Chapter 1 #2
"Unsociability is hardly a defect at all when compared to arrogance, conceit, and jealousy," I said unthinkingly, shocking myself.
Had the words been delivered in the arch tone I often employed they would have still been dangerously censorious, but perhaps blunted enough by charm to avoid raising his ire, however I was tired and vexed and my delivery was harsh.
Mr. Darcy flinched and then smiled coldly.
"Ah, I see you are ready to present the final portrait.
Oddly I suspect the artist's signature is not your own.
I had hoped, with further reflection, you would see through Mr. Wickham's superficial charm, but perhaps I gave your intellect greater credit than it was due. "
It was my turn to flinch, but I would not allow him to see that his remark had wounded me. "Miss Bingley hinted earlier that you have something to accuse Mr. Wickham of, though she did not know the particulars. I have heard his account of things, perhaps I might hear yours."
"Unlike Mr. Wickham I do not speak of my private concerns to all who will listen."
"Hmmm, yes, I see," I said with much irony.
"Wickham attempted to elope with my sister," Mr. Darcy blurted. He looked alarmed, as if he had not intended to reveal this information—and, indeed, I am certain he had not—but I had baited him and for some reason he had yielded to it.
There was a long silence and then, as if deciding his revelation needed explanation, he continued, "No doubt Mr. Wickham has spoken to you of the living he was to receive upon its becoming vacant?"
I nodded.
"But perhaps he neglected to inform you that after my father's death he announced his intention of never taking orders and instead studying the law.
I must admit I was relieved at the alteration of his plans.
I knew he should not be a clergyman for I had upon several instances observed a certain viciousness in his nature—a total want of principle.
"He accepted three thousand pounds in lieu of the living and I thought any duty I might have to him thus fulfilled.
However, three years later when the living which had been designed upon him became available, he applied to me by letter for the presentation.
It seems the study of law had been a mere pretense; he had frittered away his legacy on a life of idleness and dissipation. I declined his request.
"I do not know exactly what lies he has imposed upon you, but doubtless his abuse of me to others was as violent as his reproaches to myself. Our acquaintance was severed—I had hoped permanently, but last summer. . . .
"My sister's fortune is thirty thousand pounds.
This was no doubt the primary object of Wickham's scheme, though revenging himself upon me was perhaps another incentive.
Georgiana was persuaded to believe herself in love with him and consented to an elopement.
She was but fifteen at the time which must excuse her imprudence.
Had I not joined her unexpectedly just days before the planned elopement—had her guilt at causing me grief not induced her to reveal their plans—I dare not think of the consequences. "
Mr. Darcy had begun his speech in his usual controlled manner, but at the finish his rage was obvious.
Even if I had thought his righteous anger counterfeit, I could not doubt the truth of his words.
All my prior observation of Mr. Darcy had taught me that his sister was of utmost importance to him and he would never invent such a story about her.
Mr. Wickham was a liar. And I was an utter fool.
"Mr. Darcy," I whispered. I know not what I intended to say. I had never been so embarrassed—never so contrite. Perhaps I might have made some attempt at repentance had I been given time to gather my thoughts, but Mr. Darcy was in no mood to hear my apologies.
He moved towards me, ire still radiating from his eyes. He did not halt until he was standing immediately before me, closer than he had been when we had danced. Then he spoke threateningly, condescendingly, "No word of this conversation shall leave this room. If I hear the slightest whisper—"
My anger, as if sparked by the fire in his eyes, flared to life once more. I interrupted him, "I realize you must think me a credulous imbecile, but I am not a silly gossip and I have sense enough not to sully the reputation of an innocent lady."
"I am glad to hear it," he sneered.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from making further incendiary remarks.
My anger ebbed and I noticed then how indecently close we were standing.
In the heat of the moment I had taken an unconscious step forward, egged on by the menacing manner in which he towered over me.
Any attempt to intimidate me is always met with challenge.
I would never change this fact about myself, but I will admit it has got me into scrapes, this being the worst of them.
I began to pull away but a slight tug from the front of my gown accompanied by the soft sound of fine muslin rending stilled me.
The ornamentation on the bodice of my gown had by some means become entangled with a button on Mr. Darcy's coat.
I gasped in horror and Mr. Darcy grabbed my shoulder as if sensing my impulse to jerk away.
"Calm yourself. Be still."
Our garments were still hooked together and any further movement would make the small rip in my gown a great gaping tear.
For a while I stood dumbly as he tried to solve our dilemma, it was not until his hand had brushed my bosom twice and his face had gone red up to the tops of his ears that I realized I really ought to be the one handling the situation.
"I will do that," I said, pushing his hands away.
"I suppose I should apologize," I added.
Darcy made no reply, but after a long silent moment I heard him chuckle dryly. I glanced up at him in surprise.
"What is amusing?" I asked, more accusingly than I intended.
"I am wondering when should I expect this apology."
With as much sincerity as I could muster, I looked him in the eyes and said, "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. I beg your pardon."
He held my gaze, studying me far longer than was comfortable. Then his eyes fell to my lips. Suddenly the inappropriate distance between us felt inappropriate because it was too great and I had the absurd notion he was about to close it.
And then the door crashed open. We were at the far side of the room with book shelves to block the entrants view of us which gave us a few moments in which we might have freed ourselves, but it was not enough.
Despite his warnings of staying calm and remaining still, Darcy leaped away from me rending my gown most thoroughly.
My bounty, as Mrs. Long put it, was no more exposed by the tear in my bodice than it had been before.
My chemisette remained perfectly intact, guarding my modesty, but that really did not matter.
Mr. Darcy and I had been found alone together in suggestive circumstances and Mrs. Long was willing to make all sorts of suggestions to anyone who would listen.
Mr. Collins was surprisingly tactful. He flushed darkly, muttered something about my modesty, and then quit the room.
Mr. Darcy, without a word, followed him.
Mrs. Long stayed with me until my mother arrived all the while making shocked exclamations such as: "Oh, Miss Elizabeth—oh, your poor mother—whatever shall be done with you now? "
"What happened with Mr. Darcy?" Charlotte asked, jolting me out of my memories. Her expression was most concerned. I must have been brooding a long while.
Oh, goodness. How could I explain all that had passed between Mr. Darcy and me?
"We argued," I said succinctly.
"What on earth did you argue about?"
"I confronted him about Mr. Wickham's accusations."
"Oh Eliza, you didn't."
"I did. And I made a fool of myself. My trust in Mr. Wickham was misplaced. It seems Mr. Darcy has much to accuse him of."
"Mr. Darcy's evidence must have been most convincing. You were quite charmed by Mr. Wickham."
"Anyone who heard Mr. Darcy's evidence could not doubt it. Mr. Wickham is a dishonorable man."
"You cannot say such intriguing things and then fail to elaborate. What has Mr. Wickham done?"
I shook my head. "Mr. Darcy told me in confidence. His story could harm the reputation of someone he cares about."
Charlotte nodded, smirking knowingly.
"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked irritably.
"Because you are keeping Mr. Darcy's secrets.
Because the man who seemingly cares naught about what anyone thinks of him was so unable to endure your disapprobation he revealed to you information which could harm someone he loved.
I had feared yours was to be a marriage without affection, and knowing how important affection in marriage is to you I feared for your happiness.
Yet now I see for all your talk of being determined to hate him and all his remarks about your tolerability there is some inkling of fondness between you. "
"There is no fondness between us! He may be vindicated on the subject of Mr. Wickham, but he is still an arrogant, horrible man. And he can have no admiration for me given the fool I made of myself. Besides, it is as Mrs. Long said, he has left Netherfield. There will be no marriage."
"He has not written? There has been no communication between you since the ball?"
I shook my head.
"He will return for you. However little you might think of him, he is a gentleman. A gentleman does not have a dalliance with a lady and then refuse to marry her."
"I have just told you there was no dalliance. Only an argument."
"How did your bodice become ripped?"
"It was an accident."
She raised her brow skeptically.
"His button got caught on my gown."
"Why were you so close to him such a thing could happen?"
She was wearing that smirk again. I could not endure it.
"What did you wish to tell me?"
Her smile fell. "What do you mean?"
"You wanted to meet me for a purpose and not just to condole with me. You have news—what is it?"
Once more she began picking at her food. "Mr. Collins spent the whole of yesterday at Lucas Lodge."
"I know and I am sorry for it. He returned to our house only to cast me a chastising glance and to give my mother a few kind words about our terrible situation before he went up to bed.
I have no idea why he has not left our scandalous company.
Perhaps he intends to stay until he is certain Mr. Darcy will not make an honorable woman of me.
I am sure his esteemed patroness is hungry for any news on that front.
I fear until he is satisfied of my utter ruin he will infringe upon your parents' hospitality daily. "
Charlotte suddenly looked up from her plate. Drawing a breath as if to steel herself she said, "I'm going to marry him."
"Who?"
"Mr. Collins of course."
"Mr. Collins?"
"Yes."
"Please tell me this is some sort of horribly unamusing jest," I said thoughtlessly. I must really learn to watch my tongue.
"I have never been romantic. He has offered me all I have ever hoped for and I have accepted him," she replied severely, her hard gaze daring me to criticize her.
I checked my rising emotions. "If this is what will make you happy, then I am pleased for you," I said evenly.
"You look as though you are about to weep," she observed with some amusement.
"Would you believe they are tears of joy at your happy announcement?"
"How can you be weeping for me? It is your situation that is dire."
"How kind of you to remind me."
"Mr. Darcy will come back."
With forced levity I said, "Oh, goodness, I hope not. Then I will have to marry him."
"Yes, Eliza, you will have to marry him," replied Charlotte, smiling sadly.