Chapter 13
Thirteen
Steady on, man. Darcy inhaled a deep breath that shuddered in his chest as he gathered the courage needed to reach for the knocker at Gracechurch Street with his free hand. In his other, he clutched tightly at a bouquet of hothouse flowers that quivered along with him.
He had not been so nervous to call upon Elizabeth since the month before when he had planned to deliver his valentine into her unsuspecting hands.
Then, he had feared that she would kindly, but firmly, inform him that his affections were for naught and send him awkwardly on his way.
Now, after his execrable aloofness the night before—behaviour that had actually sent Elizabeth fleeing from him—he worried that she would not be inclined towards gentleness with her rebuffs.
He only hoped that his heartfelt apology would induce her to forgive him.
The flowers were meant as a peace offering to her mother, who obviously still held him in contempt for how he had treated them all in the autumn.
It had not occurred to him until he met Mrs Bennet again that Elizabeth was not the only one insulted by his careless slight at the assembly and that he ought to offer amends more broadly.
He needed Mrs Bennet to like him well enough to approve of his suit, else Elizabeth might reconsider allowing it altogether.
Even if she were inclined to oppose her mother’s wishes, Mr Bennet might be swayed by his wife’s objections and refuse consent.
Darcy had not made a good showing the evening before, he knew that, but he had been caught off guard by Mrs Bennet’s distaste for him.
He had never been required to work for a mother’s approbation before—quite the opposite, in fact.
He was far more used to being hunted than shunned by matrons with eligible daughters to marry off.
It occurred to him that he had never properly taken Mrs Bennet’s measure before; if she was so willing to punish him for past insults, then she was not the fortune hunter he had assumed her to be.
Yet more evidence of how wrong he had been about the Bennets.
Another steadying breath was required before Darcy could reach for the knocker. He rapped it thrice and waited with his heart thumping against his ribcage for someone to respond. He did not have to suffer anticipation for long before the butler opened the door and stoically invited him inside.
“Mrs Gardiner and most of the Bennet ladies are out, but I can ask whether Miss Elizabeth is at home to you.”
“Thank you, Quinn. And these are intended for Mrs Bennet, when she returns.” Darcy handed the bouquet to the butler, who bowed and disappeared down the hall.
Anxious minutes passed before Quinn reappeared, sans flowers, to inform him that Miss Elizabeth was awaiting him in the parlour. Darcy thanked him again and strode a short way down the corridor to the room where they always conducted their visits.
Within, it was unusually gloomy, with only the weak light from the windows trickling inside. Elizabeth stood before one of them, staring out onto the overcast day, and did not turn when he entered.
He approached her slowly, weighing and arranging the words of his apology in his mind, and he thought he saw her shoulders stiffen even as she did not deign to acknowledge him. He stopped a couple of feet away and cleared his throat. “Miss Elizabeth.”
She inclined her head in his direction but still did not turn to face him. “Mr Darcy.”
“I…I wanted to offer you my sincerest apologies for how I behaved last night. It was beneath me to exercise such rudeness, and I am ashamed of myself for it.”
“Hmm,” was her immediate reply, followed quietly by, “Is that all you are ashamed of?”
“I beg your pardon?”
At last, Elizabeth pivoted where she stood, allowing him to see her countenance fully for the first time since entering.
Darcy was shocked to see how pale she was, how dark the circles were beneath her eyes, and how generally ill she appeared.
“Good God!” he cried, lunging forwards with the intent of herding her towards a chair before she fell at his feet.
“I had no idea you were unwell. Come, sit—”
Elizabeth nimbly evaded his grasp, her expression curdling. “Answer my question!”
Darcy ceased his pursuit, mouth drawing into a bewildered frown. “What?”
“Is your behaviour from last night the only thing you are ashamed of?” she repeated, crossing her arms. “I have it on good—or if not good, at least compelling—authority that you despise my family so much that you once took it upon yourself to divide your friend from my sister. Is it true?”
Darcy could feel the blood drain from his face. “Who told you that?”
“Miss Bingley,” she revealed, her tone clipped and acidic. “She took great delight in informing me of it last evening after dinner. Tell me, is it true? Did you attempt to ruin Jane’s happiness?”
Although he wanted to storm about the room and curse Miss Bingley to the skies, Darcy merely closed his eyes in defeat and admitted, “Yes.”
“And your primary objection was the crudeness of my family?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause in which Darcy could only hear the rapid, drumming staccato of his own heart before Elizabeth spoke again. “And this same objection prevented you from forming any serious design on me before now?”
He clenched his fists by his sides, his next admission eking from his throat with great effort. “Yes.”
“Get out.”
Darcy wrenched his eyes open at the very moment he felt Elizabeth’s skirts flutter against his calf as she stalked past him. He reached out and desperately grasped hold of her elbow. “Elizabeth, please!”
She halted, whipping in his direction with a hiss. “Unhand me!”
Although his inclination was to hold her to his chest and never let her go, Darcy loosened his grasp and allowed Elizabeth to jerk her arm free. “Please, listen to me. I am more sorry than you can ever know for my actions, but I swear I—wait, do not go!”
Elizabeth was on the move again, towards the open door leading to the hall.
Darcy darted in front of her and blocked her escape, resulting in a short struggle between them.
He triumphed in the end, grabbing hold of both her hands and pressing them to his galloping heart, but she did not cease trying to throw him off. “Let me go or I shall scream!”
“I am begging you, if you ever cared for me at all, to listen to me. Elizabeth, please.”
She stilled, though her chest continued to heave with repressed rage. “Go on, then. Dazzle me with your explanation.”
“First, I meant to tell you myself, and I am incredibly sorry that you had to find out this way. I know that Miss Bingley could not have been gentle in her recitation.”
“She was as horrid as can be generally expected,” Elizabeth conceded with a shrug. She eyed him closely as she continued, “She even suggested that you were more likely to offer me a position as your mistress than a marriage proposal.”
Appalled, Darcy’s response was slow in coming and at a greater volume than he intended. “What? She did not!”
Elizabeth scoffed. “I assure you, she did. She even advised me to take it, implying it was the best I could expect from you.”
“I swear to you, the thought never crossed my mind. My intentions were always honourable.”
“Even in your dealings with Jane?”
Darcy flinched as this arrow hit its mark. “I thought so at the time, but it has been pointed out to me that I behaved underhandedly. I only meant to protect my friend from what I thought to be a mercenary match, but—”
“Jane’s love for Mr Bingley is pure!” Elizabeth cried, renewing her struggle to free herself from his grasp.
Darcy released her hands and grabbed hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him.
“I know that now, but then I thought her acting under the direction of your mother to entice Bingley into marriage. Even there, I can see that I misunderstood your mother’s nature, given how coldly she treated me last evening.
But at the time, I was sure that I was protecting my friend from a miserable future.
Would you not have done the same for Miss Bennet? ”
Elizabeth stilled, glaring up into his face. “What right did you have to determine your friend’s happiness? Did you not trust Mr Bingley to choose for himself?”
“Bingley is still green, and he has often been in love before—albeit not as strongly as in your sister’s case. I was worried he was being taken in. I know I was wrong, but my intentions were good.”
“Even if I grant you that, it still does not erase the disgust you have for my family. Can you tell me honestly that you wish to connect yourself to my mother? My younger sisters? My family in trade?”
Although he opened his mouth to respond, nothing came out of it besides a pained sound.
He could not lie, especially when his honesty was being rightly questioned, but nor could he admit that he still found Mrs Bennet and her younger sisters a trial to endure.
Their boorishness from the evening before did nothing to improve his opinion of them, even if he could take some of the blame for their animosity onto himself.
Her father he could endure, but likely not without some censure for his lackadaisical parenting.
He could happily declare himself fond of the Gardiners, but the Philipses were another story entirely.
When he remained silent, Elizabeth shook her head, causing a tear to spill over her lashes and cascade down her cheek. She stepped backwards, and he allowed her to go, feeling the muslin rasp against his slackened fingertips as she successfully removed herself from his hold.
Over her shoulder, as she fled the room, she cast him a final, “Goodbye, Mr Darcy.”