34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
April 1812 Hunsford, Kent Darcy
T he door to the parsonage closed behind him. Darcy stalked away, his mood black and his heart aching. The two emotions contrasted sharply, and he did not know what to make of the mess that was inside.
How dare she? he thought bitterly. Who does she think she is? My pride has always been in good regulation. I have every right to the sentiment. Has she any idea of the responsibilities heaped upon me, the people who rely on my diligence? Anyone with a similar burden would understand that I have cause to be proud of my accomplishments.
He felt abominably misunderstood.
What did she call me? Proud? No, I believe she mentioned disdain. Elizabeth had remained remarkably calm throughout the entire interview. Perhaps she has no regard for me at all. But no, she had not seemed unaffected by his declarations. I know she cares for me. What a fool to throw away a chance to be Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley!
He wondered again why she refused him. She claimed that the incident with Mr. Bingley played no part, and had even professed that Mr. Wickham’s charm had ceased to enthrall her.
As he walked toward Rosings Park, the anger faded to despair. For so long, he had searched for a lady who completed him. And he had found her in the most unlikely of places: an inconsequential estate located near a small, insignificant village.
If I had but stayed, kept a level head, then maybe I could have convinced her to accept me. Another wicked voice in his head taunted him.
No, it said. She will not have you, not after you denigrated her family in such an infamous manner.
“She said I insulted her in my proposal,” he said aloud. “Did I? Is it not right to give evidence of my regard, of how I have overcome all my scruples? Can she not see that the very act of defying all my parents taught me is proof of my love?”
And yet, he had insulted her and all her relations. “I even told her I had gone against my own better judgment.” He groaned.
Having arrived at the manor house, he handed his things off and climbed the stairs to his chambers.
“Darcy!” Colonel Fitzwilliam called to him from below. “We had quite despaired of you. Come, join us.”
“No! No, I am afraid I have a pressing matter of business that I must see to. It cannot wait.” He turned away to continue his assent.
“Is anything wrong?” The colonel sounded concerned, but Darcy did not turn to face him for fear his emotions would be on full display.
“Nothing that you can help with,” he replied. “Give my regrets to Lady Catherine and the others.”
Safely in his chambers, he stood at the window, gazing out over the fields and lost in thought. His heart mourned his loss, blaming his stupidity for driving Miss Bennet away. His head protested that he had done nothing wrong by explaining himself in such a manner.
When the two parts of him collided, suddenly he saw with great clarity what Miss Bennet had been trying to say.
“Character first,” he murmured. “What is my character?”
Darcy came from a noble line. His mother was the daughter of an earl, and his father was a wealthy landed gentleman. He had been raised to have his every order obeyed. Defiance was not something he had ever faced. None dared challenge him and everywhere he turned, he saw deference.
Until Elizabeth. She had debated with him, forced him to see things from another perspective. Her words resounded in his head. I am the product of the people you disdain. Had she not said something very similar?
He continued evaluating himself, attempting to see his behavior through her eyes. What he found was not in his favor.
“She is right,” he murmured. “I love the idea of someone who sees beyond my fortune and status, someone who will not bow to my whims simply because I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, master of a great estate. She provided that. But she is also wrong. I do love her. I cannot imagine the rest of my life without her by my side.”
All the requirements his parents claimed he needed for a spouse had been drummed into him his entire life. It was their voices he had battled as he came to terms with his desires. He had known they would be disappointed in his choice. Indeed, the Matlocks, too, would have frowned upon the match. But he had wished to defy them all, and for once in his life, do what made him happy.
But now it was all for naught.
You could fix this, his heart protested.
How? He did not know.
He turned from the window, and his gaze lit upon his writing desk. Suddenly sure of what he needed to do, he removed his coat and cravat and sat, pulling a fresh sheet of paper toward him and dipping his pen in the ink. It would have to be carefully crafted. He wished to sound repentant without begging for her to reconsider.
I must apologize for my insult, he reasoned. And I must do better than that. I must be better. Already she had made him into something more. Every moment in her presence had taught him to think and act differently. Oh, why had he not noticed before now?
To Miss Elizabeth Bennet,
Be not alarmed that I will attempt to persuade you against your inclinations expressed so expertly this night. It is I who have need to make amends, and I hope I may convey them adequately in this manner.
I fear you will not hear me if I speak to you in person. Though you were admirably in control of yourself this evening, the exact opposite of my own behavior, I cannot help but fear that you never wish to see me again. And so, in a cowardly fashion, I put my thoughts to paper.
I have always been able to convey my thoughts to great advantage in this way. I often find I am unable to express myself adequately during times of heightened emotion. It has always vexed me that so many others can catch the tone of another’s conversation with such ease. I have never had this ability, and I suffer even more when distressed.
I allowed my anger to speak for me, and for that, I am heartily sorry. Perhaps, had I remained calm as you, we might have had civil discourse and resolved our differences. Though I left angry and firmly believing myself to be entirely correct and the only wounded party, after some reflection, I find that I am in agreement with your assessment of my behavior.
How could I propose to the woman I professed to love in such an insulting manner? My mother would be appalled. Indeed, if Lady Catherine learns of my folly, I am certain she will box my ears, though I am eight-and-twenty and ought to be too old for such punishment. For my insensitivity and idiocy, I apologize profusely.
Your defense of your family is admirable and is not to be discounted. We all have relations of whom we might blush. Forgive me, I do not mean to insult you further. Rather, what I meant to convey was that were I in the same position, I would do as you have and stand by those I love.
I must confess, I expected your anger regarding your sister, Jane. Though you have mentioned that she is your stepsister, I surmise that your love for her is that of one of blood. You claim that my actions separating my friend from Miss Bennet hold no sway over your choice to refuse my proposal. I can only hope that you are indeed so generous. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to relate to you the whole of the situation so that you can judge for yourself.
It became apparent at the Netherfield Ball that certain expectations had arisen for your sister and my friend. Given my dreadful proposal, I am certain you can imagine what sort of protests I and Bingley’s sisters had regarding the match. All other considerations aside, my biggest concern was that your sister was not presenting herself genuinely. I did not wish my friend to be duped into offering for a woman who was not who she seemed.
As such, it was Bingley who first broached the topic when we were all in London. He asked what I thought of Miss Bennet and then voiced his concern that the lady did not love him. Something said at the conclusion of the evening alerted him that all was not right, and he was determined to use his time in town for business to investigate his feelings.
When we arrived, it took little to convince him to abandon Netherfield Park all together. If your sister loved him and I acted foolishly, then I am sorry. It was officious of me to assume she did not care for my friend.
The second matter I wish to discuss concerns Mr. George Wickham. There is much I could say about the man, but I will not bore you with overly specific details. Suffice it to say, he is the son of a respectable man, and we were raised together. My father arranged for him to go to school, thus giving him the opportunity to make something of himself.
Wickham’s charm earned him easy friends. His licentious behavior and gambling habits lost them just as quickly. His behavior where ladies are concerned cannot be described as honorable—I know of two women he has abandoned while they were in a delicate condition, though I do not doubt there are more.
The man’s specialty is seducing young ladies and leaving them destitute when he has no further use for them or their charms. His goal has ever been to marry an heiress and live in the lifestyle that he had but a taste of, thanks to my father. Fortunately for the ladies of England, he has never succeeded.
My father left him a thousand pounds and the preferment of a valuable family living if he should take orders. Wickham asked instead for a sum of three thousand pounds in exchange for giving up all rights to it. I agreed, and I thought everything between us was then resolved.
I was wrong. When the living became vacant, he attempted to claim it, abusing me and all I hold dear abominably when I refused. He left Pemberley, cursing my name. I never thought to see him again, but last summer, he intruded most painfully in my life.
My sister Georgiana is more than ten years my junior. During the summer, I arranged for her and her companion, a Mrs. Younge, to spend the summer at Ramsgate. I am sorry to say that I was very deceived by the lady’s character. She worked on my sister with the assistance of Mr. Wickham, convincing her that she was in love and persuading her to elope. Thank the Lord that I returned when I did, else my dearest sister would be lost to me forever.
Georgiana confessed everything to me at once. I cast Wickham from the house and turned Mrs. Younge out without reference. When I arrived in Hertfordshire, I still wrestled with my failure, and it unfortunately caused me to be more taciturn and sullen than I usually behaved. Not that I excuse my manner. I merely seek to explain it.
You can see, I hope, why I felt surprised upon learning that you had seen past Wickham’s charm to the snake beneath. Perhaps someday you will tell me what led to the discovery.
This, madam, is a faithful narrative of all I wish to address. I shall attempt to put this in your hands sometime in the morning, and I pray that you have the forbearance to read it. Please accept my humblest apologies. When we meet again, I hope that we may be friends. And again, accept my best wishes for your happy future this summer.
Sincerely,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Darcy sat back and sighed. He picked up the papers and perused them, ensuring that everything was as he wished before copying it onto fresh, clean sheets. I hope she readsit, he thought dismally. Though her anger in no way matched mine last night, surely she feels hurt. I would not blame her if she cast the entire thing into the fire. The letter breached propriety in the extreme, too. Will I be able to explain myself fully if she refuses to read it? He did not know, but he would take the chance, nonetheless. She deserved a full understanding, complete with his heartfelt apologies. And now she will marry the man from the park. I have lost my chance.
When the missive had been signed and sealed, he climbed wearily into bed without even ringing for his valet. Night had long since fallen, and he fell quickly into an exhausted slumber.