CHAPTER 1 Aftermath
Darcy left the parsonage and wandered around the woods for a while, trying to calm his reeling mind. He could hardly believe how wrong he had been about everything. That the woman he loved could actually dislike him. That she actually appeared to hate him!
He sat down on a fallen log and put his head in his hands.
This was it then. He would never marry her.
They would never live at Pemberley and raise impertinent little girls and indulgent little boys together.
He looked at the springtime trees then thought of Lady Catherine in her drawing room.
Naturally she would be waiting, and expecting an explanation…
Then he thought of all the years he would have to live - without Elizabeth. He did not think yet about her reasons for rejecting him. For what did it even matter?
He laughed bitterly to himself when he thought about all the ladies who had pursued him over the years.
He had thought it would be so easy. To fall in love.
Then to propose. To live a life married to the woman he loved.
He never imagined that he would be heartbroken.
Could not fathom it at all. But his heart was breaking.
He even noticed a tear or two running down his face. If only Richard could see him now.
Darcy sat on the fallen log for another hour and simply felt sorry for himself.
Eventually, seeing that the sky was growing darker, he picked himself up and began to walk back towards Rosings.
He looked into the drawing room on his way up the stairs and noticed that everyone had left. Thus he went into his own room and began to prepare for dinner.
Later that evening, as he walked into the drawing room, Lady Catherine immediately accosted him.
“So where have you been, Darcy? It was most irregular of you to leave right when our guests had just arrived. And I was forced to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Collins that this was not your typical behaviour. Now tell me, Nephew, why was it that you left?”
“I…”
“Yes, Darcy?”
An image of Elizabeth’s angry face flashed before him. “There was something I needed to do,” he answered lamely.
“Yes? And what was it?”
“I would rather not say.”
“Rather not say! When your behaviour has been so unseemly?”
Darcy shrugged. “I am sorry, Aunt, but it was a personal matter I had to attend to, and I did it. Please do not ask me anymore about it.”
He looked at Lady Catherine and then at Richard who only regarded him with a thoughtful expression.
“Pray, Aunt,” said Richard at length, “allow my cousin to keep his own counsel. He is a grown man, after all. Shall we not discuss other matters?”
Lady Catherine still looked doubtful but eventually said, “Very well, but if this happens again, I will demand an explanation.”
“It will not happen again,” said Darcy quietly.
Presently they were called into dinner where Darcy allowed the conversation to wash over him without adding much to it.
“Are you well, Darcy?” asked Anne, who was sitting next to him. “You do seem rather ill.”
He smiled wanly at his cousin and answered, “Thank you for your concern, Anne, but I simply have a headache.”
She looked skeptically at him but said nothing further.
“And what has got you so quiet, Darcy?” asked Lady Catherine from across the table. “Were you not listening to anything I said?”
Darcy, who had not been listening said, “I apologise, Aunt, I was woolgathering. Will you please repeat what you said?”
“I was telling Richard and Mrs. Jenkinson how Miss Bennet will never be proficient at the pianoforte unless she practices more. Do you not agree?”
“I think Miss Bennet plays rather well.”
“You cannot mean that!” cried Lady Catherine.
“I think she plays rather well, too,” said Anne, “better than I ever could have.”
“But your health, Anne,” said her mother.
“What about my health?”
Lady Catherine rolled her eyes. “It is only your health that has stopped you from learning to play the pianoforte. But, had you learned, you would have become quite good at it. I am certain.”
But Anne only shook her head and said, “Not at all, Mother. For I am not musically inclined. Do you not remember that I tried taking lessons once, and my piano teacher said he despaired of me ever learning?”
“No, I do not remember such a thing!”
“Well it is true,” said Anne with a laugh.
Lady Catherine looked annoyed. “You had better not talk like that in front of Darcy. For what will he think of you if you admit such things in front of him?”
Darcy smiled at his cousin, momentarily forgetting his heartbreak.
“And what does it matter what Darcy thinks, Mother?” asked Anne.
“What…what does it matter? Of course it matters! For he shall be your husband one day. Once he proposes to you, that is.” Lady Catherine looked reprovingly at Darcy. “And you will not endear yourself to him if you keep talking in that manner.”
“I personally like a self-deprecating woman,” said Richard out of the blue.
Anne smiled faintly at him before turning back to Lady Catherine and saying, “I am afraid, Mother, that you are completely mistaken. For Darcy and I will never marry.”
“Of course, you will marry. My sister and I decided it long ago.”
“Yes, Anne,” said Richard with a grin, “why do you say that? I thought you would agree to everything your mother says.”
“Shame on you, Richard,” said Anne indignantly. “You know I do not love Darcy and he does not love me.”
“Well, I do…” said Darcy, “but in a brotherly sort of way.”
“And I love you too, Cousin,” replied Anne, “in just the same way.” She turned to Lady Catherine and added, “So you see, Mother, it is hopeless for you to make plans for Darcy and me. It simply will never happen.”
Darcy was relieved that Anne had finally spoken up. For he himself had told Lady Catherine - many times - that he would not marry Anne. And yet…it still stung (just a little) to have yet another woman say that she would not marry him. And on the same day, no less. Darcy sighed.
Then, as if reading his thoughts, Lady Catherine said, “But how could you not be in love with Darcy? He is generally thought to be a handsome fellow. And he is rich and well-respected…”
“But too stern, at times, for my liking,” said Anne.
“Too stern!” cried Darcy. “Have I not always been kind to you?”
“Yes, of course you have, Cousin. However, you do tend to brood sometimes. And you also scowl when you are not pleased.”
“I do not scowl!”
“I am afraid that you do, Cuz,” said Richard. He shrugged and added, “That is not to say that you do not have reason to scowl…at times.”
“I agree with Darcy,” said Lady Catherine. “He has a dignified bearing and is always proper. And, if he is dissatisfied with something, then of course it shall show in his expression.”
Darcy stared at his aunt and began to think that her approval was a sure sign that his behaviour was not all that it should be.
“Do I really scowl, Richard?” he asked, knowing he could always count on Richard to tell the truth.
Richard just looked at him sympathetically and nodded.
Darcy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Was this what Elizabeth was talking about when she accused him of despising everything related to her?
He recalled how he had disapproved of the behaviour of her family.
There were so many instances of it. When Mrs. Bennet visited Netherfield, for example, and took her two youngest with her.
She had been quite vulgar in her behaviour even then.
And Lydia Bennet had insisted that Bingley give a ball.
And of course at the ball itself almost everyone in her family (other than Elizabeth and Jane) had made perfect fools of themselves.
Even Mr. Bennet had embarrassed his middle daughter after she had sung so poorly.
Let the other young ladies exhibit, he had said to her.
And all the while Darcy had noticed it. And disapproved of it.
And probably scowled as well. He scowled now, just thinking about it.
“Pray, let us speak of something else,” he finally said, pressing his fingertips against the lines between his eyebrows, as if in doing so he could erase every past scowl that had ever manifested on his face. “For I grow weary of this subject.”
"Yes, of course, Darcy," said Richard. "Let us speak of something else."