Chapter 15 Note by Fitzwilliam Darcy, 19 December 1811 #2
His countenance grew grave once more. “Tell me squarely, Darcy. Have you formed an attachment to this young lady? You wrote of her in your letters from Hertfordshire, before the snowstorm. Were our aunt’s suspicions actually correct?”
“I shall not deny that I hold Miss Elizabeth in the highest regard, but no attachment exists between us. Whatever my sentiments, the young lady’s family and fortune are unacceptable.”
“You have already described her as the daughter of a gentleman. Has her family been somehow disgraced?”
“No. They are respectable but countrified. Her mother is the daughter of a merchant, and her manners would be entirely unacceptable in town.”
“As are our aunt’s, if it comes to that. Is Miss Elizabeth herself objectionable? Would she cause a scandal?”
“Certainly not. Her manners are unexceptionable, though perhaps a trifle frank for a young lady without fortune or connections.”
“A trait which no one could object to in your wife.”
I must have blanched at so explicit a reference to the dream I have cherished in silence, for Fitzwilliam gave me another triumphant smile.
“Do not deny that that is what you wish, Darcy, for I can read it on your face. This Miss Elizabeth must be a most remarkable creature to have induced you to fall in love at last. I look forward to meeting her.”
“Pray, do not quiz me, Fitzwilliam. Whatever my desires, I cannot— Had I but to consult my own wishes, the disparity in our circumstances would not trouble me. But for Georgiana’s sake—”
“Georgiana has the dowry of a duke’s daughter and the Fitzwilliam name behind her. It will not harm her prospects a jot if you marry a respectable young lady, however unknown her family.”
“If only I could be so certain, Fitzwilliam. But her family are—their conduct is not fashionable, nor even entirely proper. And a more well-connected young lady could certainly ease Georgiana’s way to the splendid match she deserves.”
“Perhaps to a splendid match in the eyes of society. But would you wish her to wed someone who desires her only for her fortune and connections? Should not her husband value her for herself? I doubt any diamond of the ton you might select would make such a match more probable. You would do better to set her the example of true domestic felicity.”
This argument I could not refute, even had I wished to. How readily I can imagine the joy of life at Pemberley with Elizabeth as its mistress. She and Georgiana would be certain to adore one another, and my sister might profit from the constant example of Elizabeth’s good cheer and self-possession.
Perceiving my abstraction, Fitzwilliam stood.
“I shall leave you to your thoughts, Darcy,” he said, pausing in his egress to clap me on the shoulder. “Only take care that you allow your own judgment to dictate your course—not our family’s pride.”
Though I dearly wished for solitary contemplation, I felt it necessary to invite him to stay for dinner.
He refused, however. After seeing him off, I went through to the dining room to bid Georgiana an early good night and request that a tray be sent to my study.
Something in my manner must have alarmed her, for she laid a hand upon my arm and inquired if I was well.
“Perfectly,” I said, “Only thinking over a troublesome matter of business. I am sorry to neglect you.”
“Pray, do not apologise. Only—I think you have not been happy of late, brother. You will tell me if I may do anything for you, will you not?”
I told her, fondly, that she was far too good to me and embraced her before retreating to my study. There I sat in contemplation for some hours, unable to order my thoughts or reach any conclusion, until at last I determined to write down this account.
What, precisely, does my good sense dictate?
Were I to consult only my heart, I would already be in a carriage bound for Hertfordshire, in spite of the rain outside.
I had thought that my desire would wane in separation, but the reverse seems to be true.
I cannot imagine any other young lady winning my esteem and affection as Elizabeth has.
These past weeks, her absence has been a perpetual torment.
Scarcely an hour has passed since my return to London that I do not think of her.
Even in my dreams, I see her bright eyes and teasing smile.
Can I truly act as I wish to? Forget the objections of society and offer her my heart and hand?
Could I bear a lifetime, knowing that she is forever beyond my grasp? Surely, that would be a fate infinitely worse than society’s disapprobation, would it not?
Can it be so simple?
In any case, I can no longer resolve to avoid her forever. It was a foolish plan to begin with, and my aunt’s actions have made some apology necessary. I must go to Hertfordshire and express my regrets in person, even if she now despises me.
But if she does not—
Why do I delay?
* Henry Angelo’s fencing academy, which in 1811 was part of the Bond Street School of Arms, housed at No. 13 Old Bond Street, London.