Chapter Eleven #2
She cut him off with a grunt of dismissive laughter. “Do you not acknowledge your insult, sir? No, you would go further, it seems, in doubting my character while lauding your own!”
“My insult?” Darcy shook his head in confusion. “The only insult I am aware of, Miss Fairfax, is the style in which you mocked me to Miss Woodhouse last evening in the parlor. I heard you as I entered the room.”
“Well, Miss Woodhouse heard you insult her and me both, when you spoke to Mr. Knightley.” Miss Fairfax clenched her fists at her side, baring her teeth for a moment, her chest heaving as she continued.
“Will you deny it? I have been on a great many adventures with the Campbells, but I suspect you meant something else entirely when calling me an adventuress .”
Exhausted as he was, Darcy tried to recall what he had said to Knightley the previous evening, but he could not.
He could only recollect the feelings that had overpowered him.
He had been wary of his friend forming any partiality for Miss Fairfax, and yet over the course of the evening, had begun to find her wit exceedingly beguiling, even as he was sensible of his own great danger, for he was not past his suspicion of her.
After hearing her mockery, he had been confused and wounded by her disdain; he was not accustomed to young ladies treating him with anything but fawning encouragement.
And then, when Bingley shambled into his disastrous compromise with Miss Woodhouse, Darcy’s relief was not only because Bingley had been saved from a mesalliance with Miss Fairfax; there had been some perverse part of him that was glad she would not be claimed by his friend.
And then she had acted so quickly and with such kindness to Miss Woodhouse, and though Knightley had indicated there was no great friendship between the two women, Darcy had believed in Miss Fairfax’s loyalty and devotion.
If she was working some deception, he was already falling under her spell.
His prolonged silence clearly displeased her, for again her jaw clenched and her brow furrowed.
“I spoke as I did to put Moss Woodhouse at ease after your comments at dinner. I hope my motives in all things, sir, are good and right. Can you claim as much? For what purpose did you disparage us to Mr. Knightley?”
Darcy had not wished to dance with Miss Fairfax precisely because he knew was already nearly in her thrall; he had stood up with Miss Woodhouse instead to prove that he was not the boorish snob she seemed to think him.
His ire rose a little that Miss Fairfax could question his goodness, but beneath his temper he knew his indignation was borne of some little truth.
He had been wrong when it had mattered most, and it had nearly cost his sister everything.
He hardly knew what to say, and he felt another surge of vexation that she had put him on the back foot, when it was she who had effectively been proven as duplicitous as he had supposed her to be. “Perhaps you had better write to your father and ask him to call me out.”
He regretted his words at once. Miss Fairfax took a step away and then turned her back to him; he comprehended what the shaking of her shoulders must portend. “Miss Fairfax….”
She spun back around; her face was streaked with tears, but she held her head high.
“Insult me all you choose; it can be nothing to me, but I must have your word, sir, that you will not speak of what you think you comprehend of those letters. The happiness of several others besides myself is at stake.”
Darcy ran his hand through his hair. “I have no wish to insult you; I apologize for making such an ungentlemanly speech. I am sure you must regret your own ungenerous comment.”
She took a step closer. “Why should I? My words amused Miss Woodhouse after your unflattering remarks at dinner made it clear you think us so unremarkable.”
“You are mistaken, Miss Fairfax, if you believe I think you unremarkable,” Darcy hissed.
“From the earliest moments of our acquaintance I have distrusted you. I have seen you exhibit behavior so far from that which is attributed to you, I have observed you deflect and even lie when met with queries about your recent travels, and I have even watched you repeatedly fail to answer to your own name. And now I have beheld with my own eyes tangible evidence that you have misrepresented yourself. I should call that remarkable indeed.”
“What is it that you accuse me of, sir? Do you suppose I conceal my activities in Weymouth, or that I am not myself? Perhaps you mean to suggest that I am not Jane Fairfax at all, but some identical copy, come to Highbury in her place to work some unknown scheme upon the unsuspecting populace!”
“That would be absurd,” Darcy spat.
She smirked at him, the rage in her eyes far from spent. “Then I must inquire why, sir, my words and actions seem to consume your every thought,” she hissed.
Darcy found himself wondering the very same.
The wind bedeviled her again, blowing the skirt of her down around his legs, so near were they standing.
Her thick blonde hair blew loose around her face, a strand of it brushing his own cheek.
“You confound me entirely, Miss Fairfax; you perplex me with riddles and insolence at every turn. It is evident only to me, apparently, that you are plainly shrouded in mystery, which is maddening in the extreme, and mercilessly beguiling. I am fascinated and fraught with an urge to figure you out, and frankly, I am terrified.”
The wind picked up, now laden with small droplets of rain, and Miss Fairfax trembled.
Darcy brought one arm around her, as if to shield her from the elements, and with his free hand he reached up and brushed her golden hair out of her face, his hand slowly sliding across her face until it rested along the nape of her neck.
She gasped and looked up at him, her eyes wide, the blue reflecting the stormy skies that gathered around them.
His eyes roved over her thick lashes, her perfect jawline, and finally, her mouth. A droplet of rain fell along the top of her lip, and she licked at it with the tip of her tongue, as if unconscious of herself. Darcy was undone.
He drew his arm tighter around her, his other hand still cupping her face, and he kissed her as if his very sanity depended upon it. Miss Fairfax leaned into him for a moment, her lips moving against his, and then suddenly she brought a hand up to his chest and shoved him away.
“Mr. Darcy, if your opinion of me is as low as this….”
“It is not! I beg your pardon, Miss Fairfax. I… I am a miserable wretch.” Darcy’s shoulders sagged and he held his hands out, imploring her to forgive him, to comprehend him.
She stared up at him with hellfire in her eyes.
“I shall forget this, sir, if you can forget whatever you saw in my letters. We have insulted one another in every possible way and can have nothing further to say to one another; we need not speak at all when we are in company together. I only ask you not to destroy me.”
“Me, destroy you?” Darcy shook his head, feeling utterly helpless. When had his life spun so out of control?
“Say you will not,” she breathed. “I give you my word I intend no harm to anybody in Highbury.”
Miss Fairfax tensed but took a step closer and extended her hand for him to shake. Darcy took her gloved hand in his. He did not shake it; he was nearly raising it to his lips to kiss, but this time he stopped himself. “I have no wish to cause further harm to anybody.”
She stared at him for a moment and then slowly nodded.
Her hand slid out of his grasp, and she turned to go, but stopped.
She half turned, gazing upward for a moment and muttering to herself, and then Miss Fairfax looked at him with a softer, kinder gaze.
“Mr. Darcy… does something else trouble you?”
However much he distrusted her, Darcy believed in her sincerity in that moment, and it pierced his heart. “We all have our secrets to haunt us. I find myself wondering if it might be better to unburden myself; but I understand you are not of this opinion.”
Miss Fairfax lowered her head and took a few more steps away from him, then stopped again.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then seemed to rally herself to look back at him.
“I do have a sister,” she said, her voice so soft that he was obliged to step closer to her.
“I am not meant to be aware of the fact. I found her, at the seaside – at Weymouth.”
Darcy was intrigued. The sister might have been born to a different father, explaining what he read in her letter.
Certainly such a monumental discovery could have caused a noticeable alteration in her manners, and even the distraction she often exhibited when spoken to.
He knew not what to make of the other letter, the lover she claimed to be displeased with; no doubt his own actions must have confused her feelings even more, for Darcy could perceive the upheaval of emotion in her gaze.
He supposed it rather a mirror of his own.
“I lost my sister – also at the seaside,” Darcy breathed, the words agony to him.
Miss Fairfax gasped and reached a hand out to him. “I am so sorry. How did she die? Oh dear, it must have been so very painful for you to hear all my talk of the seaside. It is no wonder that you looked so severe!”
The misty rain still clung to their skin and began to dampen their garments.
Darcy knew it was wrong to detain her in such weather, and yet he longed to lay himself open before her – perhaps she might fully reciprocate his honesty.
“She did not – that is, I lost her esteem, and she wishes never to meet with me again. I fear we shall never be reconciled. Our parents are both gone, and my nearest relations have taken her part since our falling out. I have nobody else, but even if I had, I should feel the loss of her most keenly. She has been a bright light in my life since her infancy.”
Miss Fairfax batted her eyes against the raindrops and gave a little sniffle.
Darcy feared the weather had affected her, but then he realized she was crying.
“I have only known of my sister for three weeks, but it would break my heart if aught went awry, to prevent us from remaining as close as we have become. You will keep my secret? You will not break my heart?”
Darcy nodded, then swept into a low bow, wishing to lay himself at her feet. “You have my word as a gentleman – whatever is in my power to do on your behalf, I shall endeavor to aid you in what you are about, as regards your sister.”
Miss Fairfax briefly brushed her fingers against her lips as if recalling his moment of weakness and bliss. “You may be assured of my discretion, as well, sir. And if I can be of any assistance to you… it is a fine thing, to have the affection of a sister.”
“You are too generous. I hope we might be friends, if you can pardon my… myriad offenses. But I cannot detain you in the rain any longer. Bingley’s manor is not far – I could send you home in my carriage.”
“M- my aunt would think too much of it. I am not affected by rain – you need not trouble yourself.”
“Might I see you within a safe distance of the village? I am sure it must be two or three miles.”
She gave an emphatic shake of her head. “No. We are not far from the lane, and I shall keep a steady pace. Good day, Mr. Darcy.” She dipped into a curtsey and began to walk away. After a dozen paces, she stopped and turned back. With a simple nod of her head, she said, “Friends.”
Darcy’s heart felt lighter at this simple word, and he nodded back to her.
He watched her go, until she had reached the lane.
At that moment a carriage was passing, and it came to an abrupt stop near where Miss Fairfax was walking.
The door opened and Knightley alighted. Darcy took a few steps backward to conceal himself amongst the trees, but he could not stop himself from watching.
Knightley stood very near Jane Fairfax as he addressed her, and her tinkling laughter carried on the breeze as she spoke to him.
A moment later, she took his hand as he helped her into his carriage, which continued down the lane.
Darcy sighed. He thought of how Knightley had praised her at dinner, had lauded her merits repeatedly, and had even danced with Miss Fairfax, though he declared himself no fonder of dancing than Darcy was.
Knightley was apparently Miss Fairfax’s devoted defender, and Darcy, he was to be her friend .