Chapter 13 #2
Up to that point, we stood between some sofas, paradoxically in about the same place Lizzy had a conversation during the last day of our stay, but Mr Darcy collapsed back into a chair and ran his hand through his hair several times in great agitation.
His valet would most likely panic, but dishevelling himself actually made him look more handsome, and I suspected Lizzy might agree.
While he was far more Lizzy’s type than mine, even I had to admit he was a handsome man who could please when he wanted to.
Lizzy and I sat down so we would not loom over him, and he reacted far differently than I expected. I had anticipated more haughty insolence, and his obvious consternation was disconcerting.
He finally looked between us and groaned, “I must be the stupidest man in England!”
We both stared in confusion, caught entirely unprepared.
Lizzy finally fell back on impertinence as usual. “I believe our cousin has that privilege. He actually thinks I will marry him. You are second-stupidest at worst, and possibly even third.”
That seemed to startle him even more, and Lizzy very briefly explained Mr Collins’s situation.
Why she went so far off the beaten path was a mystery, but I eventually decided she was simply distracting him from his surprise momentarily.
Mr Collins and Lizzy were not really any of his concern after all.
He finally looked at both of us, and said, “I believe that was the second-most shameful statement of my life. I was in quite a foul humour that first month and I took it out on the handsomest lady I have ever seen. I apologise profusely, Miss Elizabeth. What I said was unkind, ungentlemanly, and most certainly untrue. When I reveal the incident to my sister, I suspect she will turn me over her knee.”
The incongruity of the last statement sent both Lizzy and I into a fit of giggles, which made his countenance lighten up a bit.
I suspect neither of us gave much credence to his assertion that she now qualified as the handsomest lady he had ever seen.
It was a nice thing to say, and whilst it would not entirely redeem him, sincere compliments never hurt anything.
If nothing else, Lizzy would appreciate the novelty after a lifetime of criticism.
Elizabeth was never one to hold a grudge, which is convenient since nobody would survive a week with our mother if they did.
“All is forgiven and forgotten, Mr Darcy.”
“I think not, though I appreciate the reprieve,” he said softly. “I will remember it for some time and hope to earn your forgiveness, regardless of how long it takes.”
“As I said, you already have it. You earned some grace at Netherfield by the simple fact you were willing to talk to a spinster as if she were not an idiot. Not many men of your station do that, with my father being one of the few exceptions. It is admittedly a very low standard, but it must suffice, as I cannot change even our local society, let alone the world.”
That made him look even more contrite, but he said, “I doubt very much you are a spinster.”
She shrugged, as if it were not worth the trouble to argue.
He still looked perplexed, and I wondered if he had put the argument aside to take up another day. However, Lizzy’s spinster status, or lack thereof, was not the topic at hand, so he moved his attention back to me.
His brow furrowed, and I suspected he was revisiting the particulars of our acquaintance.
He seemed to have lost control of the stone face he habitually wore, and I suspected Lizzy was even more fascinated than I was.
Every few seconds he nodded and frowned as if he had recalled something and did not like the recollection in the least.
He finally turned his attention to me. “Is that why both of you avoided me like the plague for the first fortnight, though you stared at me warily almost constantly?”
“Partially,” I replied cautiously.
“I owe you an apology as well, Miss Bennet, but cannot quite work out exactly what I need to apologise for. Miss Elizabeth stated she would ordinarily savage my reputation over that slight, yet you both held your fire. That slight, bad as it was, seems inadequate as explanation for your wariness. Can you tell me why?”
That was it—the moment of truth I had avoided for six weeks. I looked to Lizzy, and she shrugged resignedly, as if it was time to get it over with and accept the consequences.
I had a small valise our coachman brought in case of need, so I opened it, removed my travel bonnet, held it over my head, lowered my voice as Lizzy had, and gave an abbreviated version of the most mortifying moment of my life.
“Who are you and what are you doing with my sister twenty miles from where she belongs? Answer me! Now! Or perhaps, you prefer to speak with the magistrate.”
I thought the man looked poleaxed with Lizzy’s repetition.
Now he looked so stunned he might kill himself if he could find a rope.
For about half a minute he stared at me in agitation, while I wondered if he would finally offer reward or revenge.
I admit I was being as churlish as Lydia since he had only once given any hint of dishonourable intentions during our acquaintance, but by then I had been frightened by his outburst for nigh-on five months and fear was not easily conquered by logic—especially given our vast disparity in consequence.
He shocked me by sliding out of his chair to kneel in a posture somewhere between suitor and supplicant, which was disconcerting to say the least.
“I will never be able to adequately apologise for my shameful behaviour that day, but pray allow me to make a start. I am sorrier than I can ever say about how I handled that situation, and it is the most shameful moment of my life. I hope you will allow me to say how very sorry I am, and I further hope that, regardless of how unworthy you may find me, you will allow me to reintroduce you to my sister and get a start on making amends. I owe you everything… absolutely everything, and I would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness.”
I was becoming tremendously embarrassed by the supplication, and considering the tolerance for mortification attendant in being a Bennet, that is saying something.
I finally said, “You owe me nothing, Mr Darcy. I asked for all I desire at the start of this discussion. Lizzy and I will be happy to be introduced to your sister, but I ask nothing more.”
“You could ask anything of me, and I would happily grant it.”
“I have asked for all I desire, sir.”
He looked back at me with what I easily recognised as a mulish look—something I was very well accustomed to.
Our assertion that one of the possible outcomes was a substantial reward seemed to be borne out.
While I was not especially desirous of a reward, particularly a monetary one, it did give me the idea that he would never be happy unless he felt he had repaid the debt.
I began to think of ways a man like him could help my family, and I was no longer entirely convinced I would demur.
At the very least, we could ask him to redirect Mr Collins to the appropriate sister, and maybe finance a school for Kitty and Lydia. Those alone might satisfy Lizzy and me, but I doubted very much a man like him would consider it much more than an appetiser.