Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
December 1813, Hertfordshire
B etween dinners at Longbourn and Netherfield, as well as Mr Bingley’s calls on Jane during the day, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth were constantly in the same society. Outwardly, there was no obvious renewal of feelings from the past, but at times Elizabeth could not help but wonder: Had he ever thought of her? Regretted her, even a little? Before the party at Lucas Lodge, she never would have believed so, considering how ruthlessly he had ended their relationship. But his words during their last conversation—‘I had imagined you would marry someone different’—seemed to indicate that he had at least thought of her during their time apart. It was astonishing, considering how coldly he had treated her on their final meeting in Kent, that she occupied his thoughts at all. She had always assumed he sought to erase her from his memory completely and felt only grateful to have escaped such a marriage .
No matter how shocking it was that he thought of her during their time apart, she reminded herself that mere remembrance did not imply regret; that seemed implausible. How could he possibly feel remorse? He had ended their relationship based on her family’s behaviour, and the Bennets were still the same as they ever were.
After their exchange at the Lucases, she was reminded of why she could never again harbour any true feelings for such a horrible man, despite the intense attraction she felt for him at times. Days later, anger still coursed through her whenever she recalled his presumption in saying, ‘I always believed only love would induce you into matrimony’. How dare he conjecture on whom she should marry? How could he possess such pride? To believe his opinion mattered enough to suggest whom she should choose was nothing short of outrageous. He had rejected her and shattered her heart in the process, yet now he acted as if he had the right to lecture her. Every time she returned to the memory, she felt her body tremble with fury.
Such audacity had led her to utter the impolite words, ‘There is not much you could do to make me think any less of you than I already do’. Though she regretted their cutting nature, she stood firm in their sentiment. From the depths of her heart, she had tried to treat him with civility since he came into her company again; yet, between his arrogant nature and the haunting memories of their past connexion, her resolve was tested at every turn. Thus, they carried on as hardly more than acquaintances, and certainly not very friendly ones at that.
When in company, she met him with every intention of being composed but indifferent. However, as intentions and deeds often vary, they frequently argued, engaging in spirited debates on any and every topic that arose. No observer—not even Mr Bingley or Jane—would have ever suspected them of once being in love; they appeared as adversaries. Such was the occasion during dinner one night at Netherfield when the conversation turned to Royce having spent time in the navy.
“Jane tells me that we have a common acquaintance, Mr Royce. Are you familiar with Captain Peeler?” asked Mr Bingley between courses.
“Yes, most certainly,” Royce replied. “He was my captain during my time in the navy. He is an admirable soul. Tell me, how do you know him?”
Mr Bingley looked pleased by the connexion. “He is my cousin. Next time I write to him I shall tell him we have met.”
“What a coincidence! Please pass on my regards to him.” Royce leant back in his chair and eyed his host keenly. “That is truly remarkable.” He shook his head in disbelief before continuing. “I spent my formative years at sea with your cousin. Following in my father’s path and joining the Royal Navy had been my course since I was a boy. It was a critical time in my life that I would not trade for anything. I was able to see and experience much of the world.”
Mr Bingley took a bite of potatoes before responding politely, “I have always admired a gentleman who spends time in the military or navy.”
“Yes, he did it at the risk of losing his inheritance too,” Elizabeth said proudly as she took a small bite of roast. Her eyes flickered down the table to where Mr Darcy sat. He was staring down absently at his plate as he idly pushed peas into the shape of a circle. How desperately I wish he were not here. How cruel of him to have come to Hertfordshire nearly three weeks before the wedding !
“Is that so?” Mr Bingley asked as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth is correct,” Royce replied. “The aunt from whom I was set to inherit preferred that I become a clergyman and often tried convincing me to leave the navy. She even threatened to pass my inheritance on to a different relation if I did not. I assured her that although I respected her and still hoped for the inheritance and property, I could not abandon the navy.”
Mr Bingley tilted his head as he studied Royce. “Strong man you are. What did she do?”
“Her threats were not permanent. She was angry for a time, but then came around. She gave me the inheritance, and that is how I came into my living.”
“Yes, and this is one of the things I do admire about you, Mr Royce,” Elizabeth said as she placed her glass down and looked at him with a tender smile. “Your steadiness of character. I have known you many years and once you have made a decision, you adhere to it. I have known you to continue to be persistent even when the odds are against you.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” Royce gazed steadily into her eyes.
She looked away and continued, “I think it is a grievous blemish on a man’s character indeed to be too yielding to others’ influences. If you wish to be happy in life, I do believe you should be resolved. We cannot let others dictate our happiness. After all, they will not have to live out our decisions.” Her eyes wandered the room, pausing for a moment on Mr Darcy as she spoke.
“Indeed,” replied Mr Royce as he straightened his back. A subtle smile grew on his face.
Down the table, Elizabeth heard Mr Darcy clearing his throat. “Is it your opinion that we should not owe any respect or duty to the elders of our family lines?” he asked in a grave voice. “That we should give their opinions little regard even if they mean to grant us an inheritance? Care very little if they disagree with our vital life decisions?”
Elizabeth was startled; up until this point he had been mostly silent. She took a sip of wine before she looked at him and said calmly, “I believe there should be respect, but we must resolve to make our own decisions. Do you think we should be as dolls in a child’s dollhouse, bending to our elders’ every inclination?”
Pleased with her analogy, she picked up her fork and jabbed at a bit of roast as she waited for his response. She noticed Lydia and Kitty rolling their eyes at each other as they prepared themselves for another ‘bout of verbal fisticuffs between Lizzy and Mr Darcy’. At least they were amused; Elizabeth saw Jane stiffen in her chair and Mr Bingley let out a long exhale.
Mr Darcy looked down and rubbed the polished wood of the table with one finger as he began, “You may have misunderstood me. I do not encourage mindless compliance.” His hand stilled and he looked up at her again before continuing. “However, it is undeniable that wisdom often comes with age, and our elder generations possess invaluable insights and experiences to guide us. It is not wrong to consider such things when making important decisions which affect more lives than our own.”
How could he be so callous, defending a position so painfully similar to the one that tore us apart? And to do it here, in front of everyone. Is this his idea of gentlemanly conduct?
She set her fork down firmly before she answered. “Although wisdom can come with age, it is not a universal truth. There are those older than me who lack understanding. Placing blind trust in someone solely based on their age seems imprudent to say the least. We risk sacrificing our own happiness to conform to another person’s notions of our life.” She spoke in a civil manner, but a slight sharpness to her words could be detected.
“Happiness, though desirable, cannot be the only purpose for life. There are other things to consider.” Mr Darcy’s dark eyes were intent upon her.
“Such as?”
“Duty to others and familial obligations,” he replied calmly. “For example, I owe everything I possess to my ancestors. I am merely a steward, not truly an owner, of the Darcy fortune and land. That alone I should say obliges me to heed their good counsel.”
She looked around the room and gave a humourless laugh. “I should say one risks finding oneself too reliant on the guidance of elders, simply because experience or practice in independent thought has not occurred. I shudder to think of the future of estates left to such people.”
Miss Bingley let out a small gasp and Jane whispered, “Oh, Lizzy,” under her breath. Elizabeth quickly realised she had gone too far with her public insult of Mr Darcy. Before this point, she had always implied her low opinion of him, but she had not been directly and openly derisive towards him. Glancing at him now, she saw he wore a small smile but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was offended.
After a few moments of silence, Mr Darcy spoke. “You have mistaken my point, or perhaps I made it poorly. I meant only that taking into consideration the advice of our elders is important. There is of course a balance between seeking counsel from a wiser generation with your best interest at heart and letting yourself become a mere puppet.” He placed his napkin on top of his uneaten meal and continued, “Now if you will excuse me, Miss Bingley, I have an urgent matter of business I must attend to right away.”
Miss Bingley nodded, and Mr Darcy rose from the table, then left the room.
Elizabeth, mortified and angry with herself, could not bear to look around the table and see the censure in others’ eyes. She had the uncommon experience of expressing exactly what she wished to convey at the precise moment she wanted to say it. Yet, instead of feeling victorious over Mr Darcy, she felt humiliated. When the ladies rose to separate, she apologised to Miss Bingley and then sat in the corner of the room for the remainder of the gathering.
She was silent in the carriage back to Longbourn. Maintaining her composure was difficult, but she succeeded until arriving in her bedchamber, where she allowed her tears to fall freely, tears of mortification, humiliation, and regret. She knew she had not acquitted herself well; indeed, she had conducted herself as a shrew.
How could she have been so cruel to him? She had often been praised for her intelligence, but it was not usually coupled with the loss of self-control. She had previously prided herself on maintaining a certain detachment from her family’s absurdity; yet even if she never displayed their impoliteness and incivility before, now she found herself behaving no better than they did at their worst.
Three years ago, she had accused Mr Darcy of lacking kindness and compassion, yet here she was today committing the same offences. She had never been so disappointed with herself in all her life.
Elizabeth had grown weary of carrying the burden of anger within her; it was not in her nature and clinging to such resentment was transforming her into someone she neither liked nor recognised. No matter how poorly he had treated her, she vowed she would never again display such a lack of basic social graces, insulting another person in front of friends and family. Her behaviour had led only to her own degradation.
I must bury this bitterness and apologise to him as soon as possible. It is time to establish some sort of truce between us.