8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
B reakfast the next morning was a stilted affair. A letter from Rosings was delivered, and the pale cast over the face of Mr Collins could leave little doubt as to the contents.
“My dear,” he said to Charlotte, clearly avoiding his cousin’s curious gaze, “it appears that Lady Catherine is displeased. Seriously displeased with the performance of my duties of late. She declares that certain distractions”—he stole a glance at Elizabeth—“are causing me to be neglectful. And as you are well aware, neglect of one’s obligations shows a moral decay that leads to—”
“That cannot be, my dear,” Charlotte responded, shrewdly interrupting what was certain to be an excruciatingly solemn sermon from Mr Collins. Taking the letter from her husband’s hand as he patted a newly bloomed sheen of sweat from his brow, Charlotte glanced over the lines rapidly.
“Lady Catherine is offering the use of her barouche box. For both Eliza and Maria. For transport to London. First thing in the morning.”
“Oh! The barouche box!” Maria exclaimed, entirely missing the severe insult under the guise of the offer. “That will cut our visit short, but the idea of riding up to my cousins’ London home in Lady Catherine’s carriage! Tatty and Missy will be absolutely green with envy, for it is likely that they have never seen such a carriage arrive at their doorstep.”
“It seems a sudden indisposition of both Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh has made any further social calls an impossibility, and she demands the presence of her parson to administer comfort,” Charlotte continued, ignoring the silliness of her younger sister who at least could claim a tender age and lack of experience for her misunderstanding.
“Sarah!” Mr Collins cried, summoning the housemaid without ceremony. “There you are, negligent girl, brush my jacket…”
“My dear, your jacket is without blemish. Do not rouse yourself to a frenzy over what is likely an imagined illness of the de Bourgh ladies.”
“Charlotte! Please use more respect when speaking of your betters,” Mr Collins scolded as he rose, napkin still clinging to the front of his vest, and scurried out of the room with Maria on his heels.
“Well! I must write a letter to the Gardiners and take my walk,” Elizabeth declared, too startled by the sudden development to be angry or wounded. “For I shall be organising my luggage this afternoon, it would appear.”
Charlotte reached out a hand, clasping her friend just below the elbow. “Eliza. You must know this is a bit of posturing ridiculousness on Lady Catherine’s part. You need not shorten your stay. I beg you not to. Indeed, it is probable that she may entirely forget her anger within a day or two. If there is some other calamity in her scope that occurs—a maid running off without notice, or the flooding of a low-lying field—her thoughts will become engaged elsewhere.”
“Remain and endanger the patronage of the right honourable Lady Catherine for you and your family? I cannot wish for some minor misfortune to turn the wrathful gaze of the high and mighty Lady Catherine from this humble subject. I am sorry if this brings some awkwardness to you, dear Charlotte. You need not worry on my account. I apologise for being blunt, but I believe I have done little to deserve this treatment and cannot bring myself to mourn the loss of consideration from a lady whose opinion I value so little. It is of minor consequence. I am just grateful that she conjured the subterfuge of illness so that I can offer a somewhat plausible explanation for our early departure. Yes, a trifling cold will do nicely.”
“And suit to cover the real reason?”
“What can you mean?”
“Lady Catherine has her faults, but insensibility is not one of them. Anyone can see the way Mr Darcy stares after you. Your slightest move draws his attention, every word from your mouth has his total regard, and when you sing…why, now you must excuse me for being frank…but he appears to be exercising every fibre of his being to remain seated and not rush over to you with some sort of grand, romantic demonstration. The appearance of calm is good, but not convincing to everyone, it would seem. Not to me nor Lady Catherine.”
Elizabeth was overcome with mortification. Could all observe what was occurring?
“Charlotte, I do not think Mr Darcy would ever consider me to be…” What she would have declared as the absolute truth five days ago now rang false.
“I think,” Charlotte continued, apparently encouraged by Elizabeth’s uncharacteristic loss of words, “it has been coming on so gradually, that it has caught Mr Darcy unawares as well. I would not dare to tell you how to manage your own sentiments for the gentleman or badger you to share them with me if you are not inclined to, for I understand such mysteries are beyond my grasp. However, he appears to be singularly suited to you, Eliza. A man of intellect, strength, and good taste. I say nothing of his fortune, for you made it apparent at the Netherfield ball that a quality such as consequential property will not sway you. I state that from my own experience it is pleasant to know that I will not be a burden to any future family with my shrewd marriage. But his fine fortune is only an added benefit to Mr Darcy’s other sterling qualities.”
Elizabeth had the unpleasant sensation of warm, wet tears gathering on her lower lids. Looking at her friend, she said, “Oh, Charlotte! I hardly know what to believe anymore. Could my judgment of Mr Darcy have been that incorrect? He has informed me of circumstances that cast a lawful and fair light on his treatment of George Wickham.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And his conduct yesterday, when Lady Catherine was being so wretched towards me, it was so…so….”
“Chivalrous? Without a hint of undue pride and disagreeableness?”
Elizabeth could only nod for a moment while she bit the inside of her cheek. Finally, she ventured, “But what if it is all a passing fancy? A spell of temporary enthralment?”
Charlotte quirked one eyebrow high in a way that reminded Elizabeth of her childhood when she had attempted to make the elder Charlotte believe a wild tale of an imagined adventure involving a dragon and an enchanted sabre.
“Does Mr Darcy of Pemberley strike you as fanciful? Easily swayed by whims and fleeting fashions? Or is he a steady, honest character who may benefit from a wife with a lively, intelligent turn of mind who makes him laugh more than I have ever seen him do before?”
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands, shaking her head, uncertain and confused. She felt Charlotte extend a hand and lightly rub her back in a comforting, circular motion.
“There, there. Take your walk. It always clears your mind and orders your thoughts.”
Somehow, Elizabeth could not bring herself to tell her dear friend she did not think this particular walk would help her to resolve any of the conflicts that raged so violently in her breast.
Pacing the bridge, back and forth, clearly lost to the world in a fog of his own thoughts, Mr Darcy appeared insensible of her arrival. Elizabeth observed him from behind a wide trail of willow branches that swayed and whispered to her.
Her heart ached for his apparent distress. Those dark brows were contracted, his eyes never left the rapidly passing ground before him, his lips, the very ones that Elizabeth had allowed to brush against her own, were compressed with anxiety. He finally halted and stood, gazing out over the wide stream that tumbled under the bridge. His breath was rapid and short, in a way that Elizabeth believed came from more than the effort of walking.
She stood with her own hands clasped before her, uncertain how to proceed.
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth murmured, barely above a whisper.
His head snapped towards her in an instant, hearing her call above the rumble of the water beneath the stones. His quick steps brought him before her before she could draw in a single, startled breath.
His hands began to reach forward to clasp her, but seeming to think better of it, he reached them around behind him, trapping himself into a show of calm. His eyes sparked furiously with a tumult of emotion that told Elizabeth that he was very far from the indifference he was portraying.
“I have been concerned. My aunt was unconscionably rude yesterday. And then, my man told me that there was a note delivered to the parsonage this morning from Lady Catherine. Miss Bennet…Elizabeth, tell me that you have not been further insulted by ill treatment from my relation. I know it is improper for me to demand to know the contents of a letter that was not addressed to me, but please, I beg you, put me out of my misery and let me know if it held an apology or further slights against you, you who deserve none of it.”
Elizabeth tilted her head to one side, attempting to quell her own uncertain feelings towards the man before her. Heated emotions of fury and anxiety ran down from him, like tumbling stones from a mighty mountain. Her heart ached for him, filled with sympathy, concern, and genuine caring. For there was no longer any use in denying it; she was feeling something new and powerful towards Mr Darcy.
She reached out a hand and lightly touched his shoulder; his muscles hardened beneath the contact as his jaw tightened. “Put your mind at ease, sir.”
He swallowed and blinked, the only hint of change in his countenance. His eyes remained on hers, searching, craving to know more.
“I am not swayed by your aunt’s approval or disdain. I am too sensible to not see the advantage of Lady Catherine’s patronage as being something that should not be tossed aside without a second thought, but she holds no sway over me beyond that. I have never desired her good opinion and, if I ever possessed it, it was not valued dearly to me.”
Mr Darcy shot a hand up to press hers harder to his upper arm. “So, you are too kind to tell me just how perverse she was in her correspondence. I can guess what the letter contained.”
“It was not addressed to me, and I did not read it. But I have been told that I have the distinct honour of being offered the barouche box as a way to take me to London tomorrow morning. No, sir! Do not distress yourself!”
But it was too late, for Mr Darcy had recoiled from her in anger, striding to the bridge to look downstream, seemingly unable to face her.
“I am hurt and distressed beyond all words, Miss Bennet. You have been treated so abysmally, so wretchedly, I cannot even begin to tell you how this is no reflection of my own feelings, as you are well aware. I will not stay beyond another night in my aunt’s house. I will leave in the morning as well.”
“But, if you depart the same morning as I, it will only confirm her suspicions that I am attempting to ensnare you through wiles and ambition!”
“I do not care!” Mr Darcy declared in a voice so full of passion that Elizabeth stepped back as he took a step towards her. “My only hope…all that I long for is that you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, believe that I am sincere and honourable in my intentions. If I can convince you of this one thing…”
His words drifted off as he stepped back before her and grasped her hands in his. When he pulled them both to his mouth, he looked her in the eye, unwavering in his focus, and placed a gentle kiss to the top of each hand.
“I wish it was you, and not my aunt, who could be persuaded that you have employed no unnatural powers in the capture of my heart.”
Elizabeth felt herself overcome by warmth and embarrassment. How could she have ever believed this man to be unfeeling and cold? Cruel and immovable? It was almost more than she could bear.
The water under them laughed and tumbled, the sun shone bright, a pleasing breeze had arisen. Any other day, Elizabeth would have marvelled at the beauty surrounding her, determined to press onward till her legs were weary with another long, excellent walk.
Mr Darcy gazed down at her with a slight, mischievous upturn to one corner of his mouth. He dropped her hands and stood tall. Elizabeth took in a breath, realising that her heart throbbed.
“Odysseus demanded to be lashed to the mast of his ship as they passed the sirens. Do you recall?”
Elizabeth nodded, startled by this unexpected turn in the conversation, her brows up in curiosity. “Yes, and he had a miserable time of it. He would have hurled himself into the sea to reach the sirens, if he had not been powerfully restrained. I always thought that part was odd. He could very well have tucked some beeswax in his ears as well, just as he had ordered his men to do.”
“There was nothing peculiar about his choice at all. He was testing his own determination and wished to satisfy his own curiosity. He knew he was a man above others. He had an admirable sort of pride in that.”
Elizabeth had to drop her head and attempt to hide a smile.
“Is that so wrong?” Mr Darcy asked with a laugh.
“That is debatable, I suppose. It reminds me of a conversation we had at Netherfield.”
“Ahh. I hope anything I said at that time will not be examined too closely. I was uneasy at how much you had captured my attention. I am not the sort of man who has had many infatuations.”
“Let us return to you and Mr Odysseus, sir. Else we may end up in a wearisome list of accomplishments that a lady worthy of your admiration must possess.”
“As you wish. I think that since this is to be my last day to demonstrate that I am sincere in admiration of you, I must prove to you that I am able to restrain myself. Much better able than Odysseus.”
Elizabeth laughed aloud and glanced down at his hands. “Did you hide a coil of rope that I am to use? I suppose a tree could be employed as a way to lash you down. It is not quite as heroic as the mast of a ship, but it will suffice.”
Mr Darcy shook his head and sat on the ledge of the bridge. He placed both of his hands to either side, resting on the mossy stone. With a smile, he said, “Here I am. Restrained by my own self-control.”
“And it is stronger than any rope?”
“I like to think so. I would be honoured if you would sing a brief song for me. My hands will remain where they are, I promise you.”
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. Her laughter dimmed when she observed the sincere determination upon his face. Tilting her chin up, she held his gaze for a moment longer.
“Though I feel silly for this, we will determine the strength of my song once and for all.”
Elizabeth turned a little to the side, unable to look at him directly, as her song swelled. It was a sad ballad, common enough, about a young lady waiting for her love to return from a voyage across the oceans. She haunted the cliffs, her eyes always upon the riotous waves crashing beneath her. Elizabeth’s eyes shut as the sounds seemed to merge with the soft water under the stones of the bridge. Even the stream itself had dampened its enthusiastic course in order to better listen.
By the time the last notes faded, Elizabeth opened her eyes, having temporarily forgotten her surroundings. Her gaze connected with Mr Darcy’s. Though he remained unmoved, the knuckles of his hands gripping the stone wall upon which he sat were white with effort. His dark gaze, full of undisguised admiration, made her own heart momentarily soar free from every notion of propriety and doubt.
Without thought, Elizabeth took a step forward. Resting one of her hands on top of his, she leaned in and softly placed her lips on his, pressing her tender flesh to his with an uncertain, unpractised kiss.
Opening her eyes and standing straight, she saw that he had remained perfectly unmoving. The top of his hand, under her palm, was as hard as marble, coursing with the power of his self-command.
“Are you now convinced, Elizabeth?” he whispered. “I am bound by the ropes of my own restraint. You have no powers of bewitchment beyond the most captivating eyes and beautiful voice I have ever witnessed. It is with your mortal allurements that you have made my heart yours.”
Elizabeth took a step back, overcome and dizzy. Instead of reaching out and taking her hand, he remained still, only his eyes following her, devouring her.
All remaining shards of doubt that had caused her initial angry refusal of his advances were washed away. His eyes held a steady, earnest intensity that had not waned. Though her experience in this area was slim, there was no disguising the truth that she stood before a man who was deeply in love.
In love with me.
Ardently and truly. This love proved to be more substantial than a passion of an animalistic nature. She had just pressed her lips to his and he restrained himself, as she was certain he would, allowing her to test his resolve and clearly define his declarations for herself.
Blinking, Elizabeth opened her mouth, wishing to say something…anything. But her words fled from her as Mr Darcy stood and stepped up to her.
“Have I proved to you the nature of my feelings, Elizabeth? I would wish nothing more than to remain here and allow you to test me over and over. Ask me to accomplish any task, and it shall be done. Though I must tell you that if you wish to kiss me again, I may actually require real restraints to prevent the urge to take you up in my arms.”
“I can see now that I did indeed test you most cruelly,” Elizabeth said with a tremor laced through her voice. “If you would like to test me in a similar manner, I would not object to—”
She had not finished her sentence before she felt the firm embrace of Mr Darcy’s arms around her waist and his breath close to her as he drew her tight against his body. “Now I shall be the one to mercilessly test you.”
His lips pressed on hers, delicately at first, then gaining in strength and heat, repeating the action till she was insensible. Recalling herself, Elizabeth felt they were in danger of allowing this test to sweep them away. She pulled back and calmed her breath, steadying herself with a hand on the wall of the bridge.
“I do have another feat for you to perform,” she whispered.
“Name it, and I will do all in my power to accomplish it for you.”
“I must…” Elizabeth took a step back, not trusting how close they were and how much she desired to continue what they had begun. “I must be allowed to have some time. You have indeed convinced me that you are honest in all of your declarations towards me. But you have had weeks, nay, months to accustom yourself to the notion. To me, this is still a novel idea. Less than a week ago, I thought you despised me. I thought that your disdain of me was so powerful that I was the last woman in the world whom you could look upon as a future partner in life.”
Mr Darcy opened his mouth with a mind to protest, but she held up one hand to forestall him.
“I beg of you to allow me time to adjust to this.”
Mr Darcy crossed his arms before his chest and frowned. It came upon Elizabeth all at once, what a remarkably handsome man he was. But to the partner of a lifetime, there must be more. He had proved himself respectful, considerate, and unafraid of Lady Catherine’s wrath. They both strongly desired each other’s touch. She already knew from past conversations that he had a mind that was unafraid of travelling in the deeper waters of philosophy and reflection.
So much to admire! But have I followed him so far down the road of love?
“If it is convenient for you, I would ask that you give me a week to consider all that has occurred? Then, if you find yourself still desirous of my…my company…” Elizabeth let her gaze drop from his, fully aware of all that they had done in the past week. She had heard that it was not uncommon at all for young ladies to kiss gentlemen they were interested in, but it had not been a practice that occurred to her or her sisters, to her knowledge. Though, in all honesty, Elizabeth would not be at all surprised to discover that Lydia had kissed more than one fellow behind the curtains at a dance. “If you find that you still wish to be in company with me after that time, I would be happy to see you again.”
She raised her eyes to meet his, hardly knowing whether to hope for his eager agreement or scorn. To her astonishment, a small smirk turned up one corner of his mouth and a sparkle of hope lit his eyes. Her heart skipped at the sight.
“You ask another week of me, Miss Elizabeth? After I have succeeded in the amazing deed of altering the opinion of the most intelligent lady I have ever met? No small accomplishment, that one. I hardly believed myself capable of it.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, smiling as she raised her brows at him. “Flattery? Such mean weapons as that are in your quiver? A regal warrior such as yourself?”
“Flattery is only contemptible when there is little truth in the statement. If I state something that is genuine, it can hardly be called taffy.”
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. She realised with a start that she would miss these talks, but quickly reminded herself of the wisdom of her decision.
“I agree, after my stay at Hunsford Parsonage and witnessing so many, so very many, examples of delicate compliments that are not always truthful, I cannot accuse you of the crime of false flattery.”
“Is that your first time saying something flattering of me?”
“I believe it is.”
He stepped close to Elizabeth and took her hand in his. Bringing it to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hand. Lowering it, but keeping it in his grasp, he said, “You were so kind as to allow me a week to convince you that my regard was not the result of supernatural infatuation, I am hopeful that another will be equally as beneficial to my cause. My feelings will remain unaltered. Odysseus remained steady in his love of Penelope for twenty years. One week is a small request. You shall see me in one week, Miss Bennet.”