Chapter 32
At breakfast, Elizabeth announced her intention to take a long walk, knowing she would be alone. This was the third day since her return, and she had made a similar excursion on each of them. The excuse she gave to her family was her weeks in town.
“I cannot possibly describe how much I have missed the trees and birds, and I do not forget the stream and the delightful music it makes,” she said at breakfast.
Lydia laughed and called her silly. “I shall never understand what you find so amusing in wandering about! You should come to Meryton with Kitty and me. Surely, some of the officers will be out, and we shall introduce you.”
“What are trees to handsome gentlemen?” Kitty asked.
Elizabeth chose to save her breath rather than waste it trying to explain what her sisters would never understand. Besides, she had had enough of handsome gentlemen for the moment.
Mrs Bennet fretted that she would become ill. “For the weather is very damp.”
“It has not rained in days,” Mr Bennet said soothingly. “Let Lizzy go breathe the clean country air. It might push the polluted air of London out of her lungs, and that is bound to do her good.”
As she aimlessly roamed the countryside, she saw signs of the rapidly approaching winter all about her.
The trees were largely empty of leaves, there were no flowers blooming, and if the sky were not such a brilliant blue and the sun shining so brightly, the world would look very dull.
She could smell frost in the air and wondered if it might soon snow.
“It is cold enough for it,” she said softly to herself.
She walked for a long while, hoping to exercise away enough of her sorrow so that she would think only of Jane’s happiness and not how Mr Darcy had injured her, whether or not he had meant to. Mr Bingley would be returning soon—they might even see him that day—and she anticipated meeting him.
“But I do hope he does not speak of his friend too much. I am not sure I could bear it. Certainly, it would be difficult to hide my feelings from Jane, and she does not need to know that I am heartbroken.”
Eventually, she stopped near the banks of the stream to watch the flowing water.
There was something peaceful about it—between the glittering lights on the surface and the gentle sound that was like music to her.
Sighing, she leant against the strong white trunk of the nearest tree, an old birch, and thought about what she had lost. She did not know how long she stood there, silently reflecting, before approaching footsteps startled her.
Pushing away from the tree, she looked in the direction the noise came from, her jaw falling open when she saw who it was.
“Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” She looked this way and that, almost as though wondering if she had mistaken her position.
But no, she was in Hertfordshire on the path between Longbourn and Netherfield, definitely not in town where seeing him so unexpectedly would make more sense.
He stopped when he was perhaps twelve feet from her. Tall and beautiful, this morning he also appeared more resolute than she had ever seen before. What could it mean? And how had he found her? It could not be a coincidence.
“I came with Bingley,” he said. “We arrived yesterday in time for dinner. We were supposed to leave London in the morning, but he had business to complete.”
Still confused about his presence, she continued to observe him, her brow furrowed.
Mr Darcy took a step towards her. “He is at Longbourn. Your sister—Miss Bennet, I mean—said you had gone for a walk. I mentioned I wished to see you, and she told me she thought you would be along this path.”
Irritation shot through her, and she hoped Jane was too occupied with Mr Bingley’s return to wonder at Mr Darcy’s actions.
The sensation was quickly replaced by the anger she had felt watching him dance with Miss de Bourgh.
Her voice was thus more bitter than she liked when she asked, “But why are you here? Should I congratulate you on your engagement?”
“Good God, no!” he cried. This time, he took several steps in her direction as he continued to speak. “I have come to apologise and explain, and beg you to forgive me.”
Elizabeth averted her gaze, her chin tilting upwards.
She was afraid she would cry and make a fool of herself.
He wanted her forgiveness, but for what?
Certainly not what she most longed to hear him say—that there had been a terrible misunderstanding and she was right to suppose he held her in tender regard and wanted to marry her.
Believing it was far too dangerous; she would not be able to maintain her equilibrium if she allowed even the smallest hope into her heart.
Instead, it was likely that he had been informed how his behaviour had misled her, and wished to express his regrets and wish that they might remain friends.
“I made a mistake,” he said. “A series of unfortunate decisions, and combined with a megrim, it resulted in injuring the last person I would ever want to hurt. You. As soon as Lady Catherine and my cousin arrived in London, I should have known problems would arise. I do not know why—”
His implication that she was the person he least wished to injure created a tiny crack in the hard, protective shell she had erected around her heart. From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head before he began again.
“It seems this is the second relevant fact we did not know about each other. I am not explaining myself. Bramwell and I were not aware that you knew Rebecca and her parents until we met at the ball in October. And I supposed you had heard from someone, Mrs Ryde most likely, that Lady Catherine has long promoted a match between Anne and I. I cannot deny that my mother, maybe even both of my parents, looked upon the notion with favour. At Georgiana’s birthday dinner, when I realised you did not know, that was when I made my first mistake. ”
“Oh? I cannot imagine what you believe it was.” She fixed her eyes on his, challenging him to give an answer that would be strong enough for her to accept it.
“I should have immediately informed my family that I intended to propose to you, that I would never marry my cousin, even if you assured me I was the last man in the world you would ever accept.”
Her heart began to race. How she had longed to hear him say that he cared for her!
Another crack in the barrier between them appeared, but she refused to let it crumble.
She wished a few simple words could erase what had happened, but it could not.
Again, he closed the distance between them, although he remained too far away for them to touch.
It was just as well, because if he did attempt to take her hand or any such thing, she might lose her composure and yell at him.
His tale was incomplete, and she would need to hear it all before she could judge if forgiveness might be possible.
She listened attentively as he explained his plan to speak to her about his hopes for their future before discussing her with his family.
“I do not know that I understand why I believed it was the best course of action, but it seemed reasonable at the time. Bramwell and Fitzwilliam insisted I was making a mistake, and they were right,” he said.
“Then, at the ball, it was one disaster after another. I recall the moment we greeted each other, and now I can see that I must have appeared rude. My aunt had just said something I do not care to repeat, and I was embarrassed and afraid you had overheard. I had a megrim, which I do not use to excuse my poor decisions, but I believe it affected me more than I realised. It was the thought of dancing with you, of finally sharing with you my dearest hopes and dreams for our future, that kept me at the ball despite how wretched I felt.” He met her eye and sighed.
“Even now, I do not know how I ended up dancing with Anne. But once we were standing in line, I did not know how to walk away from her to find you without causing a scene, just as I was hesitant to insist to my aunt that she could no longer command every second of my time. I had thought I would remain with them until the set was about to begin, I would have done my duty to them, and I would find you. When I did look for you, you had gone. I went to call on you the next morning, and Mrs Ryde informed me you had returned to Hertfordshire. I immediately decided to follow you here. Bingley happened to call on me that same day, and we arranged to come to Netherfield together.”
With another step forwards, they were close enough to embrace, but she would not even permit him to take her hand when he reached for it.
“I am sorry,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I know I made mistakes.”
“Yes, you did,” she interjected, allowing some heat into her tone. “Your poor cousin! Did she believe you were on the point of proposing to her? If you knew you would not, how could you allow any of your family to think it was a possibility?”
“I did not, not exactly,” he insisted. “I had said my aunt’s wishes were not my own, but I was not as direct as I should have been.
It was to avoid an argument. You have likely seen enough of my aunt to know she would not take the news kindly, which is part of the reason I wanted to tell her once I could assure her that I had spoken to you.
I thought it would lessen her ire, I suppose, prove there was no chance she could convince me to marry Anne.
Even now, knowing my affections are engaged, Lady Catherine is…
extremely disappointed, as she is quick to share with anyone who will listen.
Including Anne, who claims it matters not to her.
If it helps at all, I have not injured my cousin. ”
Elizabeth asked him several questions, including how his relations took the news of his interest in her, and learnt that Lady Catherine vowed never to accept their marriage—“should I be fortunate enough to gain your forgiveness”—but Lord and Lady Romsley only cared for his happiness, as did his sister and his aunt and uncle Darcy.
Once she had heard enough for the moment, she nodded.
“I shall be honest and admit that I do not know what to think. I had no expectation of seeing you today or of hearing such a tale,” she said.
At the moment, she wanted to be done with the conversation, to let what he had said settle so that she could reflect on it.
She was also conscious of the hour and that her mother would be wondering where she was.
“Let us return to the house. Did you meet anyone other than Jane?”
“Miss Mary was also present.”
Again she nodded, and because it was in her nature, an amusing thought came to mind. “Once you meet the rest of my family, you might decide you would rather be in town taking tea with Lady Catherine.”
His brow furrowed, but then he seemed to understand she was teasing and chuckled. “I assure you, what I want is to be where you are.”
She regarded him for a long moment, her head tilted slightly to one side.
“That is a pretty compliment, sir, and I appreciate it. I also believe you are sincere, which I suppose makes a difference.” Gesturing in the direction of Longbourn, she added, “Come. I am in need of tea.” And time to be alone and think.
Could she accept his excuses? Would she ever feel secure that he would not make similar mistakes again, causing her fresh pain?
Was it even possible not to forgive him, given how very, very much she loved him?