Chapter XII
Silence so complete that it felt physical, settled between them.
For a moment, Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy in astonishment, wondering what the man meant by what he said.
Then the light of amusement in his eyes caught her attention, the slight upturn of his lips; fury built in her chest. This man was insulting her with polished words that had no meaning? Elizabeth would not tolerate it!
“Oh? It is astonishing to hear you say as much, Mr. Darcy, for I am reliably informed that you do not admire me.”
When the man responded with a raised brow, Elizabeth’s fury rose another notch. “Where did you hear that, Miss Elizabeth?”
“From your own mouth,” retorted Elizabeth. “Or do you not recall the words, ‘not handsome enough to tempt me?’”
Mr. Darcy regarded her, his features impassive, impossible for Elizabeth to read his mood. In time, he offered her a slow nod.
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, I recall the words. I have suspected that something prejudiced you against me for some time now, but until this moment, I never knew what it was.”
“How do you respond to that bit of incivility, Mr. Darcy?” demanded she, her foot tapping on the ground below. “Is there some way you can escape responsibility for it, or will you now tell me that I am somehow mistaken in what I overheard. Perhaps you did not mean it like it sounded?”
Mr. Darcy remained impassive, but he projected a sense of . . . earnestness Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen from him. “No, Miss Elizabeth, I shall not attempt to disguise. I said those words to be certain—I have not wish to deny it. However, I will dispute the sentiment.”
The gentleman paused and smiled, and for the first time since first espying him from across the assembly hall, Elizabeth was forced to confess how handsome he was.
“Or perhaps not the sentiment so much as the perception. When I made that comment, I was in a dreadful mood—you already have some knowledge of the reason for my poor spirits.”
When Elizabeth returned his gaze with uncertainty, Mr. Darcy said: “Ramsgate was only three months earlier.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, uncertain what to say.
“I shall not attempt to excuse my behavior, only to put it in context. The truth is, I hardly looked at you when Bingley suggested that I dance with you—with my concern for Georgiana and having endured Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst for a set each, I had no desire to socialize. I did not even wish to be there that night.”
“Then why did you attend?” asked Elizabeth.
“Because Bingley was new in the neighborhood, and he needed to make a good impression. If the local gentry learned a friend was staying with him and did not appear at their assembly, it might have had adverse effects on his neighbors’ opinion of him.”
Elizabeth considered this. “You might have judged better, Mr. Darcy. At the assembly, your reticence was widely mistaken for haughty indifference—insulting us by staying away might have been preferable.”
The gentleman did not attempt to defend himself—instead, he offered a slow nod. “I had not considered it that way, though you may be correct.”
“Then you did not look at me when you spoke?” asked Elizabeth.
“I glanced, but I did not truly see you. All I could think about was my troubles and my desire to be away from the assembly hall the moment I could. In truth, I have had nothing but admiration for you for weeks now.”
Elizabeth shook her head with exasperation.
“You have a strange way of showing it, Mr. Darcy. Our arguments at Netherfield, sitting together for half an hour without a word, the hostility at the ball, our clashes since your return—all these things taught me that you held me in barely concealed contempt.”
Mr. Darcy’s earnestness turned to concern. “Please believe me when I tell you that my feelings for you were never disdainful, Miss Elizabeth. There have been times that we were at odds, but I have always had the highest regard for you.”
Unable to reconcile it, Elizabeth pushed it to the side in favor of the subject at hand. “Then what do you mean by saying it now, Mr. Darcy?”
“Miss Elizabeth, I would have you understand me. You know something of my position in society.”
“Your uncle is an earl,” replied Elizabeth, attempting to understand.
“He is. I am naught but a gentleman, but I am very wealthy, the scion of an ancient line—these things conspire to give me a place in the first circles.”
“Conspire, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, her lips twitching.
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, conspire.” Mr. Darcy smiled. “You know something of my temperament—to own the truth, I have more connections than I care to maintain, and many among those I find intolerable. Much less notoriety would suit me.”
“How does this influence the matter at hand?”
“It has always been my intention to make a society marriage to gain connections and fortune for my family. Until now.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as comprehension struck. “You mean to say you admire me?”
“I do,” confirmed Mr. Darcy. “These past days in your company have taught me not only that Bingley is in no danger from your sister, but that my interest in you runs deeper than I had thought. I am not of a mind to deny myself this pleasure.”
“What if I do not wish to accept your overtures?”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” asked Mr. Bingley.
“I think they are finally speaking without rancor,” Jane replied.
Given the scene before them, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in deep conversation not far from the gates of Longbourn, Jane did not think they even realized they had stopped walking.
Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and Georgiana had returned to the house, citing the cool weather and the desire for the fire in the sitting-room, but Jane and Mr. Bingley lingered outside, watching their inattention to anything happening around them.
Mr. Bingley peered at them, then looked back at Jane. “Five minutes ago, I would have disagreed with you. Now, I am not certain.”
Dear man though he was, Mr. Bingley was rather oblivious at times, especially when Jane was near.
She was aware of her effect on him, one of the reasons his departure from Meryton had been such a blow.
Now that he was returned, it took very little of the efforts her mother thought were necessary to keep his attention.
Jane doubted that his sister, or a hundred others like her, could draw him from her side now, a notion that brought her great comfort.
“What should we do?” asked Mr. Bingley, appearing uncertain.
“Leave them to their devices, I should say,” replied Jane. “Perhaps they will come to some accord at last.”
Uncertain, Mr. Bingley turned to her. “To what sort of accord do you refer?”
“That depends on them,” replied Jane. “A softening of their adversarial stance toward each other would be welcome. Perhaps Mr. Darcy will even give in to his fascination.”
That was a shock to Mr. Bingley. “Fascination?” said he, a strangled sound escaping him.
Jane smiled and touched his hand. “Did you not know? Mr. Darcy has hidden it admirably, but as I am as reticent as he is, I fancy I can discern something of the gentleman’s sentiments.”
“You think Mr. Darcy admires your sister,” said Mr. Bingley, disbelieving.
“No, I cannot say if it goes that far,” replied Jane. “But it has long been clear to me that he is not as disapproving as he appears, or as Elizabeth thinks.”
Mr. Bingley paused and considered this, then offered a slow nod. “To own the truth, I have often thought that Darcy’s behavior toward her is a little . . . strange. His usual mode is to ignore young ladies altogether, but Darcy has always met Miss Elizabeth directly, engaged rather than aloof.”
“Then you have your answer, Mr. Bingley—or perhaps part of an answer. To what extent he is interested in her, I do not know, but I do not think he is indifferent.”
“And your sister’s sentiments?”
Jane laughed. “You must have seen something of them yourself. Elizabeth has long thought him proud and disagreeable. Whether he can change her opinion, I cannot say.”
“Then I think your notion is for the best,” said Mr. Bingley. “Let us leave them be.”
Jane rested her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her into the house.
Behind them, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy continued to speak, and Jane hoped they would resolve matters between them.
Perhaps it was too early to tell, but she thought there might even be reason to hope for her sister’s future, though she knew how stubborn Lizzy could be.
Intervening herself might be necessary, though Jane knew trying to lead her sister would fail.
Instead, she resolved to observe and learn, and nudge Lizzy when necessary.
DARCY REGARDED MISS Elizabeth, certain she was not refusing to consider him.
Her confidence and indomitable resolve were qualities that most recommended her to him.
When Darcy had considered his future wife and how he would go about courting a woman, he had always assumed the woman would be eager for his attentions and require very little persuasion.
He was Fitzwilliam Darcy, after all, master of a great estate, with a grand fortune and connections to the highest levels of society.
No woman in her right mind would reject what he had to offer.
Unless the woman had little interest in such things.
Darcy did not think Miss Elizabeth had little interest, but he was certain she valued other things more.
Unlike the Miss Bingleys of the world, she did not covet wealth and standing—she had never told him what she did value, but if Darcy were to guess, he suspected it was compatibility, the regard of a good man she could return in kind.
That was the reason she had rejected Lady Catherine’s oafish parson out of hand.