Chapter 9 #2
Have forced nobody to do anything against their will.
Have only given counsel. My prerogative where my sister you must see that the behaviour betrayed by your mother, your three younger sisters, & occasionally even your father is not what is expected in the fashionable world.
I saw you be embarrassed by them often enough to be confident you understand as much.
It was a credit to Elizabeth that despite her evident indignation, she still gave consideration to what he wrote and responded in a measured, if unhappy, tone.
“My family might embarrass me from time to time, but no more than it clearly embarrassed Mr Bingley when his sisters were hateful to their houseguests, or when his brother was a glutton at dinner, or when his friend refused to speak to anyone in the neighbourhood because he was too proud to overlook their follies.”
Bingley was not embarrassed by me! thought Darcy indignantly. His own circumstances and consequence were superior in every way to his friend’s. If anyone had a right to be embarrassed by the connexion, it was he!
Elizabeth said nothing, and in her silence, the old browned walls of the bedchamber pressed inwards, it seemed, making known their silent disdain.
Darcy felt altogether less assured. The pretensions of polished society had no relevance here.
In this place, he was but a man, with no voice and one foot on the other side of death’s door—no better and quite possibly a good deal worse than any of his friends.
The unpalatable verdict provoked him to retaliate, for was Elizabeth not just as fastidious?
Did you overlook Mr Collins's follies when you attempted to persuade your friend not to marry him?
“I did—that is, I did not, but…” She seemed genuinely anguished by the objection but still shook her head in contradiction. “It is not the same! Mr Collins did not love Charlotte—and Charlotte most certainly did not love him!”
You would have me believe your sister loved Bingley? I find that difficult to countenance consi—
The ink ran dry and no amount of dipping or scraping the pen in the well could gather enough to finish what Darcy wished to write.
Elizabeth shoved her chair backwards to leave and he reached for her hand, desperate that she not go before he could explain.
He almost gagged on the pain the forward lunge induced, though his pitiable wheezing did have the advantage of postponing Elizabeth’s departure.
“I observed them,” he mouthed, gesturing to his eyes then the imaginary couple.
“She never seemed truly pleased. Never laughed, as you do when you are happy. She only smiled the same way she smiled at everyone.” To demonstrate his point for Elizabeth, who was peering furiously at his mouth as though searching for words by which to be offended, Darcy affected a smile as benign as any he had seen Jane Bennet bestow upon Bingley.
It was indelicate, but—for want of another means of communication—all he had.
“You would condemn her because she was not animated enough?” Elizabeth cried. “When you have just vilified the rest of my family for being too demonstrative?”
“Not unanimated—indifferent!”
“And you would know her better than I or Mr Bingley, of course,” she replied coldly.
“You, who never troubled yourself to speak more than two words to Jane, are ready to declare her heart untouchable because she did not laugh often enough? Perhaps you think my sister Kitty loves Mr Bingley better because she sniggered once in his parlour?”
He pulled an incredulous face.
“Very well, that was facetious, but you take my point? You have convinced yourself there was no affection between them simply because it better suited your wishes to have him marry your sister.”
Darcy suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired.
Bingley had repeatedly asserted his belief that Miss Bennet returned his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard.
Wherefore, and with what authority, had Darcy presumed to know better?
He let out a slow, careful breath, disliking the heaviness in his heart.
“Yes,” he mouthed, “I probably have. And I beg you would forgive me.”
He knew not what Elizabeth had been expecting, but it was evidently not an apology.
No sooner had she finished frowning at his lips to fathom what he said than she sat back in her seat and blinked at him several times without saying a word herself.
She then spent some minutes plucking at the fraying fabric on the arms of the chair, from which she did not look up when she eventually began speaking.
“Charlotte warned me once that Jane was too guarded in her feelings towards Mr Bingley. Before she married Mr Collins, I used to think Charlotte was the most sensible person of my acquaintance. If she believed Jane appeared indifferent, then I…well, I suppose I can understand how you might have thought the same.”
It was a gracious concession. He waited for her to look up then mouthed, “You admire your sister very much.”
“I do,” she replied with a wistful smile. “She is the very best of our family—with a composure of temper and uniform cheerfulness of manner that I have never been able to emulate.”
Darcy smiled, though he did not agree that it necessarily made Jane Bennet the best of them.
“Oh heavens!” Elizabeth said abruptly, then burst out laughing. In answer to Darcy’s gesture of enquiry, she pointed at the window. “We really ought to learn to disagree less often. We have been arguing so long it has begun snowing again. Our letters will have to wait.”