Chapter 3 #3
“Do you not think that perhaps Miss Bennet was affected in another way entirely? Could it be possible that she was simply embarrassed by your being there and deeply ashamed? You confessed your dealings with Wickham to her, Georgiana’s history—everything—yet Miss Bennet’s own sister ran off with the blackguard. Now they are married.”
“Yes,” said Darcy impatiently, “Lydia Bennet did that which Georgiana was planning to do herself. I fail to see your point, Fitzwilliam.”
“Darcy,” he said exasperatedly, “you berated her family and accused her connexions of being wanting, did you not? I clearly recall you telling me on several occasions what you thought of them, save for the two eldest—that the father is idle in his rule, the mother meddlesome, and the youngest girls silly and wild. How can you believe Miss Bennet does not now feel the full weight of your condemnation? Her family has been disgraced by the act of her sister’s impulsive foolishness, her father’s neglect, and her mother’s indulgence.
Is it any wonder she could not meet your eyes?
Did it never occur to you that she must view such an enormous failing within her family as proof that your previous censure was justified?
That any contempt you felt before is now not only fully deserved but increased by tenfold? ”
“I suppose anything could be possible,” Darcy admitted, albeit grudgingly. “After my abhorrent behaviour towards her in Kent it would certainly be no stretch of Miss Bennet’s imagination to believe me capable of deciding she is unsuitable after everything that has occurred.
“However, if she were at all aware of my involvement in the restoration of her youngest sister’s reputation, she would know better than to doubt my devotion to her.
But enlightening her is a risk I can ill-afford.
Having Miss Bennet feel as though she is under an obligation to me would be far worse than any physical punishment.
The bestowal of her gratitude would be intolerable, especially when I desire so much more from her. ”
“So, you have acted in the same manner you always have regarding that reprobate,” Fitzwilliam said darkly as he laid aside his glass.
“I suppose he had debts to discharge as well. What did it cost you this time? I would imagine convincing Wickham to marry a girl of little consequence, whose father could do nothing for him beyond a few hundred pounds or so, must have taken some heavy persuasion from your pocketbook.”
Darcy discarded his own glass on a nearby table.
He had no stomach for it. “I have no complaint about the money. It was not so much as I had originally thought it would cost, though I admit it was far more than either party involved is worth. The bottom line is that I could afford Wickham’s price while Mr Bennet could not. ”
Darcy rested his head against the back of his chair and stared into the fire.
“Miss Bennet has relatives here in town, an uncle and aunt on Gracechurch Street whom I had the pleasure of meeting while they were visiting Derbyshire and who have full knowledge of my involvement, as well as my intimate history with Wickham. I could not act without first gaining their approbation.”
The colonel appeared incredulous. “And they accepted your explanation as well as your assistance?”
“Not initially, no. In fact, Mr Gardiner refused my assistance, but I eventually managed to convince him that it was owing to my mistaken pride and my failure to lay my own personal dealings open before the world that enabled Wickham to seduce Lydia Bennet in the first place. He relented, but I believe he did so only because he and Mrs Gardiner suspected my partiality for Miss Bennet. I can only imagine what they must now think of me. Though I have since had several interactions with the Gardiners and they have been welcoming and gracious, I have essentially abandoned their niece. God knows it is not what I want to do. I believed Miss Bennet’s opinion of me had improved when we met again this summer at Pemberley, but perhaps in that I was mistaken, just as I have been in everything else. ”
“Then you must do something to remedy the situation,” urged the colonel. “Go to Hertfordshire at once. I am sure Bingley will have you.”
Darcy laughed darkly. “And I am quite certain he is the only one who will. Aside from Bingley, there is no one in all of Hertfordshire who will welcome me back. On my prior visits I have managed to do nothing but offend the entire neighbourhood. Mrs Bennet was barely civil to me when last I saw her and, believe it or not, many of the single ladies in the neighbourhood went out of their way to spurn my notice. It was sobering, to say the least.”
“Well then,” the colonel told him matter-of-factly, “you will just have to do as Miss Bennet instructed you to do at Rosings. You must take the trouble of practising. You must assert yourself and improve their opinion of you. There is nothing else to be done.”
Darcy groaned, unable to believe this was anything but an impossible task.
“Come now, did you not say that you believed Miss Bennet’s own opinion of you had improved over the summer?”
“I did,” Darcy muttered, “but it is entirely possible she was so enchanted by Pemberley House and its grounds that she was no longer in possession of her faculties at the time.”
“You undervalue yourself. This morose attitude you have worn for so many months hardly suits you. You can be very charming when you decide it to be worth your effort and, in my opinion, Miss Bennet is a woman who is very much worth your effort, despite her unfortunate family connexions and lack of fortune. Judging by the passionate manner by which you defended her to me last evening, it is clearly your own opinion as well.”
He squeezed Darcy’s shoulder. “I have a confession of my own to make. I am afraid it was I who quite thoughtlessly enlightened Miss Bennet as to your involvement in her sister’s affair with Bingley.
She immediately claimed a headache and did not come to dine at Rosings later that afternoon.
I am heartily sorry for any pain I have caused you by speaking out of turn. It was disloyal of me and poorly done.”
For a long moment Darcy stared at his cousin in shock, then shook his head slowly and looked away.
So, that is why Elizabeth had not felt well enough to attend Lady Catherine’s dinner.
To his cousin, he said, “Do not distress yourself. Miss Bennet is not stupid. I am certain she suspected my involvement from the moment we all quit Hertfordshire last autumn. You offered nothing but confirmation of that which she had already deduced on her own.”
“Even so, I did not make things any easier for you. My indiscretion caused you considerable pain and heartache, and for that I will always feel a deep responsibility and regret. I never should have interfered.”
Nor should I have, Darcy thought with rueful irony and more than a little bitterness. He considered it quite fitting that the injustice of his own officious actions had finally come full circle to plague him.
That night, after Darcy completed his nightly ablutions and climbed into bed, he considered all that his cousin had said to him that morning.
If Elizabeth was embarrassed by his being in Hertfordshire, he ought to be thankful.
In his experience, being on the receiving end of a woman’s embarrassment was undoubtedly better than being the recipient of her anger and scorn.
Embarrassment, he could alleviate to some extent.
Darcy had done a fair job of it once before when they had met at Pemberley.
His prior history with Elizabeth, both in Hertfordshire and in Kent, had been riddled with misrepresentations and misunderstandings, but at Pemberley they were becoming friends; Darcy had been sure of it.
Since he was fortunate enough to have earned Elizabeth’s friendship before, perhaps he could earn it again.
The people of Hertfordshire were another matter.
Gaining their good opinion would require undoing many months’ worth of offensive behaviour—nearly an entire year if Darcy included the fact that he had quit the neighbourhood last November without bothering to take his leave of the families who had so graciously invited the Netherfield party into their homes, the Bennets included.
Unlike Elizabeth, who had seen him among his dearest relations and in the comfort of his own home, where Darcy was happiest and most at ease, her neighbours had not.
Darcy sighed. While it was far too late to think about making a positive impression—especially in a close-knit country society that he had, very early on, proclaimed to be confined and unvarying—he had little choice in the matter if he wanted to win Elizabeth’s heart.
He recalled the insulting words he had uttered when Sir William Lucas proclaimed dancing to be one of the first refinements in every polished society and cringed.
Without thought or consideration, Darcy had callously observed that it also had the advantage of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world, for ‘every savage can dance’.
It was not five minutes later that an impertinent little savage in possession of the finest eyes he had ever seen declined the privilege of dancing with him.
It was the beginning of Darcy’s undoing.
It had been difficult enough to keep himself from seeking her out that evening, but after Elizabeth Bennet had so effectively demonstrated that she was not so easily charmed by his person, his manners, or his address as the ladies of London, it became impossible to tear himself away.
Darcy remembered well the colour of her gown and the warm glow of her skin as she refused his request, the sparkle in her eyes as she smiled and laughed with her friends, and the unfamiliar pang of jealousy he had felt when she turned her attention towards any man other than himself.
Darcy ran his hands over his face in frustration. Since meeting Elizabeth Bennet, it had become impossible to find repose for the multitude of thoughts that plagued him and tonight would be no exception.
With an exhalation, he reached across the bed to fumble through a drawer in his bedside table and withdrew a small, elegant-looking bottle.
He stared at it for a long moment, then removed the stopper with care and sprinkled a few drops of the liquid contained within upon his pillowcase.
As the scent of summer roses freshened the stale air of the room, he returned the bottle to the drawer, lay his head upon his pillow, and closed his eyes.
Elizabeth…
Darcy breathed deeply. It was this scent—her scent—that had enveloped him utterly at Netherfield, fed his fantasies, and invaded his thoughts until he barely recalled his own name.
Though deceptively simple, the infusion of rosewater and herbs had been difficult to procure.
It had taken a special request at Floris’s on Jermyn Street in St James’s and some trial and error by the reputed perfumer before Darcy was able to hold a few precious ounces of what he considered a meagre substitution for the woman he wanted but could never have.
Elizabeth’s signature fragrance was not the faint, innocuous scent of the dignified, cultivated varieties commonly found in the conservatories and hothouses of London, but the sweet, heady perfume of the wild, rambling blooms of the countryside.
A small, private smile tugged at his lips every time he contemplated Elizabeth Bennet in what he had come to think of as her natural environment: the open fields and wooded paths of Hertfordshire.
There was nothing of conformation in her and Darcy found it entirely fitting that the scent she favoured mirrored her personality—enchanting, wild, and elusive.
Every awkward exertion on his part would be well worth the effort it would cost him should he become the recipient of Elizabeth’s intelligent banter and her laughter and her teasing smile.
For the privilege of looking upon her once more, of speaking with her, dancing with her, and hopefully making her his own after so many months of disappointment and uncertainty, Darcy would do as she had once instructed him so many months ago at Rosings: he would take the trouble of practising.
He would take every opportunity to make himself agreeable to the good people of Hertfordshire and pay them every civility in his power.
They deserved no less, and, if truth be told, were probably deserving of far more.
They were the people Elizabeth had known her entire life.
They had helped shape her personality, form her character, and encourage her to be the woman she was today—kind, intelligent, compassionate, and good.
It had been obvious to him as long ago as the first assembly he attended in Meryton that she held the people of Hertfordshire in esteem.
Perhaps she even loved them, much as Darcy loved and esteemed the people of Pemberley, Kympton, and Darcy House.
Why, then, had he not followed her example or Bingley’s? Why had it taken a painful set-down, disappointed hopes, and a broken heart to make Darcy finally see the error of his ways? Why had it taken one impertinent, teasing woman with bright eyes and pert opinions to make him want to change?
Breathing deeply, Darcy willed the tension in his body to dissipate as he settled further into the softness of his pillow.
As always, Elizabeth’s scent calmed his troubled conscience and offered him solace.
Just as he needed air to breathe and food to sustain him, Darcy knew he needed Elizabeth Bennet.
Tomorrow he would write to Bingley and hopefully, within a few short days, he would be on his way back to Hertfordshire.
He loved her, and Darcy knew without a doubt that he always would.
He hoped it was not too late to make amends.