Chapter 3 #2
He watched Darcy slowly close his eyes. “Richard, please!”
“Good God,” Fitzwilliam muttered, his voice dropping. “Did you? Again?” Shock spreading over his features.
Darcy looked straight at him, his hand running over his face.
“I was honour bound.” It was a mere whisper.
Fitzwilliam blinked, his teasing manner gone completely. “And?”
Darcy turned away, voice low, controlled. “Not another word, Fitzwilliam. Not another word.”
His cousin watched him for a long moment but said nothing more. And Darcy, heart pounding harder than it should, relaxed into the plush squabs of the carriage and let the brigadier simmer in his curiosity.
* * *
Elizabeth kissed her aunt on both cheeks in greeting.
It was nice to be in her aunt’s bustling home again.
She loved her cousins. The eldest of them married, the second courted a lady, the younger girl about to be out and the youngest boy at school.
This was the closest she had got to having children.
She felt immensely proud of them all. While she had nieces and nephews as well - with all her sisters living so far away - it was her cousins she was really close to.
“I have had a letter from Mary. Did she write to you too? About the new college?”
“Indeed she did, but I would wager your letter was more detailed. Ours was merely a list of supplies she would like us to send for charity and a note.”
“Well, it is lucky they both arrived. The seas can be unpredictable…”
The tea arrived, accompanied with cold meats, cheese, bread, teacakes and pastries. Seeing the food spread in front of her, Elizabeth realized she had not yet broken her fast. She filled her plate generously.
“You seem to have quite an appetite today, Lizzy.” Mrs Gardiner smiled widely. “And overall, you seem rather blithe, even if a bit distracted.” She squinted at Elizabeth quizzically.
“My walk was most invigorating, Aunt.” Elizabeth felt the colour creeping up her neck. If she knew the truth, she would be scandalized!
Her mind betrayed her, drifting back to Darcy, his lips trailing the curve of her neck, the gentle scrape of his teeth against her earlobe, his hot breath fanning over her skin. The scent of him…
She shook herself. Nonsense!
“The day is beautiful; it was a shame to waste it!”
“Indeed!” said Mrs Gardiner. “I have something to discuss. Our annual trip to the Lake Country. It will have to be shorter this year; Mr Gardiner’s business does not allow him as much time away.
But I was thinking… What if we did not go all the way to the Lakes and instead spent our time in Derbyshire?
I long to see my old friends for a little longer than just the one night spent in Lambton on our way. What do you say?”
“I have no objection.” she said cheerfully and bit into a delicious pastry. A fleeting warmth touched her cheeks, at the thought of being a mere five miles from Pemberley.
This was the time to confess everything; her cousin had left the room, her aunt was sufficiently suspicious about her display…
But she could not bring herself to tell the truth and omitting the damning details made no sense.
Aunt Gardiner, apart from her sister Jane, was the only person who knew of Darcy’s proposal at Hunsford.
She confessed the fact years ago, when they passed Lambton, as an amusing anecdote of her youth.
Mrs Gardiner was speechless. She knew how much Elizabeth disliked the man, but she could not imagine her going as far as refusing such an offer.
And yes, in hindsight, she could see how foolish it must have seemed to others, and even to herself had she known all the facts at the time of the proposal.
But that was Darcy’s own fault. Not being honest about what he surely knew of Wickham, for letting the whole of Meryton believe Wickham and fall for his lies and pretensions, most of all her poor little sister.
He made fools of them all and that was something too hard to swallow even today.
She never regretted the decision not to marry Mr Darcy.
She never understood why he asked for her hand; they had barely known one another.
She understood that somewhat better now.
Knowing now how volatile their mutual attraction could be, how passionate their connection, she could not have understood that as an innocent maiden.
It was easier to resist something she did not know the depth of.
It was impossible now… She had only two paths to choose from.
One was to make sure she never saw him again, the other would be to give in completely.
Was that what ‘not wasting time on propriety meant’?
“Lizzy, is anything amiss? You seem to be miles away.” Mrs Gardiner’s voice pulled her back from her reverie.
“Forgive my woolgathering; I just remembered I have more correspondence to deal with at home. I am glad to see you all in good spirits, but I must go now.”
* * *
When Elizabeth arrived back at her chamber and sat down at her vanity, she felt her hands tremble a little. She opened the drawer and took out the letter, opening it carefully and taking a fortifying deep breath before perusing its contents.
Madam,
I write to you in the hope of providing some clarity regarding our past acquaintance and the actions that have shaped it. Though time and distance have done little to alter certain truths, I would not wish for misunderstanding to stand where honesty might take its place.
You once accused me of separating a man from the woman he admired.
It is true that I urged Bingley to leave Netherfield.
For my part, I feared I had grown too accustomed to a presence I had no business seeking out.
For him, I hoped a change of scenery would test the strength, or weakness, of his affections.
Bingley is, by nature, warm-hearted, eager to please, and, unfortunately, prone to forming attachments with great speed.
He is no rake, nor does he act with deliberate cruelty, but he is careless in how easily his attention may be mistaken for something more lasting.
In the past, his affections have often been fleeting, though this was of little consequence, as the objects of his regard were beyond his reach.
That changed when we came to Hertfordshire.
From the outset, I observed your sister’s manner with unease. I could not determine the depth of her feelings, but I knew Bingley’s disposition well enough to fear where such an attachment might lead.
What was meant to be a brief respite, a chance to contemplate his heart, stretched into months, during which he formed an attachment to and later married Miss Helen Stanton.
It is not in my nature to take pleasure in being right, but I would be lying if I claimed to feel no relief.
I have never pretended to be a man of feeling, and yet, I felt too much in your presence.
It was easier, then, to stay away. That my resolve did not hold is, I am certain, already known to you.
It has been some years since I last met Bingley.
It became clear to me that the close friendship we once shared was no longer sustainable.
His choices, particularly in matters of fidelity, led me to reconsider my association with him.
This is a faithful account of my involvement in his courtship with your sister.
There is no more to regret, and no more apology to offer.
What I do regret, bitterly, is my conduct toward you.
I do not flatter myself that I deserve your forgiveness, but I will offer what is within my power to give: an apology.
For my words all those years ago, which were not worthy of a gentleman.
For anything I may have done, intentionally or not, that caused pain to you or your family.
As for other matters (those which you may wish to leave unspoken) I do not presume to impose upon you.
While I respect and admire your fierce independence, please be assured of my concern for your well-being and my sense of responsibility in the situation.
Should you have any practical need, you have only to send word.
With sincere regard,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth left the letter in front of her, staring at it, smiling involuntarily.
It did not really revolutionize her idea of Mr Bingley’s character, only confirmed it.
What shocked her and left her insides aflutter, was how long Darcy had wanted her.
He did not love her, not really. But he must have lusted over her as much as she had over him.
It could only be lust, even if Darcy did attempt to dress it up as love in the past; his pride and honour would not allow him otherwise, she was sure.
But they were different now. She was a widow and he was… a man. And what a scrumptious specimen!
She moved to the comfortable settee in front of the fireplace, and closing her eyes she let her mind wander.
After the incident with Darcy, she was sure of only two things: first, she was not able to spend the rest of her life celibate, whatever society or the scripture itself demanded.
Second, she did not want to marry. Her opinion on marriage as a transaction was low and marriage of love was unattainable, whatever the parties thought before they entered it.
The whole business was high risk and the female always held the shorter straw.
She was lucky in her situation. She walked away from her marriage provided for, with income.
She was not about to squander that, hand that to a man and give up all power over her own actions.
Darcy… his scent, his disarming gaze, the kiss that made her legs give way and set her skin on fire, the way he waited to be urged on - would he really be able to stop if she said so? That would be more than she could boast herself.