Chapter 1 #2
Darcy could see the wisdom of this suggestion but was not entirely ready to admit defeat just yet.
He had not been deceiving himself in his estimation—Elizabeth Bennet was surely the most intelligent woman he had ever met, and possibly the cleverest person altogether.
With nothing but her father’s library and her curiosity, she had more wit and intelligence than most of the men who graduated Cambridge.
She was also obviously honourable and not mercenary, as she was turning down the richest man she was ever likely to meet, despite being in a deplorable situation with four sisters and an entailed estate.
She was not bending to his will, despite being obviously afraid of him, and he began to see she feared more from him than violence.
She must know that she and her sisters could well end up in genteel poverty because of her rejection of his suit.
She remained civil and polite despite many provocations, and being fearfully angry.
Despite all that, she held true to herself and her principles.
He thought he had admired her when he entered the parsonage, but now he saw there was much more to her than he had thought.
She obviously found him wanting, but he could not understand why.
This could be his only chance to learn the error of his ways that he might correct himself in the future, and he intended to take it.
“Should you insist, I will depart immediately; but if you could possibly indulge me, I would like to know the reason for your rejection. I honestly thought you to be awaiting my addresses and was quite surprised at being thus denied. An answer is not demanded by honour, nor clearly by your inclination, but I would beg it of your charity that you might allow me to improve myself through your wisdom. Please tell me where I went wrong.”
Elizabeth sighed, reasoning through the smallest and least offensive thing she could say to make the man go away.
“Until a half hour ago, I was quite certain that we were in perfect understanding as to our mutual and long-standing dislike, going back to the very beginning of our acquaintance. I even went out of my way to inform you where I walked so you could avoid me. The bulk of your speech seemed designed to emphasise your dislike of me, and I had no idea of any regard. I apologise that I cannot return it. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope it will be of short duration. Please again accept my appreciation of the honour of your address, and let us say no more on this matter.’’
Darcy thought upon this for a short time but was still unprepared to give up. He was nothing if not persistent, and not easily dissuaded from his chosen course. Perhaps obstinacy was his most pressing defect.
“I find it difficult to understand how you came to that conclusion. Could you possibly grant me the boon of more specifically telling me how I went wrong, so that I may improve myself? My character clearly requires improvement, but I cannot correct myself without your assistance.”
Such a question left Elizabeth stunned and unsure what to do.
That such a man might admit to fault and a desire to improve himself was strange indeed, and somewhat humbling.
To think that such a great man might be capable of self-correction was nearly unimaginable.
That he might do so on her behalf was so far beyond anything she could comprehend that she decided it best to avoid such thoughts.
She was, however, quite well aware of how precarious her position still was, and felt that offending such a man was unquestionably not in her best interests.
What was the best way to escape the untenable situation?
Should she answer honestly and risk offending him, or demur once again and hope he forgot his request?
“Might I just say that I do not like the circles surrounding you, and may we please leave it at that?”
Darcy considered this for a minute, but could find no understanding except that this was complete and utter nonsense.
However, Elizabeth—for he had long since thought of her as such—would not make such an impertinent statement without having something to back it up.
He was certain she had an answer, equally certain he would not like it in the least, and desperately determined to learn what it was.
“That answer confuses more than helps, madam. Might I beg for a more detailed explanation?”
Elizabeth grew entirely frustrated, and her temper, long held in check only by the barest of threads, broke loose like a white-hot flame.
She was tired of being afraid, tired of being looked down on, tired of being insulted, tired of dancing to his tune, tired of his undesired presence in this room—tired of him entirely.
With one last desperate grasp, she tried to slow what was coming, believing it would not be to her benefit.
“I fear that elaboration would cause us both pain, and I believe it is not possible to do so with even a modicum of civility. I cannot believe you wish to hear the things I have to say, but if you insist upon it, I demand of your justice that you listen all the way through without comment or interruption, and give me your word as a gentleman that you will take no retribution if I am entirely uncivil.”
“It pains me to learn I acquitted myself so poorly that you feel the need to demand that I behave as a gentleman, but you have my word. I am obviously not the man I thought I was, and it is crucial that I be allowed to learn from your counsel.”
Elizabeth had become angry with both him and herself for allowing her temper to paint her into a corner.
Had she held her tongue for only a few more minutes, Mr Darcy would be gone, they would never see each other again, and she would not be forced to say that which her honour demanded.
However, as he well knew, her sense of justice demanded that she now provide the requested explanation.
“Very well, I will expand, but I assure you that you will not like it, sir. Might I offer one more opportunity to avoid this unpleasantness?”
“Pray proceed. You need not fear me.”
Whether by design or plain obstinacy, he had forced her to the edge, and she let the dogs of her anger loose to do what they may.
“Very well. I will explain the meaning of my deliberately obscure reference to circles.
“On the very first night of our acquaintance at the Meryton Assembly, you chose to publicly slight me within my hearing. You told Mr Bingley, ‘She is tolerable I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me,’ among other things. You even made light of my sitting out a dance, which I did deliberately to allow other women a chance to dance due to a lack of suitable partners—a problem you did nothing to alleviate. To say such a thing in public, within hearing of the object of your derision, places your deplorable manners quite on par with my mother at her very worst. She has told me loudly and at length for my entire life that I am the least handsome of her daughters, nothing compared to Jane or Lydia. Since my mother is quite adept at reminding me of this on a daily or sometimes hourly basis, I do not really need to be reminded of my lack of beauty by a complete stranger who disdained even being introduced. Couple your rudeness with your apparent desire for me to be married to the richest man of my acquaintance, and your behaviour is a nearly perfect fit for my mother’s circle.
“During this assembly, and most of your other public gatherings, you walked about the room appearing displeased. You conversed with almost nobody not of your own party, and only appeared to take pleasure in sneering at those around you with open disdain. This shows arrogance, conceit, and a selfish disdain for the feelings of others. In this manner, you operated entirely within the circle occupied by Mr Bingley’s pernicious sisters—who, by the way, seem to be your favourite and most frequent conversation partners.