Chapter 16
As tired as he was after the previous day and night, Darcy barely slept, and he woke up in a poor state of mind. He should have returned to London two days ago, but his plans had been completely ruined by Wickham, once again.
The confrontation had been difficult at first, as Wickham had the audacity to mention his father, as well as Georgiana, and it was only the presence of Colonel Forster that kept Darcy from unleashing his resentment.
However, when he gave him three choices — debtors’ prison, active duty, or passage overseas, after several pathetic attempts at complaining and begging, the scoundrel had accepted the third choice, probably enchanted by the offer of having a comfortable ticket purchased for him and two thousand pounds to begin a new life.
Darcy’s offer was undeservingly generous, he knew that; even the colonel and the admiral had looked at him with surprise.
But he felt it was a reasonable way of removing Wickham from his life while still honouring his father’s dying wish, as ill-conceived as it had been.
If he was to count the money he and his father had spent on Wickham, Darcy admitted it had been a huge waste of money which could have supported several worthy families to enjoy a decent life.
With Wickham, nothing was decent. Darcy had no expectation that the scoundrel would use the money he gave him in any proper way; he would probably lose it all playing cards on the ship, without even reaching his destination.
But that was not Darcy’s concern any longer.
He arranged that Wickham would be taken from Meryton and placed in an inn in London, under supervision, until the time of his departure.
The other miscreants involved in the scandal were left to the mercy of Colonel Forster.
It was the colonel who insisted that all of them would go and apologise to the Bennets, but Darcy believed it to be a pointless punishment.
Those men could not be trusted to even be honest or realise the extent of the damage they had caused.
Above everything else, Darcy’s main concern was Elizabeth, whose image and words were painfully vivid in his mind.
He had struggled for weeks to conceal his feelings for her but had finally made the decision that he felt would enhance his life, even though it was somehow forced by misfortune.
He had gone to propose to her, being certain of his reception, expecting her to be surprised and grateful for the opportunity.
Instead, she had not even allowed him time to complete his statement.
She had rejected him instantly. Not even the threat of having her family ruined had induced her to show some prudence in her response.
She simply would not have him. He had been a fool the entire time; his arrogant estimation of her feelings had been completely wrong.
She might have accepted him as a friend, but no more.
Late that night, lying in his bed, with sleep evading him, he recollected their conversation — their argument.
First with anxiety, disappointment, and a little bit of resentment for having his feelings hurt.
As the hours passed, the recollections returned, and, despite his tiredness, he considered them with more calm, more reason, more carefulness.
Her rejection, though quick, was by no means offensive.
At least he should not consider it so. She even mentioned several good things about him but insisted on the unfavourable circumstances and about being trapped together in misery.
That was rather hurtful; this was her estimation of a life as his wife? Misery?
He was hurt and disappointed to have lost a dream that had only seemed possible for a few hours. But he knew he had no right to be upset with Elizabeth. If he truly valued her, he had to respect her decision.
The proposal had been sudden, the time distressing, and she had been clearly surprised.
One thing was certain, though, and his vanity was not strong enough to defy it: Elizabeth Bennet neither returned nor welcomed his love.
Because yes, love must be the feeling that made him lose reason, peace, and rest and induced him to act imprudently, even foolishly.
In the end, it was better — more honest, fairer — that she had rejected his proposal than accepted it and given him the satisfaction of a false affection.
He doubted he would speak to her again before his departure.
He would maintain the acquaintance with Mr Bennet but would not renew a proposal that displeased her.
And yet, the effect of the gossip was still a threat, since there were already questions in regard to the sudden departure of the officers from the ball.
He dared not speak of it, out of respect for Colonel Forster, but his young wife did not appear to be someone who could keep a secret.
She seemed to be a good friend to Lydia and Kitty Bennet, two girls whose manners showed imprudence and carelessness.
A single word slipped by the colonel to his wife was likely to be spread throughout Meryton.
With little sleep and a troubled mind, Darcy decided to go for an early morning ride. He dressed properly and, before he left for the stables, he went down to check the puppies.
They had grown stronger in only two days, but their eyes were still closed, and they were curled up with their adoptive mother.
The mother dog and her other puppies also looked better, due to the warm shelter and good food, and Darcy mused on how pleased Elizabeth would be when she saw them. If and when she would come to see them.
He smiled bitterly to himself; he had succeeded in convincing Elizabeth to share the puppies with him, but he had failed when it came to sharing his life.
“Darcy? Where are you going so early?”
The admiral’s voice made him stop reluctantly; he expected a conversation for which he had no disposition.
“For a ride.”
“A ride? At this hour? It is raining.”
“Yes, I know…” He did not; lost in his thoughts, he had not even looked at the weather.
“I shall walk you to the stables.”
“As you wish, Admiral.”
“So, what are your plans for today?”
“I have no fixed plans. I have written to my solicitor to prepare the papers for Wickham. And I sent the letter to that acquaintance of yours, as you suggested. Now we must wait for their replies and conclude this business.”
“I shall call on Colonel Forster. I want to see what he has decided in regard to the other officers. Then I shall call on Mr Bennet. We agreed to discuss the matter again today, with more calm and less distress.”
“As you wish,” Darcy repeated. “However, I doubt there is any more calm and any less distress today than yesterday.”
“You will join me, I hope?”
“I shall not, Admiral. There is nothing for me to discuss at this moment. If there is something Mr Bennet requests from me, I shall be happy to oblige. But I shall not impose my presence on Miss Elizabeth again. Now excuse me. The rain has stopped. I really need some exercise and fresh air before breakfast.”
Darcy hastened his steps before the admiral had time to voice further opposition.
The rain had indeed stopped, but the sun was barely visible through the clouds.
Regardless, he asked for his horse and patted the stallion, who seemed as eager for exercise as its master.
The last time Darcy had enjoyed a ride was the day when he had found Elizabeth with the puppies.
He still remembered how frightened he had been to see her with blood on her clothes, and her reluctance when he had offered to escort her home.
That was perhaps one of his errors, which had exposed her to gossip and speculation.
He held the reins loosely, and his horse took the path he was used to.
When he was close enough, Darcy could not resist the temptation and directed his horse to the very spot he had last seen Elizabeth.
He needed only a few moments to reach the place, where he dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, then sat on a stump, looking around.
On one side was Netherfield, on the other side Longbourn.
He knew he would leave soon, but he did not know if or when he would ever return.
The wind blew, it was cold, and the ground was soaking wet.
In places, the water had frozen, and walking was difficult.
After a while, Darcy took the reins and led his horse towards the road.
He stepped carefully to avoid him or his horse falling and hurting themselves.
It took quite some time to reach the road, and only then did he mount again.
Longbourn was close, and he could see light in the windows.
He wondered whether Elizabeth was awake, how she had slept, and what her thoughts were on that new day.
He could find the answer to all those questions if he only called there, but he decided not to.
Instead, he turned his horse towards Netherfield and kicked him into a gallop.
The ride lasted only moments, as after a bend in the road, a small cry startled him, and he pulled on the reins so hard that his horse reared up.
He saw a silhouette slip and fall, and his heart seemed to stop, then it raced wildly as he realised — even without seeing her face — that it was Elizabeth.
∞∞∞
The night was almost worse for Elizabeth than the previous day.
After the admiral had left, she remained caught in her turmoil and fell even deeper into it.
The admiral’s claims about the advantages of the marriage and the questions he had asked that she ponder had kept her awake until midnight.
Repeated remembrances of her discussion with Mr Darcy distressed her, pained her, and made her doubt herself and her decisions.