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Chapter 7
Breakfast at Rosings was a dreadful affair for Darcy, since he was anxious to be out of the house to the park. His aunt was as strident as always, but this time her attention was focused on him, and she spent half the meal chastising him for his disappearance the previous evening. He ignored her for the most part, restricting himself to a few responses that he had felt ill and ventured to walk in the park and partake of the fresh air. His cousin Fitzwilliam looked at him in some enjoyment at seeing his normally imperturbable cousin is some discomfort but he added no comment. At last, Darcy was able to excuse himself and leave the table. Fitzwilliam at first looked as if he might join him, but, at Darcy’s slight shake of the head, he settled back in his chair. Shortly afterward, Darcy had retrieved hat, gloves, and stick and was out of the house striding toward the area of the park where he might hope to encounter Elizabeth. He was anxious in two regards, whether she could have already been up and out before breakfast, or, even more alarming, whether she might have decided against coming at all.
For her part, Elizabeth had awoken after a restless night that did little to relieve the anxiety of her feelings. She dreaded the meeting she had agreed to with Mr. Darcy, and she had not yet recovered from the events of the previous night. Soon after breakfast, she told Charlotte of her intent to indulge herself in air and exercise, and though Charlotte raised her eyebrows, she said nothing. As soon as Elizabeth exited the Parsonage, she proceeded toward her favorite walk. She could not help being cheered by the fresh air and sunshine, but, all too soon, she caught a glimpse of a gentleman standing in the distance and was not surprised to find that it was indeed Darcy. He stepped forward with eagerness as soon as he saw her, and shortly they met.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” he said politely with a bow as she curtseyed politely. “It was good of you to come.” Darcy could easily discern Elizabeth’s agitation, and he in fact had not been certain she would keep their appointment. But, agitated or not, his heart swelled at the sight of her, though he was distressed by the dark circles under her eyes. His own night had been hardly more restful than the previous night, and his eyes were red from lack of sleep.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, so soft as to be almost inaudible. “I have come as I agreed last night, sir, though little do I know what you wish to gain by it.”
“I do thank you for coming. Perhaps you would care to simply walk for the moment? It is a lovely morning, and the fresh air might help to clear our heads.”
“As you please, sir.”
Darcy did not offer his arm, since he was quite uncertain whether it would be accepted, and they began to walk, not at a brisk pace but rather at a steady pace that gradually had an effect. Soon, Elizabeth felt her spirits begin to rise as she simply walked beside Darcy. On their previous walks, when he had intercepted her, their time together had been marked by uncertainty and tenseness, mostly because each had been unaware of the other’s feelings. On this morning, at least, that was no longer true. The intensity of the previous evening had at least dispelled that lack of awareness.
They walked in somewhat cordial silence for upwards of fifteen minutes before either spoke, and it was Darcy who first broke the silence. “Miss Bennet, I spoke with Colonel Fitzwilliam last night and informed him that you might enquire of him regarding my association with George Wickham. He will accompany me when we call to take our leave later this afternoon and will make himself available to you if you have any questions yet to ask.”
Elizabeth flushed slightly, and then uncomfortably replied, “Truly, sir, I have no questions of your cousin. Once you forced me to open my eyes, I soon remembered any number of ways in which Mr. Wickham rather effortlessly convinced me to deceive myself.” She looked down at the ground, suddenly angry that her tears were again threatening to flow, and several moments were needed before she could again speak. Her voice was low, and Darcy was unable to see her eye behind her bonnet. “I must apologize, sir, for the harshness of my accusations last evening regarding Mr. Wickham and for my own prejudice which previously prevented me from seeing what was most clearly apparent to me last night.”
“Do not distress yourself on his account, Miss Bennet” Darcy said. “George Wickham has a talent for deception that is most dangerous to those who, like yourself and my sister, do not tend to the kind of suspicious nature that are more likely to perceive his true nature. He has deceived, I am sure, countless others as a matter of course. I would wager that he has already amassed a quite sizable string of creditors in Meryton already. It has been such everywhere he goes.”
Elizabeth did not say anything to this, and they walked on for several minutes in silence before Darcy spoke again. “I had much to think on last night, and there is a topic on which I dwelled with considerable discomfort. That is the affair of your sister and my friend, Miss Bennet.”
Darcy looked over at Elizabeth, but he again was unable to see her face or judge the impact of his words on her. “I do not seek your sympathy, Miss Bennet, when I tell you that I was feeling extremely disheartened last evening. It is only the simple truth and is easily understandable. But in the midst of my own feelings, I also came to realize that your sister and very possibly my friend might that instant be feeling the same emotion. It was a thought that gave me considerable pain.”
He looked over at Elizabeth and was still not able to see her face. “I will not attempt to pretend, Miss Bennet, that I do not desire a chance to change your opinion of me. But whether you grant me that chance or whether you send me away, I realized last night that I must attempt to repair the harm wrought by my interference. I plan to call on Bingley as soon as possible after I return to London and will acquaint him both with my knowledge of the true state of your sister’s affections and of the disagreeable part I played in the matter.” Darcy’s face was grim, because he was well aware of the hazards to his friendship with Bingley at such a confession. “I cannot foretell the outcome of my efforts, for that will be up to Bingley and your sister, but I am determined to make the attempt.”
Elizabeth still could not say anything due to the turmoil of her emotions, and at length Darcy, with great trepidation, ventured, “Miss Bennet, you have not spoken, and yet I confess that I cannot keep myself from enquiring whether the content of our conversation last evening and today has in any way altered those sentiments which led to your refusal last evening.”
Elizabeth had not even dared to hope this moment would not occur this morning. The only certain way to have avoided it would have been to have refused to meet Darcy this morning, but that she had not done. And, though she had been tempted to simply stay at the Parsonage, her conscience demanded that she keep to her agreement. But now he had asked the question that she had known he was going to ask, and she still did not have a good answer for him. She could no longer estimate his character with absolute certainty, but the early impression she had gained of him still made any real reconsideration of her refusal quite unthinkable. But telling this to a man as prideful as Mr. Darcy would be difficult.
Darcy was now in such a heightened state of emotion that he could hardly bear to look at Elizabeth, and yet he could not look away as she at last stopped walking and raised her face to look at him. His heart sank as he read the expression on her face, for it was an expression of grim determination. “Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, “I do admit that my opinion of you as regards Mr. Wickham was completely in error. I will even admit that some part of your interference between your friend and my sister were due to honest error, though the end result still remains painful to both parties. And I do appreciate your offer today to attempt to correct your error in this matter.”
Elizabeth now came to the painful part of what she had to tell Darcy, and as he had provided answers to her questions earlier, she was now bound by duty to provide answers to his. “But even given my altered opinion in these matters,” she continued, “I could not offer a different answer than I gave last evening. I do not know you, Mr. Darcy. The nature of your proposal last evening is completely at variance with the cold, proud, and indifferent manner that you displayed from our first acquaintance in Hertfordshire, and I am in complete confusion in trying to appraise your character.”
Darcy was rather stunned at her words. Since his father’s death had forced him to assume a wealth of responsibilities at such an early age, he had labored mightily to make himself into the man the world expected him to be. He had always been known among his friends and associates for his honesty, for his discernment, for his obedience to the dictates of society, and his advice was often sought in difficult matters. In no small measure, his relationship with Bingley had begun when he came to the aid of the younger man in just such a situation. Could she not see that his proposal was as much a part of him as was the correctness of his manners?
“I have always tried to conduct myself as a gentleman ought, both in my public and private affairs,” he said stiffly and defensively. “I find myself at a loss to understand your claim of being, as you say, cold, proud, and indifferent.”
“Mr. Darcy, do you not see?” she retorted in exasperation. “How can the man who professed such a tender regard for me just last evening be the same man who sat by poor, silly Mrs. Long for a full half-hour without saying a word? Who never deigned to talk to any of the country savages and rebuffed every friendly entreaty by those who sought to simply engage in simple conversation?” She sighed as she beheld the shocked look on his face, and she concluded tiredly, “Bingley told Jane that you were remarkably agreeable among your intimate acquaintances, but your impression on me until last night was one of disdain for the feelings of others who were not of that group. How can I be blamed for forming an opinion of you that was only inflamed by Mr. Wickham’s vile utterances?”
Darcy was stricken to silence when she finished, and now he could no longer meet her eyes. Conflicting emotions warred within his breast, fierce anger at the unfairness of her charges challenged by the sudden insight of those scenes she mentioned as they had appeared to her eyes. Can she be right? he thought in agitation. Is this really how I am seen by others? His thoughts were a whirl, and he tried to make some sense out of the contradictory thoughts and emotions which flashed through his memory. I need time, he told himself numbly. Time to sort out all this, and determine what is real and what is not.
But you don’t have time, another part of him answered. You leave tomorrow, and in your arrogance, you thought to leave with everything resolved between you and Elizabeth instead of matters being more convoluted than they were before.
He heard Elizabeth sigh and tried to focus on her. “I believe I need to return, Mr. Darcy,” she said tiredly. “My headache grows worse, and I cannot believe there is anything to be gained by continuing this discussion.”
As she turned to go, Darcy automatically turned along with her. He was conscious of her glancing up at him in confusion at his continued presence, but he knew only that he could not let her go with this new barrier still between them. It was obvious that even with her altered opinion of him, she still felt no inclination to reconsider his proposal. Indeed, it would not be an exaggeration to say that she seemed to look on him with real dislike, and the pain from that drew both sharp anger and even sharper despair.
He suddenly had the frightening thought that if he left Kent with matters remaining as they were, he might well never see her again. Even if he was able to sort through all his own conflicting emotions, he would have no way to approach her. He could not write, nor could she in propriety receive a letter from him if he did so. And even if Bingley was reconciled with her sister so that there would necessarily be future interaction between them, their association could not change until these matters were resolved. He forced himself to put aside his conflicting emotions and think on what to do now!
After some minutes of silent walking and rather desperate thought on his part, he determined that he must do something now to ensure that he might be able to see Elizabeth in the future. And, with that principal thought in mind, the way in which to proceed was suddenly obvious. Since he was supposed to possess a highly developed knowledge of proper behavior, in a situation where a gentleman formed a romantic notion on a lady, the proper approach was clear . . .
Now he had to make himself speak, and it took some further minutes to organize his thoughts. “Miss Bennet,” he began, “I now find myself in a similar state of confusion as you earlier related. It is tempting for me to withdraw, in order to sort out the truth of what we have both discussed, but I find that approach has one intolerable shortcoming. That is that I might well leave this place tomorrow with no chance to change your opinion of me and with no assurance that I would ever see you again. So, despite the confusion of my feelings, I have rejected that alternative.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy in some apprehension. She was afraid that he was going to renew his proposal, and she would be required to repeat her refusal. Can this man not even see the obvious? she thought.
“The dictum of our society is rather simple, Miss Bennet, in the situation where a man develops an attraction towards a woman who is not aware of that attraction and who has insufficient knowledge of the suitor on which to make a decision.”
Elizabeth was rather confused by this time, but she was completely astonished as Darcy continued, “That social practice, Miss Bennet, is a courtship.”
The surprise at hearing this caused Elizabeth to stop still, her thoughts in a whirl. Darcy stopped also and stood looking down at her lowered head. He said softly, “Miss Bennet, after I see Bingley in London, may I call on you when you return to your uncle’s house?”
He looked down at her as she remained silent, her bonnet lowered so that he could not see her face. At length, after she made no response, he began again. “Miss Bennet . . .”
“Oh, have done, sir!” she burst out. She could not master her own thoughts, they were in such turmoil, and she wanted nothing more than to be in her own room. Her emotions threatened to overwhelm her; anger at Mr. Darcy for all he had expressed and related the previous night, distress mixed with hope for her sister, mortification for her own errors of judgment, exasperation with the man beside her, all combined to make her forget all politeness. But almost as soon as the words were said, she realized her unfairness and sighed.
“Please forgive my outburst, sir,” she said shortly. “Pray continue,” though what she really wanted was simple silence until they returned to the Parsonage.
“I was asking if I might call on you after your return to London, Miss Bennet.”
“Why do you continue this quest, sir?” she demanded tiredly. “Have I not made clear that I do not return your affections?” She calmed herself somewhat, and then continued, “While I do admit that I have been in error about many aspects of your character, I have not yet been able to consider and think on all I have learned. I do not yet know if I even like you! We have not had, in the whole of our acquaintance, a single civil conversation, and now you ask my leave to call on me, to court me?”
He continued by her side for several steps, and then quietly said, though not without some trepidation, “I do, Miss Bennet. After I see Bingley.”
“Yes,” she sighed, “Mr. Bingley.” She thought of her letters from Jane, hoping that Mr. Darcy’s mission might result in a healing of that pain in her sister. That then led to the further thought of what that effort might cause Mr. Darcy, and she was suddenly ashamed of her previous anger with him, when he had pledged to make that effort even if she rejected him utterly.
“I will see Bingley directly I return to London,” said Darcy. “I will relate what I have learned about your sister and of my own errors. I believe he will be receptive.”
Elizabeth was not so sure, but she could not, in good faith, remain so unyielding when she was reminded of his efforts to correct his error.
“Oh, very well, sir,” she said after another minute. “Repair your error with Mr. Bingley first,” she said, taking a deep breath, “and then you may call.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he said, daring for the first time to hope just a little. Her manner remained unyielding, but at least she had not denied him a chance to rectify his situation. He had been more than a little afraid that she would flatly refuse to even see him.
“In truth, sir,” she replied, “I cannot give you any encouragement. I will not renege on my agreement, but I fail to see any hope in your efforts.”
Darcy pondered on this for a moment, and was struck by the thought, It could be ever so much worse. A slight smile lessened the severity of his features suddenly as he looked down at Elizabeth. She still holds her ground against me, he thought, before he replied simply, “I believe I will chance it, Miss Bennet.”
“As you wish then, Mr. Darcy,” she said coolly.
“Then perhaps you will allow me to know the name of your relations in London so that I might know where to call,” Darcy suggested.
Elizabeth’s chin came up as she responded, “My Uncle and Aunt Gardiner live at Gracechurch Street, Mr. Darcy. My uncle Gardiner is the one in trade, you know. It is my Uncle Philips who is the country lawyer in Meryton.”
Darcy winced visibly at her sarcasm. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth was mortified by her incivility. She did not seem able to control herself this morning, and she was instantly contrite. “I must again ask your forgiveness, Mr. Darcy. That was cruelly said, and I apologize.”
“I quite understand, Miss Bennet. It has indeed been a day to strain anyone’s civility.” He gestured down the path, “Shall we return?”
They walked in silence as they continued down the path under the trees, and gradually the tension that had flared began to subside. Darcy felt, if not joyous, at least hopeful. And Elizabeth, while still upset with Darcy, was thankful that the parts that she had dreaded the most in this conversation were over. She felt her spirits lighten as the bright sunshine and the crisp air worked to bring her to good cheer.
At one point, after they had turned back toward the Parsonage, Darcy was rather surprised to hear a slight laugh from Elizabeth and looked down to see a slight smile on her lips and the return of the familiar sparkle to her eyes.
“I am cheered to see a laugh again on your lips, Miss Elizabeth,” he ventured cautiously.
“Oh, I am not made for dreary thoughts, sir,” she said. “At least not for long. I was just contemplating the reaction of certain people at the thought of you calling on me. I did tell you once, if you remember, that I am diverted by follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies?”
Elizabeth looked up at Darcy with a slight smile and with one eyebrow arched, an aspect that Darcy knew from experience presaged a flashing of her wit. “I do remember,” he said cautiously, as he was immediately on his guard and yet also cheered that she might jest with him after the high emotion of the past day.
“Oh, yes, sir,” she said with that lovely arched eyebrow, “there are any number of our neighbors who will be shocked that you call on a lady who is only tolerable.”
Darcy groaned aloud. “You heard,” he said in dismay.
“Oh, yes,” she said wickedly. “It was most incautiously said.”
Darcy groaned again, “Is every misspoken word I’ve ever uttered going to come back to haunt me?” Elizabeth lowered her head to hide her smile.
But in truth, Darcy was not overly unhappy. He would far rather be teased by Elizabeth, even if with a slight edge of malice, than to be ignored or rejected.
“I did not know you heard me,” he said, “but I suspected.” He considered his words. “I should have apologized.”
“It might have made some things easier,” she agreed.
“No doubt,” he said morosely. But as they walked on, Darcy was cheered, and this time he chuckled, at which Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in query. “I was just thinking,” he said with a small smile, “that it will make a good tale to tell our children.”
“Mr. Darcy, you presume too much!” Elizabeth said with some asperity, instantly irritated by his presumption.
“Yes, you are correct. I am sorry, it was said without thinking,” he said in contrition.
But as they walked on, Darcy would not be repressed, and he smiled again. “I should warn you, Miss Bennet, before we call later, that my cousin Fitzwilliam seems to have deduced my inclination toward you. When I informed him that you might consult with him, he seems to have taken that information and to have made some rather shrewd conjectures. Rather close to the mark, I am afraid to say, so you might prepare for some teasing from him. He is much better at it than I am, you know.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, as the Parsonage came into sight. “Did you confirm his suspicions, Mr. Darcy?”
“Oh, no, but I didn’t have to. I was not prepared for his challenge, which he most cleverly held back until just as I was taking a shot at billiards. I missed, of course, which not only told him what he wanted to know but also gave him the shot. He proceeded to thrash me rather soundly. It is usually the other way round.”
Darcy was silent for several steps, and then continued, “I may not have been on my best game. Richard did mention I had been behaving rather oddly of late.” The thought seemed to amuse him, Elizabeth noted, and she was rather surprised to see that he did appear to have at least a semblance of a sense of humor, an assertion she would have vehemently denied before this day. But then she thought of his casual assumption of telling stories to their children, and both her ire and her watchfulness were aroused.
They were now at the gate of the Parsonage, and Elizabeth was now desperate to regain the privacy of her room. Though certain aspects of her walk had been agreeable, on the whole it had been a strain added to the strain of the previous night, and it was an effort to not flee into the Parsonage at once.
“Goodbye, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, bowing and taking her hand. “My cousin Fitzwilliam and I will call on your party in the afternoon.” At first she thought that he was going to kiss it, but he contented himself with a bow, his eyes fixed on hers as they darkened in that most disturbing manner. She now knew that gaze to be motivated not by displeasure but by esteem, and this thought was at last too much. Without replying, Elizabeth turned and hurried into the Parsonage.
Chapter 8
At luncheon at Rosings, Darcy was at first relieved that Lady Catherine did not continue her harangue from the morning. However, little more than halfway through the meal, his relief was supplanted by first curiosity and then some alarm. His aunt always dominated the conversation, and the present silence, broken only by the clink of silverware and the occasional short comment, was, while welcome to his own tastes, not at all normal for his aunt’s table. He began to study her carefully, and no more than a few minutes observation convinced him that she was more than just silently and coldly distant. Her pinched mouth, the flaring of her nostrils when she glanced in his direction, and her silent focus on her plate convinced him that she was coldly furious. While his own experiences over the past two days had been distinctly unnerving, he could not recall anything to have provoked this singular behavior in his aunt.
As he returned to his room after luncheon, Darcy noted another rather disturbing event. As he approached his door, he idly noted that two maids at the end of the hall ceased their conversation at his appearance and began to busy themselves with the folded bedding that one of them carried. He observed that they stole a glance at him as he paused at his door and then leaned their heads together, as if to whisper, as he entered. While he wondered at the unusual behavior, he did not bother himself overmuch, since his aunt’s household had never been one in which he felt comfortable. Unlike his own, it was not composed of long-term, often lifetime, employees who often represented more than one generation of service to the Darcy family.
Since he and Fitzwilliam planned to visit the Parsonage to take their leave of the Collins’ and their visitors after luncheon, he immediately rang for Jennings and was soon descending the stairs to find his cousin already waiting for him by the door. To Darcy’s discomfort, Fitzwilliam was in high good humor as they walked to the Parsonage. He several times remarked on the impulsiveness of the Darcys and the disappointment of the ladies in town, and his cheerfulness was not affected a jot by Darcy’s cold replies and growing irritation. Blessedly, at last they were before the door to the Parsonage and rang the bell, asking to see Mrs. Collins.
The women were sewing in the front parlor when they entered and exchanged greetings. Fitzwilliam was at his charming best as he bowed again over the hand of Mrs. Collins, thanking her for the many delightful visits they had passed over the past weeks. Then he moved to greet Miss Lucas, who was as silent and unable to respond as ever. As Darcy also thanked Mrs. Collins, he noted her husband’s entry into the room. However, when Darcy turned to greet him, he was surprised to receive only an uncomfortable bow rather than the man’s normal obsequious performance. Collins said not a word, and Darcy noted the sudden discomfort and embarrassment of his wife, which could only be related to this uncharacteristic behavior by the parson.
After Darcy paid his respects to Miss Lucas, he crossed to Elizabeth, who was already in conversation with his cousin. She turned to him as he approached, her expression guarded.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “it was most pleasant to have made your re-acquaintance again.” Darcy could not seem to help falling into that formal tone of voice he used in public, especially when he saw the easy manner in which his cousin had been conversing with her. Her reply was only a nod and a quiet, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“Please accept my best wishes for a safe and pleasant trip home to your family,” he continued. “I believe you will be pausing in town to stay with your relations?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. I leave Saturday week.”
“And you will be staying there before continuing on to your home?”
“For at least some few days. I will be joining my eldest sister, and my aunt has several events planned.”
“I trust you will find your sister in good spirits when you return.”
For the first time, Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, and she could not restrain the surge of hope inside her. He really will do as he promised, she thought excitedly, then she chastised herself. Of course, he will do as he pledged, she told herself. Even if he is disagreeable, he was always known as honest and honorable. Bingley certainly affirmed it.
“I hope I shall, Mr. Darcy,” she said aloud.
“Then I shall take my leave, Miss Bennet, and leave you to the capable conversation of my cousin.” With a bow, he turned to go.
“Most impulsive, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam interjected quietly, earning a curious look from Elizabeth and a glare from Darcy before he turned to Mr. Collins. Fitzwilliam chuckled under his breath before turning back to Elizabeth. He thought of the reaction of his aunt if she only knew, and he had to firmly stifle the broad smile that threatened to overspread his face.
Darcy again noted Collins’ rather agitated behavior as he thanked the man for his hospitality. The pathetic man was actually sweating, and he obviously wished Darcy gone immediately. There being nothing left to say, Darcy finished with a cold bow and turned to leave. As he did so, he noted his cousin again in conversation with Elizabeth, who appeared a bit uncertain and uncomfortable, and he knew that Richard was engaged in a bit of subtle teasing. Well, I warned her, he thought, with a certain degree of satisfaction, and made his departure.
The events he had earlier observed at Rosings and those he had just encountered at the Parsonage sufficed to raise his alarm during his walk, and, upon returning to his room, Darcy rang for Jennings. One glance at the discomfort on that person’s usually calm visage convinced Darcy that his observations of unusual behavior indicated something was seriously amiss.
“All right, man, I can see that my suspicions are confirmed,” Darcy said, startling his valet. “Out with it!”
“Mr. Darcy, sir, this is most distressing,” Jennings began uncomfortably, “but I have become aware of some quite unseemly talk among the staff. I have pointedly attempted to ignore such gossiping, but my comments have been quite ignored.” He sniffed in disapproval, and then continued, “The comments have involved your person, Mr. Darcy, and they have also concerned the friend of Mrs. Collins, a Miss Bennet.”
Darcy cursed under his breath, and then collected himself. “And what do they say, Jennings?” he asked.
“I do not know for sure, Mr. Darcy, since I left the room when my advice to avoid gossip was ignored.”
Darcy sighed, “I’m afraid that this is what you should expect when the household staff changes as often as occurs here, but there’s no help for it now. Jennings, I need to know what is being said below stairs. I hate to ask this of you, but I must know. My aunt appears quite irritated with me, and the reaction of Mr. Collins and even his wife indicates that they are party to some of what is being said. Please endeavor to find out whatever you can and give me a report after supper.”
“Very good, sir,” said Jennings, and he quietly departed the room.
Darcy stayed in the library reading until supper, which was a repeat of luncheon, and even Fitzwilliam and Anne noticed the cold behavior of Lady Catherine. Darcy ate quickly and, ignoring Fitzwilliam’s raised eyebrows, made his exit as soon as possible to return to his room. There, he quickly summoned Jennings. As soon as the man entered, Darcy could tell that he did not bring good news. He did not think he had ever seen his valet quite this upset and angry.
“Have a seat, Jennings. This appears as if it may take some time.”
“Indeed it may, sir. I have been quite busy listening to a variety of different accounts from the staff, and none seem to see even the slightest impropriety in indulging in such talk! It is all quite upsetting, sir!”
“I daresay,” said Darcy. “Well, let me have all the particulars. Do not leave out anything, for I need complete information so that I may know how to proceed.”
“Very well, sir,” said Jennings. “First,” and he ticked off the point on one of his fingers, “the Parsonage servants, who appear to be almost as ill-behaved as those here at Rosings, have evidently spread a report that you arrived quite unexpectedly last evening at the Parsonage while the rest of the party were drinking tea at Rosings and there spent several hours with Miss Bennet in the parlor, quite alone.”
“That much, Jennings, is quite correct. Now that I think on it, I do realize the impropriety of being alone with Miss Bennet, but I assure you that nothing improper occurred. We had a long and quite emotional conversation in which we completely forgot ourselves.”
Jennings sniffed again. “I never doubted it, sir, but the staff, as I say . . . ”
“I know, I know, Jennings. Pray continue.”
“As I was saying, the Parsonage staff was abuzz with conversation about this as a most improper and indeed compromising situation, especially since it is the house of a parson. Next,” and he ticked off another finger, “the Rosings staff has taken that bit of gossip and added to it the fact that you and Miss Bennet have several times been seen walking in the park and that you have other times ventured to meet Miss Bennet alone at the Parsonage. They are talking of other assignations beyond that of last evening.
“Next,” he continued, “Mr. Collins was incautious enough this morning to relate to Lady Catherine the events of last night in front of one of the servants. He not only repeated what the servants at the Parsonage said but also added his own estimations, which is that, please pardon me for saying it, sir, that you made improper advances toward Miss Bennet last evening, which she rejected. He said that you must have then tried to force yourself on her, which resulted in Miss Bennet fleeing the parlor in tears.”
This brought Darcy to his feet in anger. “That idiot! That he would spread such filth about his own cousin is completely intolerable! And that the servants would then gossip about it! Is there no one is in charge below stairs at either household? Can they not see how harmful this type of talk can be to the family?”
“There does not appear to be, sir. The previous housekeeper here at Rosings left over two months ago and has not been replaced. The butler ought to step in, but he is quite fond of the bottle and will not be disturbed to oppose the rest of the staff.”
“Well, is that all?” asked Darcy, calming himself and resuming his seat.
“Not quite, sir. And this last is the most disturbing of the lot. One of the kitchen staff, who appears quite the ringleader, has opined that the parson’s opinion regarding your improper advances could not have been accurate, since you were seen just this morning walking with Miss Bennet. Your conversation, seen from a distance, could not be discerned but that both parties were at times upset was easily observable. She ventured to suggest that the reality is that you have taken Miss Bennet as your mistress and that the tears last night resulted from her attempts to induce you to marry her and your flat refusal.”
This last brought a groan from Darcy, but Jennings continued. “I am of the opinion that this person may have written to her sister of this story, but I could not determine the truth of it. I did check, and the afternoon post had been picked up already.”
Darcy’s face was stony, though his thoughts were in turmoil as Jennings concluded. “That is the last of what I could learn, sir. I am sorry to be the bearer of such ill tidings. I thought never to have been associated with such ill-bred associates. They would never be tolerated in a decent household.”
Darcy thanked him for his efforts, and dismissed him for the evening, since he did not know when he might retire. Jennings rose and left him alone with his thoughts.
Darcy sat deep in thought for more than an hour when he was interrupted by a knock at the door to the hall.
“Enter,” called Darcy, startled out of his concentration, and was surprised to see Fitzwilliam enter. A look of worry was evident on his pleasant face.
“Darcy,” he said without preamble, “I was worried by her ladyship’s most unusual behavior at dinner and enquired of my man, Sergeant Henderson. He has just told me of some most disturbing news that he picked up in the kitchen.”
“I can guess,” Darcy groaned. “I talked with Jennings earlier.”
“What!” exclaimed Fitzwilliam in surprise, looking sharply at Darcy. “Cousin, they are saying you have taken Miss Bennet as mistress!”
“Among other things,” growled Darcy. “What an unholy muddle!” Seeing the look of worry still remaining on his cousin’s face, he burst out, “It is not true, Richard! Nothing improper has passed between Elizabeth and myself!”
“Elizabeth, is it?” remarked his cousin, with some heat. “She didn’t look as if she would have expected you to call her by her Christian name when I saw her this afternoon. What exactly has passed between you, Darcy?”
Darcy realized that, now that his cousin’s protective nature was aroused, nothing less than the full account of everything would do, and he resignedly set himself to it.
“Why don’t you pour us two brandies, Richard? I’ll give you a full account, but it may take us some time.” And Darcy then told his cousin of what had transpired between himself and Elizabeth, from the meeting in Hertfordshire to the abortive proposal to tonight’s unwelcome report from Jennings. By the time he was concluded, their glasses had been refilled once and were now half-drained.
At the end, Fitzwilliam remarked of the servants, “What a bunch of gossiping old hens!” He took a sip of his brandy. “At least that explains her ladyship’s behavior at dinner.”
“Too right. But as mad as she is, she will never bring it up to me, for fear that I might be forced to defend Miss Bennet’s honor by offering marriage.”
“Do you think she has any inkling of your true feelings, Darcy?”
Darcy shook his head. “I would be quite surprised. But more important is the question of what I should do.” He ran his hand through his hair as he considered the situation. “I am inclined to think that the best course might be to simply ignore it,” he said at last. “Almost anything that I might do would only lend credence to these pernicious rumors.”
Fitzwilliam considered this a moment. “The thought has its attractions, but I am concerned about what you said of that letter that one of the kitchen staff wrote. Did Jennings have any idea where the letter was sent?” Darcy shook his head, and Fitzwilliam sighed. “That makes it more difficult. If this gossip should make its way to London, you might find yourself featured in one of the scandal sheets.”
“That would not be pleasant,” Darcy agreed, “but how bad could it be, Richard? Why could I not simply ignore it, even if it did become a topic of conversation?”
“Because you, my dear cousin, are a supremely eligible bachelor and are therefore a figure of some prominence in London society. Even though you try your utmost to avoid attention, you are a well-noticed figure because of your stature and availability. If the gossip makes it to the scandal sheets, it will be published, and it will be noticed.”
“Even so, it has happened on a few occasions before, and I have successfully ignored it.”
“Yes, but it was a trifling mention, seeking to connect you to this or that available young woman. But this involves more than yourself. Yes, you might even successfully ignore it, even if it were published in something like the Chronicle, and you might well escape with only a little singe. But not Miss Bennet,” he said quietly. “What will singe you will completely ruin her. If you don’t want that girl hurt, you would have to do something.”
Darcy grimaced, seeing the truth of Fitzwilliam’s observation. “There is only one response acceptable in a situation such as this, and that is an offer of marriage. But that has already been attempted, with the dismal results I’ve mentioned.”
“Then your offer will have to be renewed, Darcy, and Miss Bennet must be prepared to accept or face the consequences. It does seem as if she may have acquitted you of the worst of her opinions, and this additional information may convince her of the wisdom of this course.”
Darcy considered this suggestion, but the problem was that he believed that he understood Elizabeth better than his cousin, for all his superior skill in conversation. After this morning, he was certain that any renewal of his offer would be rejected instantly. His cousin had not seen the manner in which Elizabeth had stood up to him, and he believed that even this disturbing news would not move her from her course. It might be different if this gossip were actually published and talked about, for then Elizabeth would find herself with little choice but to accept in order to prevent scandal from damaging her or her family, especially her sister. But she had this morning given him a chance to continue their acquaintance, and he would prefer to keep to that course.
“I will need to acquaint Miss Bennet with this distressing news,” Darcy said slowly, “but I believe that any renewal of my offer would be rejected.” Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to protest, but Darcy held up his hand. “Trust me on this, Richard. Elizabeth would be outraged at any attempt to force her to accept marriage due to household gossip that we both know has no foundation. Yet she must be informed, since she is involved in this distasteful rumor-mongering. We are scheduled to depart in the morning at nine, and I will attempt to see her in private if she walks early. But what if she does not walk? Perhaps we should delay our departure until the afternoon or even the following day.”
Fitzwilliam was uncomfortable with Darcy’s plan, but he had to submit to his cousin’s better understanding of Miss Bennet. But on the subject of the departure, he held a firm opinion. “There are two points against delaying our departure, as I see it. One is that letter has already been dispatched, so time lost may be time needed. Second is the disgraceful state of the staff here. With all arrangements made for our departure, changing those arrangements at the last minute will likely give rise to further whispers, such as ‘Mr. Darcy is unable to leave his mistress,’ and that news will shortly be included in some other post.” He paused thoughtfully, looking at his cousin. “I still believe that you should renew your offer or possibly take this to Miss Bennet’s father, Darcy,” he stated once more.
“It will not work, Richard,” Darcy responded. “That eventuality may come, but I am convinced that she will reject any such offer. And even if I saw her father and he agreed with me, I doubt if he could force her to marry against her will.”
“Possibly you are correct,” Fitzwilliam sighed, “yet I do not wish to see Miss Bennet hurt.”
“Nor I, Richard,” he answered solemnly. He ran his hand through his hair again. “What if I do not see her before we leave? If she does not walk, I could likely not manage a private moment, even if we stopped as we were leaving.”
Fitzwilliam brightened at a sudden thought. “Write her a letter, Darcy. If you don’t see her, leave it at the Parsonage as we depart.”
“She won’t accept a letter from me, Richard. And even if she did, as you pointed out, the staff would then gossip that I was leaving a letter to my mistress.”
“Ummm,” said Fitzwilliam in reluctant agreement, then brightened again. “What about Anne?” he suggested. “I know that she corresponds with Mrs. Collins; I have seen several notes left to be delivered. Perhaps she could take your letter and enclose it inside one of her own?”
Darcy nodded slowly. “That would work,” he said in agreement. “I know she relishes the opportunity to get around her mother whenever possible to do so without being discovered.”
“Yes, she will not oppose her openly,” Fitzwilliam said sadly. “Still, I do not know if either of us would be any braver if we had to live in her ladyship’s household and under her authority.”
“Too true,” said Darcy sadly.
Fitzwilliam smiled as he teased his cousin, “It ought to be a good letter to Miss Bennet, cousin.”
Darcy smiled in response. “At least I write better than I speak, cousin,” he jested in return, and the two men leaned forward to clink their glasses.
Darcy moved to his writing desk and quickly penned a quick note to Anne, asking if he could see her the next morning before he left. When a servant arrived at his ring, he instructed her to deliver it to Miss Anne, being careful not to wake her if she was asleep but to simply leave it on the table by the bed. Darcy knew that Anne’s difficulty in sleeping was related to her health problems; she could seldom sleep the night through. If she was already asleep at this hour, she would undoubtedly rise before dawn to see his note.
The two men made one final toast and drained their glasses before Fitzwilliam left Darcy’s room to retire for the evening.
After his cousin departed, Darcy sat down to write the letter to Elizabeth. It was the third night in a row in which he had gotten very little sleep, and it was past three in the morning before he at last finished and could retire.
Chapter 9
Posted on Wednesday, 27 April 2005
When Darcy was awoken by Jennings at six, his valet gave him a note from Anne saying that she would receive him in her room after he awoke. He sent back a note saying that he would call on her at six-thirty. After dressing, Darcy left Jennings to see to the packing of the rest of his possessions and, taking the letter to Elizabeth with him, he walked down the hall to Anne’s room. He had addressed his letter to ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet’ and sealed it with red wax stamped with the Darcy family crest. But he had then enclosed this letter inside a plain piece of stationery and sealed this with no stamp.
At Anne’s room, he gave a soft knock and heard her quiet voice bid him enter. His cousin was alone when he entered, sitting by the window with a book, looking outdoors with a wistful look on her face. He suddenly felt guilty for his robust health and the errand he was on, when this young woman was hindered by her own frail body so that she was unable to share the beauties of the world she gazed on.
“Good morning, Anne,” Darcy said in greeting. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“It is no trouble, cousin,” she responded, turning to him at last. “I have been awake for some hours.”
Darcy winced at this confirmation of his estimation. “We are departing this morning,” he began, and she nodded, for he had taken leave of her the previous evening. “But I wish to solicit your aid in a rather urgent matter. It is,” he said, looking her in the eye, “one that needs to be kept from your mother’s notice.”
“It is, is it?” she said, with more interest than before. “And what do you need my help with, cousin Darcy?”
“I need to get a letter to Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the Parsonage,” he told her simply, though the information caused her to raise her eyebrows.
“Ah, Miss Bennet,” she said with a slight smile. “That does explain some of the oddities I have noted on this visit, cousin.”
Darcy was uncomfortable in her discerning gaze. Anne might have inherited her physical frailty from her father, but she had also inherited his incisive mind.
“For obvious reasons, I cannot simply send my letter to Miss Bennet. I thought you might enclose this letter in one of your own to Mrs. Collins, which I could then deliver to her as we depart,” he told her, taking out his letter and setting it on the table.
Anne looked at it with interest but did not reach to take it, instead fixing him with an inquisitive gaze. “I must inform Miss Bennet of some very urgent matters, Anne,” he said somewhat haltingly. “She must be informed, and quite quickly, I might add, of some vital information which affects her personally.”
“Ah, the gossip,” Anne said quietly, but Darcy noted the twinkle in her eye.
Darcy did not ask how she knew. The rest of her mother’s staff might be undeserving to be employed in a household of note, but her own maid, Margaret, had served her all her life and was fiercely loyal to her Mistress.
“Yes, the gossip,” Darcy confirmed, “none of which is true, by the way.”
“I never doubted it, cousin,” Anne said, for the first time reaching out and taking the letter. “Very well, I will be pleased to assist you in this endeavor, especially since it will deceive my dear mother.” Her eyes were bright with interest as she looked at her cousin. “I liked Miss Bennet very much, cousin. You could not have made a wiser choice, nor one so calculated to drive my mother into an absolute passion!”
“Yes, well,” Darcy stammered, “there is nothing settled yet, Anne. But I thank you for your assistance. And there is one further request – when you write to Mrs. Collins, would you ask that she urge Miss Bennet to read the letter? She is very independent minded and might well refuse to either receive or read the letter.”
Anne was somewhat confused by this. “Why is that, Darcy? Does she not know of your intentions? Do not tell me that you have not the courage to declare yourself to her?”
Darcy winced, but, once again, the truth was really the only response to such queries. “She knows, Anne. The question is not my intentions but her response.”
“Oho!” chortled Anne. “Don’t tell me she rejected you! Oh, this is too much! Our Miss Bennet is truly a gem among women!”
“Do you have to enjoy it so much, Anne?” Darcy said irritably, thinking also that soon all of his acquaintances would know what he would have much rather kept a dark secret. “We are cousins, you know. You might at least have a little consideration for my feelings!”
“Oh, by all means, I should,” said Anne, with absolutely no contrition whatever. “But do you desire my consideration or my aid?” And she looked at him with an air of the utmost impudence.
“Your aid, of course, cousin. Will you give it?”
“Do you have to ask, cousin? To deceive my mother while helping to foster a match between you and the lovely Miss Bennet? How could I not aid you in this?”
“Thank you, Anne. Please have Margaret deliver it to Jennings, and I will leave it at the Parsonage as I depart,” Darcy said quietly. “If Miss Bennet walks out this morning, I will attempt to talk to her of this in private. But if I am unsuccessful, I will trust in your letter. Again, I truly am thankful for your help in this. And I also wish that our next meeting might see you improved in health.”
“As do I, cousin,” she responded, as he bent to kiss her hand, “As do I,” and she was already moving toward her writing desk as he left the room.
Somewhat more than two hours later, Elizabeth was sitting alone with her friend in the drawing room when they heard the sound of the bell. Shortly afterwards, Elizabeth was surprised to see the door open and to hear Darcy announced. She looked up as his tall figure strode into the room, but when she saw his dark eyes brighten as he saw her, she had to look down. She felt her cheeks redden at the thought of what that disturbing look portended, for even after another night of thought she remained as confused as ever about him. She had deliberately stayed in her room this morning in order to avoid any possibility of repeating her meeting with Darcy along the paths of Rosings. She needed more time to examine her feelings, and she truly missed the company of Jane, with whom she might discuss all that had passed here in the past several days.
“Please excuse the interruption, Mrs. Collins,” she heard him say in his deep voice, “but when I took my leave of my cousin Anne this morning, she mentioned that she had a note for you, which I offered to deliver it as we departed.” Elizabeth looked up as he handed the letter to Charlotte, and for the first time since she had known him, she was struck by how handsome he truly was. Always before, she had seen him through the eyes of amusement and dislike. But now, knowing of his attraction to her, her viewpoint was altered, and she could not help but be impressed by his handsome features, his stature, and his athletic frame. As he made his farewell to Charlotte and turned to her, she recognized the open admiration in his eyes, and she conscious that he was fixing her in his memory, trying to store a recollection to be examined at a later time. The feeling of being so examined was, surprisingly, not wholly unpleasant, and as he gave her a small bow as he bid her goodbye, she inclined her head in return. As he turned to the door, she caught one last look from him, and he was gone.
Elizabeth was lost in contemplation of this brief but rather unsettling encounter and did not at first see her friend frowning at the letter she held, wondering at it being so thick. But when Charlotte opened it, she found that the letter from Anne was wrapped around what appeared to be another letter, folded and sealed with wax but with no writing on either side. Putting it aside for the moment, Charlotte read the letter from Anne: