Chapter 42 An Apology
After leaving Georgiana with her maid, he continued along the family wing and knocked upon Elizabeth’s door, but there was no answer. He knocked again, but there was only silence.
He tried the door, and it opened.
The room was dark. He took a lantern from the hall and carried it inside. The bed was neatly made, and everything stood in order.
She was gone.
He set down the lantern and hurried down the stairs to the front entrance.
Addressing the footman, he asked, “Did Miss Bennet depart?”
“Yes, sir. She requested the gig and left about ten minutes ago.”
Darcy ran back up the stairs. He would change from his evening clothes into riding attire and then seek her at Longbourn. It was very late, and the household would likely be in bed, yet he would make the attempt.
He rode Ares through the cold darkness of the night. As he rode, he thought of her. Had she been chilled traveling in the open gig in her delicate ball gown? Would she speak to him? Did she hate him now, as Georgiana apparently did?
When he reached the house, he saw light in the windows.
He tethered Ares to the fence and went to the door. He struck the knocker and waited. He struck it again, but there was still no answer.
He tried the door and found it unlocked.
Darcy entered the darkened hall. A door stood open farther down the passage, and from within he heard Elizabeth weeping.
Then he saw Hill standing nearby and pressing her handkerchief to her face.
He made his way to Bennet’s study and paused in the doorway.
Elizabeth sat, bent over, her face buried in her hands. Her father’s arm was about her shoulders, and she wept as if her heart would break. He had never seen her brought down to such a state.
He had done this to her. He entered the study and lowered himself to the floor beside her. “Miss Bennet, pray forgive me.”
She turned away from him and buried her face against her father’s shoulder.
“Send him away, Papa. I never wish to see him again.” She wept harder.
“Miss Elizabeth, hear me. Those words were not meant for your ears.”
“Please, send him away. I cannot bear anything more. I feel ill, Papa.”
Mr. Bennet turned to the young man. “You have done enough, sir. Do you not see that you only worsen her distress? She had begun to recover herself, and then you arrived, and now look at her. She requires a little brandy. She sounds as though she may soon fall into hysterics.”
Mr. Bennet looked toward Hill, and she departed to fetch the brandy.
Darcy spoke again; his manner was now urgent.
“Elizabeth, you must understand that a man of my sphere…
When I first recognized what I felt for you, I could not reconcile it with my own better judgment or my family's expectations. I have struggled in vain to suppress my feelings, to banish you from my heart… to place distance between us…”
She said, in a horse whisper, “I have heard quite enough already. I understand perfectly. Now leave me...”
Mr. Bennet looked toward him and said, “It is no use, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth has asked you to leave. This is her home. Pray grant her the privacy she desires.”
Darcy stood, bowed, and left the room.
Hill returned carrying a bottle of brandy and a glass. Mr. Bennet held the glass while she poured a modest amount.
“Lizzy, here is some brandy. It will help you calm yourself. Sit up, my dear, and drink a little.”
Darcy remained in the darkened hall and watched as she sat upright. Her lovely hair had begun to fall loose, her face was red, and her eyes were swollen from weeping.
Mr. Bennet offered her the glass, but her hands trembled.
“I shall hold it for you. Drink a little.”
She placed her hands over his to guide the cup and took a sip, and then began to cough.
“Come, drink a little more.”
She drank again and coughed after she had forced it down.
“Lizzy, drink a little more. It will help you.”
She tried once more, and after she swallowed it, she said, “No more, Papa.”
“Come, Elizabeth. I shall take you upstairs to your chamber, and Hill will assist you to bed.”
They rose together, and she began to walk toward the door.
“Papa, it was so dreadful. Never have I been so disrespected.” She leaned her head against his shoulder as her father led her to the stairs. “To think he meant me for his mistress. I have never been so ashamed.”
Mr. Darcy was astonished. She believed that he had intended her for his mistress. He had never kept a mistress. Why should she imagine such a thing?
Then he remembered his own words. He had said as much himself. Would he never learn to curb his tongue?
Darcy stepped forward. “I did not intend you for my mistress, Elizabeth. I would never degrade you so. How could you think such a thing? Do you know me so little?”
Elizabeth turned, surprised to see him still in the house.
Darcy drew near and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I shall leave you, but first you must hear me. I have never thought of you as my mistress. I would never do such a thing to you or to any woman. Do you understand me?”
She did not look at him.
“Elizabeth, do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes.”
Tears ran down his cheeks as he drew her into his arms.
“My darling, it pains me to see you thus. I never meant to hurt you. Elizabeth, I wish to marry you. I have wished it for many months, yet I have not known how to proceed. Such a choice would place me in opposition to my uncle, the Earl, and to my aunt, Lady Catherine. Society expects that I should form a glittering alliance, yet all I desire is a marriage founded upon love, and that love I have found in you.”
His cheek rested against her curls while his arms held her close.
“Elizabeth, will you marry me?”