dark. What was she doing? Was she gloating in her victory? Was she writing to her sister with news of his actions? He still felt no guilt in his dealings on that matter. He had proceeded as he saw was right for his friend just as she would proceed for her sister. How could she fault him for honesty to his friend?
And then he went unwillingly to Wickham. The man had plagued and haunted him all his life and now at the moment of his declaration, he had once again foiled his success. He began to feel just as he had as a young boy when this supposed friend had used manipulation and cunning to win over him again and again. He recalled the hours he had spent feeling his reluctance to participate in so much yet saw his father praising Wickham instead of accepting his own son. He had never doubted his father's love but as any child born with reserve and timidity he had craved to be like Wickham. He realised as he grew that his father wanted only to make him better but the moments of comparison still invaded him almost daily. To have his Elizabeth so influenced by a man who not only haunted his past but also had blatantly sought to hurt his sister was something he could not let go.
As his mind flitted through her words and opinions, so his heart moved through the processes of grief. For he was indeed grieving for the loss of Elizabeth. He had spent so much of these past months thinking of her and convinced of her affection that the sudden loss of her brought sorrow, anger, guilt and confusion.
He lay on the bed and the agony of his mind and body caught up with each other and he fell asleep. Some two hours later, he awoke with a start. He sat up and instantly he was back in the misery of rejection. And so over the hours remaining on this very special night, his thinking wavered from injustice to hurt but always to Elizabeth. He wished to feel less for her and to obliterate his love, even lessen it somehow. But it was not to be. She was entrenched in the fibre of his being. He could no more cast her from his heart than he could cast away his sister.
Of course, he could also not rid himself of her words, her judgments. She had laid allegations at him with no consideration. She allowed no justification or reasons in any of it. She had simply accused. And in this he must seek justice. His honour was in doubt in her eyes and she was the one person in the world whom he could never allow to doubt that of him. Suddenly he was hit by her words of his discourtesy and incivility and he flushed with the agony of knowing she thought him that low.
As he paced the room, his breathing once again became ragged and he had an overwhelming urge to return and explain his actions. But that was not possible. He was not ready to see the look in her eyes and she would most certainly not admit him. But he must explain. He must be able to defend himself. He thought of his cousin and asking him to intervene but this was too raw for involvement by others. No he must keep this between Elizabeth and himself. Thus he had no choice. He had to write to her and as he thought of the impropriety of such an action he smiled ironically to himself. Yes indeed Elizabeth, I am about to prove you right in one thing. I am about to do a very ungentlemanly thing.
He moved back to the desk and retrieved several sheets from the drawer. He moved the candle closer and picked up the perfect pen still left untouched since his arrival. He suddenly felt determination that she should read it and thus knew he should begin with an assurance to her that he would not be repeating his offer. That part of his folly was indeed over.
He sat holding the pen for some time, unable to formulate an opening. He threw it down in frustration and once again began pacing the room, often peering through the window at just the angle to see the roof of Hunsford cottage. He presented a pathetic figure to himself on reflection. What man could hold his head high that still sought desperate reference to his lost love? Once again his eyes filled and he regressed to that part of his grief that left no room for anger.
Many hours he spent this way, wavering through the various aspects of loss, postponing what he must do because it was without doubt his last contact with her. He heard the household settle for the night. He saw the moon begin to sink and still he paced and watched and finally as he heard the first stirrings of the birds, he began.
First he ensured that she would not hear more words of affection from him. In this he felt anger that she should have felt so appalled by his words and that he needed to deny any repetition of them. But it must be done if he was to guarantee that she read the remainder. That done and finished, in words that held no hint of regret but with only a determination to have it ended, he proceeded to demand that she read the rest for no other reason than his honour.
The power of such writings made him move away from the desk once more as he came to terms with the depth of his emotions once again. After some minutes he was ready to address the two misdeeds of which she had accused him. He knew that he must begin with her sister. He must make her understand that his involvement was meant in the most honourable way. He had no way to convey to her the depth of his concern for his friend without brushing on subjects that would prove hurtful to Elizabeth. But it must be done. These tales were of such stature between them that both deserved the duty of honesty in their telling.
He thus began with his first meeting of Jane and his observance of her with Mr. Bingley. He told her that he had often seen his friend so enamoured and thus thought nothing more of this venture in the country. He then had to touch on something that brought joy to him for a brief second, the Netherfield ball. It had been while he was dancing with her that he had become aware of the expectations in Meryton. His own naiveté made him smile. He of all people had failed to see and hear the talk of the district. Oh yes, he was smitten so early on that he had no time to think properly of his friend, to protect him. He wondered if she would think of this as she read his tale. He told her of his constant observation after that moment and how he quickly realised that his friend's behaviour did indeed invite expectations. However that had led him to examine Miss Bennet's response and indeed he saw none. He had seen her only as she had always been. He told her that he had spent the entire evening observing her and his opinion had never changed. He expressed his regret that it was so and that if her assertions as to Jane's feelings were more accurate then indeed her accusations to him must be correct.
Mr. Darcy then felt it necessary to address Miss Bennet's connections as they had been a consideration in his offer to Elizabeth. He explained that although he understood that their family situation was not as relevant to his friend as to himself, he could not ignore their lack of discretion, the appalling manners of her younger sisters and especially her mother and he even felt the need to point out Mr. Bennet's failure to maintain decorum at all times. He felt great pain at having to redress this subject and hastened to point out the very discreet and polite way in which she and her sister conducted themselves.
He had reached that point of disclosure that demanded complete honesty and he had no compunction about telling her that both he and Miss Bingley had conspired to keep Mr. Bingley in town. He did not apologise for his actions or his thoughts in any of this but he did concede that he had heard that Miss Bennet was also in town and had failed to disclose this to his friend. Once again he offered no apology, simply a statement of mild regret, if indeed he had failed to see Miss Bennet's affections.
All this left Mr. Darcy somewhat exhausted and he laid on the bed covering his face with his arm. His body and his mind needed sleep but to close his eyes was to open his heart and he was not ready for that. He must finish this before he could allow himself the suffering that he had yet to endure.
His mind drifted to her next offence, dishonour. She had not only accused him of personal dishonour but also to his father and his family. That could never stand unanswered and she must be made to know every detail. She could not be allowed to destroy his character even in her own eyes. As he thought over her case against him he realised that he had no choice but to disclose to her facts that had been his alone, and Wickham's. Only they knew the full story as he had not even been able to tell it all, even to Georgiana. His cousin had most of the knowledge but he too had been deprived of the detail of his life with Wickham. Yet suddenly he felt no pause at all as he thought of telling Elizabeth. His reluctance to answer her at Hunsford was lost in the heat of defeat. However he had never doubted her discretion or her trust. And once again he laughed at his blindness. He had always trusted her with anything he spoke of and in doing so, he had failed to doubt her in anything else. The disclosure of his relationship with Mr. Wickham was such that he felt compelled to detail its foundation and every facet thereafter.
And so he went back to the beginning, detailing his early life and his family's relationship with Mr. Wickham. He really had no need to begin there but perhaps he unconsciously wanted her to know the depth of his being, the essence of himself that comes from childhood. He thought of nothing more than telling her all of it, of relating in one long tome, the core of his life.
The words he chose to describe the way his father treated Mr. Wickham were tainted with the faintest hint of resentment but he did not see that. He only saw his honesty to Elizabeth as he wrote of their relationship and his early discontent with Mr. Wickham's behaviour that he had kept from his father. His father! Such feeling surged through him that he was forced to stop and gather his thoughts. To speak of him was to open the wounds of loss once more. It pained him especially to realise that his current grief was barely different to his suffering on the death of his father. Each simply hurt a different part of his heart.
He must proceed. He must state details and rid his mind of sorrow. His father had exacted a promise from his son that Mr. Wickham would be given a satisfactory living and that he would also receive one thousand pounds in bequest. When he began writing details of Mr. Wickham's decision to choose another occupation other than take orders, he felt a rush of anxiety. This whole tale was something that he hoped never to speak of again and yet here he was forced to relate it all. He recounted the choice that Mr. Wickham made in taking his offer of three thousand pounds instead of the living and the hope that he had that it was all settled between them. However it took Mr. Wickham a little less than three years to find himself without funds again and he applied once more for the living that was promised him by Mr. Darcy's father. He told her without hesitation that he felt no qualms in ridding himself of Mr. Wickham and denying him another chance at the living.
And now he had reached the part of the tale that was the most difficult to disclose. He left the desk and moved to the window to watch the sun cut through the last of the late spring mist and watch the early grazing of livestock in the distance. He must hurry. Elizabeth would be out walking soon and he must deliver the letter to her in private. And so once again he repaired his pen and began with the greatest treachery of all.
He commenced with a statement that conveyed the difficulty he felt at what he was about to tell and an assurance that he had no doubt in Elizabeth's secrecy. His sister who is now only approaching seventeen was in the company of her companion in Ramsgate when she was coerced by Mr. Wickham to find him favourable, no doubt achieved easily because of his earlier family connections. He went as far as to propose an elopement that she agreed to and only his own visit just prior to their departure stopped the ruination of Miss Darcy. He then told Elizabeth the extent of his sister's inheritance of thirty thousand pounds which he had no doubt was the substance of Mr. Wickham's scheme.
He had done. He had no more to tell but he did have to ensure that she felt no guilt in believing Mr. Wickham. He must tell her that the guilt is his alone in not disclosing to her earlier the scheming of Mr. Wickham. She could not be blamed for what she did not know. He felt another guilt in walking away from her the previous night but she must know that his feelings were so extreme as to disallow any rational thought.
As he was about to conclude his letter, he thought of her wariness where he was concerned and felt it prudent to give her a source to verify his account. She could ask his cousin if she doubted him. The sadness of the occasion again flooded him as he realised that only yesterday he felt no need to give Elizabeth proof of his honour. He had always assumed she knew that of him. His eyes filled again at the loss for both of them. He had never doubted the enjoyment and wonder that he and Elizabeth could have made of their life together and he felt as much pain for her as for himself, knowing that he had brought this on both of them.
It was morning and he had nothing left to give her. This was truly the last. He must escape the house before being accosted by his cousin or his aunt. He must find a way of delivering this to Elizabeth.
He went to his dressing room to shave and found only cold water but chose that as a kind of self-torture for himself. He deserved no better. He changed to a fresh shirt and managed somehow to tie his cravat. His waistcoat and coat quickly followed and grabbing his hat he made his way downstairs and outside before the household did likewise.
Now he had to find her. Would she walk today? Yes, he knew her well enough to know that she would need the peace and solitude of her ramblings to rid her mind of him. Perhaps she already had or more painfully, perhaps he had never been in her mind at all. Although she did say that she had once considered him as a marriage partner. He would remember those words forever. They somehow lessened the intensity of the rest of her lexis.
At the parsonage, Elizabeth had spent a restless night, sleeping intermittently between her thoughts of Mr. Darcy. She could not rid her mind of his words. He loved her! It was totally astounding. And she saw once again all those moments they had spent together and the way he looked at her and listened to her and understood her. She did not love him but she now understood him a lot better. And then she moved to the other things he said and she began to cry. How could any man say such things to her especially at the moment of proposal? At least she could laugh at Mr. Collins attempts. For Mr. Darcy, she had nothing but contempt. His guilt was such that he had simply stood there allowing her to batter him with accusations while offering no excuses.
She heard the early morning staff begin their chores and dressed quickly wishing to have an early breakfast and avoid any discussion with Charlotte until she had cleared her mind. For Elizabeth that meant a walk but she was wary of meeting Mr. Darcy so she chose to take her exercise outside Rosings park. She had only one thing on her mind and with it came such confusion. First there must be the question that she was loved. No woman could ever dismiss such a declaration. However Elizabeth was even more astounded by the intensity of his emotions and she could not help but castigate herself for her lack of awareness. How could she have been so blind to him? Her mind then flipped to his following words and she had no hesitation in understanding how she was unaware of his feelings. If he thought it prudent to state her inferiority at the moment of declaration, then no doubt his previous actions were governed even more so by that. And thus Elizabeth absolved herself of any lack of intuition on the subject. She had been right all along.
She wandered for some half an hour up and down the same course until she came once again to the Rosings gate. Surely Mr. Darcy would not be out this morning. She looked through and was about to proceed when she caught sight of the gentleman she was sure would never be walking. She turned to escape but his voice permeated the stillness as he pronounced her name. He had seen her. She would remain forever polite but she knew not how to avoid the embarrassment. She turned with her eyes lowered and he seemed upon her in no time.
Mr. Darcy had in fact been walking for longer than Elizabeth in the hope of meeting her. He could find no other way to deliver his letter and as he walked he knew that it must be delivered. He had about decided to give up his quest when he heard the rustle of steps in the lane. It must be her. He stepped towards the gate just as she looked in and with that one glance he was back in the gloom and agony of last night. He composed himself with a deep breath and called her name. She turned back immediately which in some small way surprised him. She had never been impolite but he still expected her to run from him. He stepped towards her but could not catch her eyes. Perhaps that was best as he was far from capable of seeing her hatred of him. He paused, struggling for words. He sighed and simply told her that he had indeed been waiting for her for some time. He held out his letter with a request that she do him the honour of reading it.
She saw the letter in his hand. It was just in her lowered view. He was pressing it towards her and instinctively she took it. He quickly lowered his hand away from her and she kept staring at the letter as he asked her to read it. They both stood for mere seconds that would forever be analysed in their minds. He recovered first and bowed then turned quickly and walked away.
He had done it. His face flushed bright red as he turned from her. If only he could have looked in her eyes that last time. But it was done and now he could only hope that she would read his words of explanation and perhaps see him in a better way than the villain she had described last night. And again his mind betrayed him with her words and again he was swept into despair as he quickly took the path away from her, away from his life.
She stood looking at his letter. It was sealed. It was two sheets. Her fingers shook a little. Was he renewing his offer, this time with different words? He did not seem to be in the mood of a man renewing an offer. What had he said? It would honour him if I would read it. She was initially shocked that he would write to a single lady and deliver the letter himself. However her inquisitiveness for this man was uncontrollable and she opened it. He had written it this morning. She began and his first words put her at ease. There was no second offer. Here was a detail of his actions and the reasons behind them. His writing was tight and neat. His opening was a little abrupt but even she could not blame him for that. But soon she was absorbed by his words and each one amazed her.
She read it quickly and with no thoroughness, eagerly looking for reasons to find his thinking wrong about her sister and Mr. Bingley. He had not listened to her opinion at all but had simply stood by his original thoughts. He had simply stated what he saw and why he did what he did. Elizabeth could not believe his arrogance would continue after last night. It was not worth thinking of.
Then she reached his next account of his dealings with Mr. Wickham. After reading his arrogant account of her sister, Elizabeth was so prejudiced to his words that she could not believe anything he said of Mr. Wickham. To be sure, his account was very close to the one Mr. Wickham had told her but surely a man who was so unfeeling towards her sister could not be truthful about Mr. Wickham. He was simply out to prove how right he was and how wrong the rest of the world was. She took no time to think what pain it must be to relate such things about his sister whom in her heart she knew he loved above all others.
She folded the letter, resolved to never read it again. However no woman with such intelligence in hand can be expected to stick to her resolve. She quickly opened it again and began to attempt to read his words more slowly looking for extra grounds to rid her mind of his affection and offer to her. She could not sensibly read the part relating to her sister so she went straight to his tale of Mr. Wickham and his sister. At first she was only looking for ways to find Mr. Darcy untruthful but each time her mind switched to her own dealings with Mr. Wickham, she saw the shallowness of his behaviour and the complete lack of propriety he engaged in by telling her of his situation on their second meeting. She then recalled how easily he had been accepted in their society simply by his charm and manners. It was then that Elizabeth began to see the irony of their treatment of Mr. Wickham as opposed to their treatment of Mr. Darcy. She was embarrassed to see that simple charm could overcome anything else. When she re-read the tale of Miss Darcy, her heart lurched, as it exactly related to the feeling she had seen from Colonel Fitzwilliam only yesterday morning.
And then she perused all of Mr. Wickham's actions while he was in Meryton and each one began to take on the feel of cunning and scheming. He said he could not attend the ball at Netherfield because he did not want to be in Mr. Darcy's presence. How duplicitous. He could not maintain his stature in town if faced with Mr. Darcy. She then recalled how quickly he was enamoured with Miss King once she had secured her inheritance. And slowly as she read and read again, her colour began to rise and the words Jane had told her of Mr. Bingley's opinion of Mr. Wickham came to mind. How could she have believed a man of no background like Mr. Wickham and ignored the opinion of a man of such kindness as Mr. Bingley. And how could she have so easily allowed Mr. Wickham to sully the character of Mr. Darcy when he himself had no background of worth. And naturally she began her own reassessment of Mr. Darcy and everything that she had seen and heard of him over the past months and especially over the past weeks. And nothing was there that could be faulted. His manner was indeed aloof but his honour, his character and his reputation were above reproach, yet she had chosen to see none of it. And yet he loved her. She could never rid her mind of that. However hard she tried, she was unable to clear her mind of some degree of pride in being loved by such a man. It was indeed such flattery that a young woman could never ignore.
She wandered on in which direction she neither knew nor cared. Only her letter was of consequence. After punishing herself with mortification over Mr. Wickham, she carefully scrutinized the first half of Mr. Darcy's letter regarding her sister. And this time instead of seeing his coldness and heartlessness, she began to recall others comments regarding Jane's behaviour, in particular Charlotte's and she could not help but feel that a man who knew her sister less would have seen what Mr. Darcy saw. And slowly she began to realise that Jane was indeed circumspect in her actions and very seldom showed the extremes of emotion that she herself was prone to. Elizabeth began to sink in her own estimation and was so very glad to be alone with her thoughts. This lead her to his statement about her family and his words brought a clarity to her thinking that she had never had before. He was absolutely right. They did lack decorum and did expose themselves. And she read his words regarding she and Jane and she blushed slightly at their kindness. Indeed she was left with very few harsh feelings for Mr. Darcy. Those were turned completely on herself.
Mr. Darcy had walked from her with no thought as to where he was heading. All he knew was where he was leaving. He wandered through parts of the park he usually rode and it was some two hours later that he found himself entering the house. He was almost safely in his rooms when his cousin intercepted him.
'Darcy, where have you been? Were you ill last night? Our aunt is quite put out, man. Are you still ready to depart because if so we must take our leave of Hunsford.'
'Hunsford! There is no time,' replied Mr. Darcy, anxious to find any excuse not to visit there.
'But we must. We cannot leave without a farewell to Miss Bennet. She deserves nothing less. What is wrong, Darcy?'
'Then let us go now.'
He hurried downstairs with his cousin in tow, eager to get to Hunsford and be done with it. She had probably walked for some time, if she read his letter. His mind hoped she was still wandering and his heart hoped that she had returned. He was incapable of deciding which was the best. They walked quickly without words and were there within ten minutes. As he entered the sitting room, he sighed as Elizabeth was not present and then his heart lurched in the sadness that he had already seen her for the last time. He bid a hasty farewell to Mrs. Collins and the others and departed unwilling to stay with his cousin in the hope of Elizabeth's return.
He walked just as quickly back to Rosings, escaping to his room where the servants were removing his luggage. He sat by the window after they had left, searching the park for a glimpse of her. All he asked was one sight of her to finish it. But as hard as he looked there was nothing. This time there was to be no more of her.
He allowed himself to fill with an overwhelming sadness even more extreme than last night. Elizabeth had assumed a part of his soul and a man such as he could never allow that to happen randomly. He loved for life and he could never change that. His damaged heart was forever scarred with the essence of Elizabeth.
Chapter 27
Elizabeth continued to wander until she felt the sun well above her. She knew she must return or Charlotte would begin to worry. She was not far from Hunsford as her meanderings had been repetitive and so within five minutes she was back. Immediately her friend informed her that she had missed the two gentlemen from Rosings. Elizabeth had been determined to show nothing but normality to her hosts but this news took her back, He had been there. He had come. She paused before responding in an attempt to understand him. He had said he was not ashamed of his feelings for her and he was proving it. He was not afraid to face her. She suddenly felt the effect of her own words to him and the harshness in them. Charlotte took the chance to impress upon her friend how long the Colonel had stayed in the hope of seeing her. Elizabeth took no respite from his staying. He was nothing to her and it was with some joy that she felt that. Her thoughts were only with the letter in her hand and the man who wrote it to her.
Mr. Darcy managed to remain isolated from his family until lunch when it was necessary to dine with his aunt. The luggage had already been sent and he and his cousin were to leave early the next morning. He had to show some courtesy to his aunt despite his need for solitude. He entered the dining room a little late with a glare from Lady Catherine. She took her seat followed by Anne and then both gentlemen sat.
'I want an explanation, Darcy. You did not appear for dinner last night. You were absent from breakfast and you offered no reason for either. What have you to say?'
'I was not in the mood for company last night, aunt.'
'And so you thought it appropriate to simply abstain with no apology to me.'
'My sincerest apologies, aunt.'
'Hmmph! I feel you are casting me off with words. I will not stand for insubordination, sir.'
'Madam, I have apologised. As much fondness as I have for you as my mother's sister, I do not feel it necessary to be subordinate to you.'
'I think you are still not in the mood for company, Fitzwilliam! Anymore such talk and I will ask you to leave.'
'That is quite unnecessary madam, as we are both leaving tomorrow.'
'Have you enjoyed yourself?'
'Yes, indeed,' said the Colonel. 'However London calls.'
'And you Darcy?' asked Lady Catherine.
'I always enjoy myself at Rosings and I believe that I will be most sorry to leave.'
'Then stay,' said Lady Catherine.
'I am afraid that is impossible, aunt. I have no choice but to depart very early on the morrow.' His voice trailed off slightly as he spoke.
'Darcy, I believe you are becoming attached to Rosings.'
'I believe it will always hold a special place in my heart, aunt. If you will excuse me, I really am still in no mood to eat.'
He stood and with a slight bow left the room. Its occupants all looked at each other, wondering what had taken over Mr. Darcy. The man himself walked straight to the stables. He could no longer sit in his rooms thinking over her words. He needed to feel the air on his face and he knew that she would not be walking anymore today. He set off to her favourite grove wishing only to remind himself of those places he had been with her. He cantered down it once and then walked slowly back, absorbing the sights and sounds. As he reached the peak of the small rise, he noticed the few dandelions she had picked and discarded. They lay dead near the path, symbolising himself. For indeed he felt that nothing would ever be the same again. His life was discarded; his point of living seemed lost. And he wallowed in the misery that he saw ahead.
Elizabeth escaped from the sitting room at Hunsford as soon as she could and spent the afternoon hidden in her room. She had begun the slow realisation that this encounter, this letter had become a symbol of change in her life. She knew she did not love him but Mr. Darcy had altered her view on all things she held precious and she needed some time to understand it all. She leaned on the window with her distant view of Rosings and there he was, riding proud. It was only a fleeting glimpse but it was enough to bring on renewed regret at her choice of words in refusing him. Suddenly she blushed with remorse at her harshness.
After some two hours riding, Mr. Darcy was tired beyond feeling. He had enjoyed little sleep for weeks and over the last two days had barely managed more than a few hours. His body ached with the need to rest yet he was so afraid to allow it to stop because then he was left with only his mind to deal with. He left the stables and went immediately to his rooms knowing he was no company. He did manage to shut his eyes for almost an hour before he heard a knock at the door from his man, announcing it was time to dress for dinner. He had no choice. He must attend as they were to be off very early the next morning. And so he bathed and dressed without words or thought. Such routines had become symbols of nothing more than the process of living and he had little desire to think of his life. He entered the drawing room just in time to escort Lady Catherine to the table.
'I hope we are to see you both before the year is out. I cannot abide a visit only once a year. Perhaps you could bring Georgiana here later this summer. Kent is perfect in summer.'
'I think my sister has other engagements, madam. And the Colonel and I have been here longer than expected. I must attend to business in town.'
The first course was served and as everyone else ate, he pushed the small tart about his plate, delving his fork into its interior and tasting the morsels that clung to it. The cheese crust stuck to his mouth and tongue and accentuated the dryness already there. His stomach felt empty and his whole body was slightly tingling and buzzing in the way of exhaustion. Yet he could not feed it because to do so would perhaps cause him to forget for a few minutes and he could not allow that, not yet.
'Darcy, I have never seen you in such a mood. I instructed the cook to prepare your favourites and yet you are not eating. Are you ill? I shall call the apothecary.'
'You will do no such thing, aunt. I am perfectly capable of looking after my own health. I am quite well, I assure you. My mood is simply not for food.'
'And what brings this on cousin? Surely you do not regret our departure that much,' said the Colonel.
Mr. Darcy looked across at his cousin, judging the tone of his words by his expression.
'Why should it be necessary for a man to be forever joyous? I am not of that kind and never will be. I leave frivolity to you cousin.'
'Then perhaps there is another reason for subjecting us to your dour expressions.'
Mr. Darcy glared back at his cousin who took no heed of the warning.
'It seems I have struck a chord, Darcy. Would you care to elaborate?'
'I would not.'
'Then allow me to speculate. Perhaps it is the company at Rosings that you are already regretting.'
'Really this is so childish, Richard.'
'You never call me Richard unless something grand is afoot! I am sure now that I have hit a nerve.'
'Frankly Richard, I am in no mood to even reply to your comments. May we finish our dinner in peace?'
'Certainly, but be sure that you will not escape my interrogations, cousin.'
'And be sure that you will not escape my wrath, cousin!' replied Mr. Darcy.
Lady Catherine then took over the dialogue for dinner, allowing neither of her nephews to comment on a single thing. By the time she had finished her dessert, Mr. Darcy had managed to distribute his food rather than consume it. He had tasted everything but nothing tempted him and after almost one and a half hours of listening to his aunt's lecture on nutrition, he was extremely thankful to bid her good evening and good-bye as their journey was to commence prior to her appearance in the morning.
Mr. Darcy went through the processes of retiring. He changed to his nightclothes, he lay on the bed, he pulled up the covers. And there he continued until the hint of dawn, not knowing if he slept a little or a lot but only knowing that he was to leave her forever. There can be no worse a man than he who feels he has lost everything. And so Mr. Darcy entered the coach that was to take him to his new destiny.
Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam boarded their coach early that morning with a very different set of considerations. The Colonel had had enough of his aunt, her park and the distinct lack of company. To be sure he enjoyed being with Elizabeth but with his cousin so enamoured it had no future and the Colonel was not one to spend time on lost causes. If the lady was anywhere near as involved as his cousin then she would prove to be no diversion for him at all. Mr. Darcy was lost in himself. He had no time for niceties or society. He wanted the world to cry out to him, to realise his pain, his anguish. But no matter how deep it became the world continued on its path, neither caring nor needing to pause for him. The journey would only take the morning in such a coach but it was enough for the Colonel to question Mr. Darcy about his mood.
'We are underway so please tell me what happened.'
'Happened?'
'Darcy, you admitted you love her but now we are leaving and by the look on your face over the last day, you will not be visiting her father.'
'I will not.'
'So you did make her an offer?'
'My dealings with Miss Bennet are not up for discussion.'
'Darcy, I am not being flippant. I think you would make an excellent pairing. I hoped you would overcome your reticence regarding her connections. You really should not be so arrogant.'
'Arrogant! You think my arrogance prevented me making her an offer?'
'What else is there?'
'Indeed. Perhaps you and Miss Bennet have already discussed my manner.'
'Darcy, what are you saying?'
'I am saying that I made her an offer but she refused me, citing amongst other things, my arrogance, as a reason.'
The Colonel ran his hands through his hair. He was slowly beginning to understand his cousin.
'Miss Bennet refused your offer? It cannot be so.'
'I believe her words were very clear on the matter. In fact she even took the time to elaborate on every part of me ensuring that I was left with nothing on which to build.'
'I cannot believe that of her. What did you say? How did you approach her?'
'So the fault must be mine. She has no cause to regret?'
'I think you both have cause to regret. Tell me Darcy, get it off your chest. I can be discreet you know. I am not all without tact and discretion.'
Mr. Darcy's eyes filled suddenly. He truly felt the concern of his cousin and he craved any caring that could be found.
'I told her of my feelings for her. Contrary to your opinion of my reserve, I did not hold back. She knew exactly the depth of my affection.'
'And she replied with malice? I cannot think that of her.'
'She offered no regret at refusing me but chose instead to lambaste me with her pent up resentment of my very presence on this earth.'
'There must have been cause for her to respond so harshly.'
'She had opinions which differed from mine and to add to my moment of glory, she had the influence of Wickham to land at my feet.'
'Wickham! What has he done this time? He has not harmed Miss Bennet?'
'No, if that were the case I would not be here with you now. I would finish it for good. No, his influence was of gossip, mistales, misdeeds, exaggerations. After my departure from Netherfield, it seems he chose to ensure that I could never return.'
'Surely you will not stand for this. You know too much of him to think it will end there.'
'But we both know that to reveal his character to the world means to bring my sister's case to notice. It cannot be done.'
'He is despicable. He said that it would not end.'
'And indeed he was correct. I have no choice but to ignore his lies.'
'And in doing so you have lost Miss Bennet.'
'There was more to her case than Wickham's tales. Perhaps in that I could have made my defense. There were other things which I cannot refute.'
'Of what nature? You are not a dishonourable man, Darcy.'
'There was a time I would have agreed with you but her words have caused me to reconsider my actions. I would however have been saved some of her wrath had you not chosen to inform her of a discussion we had some time back.'
'What discussion?' queried the Colonel.
'I remember telling you of my actions in securing Bingley from an unfortunate match.'
'So you did. I remember Miss Bennet and I did discuss your friendship with Bingley.'
'And you chose to inform her of how strongly I feel about him.'
'I only assured her that when it comes to friendship you cannot be faulted and would do anything to secure the happiness of a friend.'
'Such as remove him from the company of a lady I felt unsuitable.'
'Exactly. There is no dishonour in that.'
'Did it occur to you that Miss Bennet might have different feelings on the subject? That the lady in question could be her friend, or more pointedly, her sister!'
'Are you saying that Bingley was in love with Miss Bennet's sister?'
'I am indeed. Her older sister, Miss Jane Bennet. Her dearly beloved older sister. Have you no thoughts before you speak, Fitzwilliam?'
'Darcy, I...I had no idea. I would never have mentioned it if I had known the identity of the lady. Darcy, I can take some blame but not all in this. Your reserve was the beginning of this.'
'And your openness the end. I could not speak of Miss Bennet to you, knowing how I felt for her sister.'
'Then neither of us are at fault. It happened and fate took it to conclusion.'
'If only I could believe that fate alone prevented her accepting me. However I have no qualms about admitting that she had other reasons.'
'I am astounded. She seemed quite ready to provoke you.'
'Which is exactly what she wished. This was no method of girlish flirtation. Her words and her wit were solely to bring me down. She has never had regard for me.'
'Then this must have begun before your dealings with Bingley and even before Wickham.'
'Indeed it must. It seems my friendly manner and gentlemanly conduct were beyond her comprehension. She saw nothing but censure.'
'You can be formidable, Darcy. Your mind is always wound with the threads of business and family. You do not give of yourself. I have seen many strangers shrink from your acquaintance simply by your look.'
'I see that my life has now become the property of all. I have not only to endure the castigation of rejection but my own cousin chooses to spend his time in a similar tone. I deserve no better.'
'Darcy, I did not mean to enhance your pain. But we have always been honest with each other. I wish she had seen you as your family does. I dearly wish she could have loved you.'
'But she does not. And now I must deal with the consequences.'
His cousin watched as Mr. Darcy's eyes filled with tears. He had not seen him so since the death of his father and he moved to place a hand on his knee. Mr. Darcy looked up and then immediately switched his view to the passing landscape as the first public tears ran down his face. The Colonel had no words to soothe him. His cousin was a man of deep emotion and intense passion and anything he took to heart was buried within. It would be some months or longer before he again saw the man he knew his cousin to be. Perhaps Miss Darcy would be of help.
Mr. Collins was of course on duty to report on their departure and after informing his wife and guests of such, he himself departed for Rosings as he was sure that his benefactor would be in need of his company. He managed to secure a dinner invitation for the Hunsford residents and that was sufficient to have him praising Lady Catherine all afternoon.
For Elizabeth the walk to Rosings that evening took on a new direction and brought on many thoughts. She listened to the fawning of her cousin and could not help but consider the change that would have taken place if she had accepted Mr. Darcy. By now, she would be the subject of Lady Catherine's righteous anger at her new place in her family and no doubt, she would also be subjected to her cousin's tirade at her overstepping her place in society. She was somewhat surprised to hear Lady Catherine enquire whether she could stay longer at Hunsford and it was some time before Elizabeth concluded that she was simply needed as a relief from boredom. Actually she found the continual interrogation distracting and Elizabeth did need distraction as her mind rarely left the contents of her letter and the many reflections it brought to mind.
Mr. Darcy and his cousin arrived safely in town to be greeted by Miss Darcy who lit up the reception room with her smile and her hugs. The Colonel was subdued in his greeting but her brother was morose. He hugged her very tightly but said nothing and his face was drawn and pale. They both took their leave to change and when only Colonel Fitzwilliam returned for refreshments Miss Darcy's concern increased.
'Richard, what has happened to you both? I have never seen you so upset at leaving our aunt.'
'I think you should talk to your brother. I have spent too much time talking when it was imprudent.'
'Did you quarrel?'
'No, we did not quarrel. In fact I would be happy if I saw enough passion in your brother to provoke a quarrel. But he is without feeling for anything at this time. Please speak to him.'
Miss Darcy hurried from the room without apology and rushed up the stairs to see her brother. Mr. Darcy heard her knock and knew the time had come to disclose what he could to her. Upon first seeing her, he knew that he would be unable to hide his agony. He called softly for her to enter and not even rising from the chair by the desk, he indicated she take a seat.'
'And so you want to know it all,' he began.
'If that is what you wish. I want only to understand you.'
'Impossible! You should know that by now. I will only say this. I have experienced a disappointment greater than any in my life. I will tell you what I can but only when I can. At this time, I need solitude and I ask that you give me that.'
'As you wish. I will leave then. But be assured that I will know it all.'
'Tones of Lady Catherine. Leave me, Georgiana. Leave me. I will be in my library not to be disturbed.'
'Very well, Fitzwilliam. Please allow your man to take care of you.'
'Geoffrey will do as he is told. Good afternoon, Georgiana.'
She left quietly and within a few minutes Mr. Darcy retreated to his library. It had always been an conclave for him and now it took on the mask of retreat. He had need to shut out the world and let the trivialities of life slip past him. He needed time to recover. He chose the best decanter and the best brandy and he began to drink. Not with enjoyment but simply to get drunk. He was rich, he was handsome according to some, and he was well connected. Yet the woman he loved would have none of him, of it.
As her words of loathing seeped through him again, so he allowed the liquor to flow, sipping slowly but intensely until the decanter was empty. And still he was too alert, too alive, too much in pain. So he moved to the second decanter and the whisky. Not his favourite but with the same effect. He slowly found he could smile at the irony of his position and he knew that something was working. His man found him at nearly six still sitting, still imbibing and with no intention of moving. He had almost consumed the second vessel of alcohol and he was beginning to feel a lessening of his agony. And so he spent the afternoon, evening and night, endeavouring to temporarily remove his mind and his heart from circumstances too painful to live with.
It was in the early hours of the morning, after a short sleep in his chair, that he arose and the process of grief began its natural course from dejection to anger. He listened to her words in his head and he began to feel the position she had put him in. It was unreasonable to blame Elizabeth of course but he had no reason. He was simply a man moving from one aspect of grief to the next. He had cried enough tears this night and it was time to take out his mood on the person he saw responsible for his present state.
And just as he moved to anger, she moved to regret and tears for what she had said to him. Her return from dinner at Rosings meant time to read her letter again....and again. She knew each word by heart but seeing it in his pen was what she needed. So she spent a long and sleepless night analysing and understanding each word he had written. Slowly her mood became more and more depressed as she saw what had been between them and what could have been between them. She had never allowed it to happen and that made her feel worse than at any time in her life. And she cried.
And as she began to let tears flow for what was lost, he took over her mood of that evening and began to spit out words of resentment and bitterness. Words that he felt he should have said that night in response to hers. As his anger grew to its peak he stood and threw the fine crystal glass into the fireplace. How dare she!