33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
April 1812 Hunsford, Kent Elizabeth
T he warm breeze blew Elizabeth’s curls, making them tickle the back of her neck. She hummed a merry tune as she walked, wondering how long it would take Mr. Darcy to come upon her today. She dared not assume that he came in search of her. That would sound arrogant. Yet not a day had passed when the gentleman had not appeared during her walk.
After an hour in the sunshine, Elizabeth turned back toward the parsonage. She felt strangely bereft, for she had not encountered Mr. Darcy that day. Somehow, her morning ramble seemed incomplete because he had not appeared. What a silly thing I am, she chided herself. He is likely busy with estate work and could not venture out. She realized with a start that she missed him and had been looking forward to the lively discourse she had grown used to in the past weeks.
As she strolled the lane toward the parsonage, Elizabeth thought of her future. She would return to London on April eleventh, where she would be swept up in the rest of the season. Would Mr. Darcy come to town, or would he retrieve his sister from his relations, only to retreat to the north? She had grown rather fond of his company and hoped that the former would be the case.
“Miss Bennet! How pleased I am to meet you this morning.” Colonel Fitzwilliam approached, a broad smile on his face. “We have not been able to converse nearly enough for my liking.”
“Good morning, sir.” Elizabeth smiled. “How do you do?”
“Have you concluded your walk?” he asked. “If not, I would love to join you.”
“I was on my way back to the parsonage, but I have no objections to changing course. Where would you like to go?” In truth, the parsonage held no attraction for her. Lydia would speak of the same things repeatedly and Mr. Collins would ramble about nothing for half an hour. She felt rather wicked for her thoughts. Nonsensical as her cousin was, he was a man of the cloth and very dedicated to his work. She ought to show him more consideration.
“I am making my tour of the park, as I do every year. My cousin was sadly unable to join me on this lovely day,” Colonel Fitzwilliam continued. “With only a few days until we return to town, he wishes to complete the review of the estate books as expeditiously as possible. Darcy has taken his time this year, taking longer than he normally does to do the same work. I cannot account for it; he is usually a very efficient man.” He gave her a strange look, and Elizabeth did not know quite what to make of it.
“Perhaps he has his reasons,” she said, unsure what else to reply.
“We have delayed our departure twice already,” he confided. “I have no complaints, for I am on leave and quite at my leisure. Besides, I am at Darcy’s disposal; when he deems it time to depart, I shall be ready.”
“I do not know of any other man who likes to have his way so well as Mr. Darcy,” she said teasingly. The gentleman seemed very certain of his decisions, enacting his will with confidence and expediency.
“He does, indeed,” Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze on the road ahead of them. “But so do we all. It is only that he has better means of having it than others, given his comfortable wealth. I quite envy him his choices. A younger son, you know, must be inured to dependence and self-denial.”
“I suppose that also means you cannot marry where you wish,” she replied. Not that she had any interest in the colonel. His manner was very like hers, though his interests were vastly different. Colonel Fitzwilliam, while intelligent, was not as well read as Mr. Darcy, and their conversations, while interesting, did not challenge her intellectually as his cousin did.
He looked a little startled, but nodded. “Yes, unfortunately, I need a wife with a healthy dowry. Darcy has no such strictures.” He gave her another puzzling look, and she wondered if he wished her to divine something from his words. I cannot make out his meaning.
“The second son of an earl must command at least fifty thousand pounds,” she replied, to mask her confusion.
“To maintain the lifestyle to which I am accustomed, yes. It is not the best of situations, for ladies with handsome dowries are few and far between. Meanwhile, I make a name for myself in my career in hopes that very soon I shall find myself happily leg shackled to some fortunate lady.”
How very sad to have money be the primary requirement when seeking a spouse. Her thoughts drifted to Jane, and she wondered if her stepsister’s drastic behavior stemmed from similar thoughts. Jane is to split her mother’s dowry with Kitty and Lydia, but those funds are not hers until her mother dies. Even then, the amount comes too short of seventy pounds a year. Hardly an attractive prospect for most gentlemen.
“You mentioned that Mr. Darcy may marry where he wishes,” she continued. “Is he not expected to make a brilliant match with some fortunate society miss?”
“I have no doubt that others expect him to do so. His parents married for connection and fortune and raised him to do likewise. I believe until very recently that he shared their views that marriage was only a business arrangement.”
“What changed?” She glanced at him, noting the look of concentration on his face.
“A friend found himself in a rather sticky situation. He had fallen in love with a lady, only to learn that she did not feel the same way. Darcy encouraged the man to keep away from the miss for fear of being put in an undesirable situation. His friend was rather crushed. The entire incident led Darcy to question long-held beliefs.”
Mr. Bingley. It has to be Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth felt sad for Jane. While her stepsister had brought the situation upon herself, she had lost out on the love of a good man who could provide for her and her sisters in the event of Papa’s death.
“It is good that Mr. Darcy did not interfere and instead only supported his friend’s decisions.”
“My cousin is very generous to those he esteems.”
“And those who have lost his good opinion?” She spoke of Mr. Wickham, though she had come to the conclusion that the man’s tales of misuse were likely overblown and inaccurate.
“Those who lose Darcy’s good opinion deserve his disdain and dismissal.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s countenance darkened. “Some do not get the judgment they deserve because, even in his anger, Darcy is far too lenient.”
She did not reply. They were very close to the parsonage now, and she turned to bid him farewell.
“You are all to dine tonight, and so goodbye until then, Miss Bennet,” he said, tipping his hat. She watched him stride away, his walking stick making little marks on the road as he went.
Instead of going directly inside, Elizabeth wandered to the side of the house where a bench sat in the shade. She lowered herself onto the stone seat distractedly, already lost in her ruminations. Here was another strong character reference for Mr. Darcy. His cousin was biased, of course, but would Colonel Fitzwilliam speak untruths? From the earliest moments of their acquaintance, the man had made no excuses for his cousin’s behavior, instead expressing his opinion of Mr. Darcy’s less than gentlemanly conduct with exasperation.
Papa does not perform well in society, she mused, seeing the similarities between the two men. But he does not treat others as if they are beneath him. Why would Mr. Darcy behave in that manner? Surely, he was taught better. His aunt is warm and engaging. Elizabeth forced herself to admit that she had not seen Lady Catherine in a setting other than dinner and tea. And because of her connection to the lady, she likely treated Elizabeth far differently than she would an indifferent acquaintance. Would the lady be imperious and commanding in a London drawing room?
Why could Mr. Darcy not be easier to understand? She supposed he would not be nearly so interesting if he were. Simple characters were simple to decipher and not nearly so intriguing. Mr. Collins, for example, was easily understood and now held no entertainment for Elizabeth. Colonel Fitzwilliam, though more complex than Mr. Collins, also seemed relatively easy to comprehend.
Mr. Darcy is perhaps the most complicated gentleman I have ever encountered. Time and intimacy would be the tell all. The question remained, however: did she wish for them? More and more, she thought she would be very pleased with the gentleman’s attention. Dinner at Rosings Park would provide further opportunities to observe and comprehend the gentleman’s manner.
Unfortunately for Elizabeth, as she went towards the house, she put her foot in a hole. She cried out as her ankle twisted beneath her, and she landed on the ground hard.
“Oh,” she moaned as she picked herself up. “That hole was not there when I first came this way.” Gingerly, she attempted to put weight on her ankle, only to gasp in pain when she put pressure on it.
Hobbling to the house, she opened the door and limped inside. It was quiet; Lydia and Mr. Collins were likely still attending to parish business. Elizabeth made it as far as the larger drawing room, where she sat in a chair and put her foot up on a stool. Already her half boot felt too tight, and she hastened to remove it before it became impossible.
“Lizzy?” Lydia poked her head in the door.
“I thought you were out!” Elizabeth cried in surprise.
“I was only in the kitchen. Cook had a few questions for Sunday supper. What on earth has happened to you?”
“I turned my ankle in the garden.” She grimaced.
Lydia giggled and then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I am sorry. Only it is very funny. My sister, the great walker, has turned her ankle ten steps from the door.”
Elizabeth smiled self-deprecatingly. “It is rather ironic, is it not?” She sighed. “I am afraid that this will prevent me from going to Rosings Park for dinner.”
Lydia cried in dismay. “Lady Catherine will be so disappointed! She likes your company very much.”
“I, too, am sad to miss it, but I cannot walk. See? The swelling is already terrible.” She groaned as she poked the swollen flesh. “And I have only a few more days before I return to London.”
Her sister pouted. “Well, we shall have to make the best of it. What shall I do?”
“Is there an icehouse near? I believe that would help. And some willow bark tea, if you have any.”
Lydia bustled away to fulfill Elizabeth’s requests. She leaned back and sighed. I suppose I shall have plenty of time to think now, she mused. There is much to puzzle out.
She spent the rest of the day on a lounge chair, her foot propped up before her and ice wrapped around her ankle. Mr. Collins promised to escort her upstairs when they returned, and Elizabeth thanked him sincerely. Lydia retrieved a stack of books from her sister’s chambers and left them within easy reach.
“Ring this little bell if you need anything,” she said, placing a small brass bell next to the books. “Martha will be here.” Millie had gone into Hunsford whilst the occupants of the parsonage were out. Elizabeth had insisted she go despite her mistress’s turned ankle.
Lydia’s kindness made Elizabeth’s heart swell. Never had she imagined being friendly with her half-sister, especially not Lydia. Both of the youngest Bennet sisters had held Mary and Elizabeth in disdain, copying their mother’s attitude for years.
I suppose I have earned her approbation.
The happy couple departed, leaving Elizabeth in solitude. She perused a book or two before rereading her aunt’s latest letter.
My dear niece,
As pleased as I am that your time in Kent has been enjoyable, I cannot say that I am not eager for it to come to an end. We all miss you very much, Mary in particular. She seems less happy with society events as the season continues, and I very much believe that is in part because you are not here. You must not feel guilty for leaving for a time. What you have gained in your absence is worth a few sore feelings. Though we both know Mary to be a forgiving creature. She will not hold anything against you for long.
Well do I remember Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam. There was not a single lady or gentleman in the ton who could stand her before she and your mother made friends. Lady Catherine had grown bitter and angry after many seasons. She was never a beauty. Most would call her handsome, though her features were less delicate than many ladies have. She softened after her marriage, and I believe that your mother had much to do with that. I do not know how I was unaware that she was your godmother, but I am pleased the knowledge is yours now. Feel free to explore the relationship as much as you like.
Miss de Bourgh sounds like a lovely lady. I believe I heard it said that she is engaged. Have you met the gentleman? Does her mother approve?
Now, on to what you truly wished to read in my reply. Your confusion is understandable, and I do hope that my words of wisdom will go some way to easing your mind and curbing your frustrations.
My dear friend Lady Matlock will be disappointed that your favor will not fall with her son. She knows of your dowry but has not told the colonel by my request—and your wishes—to keep your fortune quiet for as long as possible. As for Mr. Darcy, I do not know the gentleman well enough to explain his behavior. Your uncle would say that no gentleman who believes a lady is only tolerable would be willing to seek her out and keep her company. It sounds as though your rapport has grown, and that you think better of him than you did last autumn.
I believe you thought very well of Mr. Wickham when you first knew him, only to have his later actions squelch any interest that may have formed. The opposite seems to have occurred with Mr. Darcy. Perhaps the man you see now is a more accurate portrayal of his character than the man you knew then. And maybe he has learned to be himself in your company, rather than being the man society expects him to be.
Mr. Darcy is an important landowner in Derbyshire. His park is ten miles around, and he has other properties and business interests. He is wealthy and had many responsibilities placed on his shoulders at a very young age.
You have ever been an astute judge of character, dear niece. What does your heart tell you? Is he a proud, disagreeable man, or merely a gentleman long wearied of being pursued? Does he also wish to be seen for more than his fortune?
I am not telling you to doubt your senses. Your experiences, or the evidence of your own eyes, as you called it, must also factor into your decisions. Perhaps at some point you can speak to him about your concerns.
As for your connections, I believe that decision is up to you. If you think the information would influence him in some manner that you would find distasteful, then say nothing. And if he proposes, you might ask for time to consider his offer.
Foremost in your thoughts, I agree, ought to be the condition of your heart. If you cannot love him, tell him so, but gently. Men are fragile creatures.
I look forward to seeing you soon, my dear niece.
Love,
Aunt Maria
Elizabeth folded the letter and placed it on the table. A sound came from the front door, and she heard it open. Muffled voices grew more distinct as whomever had just arrived came closer.
“Mr. Darcy, ma’am.” Martha stepped aside and allowed the gentleman to step in. She left the room, leaving the door partially ajar.
Good lass, Elizabeth thought, thankful for the maid's observance of propriety.
“Miss Bennet, I heard of your accident and came at once. I could not rest until I saw your condition for myself.” He worried the cuffs of his coat, his face awash with concern.
“Please, sit sir. I am quite well.” Elizabeth gestured to a chair near her spot on the lounge. “You will forgive me for not rising. I cannot stand at the moment.”
“I would not expect you to,” he said. He sat on the chair, looking everywhere but at her.
“Is all well at Rosings?” she asked. “Are you not meant to dine there?”
“My aunt will not miss me.”
She did not reply, content to wait for him to continue the conversation.
Finally, he turned to her. He rubbed his hands on his thighs nervously. “Miss Bennet,” he said, “in vain I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Her heart leaped. He is proposing! In an instant, she knew she cared for him. Though her tender feelings were not yet what she believed they ought to be to accept a marriage, she could request a courtship. Uncle will not sanction a match until the season ends, she reasoned. He wants me and Mary to have at least one before we marry.
“In offering myself to you, I am aware that I go against my family, society’s expectations, and indeed, my own better judgment.”
Her heart stuttered in shock before cooling. She narrowed her eyes and said nothing as he continued.
“Despite your dearth of elevated relations, your connections to trade, and your lack of fortune, I can no longer deny my heart what it wants. You have captured my interest almost from the first meeting, and despite fleeing Hertfordshire and attempting to smother my fascination, my love has endured through the many months since November. Having mastered my feelings and marshalled my resolve, I can only now beg you to end my agony and agree to be my wife.”
Elizabeth’s heart had further frozen with every offensive utterance from his mouth. He is so very wrong. Yet he congratulates himself for having overcome his objections to condescend to ask for my hand. Drawing a breath, she spoke softly and evenly.“In cases such as these, it is the mode to express a sense of obligation, but I cannot.”
He gaped. “Are you refusing me?” he asked incredulously.
“I am, sir.”
“And may I ask why with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus refused?” She could see his temper flaring. The cold, disdainful man from Hertfordshire had appeared, and he glowered at her much as he had done on the first night of their acquaintance.
She sucked in a breath, determined to remain calm. “Mr. Darcy,” she said coolly, “I have never heard of a proposal where a gentleman so thoroughly insults a lady. I am aware that you believe my connections to be less exalted than your own, and that many see that as materially disadvantageous in a marriage. My family and I—we are not one of their ilk. I look first at a person’s character when determining their worthiness. The contents of their pocketbook have little interest to me. As such, your proposal has revealed that we are not as compatible as I believed. I cannot marry a man who looks so meanly on those I hold dear.”
“My position is such that I must consider these things,” he argued hotly.
“And yet, your good aunt, the daughter of an earl and the widow of a baronet, has no such qualms about marrying her daughter to a second son. Not everyone in your sphere holds to the antiquated notions that marriage is only a business arrangement.” She struggled to maintain her calm. Her distress grew, and she longed to be alone with her thoughts.
“Then you feel nothing for me?” He sounded perplexed. “Are you so ready to ignore a marriage that would ensure your comfort and care when your father dies?”
“I have relations enough to see to my welfare should my father meet his maker before I am settled.” ButI do care for you, she thought. I care too much, it seems, for your callous disregard of my feelings has shown me that my regard has been misplaced.
His anger had not died entirely, for he spoke again. “I am not ashamed of my feelings. They are natural and just. Do you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections, to celebrate the thought of relations so decidedly beneath my own? Is it because I separated Bingley from your sister? My cousin told me he spoke to you about it. Whilst I am angry that he shared my doings so liberally, I believed you were intelligent enough to understand my reasons.”
“Jane has nothing to do with this,” she protested. “I know my stepsister behaved badly, and I make no excuses for her behavior.”
“Then it is that reprobate Wickham. You hinted he had spread his poisonous falsehoods.”
She shook her head. “No, I have long since believed that Mr. Wickham was less than honest when he shared his tales of woe. My decision is based solely on your disdain for those I hold dear, for how could a man who professes to love me not see that the very people he disparages are part of who I am? Their actions, their care or lack thereof are what shaped me.” She paused, looking down at her tightly clasped hands in her lap. “I wish to marry someone with whom I share equal affection,” she whispered.
“But I do love you. I do!”
“I think you love the idea of me. My approbation has grown much these last weeks. I can see now that I may have bestowed my good opinion too soon.”
He stood, running a hand through his hair and turning away. “Thank you for explaining so fully. I perfectly comprehend your feelings and now only have to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for taking up so much of your time and accept my wishes for your health and happiness. And may I be the first to wish you very happy come June!”
He stalked out, leaving Elizabeth stunned and painfully aware that she had just refused the man for whom she had so recently felt the first stirrings of love.