Chapter Eight #4
Fully expecting her acceptance, Darcy watched as a gamut of emotions flashed across Elizabeth’s face, most of which he could not read.
When she spoke, the vehemence lodged in her words brought a frosty ice to his veins.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began slowly, “in such cases as this, it is the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and, I hope, will be of short duration.” How had he so misread Elizabeth’s mind?
“The feelings which you tell me have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.”
His ears must have deceived him: Had Elizabeth refused his proposal?
Disdaining any form of weakness, Darcy worked hard to compose his thoughts and control his rage before speaking, but his hurt and anger could not be disguised.
At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said, “And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting? I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”
She turned on him angrily. “I might as well inquire why, with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations—you know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favorable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most-beloved sister?”
So, she knew his part in separating Bingley from Miss Bennet. From where had Elizabeth heard it? Edward. Edward had unknowingly told Elizabeth of Darcy’s deceit. How she must hate him.
Elizabeth’s continued condemnation of his actions interrupted Darcy’s thoughts.
“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only, means of dividing them from each other; of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind. Can you deny that you have done it?”
Darcy pretended to be unmoved by her words.
“I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.” He showed her no remorse for his actions, and he even presented her with a smile of affected incredulity.
The shift of her shoulders and a rise of her chin should have warned Darcy there was more to come, but he had doubted her defiance.
Few dared to stand against him when he brought himself up in full hauteur.
Then the full extent of her accusations arrived.
Darcy could claim his allegiance to Mr. Bingley in the affair with her sister, but she supposedly knew of other offenses, which had turned her opinion against him.
He listened as her words were as daggers to his heart.
“But it is not merely this affair on which my dislike is founded. Your character was unfolded in the recital, which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you defend yourself?”
Wickham’s name. She had spoken Wickham’s name. Jealousy crushed him; his worst fears were confirmed. Coming closer to let his true feelings be known, Darcy said, “You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns.” Darcy’s tone changed, and his color heightened.
With fervor, Miss Elizabeth closed the distance as she challenged, “Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?”
Nearly spitting the words, Darcy replied contemptuously, “His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed!”
Energized by their encounter, the lady’s response accused Darcy of reducing Wickham to a life of poverty by depriving him of his rightful income. “You have done all this, and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule.”
“And this,” cried Darcy, as he stepped away from her in agitation, “is your opinion of me? I believed if anyone knew me it would be you, Miss Elizabeth, but according to you, I am a calculated manipulator. I thank you for explaining it so fully.” Darcy turned to face the woman to whom he had foolishly given his heart.
“But perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design.” He knew he should leave, but he could not stop at that.
He was angry; he was devastated; his own pride had been attacked.
Darcy had never sought favors from another; he had never needed to do so.
Being reduced to applying for adoration and respect had offended every fiber of his being.
Now, he taunted Elizabeth satirically by describing how he could have applied for her hand with false compliments, but he had prided himself on always speaking the truth; and, truthfully, he had qualms about an alliance with Elizabeth.
“Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections—to congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”
If Darcy had thought Elizabeth would accept his words as the voice of reason, he greatly mistook her.
His rebuke had infuriated her, declaring her motives for preferring Wickham as superficial.
Obviously unaccustomed to having her judgment questioned, she reacted.
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any way other than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”
Darcy stiffened at these words; his pride identified him as a gentleman, and Elizabeth had called him on this matter.
His color paled as she continued her ridicule.
“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
Darcy could tolerate no more. “You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.” And with that, he hastily quit the room and the house; yet, he could not do so without one last wistful glance at her.
Leaving the Parsonage, Darcy momentarily did not know where he was; this was a nightmare from which he must awake.
Elizabeth! He wanted to scream her name; a knife through his heart would have been less painful.
From a stab wound he would have died. Living without Elizabeth’s love would haunt him for the rest of his days.
The last man whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.
Those were her words! Elizabeth had always despised him.
Darcy considered many women he had thwarted or ignored; the slightest nod of his head would have secured their intentions, but the one woman he had desired had found him to be arrogant and conceited.
The memory of the last few months recoiled into an endless abyss.
Surprisingly, his legs worked even though his heart remained shredded at Elizabeth’s feet. If you had behaved in a more gentleman-like manner. Darcy ran his hand through his hair and tried valiantly to steady himself. Dumbfounded, he retreated to the sanctuary of his chambers.