Chapter 4 The Colonel Interferes Once Again
THE COLONEL INTERFERES ONCE AGAIN
Darcy retired with a sense of hopeless frustration that persisted until he formed a new plan. New and, in truth, far better. He knew Elizabeth was due to spend time in London. He would call on her at her uncle’s home and propose to her there.
Of course, that would mean he would be required to call on her in Gracechurch Street, with the uncle in trade, the brother to Mrs Bennet. He could not think such people would be pleasurable to visit, but he would endure what he must for Elizabeth’s sake.
He wondered if by then her anger with him would be mollified.
He could only hope a further delay in declaring himself would not upset her more.
For it was clear she had been angry at him, and him alone, the night prior.
No one else had heard a short syllable from her, or received a cool glance.
Only him. Surely once she knew of his violent affection for her, those fears would be laid to rest, and her sparkle and wit would return to her.
His thoughts preoccupied him throughout that day and into the carriage on the next day.
A rattle of the newspaper in his cousin’s hands at last recalled him to his companion who smirked and said, “If Lady Catherine saw you looking as you are, she would say you were in the throes of agony caused by leaving Anne.”
Darcy snorted but did not reply.
Closing and folding his paper, Fitzwilliam turned his full attention to his distempered cousin. “What is it?”
Darcy looked at him, wondering if he ought to ask him what he knew of Elizabeth’s seeming vexation with him.
Elizabeth and his cousin had become friends; in other circumstances, it might have bestirred jealousy, but not in this case.
Fitzwilliam would never allow himself to form designs on a woman with no fortune of her own.
“It is…Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“What about her?”
“I intended to…to propose to her.”
Fitzwilliam was staring at him, eyebrows raised. “Propose…marriage?”
“Yes.”
“You wished to propose marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Fitzwilliam leant forwards in his seat, as though he believed the few feet of distance between him and Darcy in the carriage might have led to some faulty hearing on his part.
Darcy scowled at him. “Yes.”
Fitzwilliam sat back, seeming unduly amazed given his own admiration of the lady. After a few moments, he asked, “Are you…I mean, do you…well, naturally, you must, um—”
Darcy closed his eyes a moment before admitting, “I am in love with her.”
“Ah. So you planned to propose, expecting her to accept?”
“Naturally I expected her to accept. Who would offer for a woman expecting a refusal?”
“Naturally.” Fitzwilliam nodded pensively. He then ventured, “Therefore…you believe she is in love with you as well? Or did you imagine she would marry you for the sake of prudence?”
The question surprised Darcy a little but not nearly as much as the understanding that, in fact, he had not thought about her feelings at all. “I, um…in truth I cannot say. It was just more a feeling that she was likely to accept me. If it were only for the sake of fortune, then…”
It was a bitter thought indeed, but if it meant he would have her…perhaps he could bear it. “We have a similarity in the turn of our thoughts,” he concluded somewhat defiantly. “She holds me in some regard, and in time, we would love one another. I am certain of it.”
Fitzwilliam stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment, finally asking, “What stopped you, then?”
“She seemed out of sorts at dinner. Perhaps even angry, and angry towards me specifically.”
His cousin winced. “That might have been my doing. Earlier that day, I came upon her while I made my tour of the park, and we walked together a little while. The subject of your friend Bingley arose. Pray know that what was said was done with good intentions. I had some inkling of your regard for the lady and intended to impress upon her what a good and caring friend you are.”
A premonition began to twist in Darcy’s gut. “So you said what exactly?”
“I told her you had recently separated a friend from a most imprudent marriage to a highly unsuitable lady. I did tell her I only supposed it to be Bingley, but she needed no further confirmation.” Fitzwilliam grimaced.
“She was distressed by the intelligence, and at length informed me it was her sister Bingley had been attached to. It was dreadfully ill-judged of me. I never would have uttered a word had I any notion…”
Fitzwilliam had clearly perceived the look Darcy had levelled on him.
Darcy stared at his cousin in furious silence.
He despised what he had done, the lengths to which he had gone to separate Bingley from his infatuation with Jane Bennet.
To know Elizabeth knew, and was angry at him for it, was excruciating!
“I do apologise for my indiscretion,” said his cousin at length.
Darcy did not reply for a moment, his head turned to study the passing farms and fields. “I did everything in my power to separate Bingley from her sister and must be accountable for my actions. There is no one to blame but myself in this matter.”
Several minutes later, the silence having grown oppressive, Fitzwilliam dared ask, “Why was the eldest Miss Bennet so unsuitable? I know they have no fortune or connexions to offer but, being that you very nearly proposed to Miss Elizabeth, surely that could not be your concern.”
With a deep sigh, Darcy turned his gaze from the window to look at his cousin.
“Bingley is three-and-twenty and, prior to this, has had a new love every week. He admired her, to be sure, but to find himself tied down to a woman who brought him no material advantage and did not, to my eye, seem to love him… I could not watch it happen.”
“If she did not love him, perhaps she would not have accepted him,” Fitzwilliam observed. “Without your intervention.”
Darcy shook his head firmly. “Their mother is absolutely determined to marry all five of her daughters to wealthy men. Even if Miss Bennet had not loved him, her mother would never have permitted her to refuse him.”
“Mrs Bennet is a matchmaking mama, is she?” Fitzwilliam gave a quick snort of laughter. “Ha! Poor Miss Elizabeth, her mother must have been fit to be tied when she rejected Collins.”
“Mr Collins offered for Elizabeth?” Darcy exclaimed in disbelief. “That cannot be!”
“You did not know?” Fitzwilliam smirked. “I heard Lady Catherine mention something of it, and asked Miss Bennet about it.”
“Positively unimaginable!” Darcy exclaimed just as a vision, a horror, rose in his mind of having come to Kent to find Elizabeth side by side with Collins, wearing a lace cap and a downtrodden expression.
“I have to admire her,” Fitzwilliam said. “Despite the practical advantage to her family, she refused. Said she could not respect him.” He pressed his lips together a moment and then said, more gently, “Which is what makes me feel relieved your proposal was prevented.”
“You think she lacks sufficient esteem for me to accept me?”
“I think your initial insult of her—”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt you? Implying she had been slighted by other men because she sat out a dance?”
Darcy felt a hot flush over his entire body and closed his eyes a moment. “I forgot about that.”
“She, it seems, has not.”
“It is a wonder she does not hate me.” Darcy groaned and leant forwards, resting his head in his arms, over his knees.
“In fact, she might,” Fitzwilliam replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Her opinion would not have been improved by your actions with her sister and Bingley, either. By her account, her sister has been heartbroken these months past and has had to endure not only the pain of abandonment, but the gossips of Hertfordshire, and the cruelty of Miss Bingley, as well.”
Darcy shook his head in disgust, finally beginning to comprehend how completely he had ruined his own chances, as well as those of the man he purported to be his dear friend.
“I suppose I ought to be grateful she did not march into Rosings and give me the set-down I clearly deserve.” Darcy sighed. “Apparently she is able to hide any number of feelings. To think…”
“To think what?” Fitzwilliam prompted.
“There were times, when she was at Netherfield, I was cold to her, fearing I might raise her hopes. Now I know there were no hopes to be raised. Indeed, she might have seen any interest on my part as alarming!”
A gloom was descending upon Darcy. He had believed, coming away from Kent, that his greatest obstacle was some temporary vexation on Elizabeth’s part.
Instead, he had learnt of months of dislike, a veritable wall between them built by his own offensive hands.
“You have spared me a great deal of humiliation. As agonising as it is to learn these things from you, my humiliation would surely have been tenfold to learn them from her, or worse, to have had her accept me with all of this in her heart.”
From thence, the ride continued in silence, unbroken for the hours it took to reach London.
Some part of it was spent in reviewing the hidden meaning behind every word, every look she had ever given his way, and wondering that he had not seen the truth in them.
Another part of the time was spent wondering what, if anything, to do next.
While he wished to forget about her, he knew it was impossible.
Had he not already tried to forget her? Loving Elizabeth Bennet was by now as essential a part of him as was the air he breathed.
That left the possibility of going to her uncle’s home and… And what? Proposing to her there would likely be as fruitless and humiliating as proposing at Rosings would have been. Knowing now the truth and strength of her feelings, he could not doubt his failure.
He rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation. He could not propose to her, and yet he had to propose to her. He was damned if he did, and just as damned if he did not.
Finally, as the carriage neared the outskirts of London, he knew at least one thing he needed to do: tell Bingley. “He might wish to return to Netherfield.”
He had not intended to speak aloud but he had. Fitzwilliam heard him and replied as if he knew what Darcy had been thinking all along. “Bingley? Perhaps you could accompany him back there, then?”
“Am I so obvious in my inducement?” Darcy forced a faint smile. “But no, it is not merely accommodations which tempt me into telling him the truth. Never let it be said that when I am wrong, I cannot admit it. I only hope he is not too angry with me.”
“Bingley is not the sort to be angry for more than a minute or two. Perhaps an hour if he is truly vexed. I am sure you will be quickly forgiven, and then you and he can go to Hertfordshire to try again to win your ladies.”
“Would that it could be so simple! I have much to answer for, I fear.”
“She is a singular woman, and I daresay she would not marry you for your position. I think you would need to win her heart.”
He was correct. “At present, the very idea of winning her seems impossible.”
“What other course is there? You must try to win her else forget her forever.”
“I know,” Darcy owned. “But I have no notion of where to begin.”
“What of your proposal? What was your plan before I told you all of this?”
“She will leave Kent for London in about a week, I believe, and will remain with her aunt and uncle for some time. I thought I might call on her there.”
“Excellent notion. Do you know the direction?”
Darcy laughed mirthlessly and briefly. “Her uncle lives in Gracechurch Street.”
“In the City?”
“In full view of his warehouses. A tradesman.”
“His warehouses?” Fitzwilliam quirked a brow. “A wealthy tradesman. I see nothing wrong with a well-regarded man of business—”
“Well, if this uncle is anything at all like his sister, Elizabeth’s mother, I would not necessarily be assured the man was well-regarded.”
“Are they truly so bad?”
Darcy sketched the silliness of Elizabeth’s sisters and the indolence of her father in short time. Of Mrs Bennet he said, “A more determined matchmaker has never been known, I am sure. She had word of my fortune spread throughout the assembly within five minutes of my entering.”
“Well, that is hardly unique. Give her a little fortune and she would be mistaken for Lady Catherine.” Fitzwilliam chuckled. “When do you mean to call on her? As soon as may be I suppose?”
Though he said it lightly, his words gave Darcy a start. He was right. If the Bennets were wealthy or titled, he would not have given their behaviour so much notice, nor taken such offence to them. He would not have liked it, but it would never have put him off pursuing her.
Call on her. Fitzwilliam made it sound so easy. Darcy had already imagined arriving in Gracechurch Street only to be refused entry. How can it be that the one lady for whom I have ever felt this way cannot stand the very sight of me?
He rubbed his hand across his forehead, unwilling to admit his trepidation to his cousin. “I believe I must first make amends to Bingley and then… Oh!”
“What is it?”
“I believe Miss Bennet is yet in London as well. Once Bingley learns the truth of her affections, he will likely wish to accompany me down there.” His voice strengthening with renewed hope, he added, “Surely, seeing her sister’s happiness will incline her to forgive me and then we can begin anew.”
“You have a week to prepare, it seems.” Fitzwilliam reached forwards to clap Darcy on the arm. “I wish you good fortune, Cousin.”