Chapter 4
That morning had every sign of being an ordinary one.
It arrived as many others had with only torment for Darcy’s tired mind.
However, unlike other mornings, he suddenly decided to behave differently.
He determined that he would put an end to the useless torment of the last months and regain control of his life.
The time had come. He had been foolish too long.
He could not allow himself to go on in the same manner.
He had to pay attention to his responsibilities. Too many people depended on him and too many expectations were demanded of him to afford such a failure.
Darcy moved to the library early. He instructed his servants that he not be disturbed until he rang for them. He also wrote a short note to Georgiana, informing her he would be busy the entire day so she would not worry about his absence.
He opened the curtains, then the window. It was a pleasant, though still cloudy, morning. The air smelled of freshness.
Darcy spread the pile of papers on his desk.
His solicitor had sent him several letters, which he never took the trouble of answering.
Also, his uncle the earl had written him twice on both business and family matters, and he had offered no response.
He had neglected everyone but would do so no more.
His sister, his aunts, his cousins, his tenants —all needed his support and consideration. He was compelled to keep his mind clear, keen, and concentrated on what was important.
There was no room left for Elizabeth Bennet in his thoughts.
His disappointment in her was now complete: she responded to his love with disdain, to his passion with derision, and to his commitment with a reckless elopement with Wickham.
Where was she now? Were they wedded? Would she accept staying with that man without marriage?
And where would she live? What income would they have? Where would Wickham take her?
He furiously pulled the curtains closed again, pacing the room in darkness.
How could he be so weak in keeping his own resolution?
How could it happen that, in less than a minute, he started thinking of her again?
Would he ever be able to get past this? Beyond her?
His life would be miserable as long as he was haunted by this obsession but —silly Elizabeth —hers would be the same by the side of one of the least honourable men. Wickham —the man she chose over him.
If only he could rip her out of his heart too, he would perhaps be peaceful and tranquil.
When the door to his library opened, he only shouted: “Leave!”
But his valet Watts approached him bravely.
“Sir, I apologise for the intrusion. I know your orders, but I could not ignore the matter. A young lady is calling on you. She claims it is a most urgent situation. Mrs. Gilbert was uncertain of how to proceed, and I took the liberty of informing you.”
Darcy glanced at his valet with an incredulous expression mixed with curiosity.
“Besides my sister and my cousin, I can hardly imagine any other young lady needing my advice on an urgent matter. This is quite peculiar. Is the young woman still here?”
“Yes, sir. She is waiting in the main hall.”
“Very well, go fetch her, and we will see what she wants.”
The servant had almost exited the room when Darcy called to him. “Watts, do you happen to know her name?”
“Yes, sir. Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy’s shoulders seemed to crumble under the weight of the news.
How could it be? Elizabeth Bennet at his door?
What could she possibly wish from him? Could it be that Wickham sent her?
Surely, he would not dare do that. What if she told Wickham about his foolish marriage proposal?
Was Wickham aware of his feelings for Elizabeth and now trying to gain some advantage from it?
No, that would be too vile even for that scoundrel.
And she —would she lower herself to take part in such a scheme?
She introduced herself as Miss Bennet —could that mean they were not married yet? They eloped several days ago —he had lost count —where had they been all that time?
Darcy heard steps and briefly thought he should open the curtains again, but he had no time before the door opened.
He managed to sit in his chair, his fists pressed together to hide his nervousness.
What a fool he was to be so distressed, he scolded himself while filling a glass of brandy and emptying it in one gulp.
Watts introduced the visitor, and she stepped in hesitantly.
“Miss Bennet…do come in.”
The coldness in his voice sounded strange even to him.
He struggled to keep his composure as he stretched to pull the curtains open.
The sun’s light entered through the window, and he narrowed his eyes to protect them from such brightness.
Then he turned and finally, after more than four months of torment, laid his eyes on the object of his affliction.
“Miss Bennet…”
“Mr. Darcy…”
Their eyes met briefly, as neither of them had the strength to linger. He did not invite her to sit down, but she seemed not to notice. Her hands were clasped together on her reticule.
He observed the dark circles under her eyes and the sadness that had washed away her usual liveliness.
She did not look happy with her present situation.
Had she finally discovered Wickham’s true character?
He knew he should rejoice in her suffering, but his heart was heavy, and he desperately wished to comfort her.
He was as weak and foolish as ever, and he realised he had to fight harder to overcome his feelings.
“May I ask what the purpose of this unexpected visit is?” he finally inquired.
“Sir, I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you…I know how surprised you must be…and please believe me that I would never have dared to bother you if the matter was not a most urgent one. I struggled about whether to come here today; it was a very difficult decision for me, one I never imagined I would make. And I am well aware you are not pleased to see me either… but I desperately need help, and you are the only one who can offer it…”
Darcy listened to her explanation, every moment increasing his turmoil.
She had no restraint in telling him that she struggled to come to him against her will.
Had she been sent then? She needed to stop dithering and come to the point so he could refuse her, ask her to leave, and never see her again.
“I confess I am surprised; I would imagine I am the last man in the world of whom you would ask anything. It is unwise to make a request of someone arrogant, conceited, and disdainful of the feelings of others,” he replied.
The words had come out of his mouth without his mind even noticing.
Elizabeth paled even more at that harsh censure; she should have expected it, but she seemed hurt nevertheless.
“But I suspect you did not come here at this early hour to critique my character again. You told my servant it is something of great importance. What could it be? You are not harmed in any way, I hope.” His voice lacked any emotion.
“Forgive me…I am not harmed…it is about something…someone… about Mr. Wickham.”
He breathed deeply, waiting for her to continue. So Wickham did send her, and she dared to ask him something about that scoundrel. His fists were clenched so tightly that it hurt. How could he bear to hear anything more about this?
“I see…and what can I do for your friend Wickham? Is he still suffering because of my unfair treatment?”
His sharp voice and icy glare were almost menacing —he intended that —and she bit her lips for a moment then continued.
“We need help to find him…if you could only tell me a few things about him. My father and my uncle have been looking for him for days now. Colonel Forster helped us with the search too, but nobody knows much about his previous life before he joined the regiment. We suspect he is hiding somewhere in London, and they searched every inn…but it takes so long, and nobody knows anything about him. The situation is tragic for my family…”
His expression changed, and his eyes widened. What was she talking about? They were searching for Wickham? So he eloped with her then abandoned her?
Darcy gazed at her, astounded and lost for words, wondering how it was possible that the woman he thought to be exceptionally bright could end up in such a situation. What was he to do? What answer could he give to such a disclosure? Why was she giving him all these details?
“Miss Bennet, what is it exactly that you expect me to do?”
She started talking again, stepping forward.
“Sir, I am begging you, if you could only tell me about Mr. Wickham’s old habits or friends…
since you have known each other for so long…
where he used to stay in London… anything.
I know I should not dare to ask you of all people, but we have no one left.
My father has fallen ill because of this situation…
I feel so guilty. I know it was my fault for trusting this man from the beginning…
I have been such a fool…if only I had listened to you…
or read the letter you gave me, my family would not be suffering now. ”
She started to sob, and he could bear no more. Pain, pity, disappointment, anger, and sorrow turned into a storm of feelings that defeated his reason and his logic. She stood there, looking younger, thinner, and weaker than usual.
His fantasy came to a close. The present image of her demolished all his past dreams, and everything he believed about her was changed forever.
This was not the brave Miss Elizabeth Bennet who walked across fields to take care of her ill sister. Her witty mind and sparkling eyes were nothing but a dream, an ideal fancy drawn by his mind.