2. Men, Great & Small
Chapter 2
Men, Great for they were in a completely different state to himself?
He had all the wealth in the world that they desired, the country seat to the largest home in Derbyshire, an estate that was approximately ten miles in size—but they were the joyous ones. They, in their broken state, their state of poverty, and they were content.
Leaning back on the cushions of his carriage, he saw an omnibus drive past his chaise.
The future!
When he was a child, all these things, from the bus to the station, did not exist. All around him was progress, of life moving forward at an unstoppable speed. How stagnant he felt. How locked into stasis, he was. A great flow of life, it was, that moved along, and for a moment he wondered if he would be able to progress along with it.
In that instant, he wondered if he would ever be able to move forward.
To walk.
To run.
To ride.
And feel the confidence that was once shaken from him, due to his own blindness. The very blindness that he doomed himself to.
‘ Elizabeth Bennet…what have you done to me?’
His chaise arrived in front of King’s Cross Station and his footman opened the door for him.
“Thank you, Williams,” Mr. Darcy said, disembarking. “Do you recall your instructions?”
“Aye, sir,” Williams responded, “I return the chaise back to your townhouse, where the valet will oversee everything. Is he going to follow you to Milton, sir?”
“He will in less than a week. I do believe I can do without him for a while. Besides, it is always wise to allow your employees to be given a reprieve from their work. When you return, make sure that Jefferson understands and establishes Miss Darcy’s plans. The townhouse is not to be closed at all.”
“Very good, sir. He shall know, depend on that. I hope that you enjoy your visit with Mr. Thornton.”
“Thank you, Williams. Good day.”
Mr. Darcy took a few steps and his eyes widened as his gaze rested on the entirety of King’s Cross Railway Station.
“What a piece of work is man,” he whispered to himself.
All around him were fellow travelers, entering and leaving. Leaving and entering. It was as if the earth was moving under him, time was progressing around him, and everyone had a purpose. Everyone was moving forward. And he felt so distant from the rest of them, under the painful fear that he would never connect to another living soul again.
But he had to recover from his past heartache. For, in his eyes, what was a man without his self-assurance? His independence, and his inner strength?
To his surprise, he couldn’t find it at Pemberley. That was the largest shock of all. Pemberley was the one place in all the world that he felt a refuge from any pains that he would experience from the outside world. After all, nothing could compare to home.
Therefore, how much of a blow it was to return to the rolling hills and green wood that surrounded his home and still feel a tremendous loss. The sanctuary that was once Pemberley now antagonized him, for its sweeping fields, its beautiful wood, its perfect structure, and its beautiful rooms all felt terribly empty. Something was missing. The vastness of the void haunted him, and he knew what caused it.
He had intended to return to Pemberley with a wife. A woman to share the beauties of his home, of his land, and of his life. And only one woman would do.
Suddenly, his attention was seized by two passing individuals. It was a handsome couple. By the way that they looked at each other, they must have been newly married. A new pairing of husband and wife carry themselves differently than ones who have been wed for years. This new bride was lovely, and like Elizabeth Bennet, she had dancing dark eyes and curly brown hair. Her husband was tall, like himself, and had a very strong face. And in their eyes was light—it was connection.
It felt as if he was being mocked. To see the future that one desired for oneself…but you see it in the scene of other people and not yourself.
The image sent a sharp pain through Darcy, cutting him to the quick. It was his tendency to not entertain any form of envy. But in one way, he was beginning to feel it very much.
Gathering his resolve, he entered the station, already having his ticket and his luggage being conveyed by porter, as he moved along the terminals.
When he did so, he found his spirit beginning to liven as he was caught up in all the bustle and spectacle that lay around him.
Soon, his train arrived, to convey him to Milton, in the North, and he embarked.
As the porters put his items in a private compartment, they noted his discomfort as he sat down.
“Alright, sir?” one of them asked.
Mr. Darcy did not respond initially, but then he acknowledged that it would be rude to say nothing.
“I am not accustomed to traveling by train,” he acknowledged.
“It’s always an adventure to me,” he responded.
“Even when you work here? I’ve often found that people begin to lose the sense of pleasure when one of their joys turn into their profession?”
“Nay, sir. Trains represent the best in us.”
“What makes you propose that theory?”
“It shows how much, despite everything, humanity really is moving forward. Besides, trains give you something.”
“And what is that?”
“A destination. I’ve always found them to be jolly things.”
“Come on, Dobson,” the other porter said, smacking his hat against his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s not bore him.”
“I was just being friendly, and such!” The first porter snapped, closing Mr. Darcy’s compartment door, in the process.
Soon, the train was prepared, and Mr. Darcy felt the wheels turn underneath him. He saw the station roll away from them as they soon began to ride through London and into the country.
With every station they reached, Darcy felt himself release another anxiety—until his mind had no choice but to dwell on the past that he was trying to rise above…
Earlier that year…
His carriage had pulled up along Mrs. Shaw’s house. When he was allowed entry, he was overjoyed that Elizabeth was all alone in the house. Edith, Mrs. Shaw, and Captain Lennox had gone to the dinner party that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had held at her townhouse. Elizabeth had remained behind, under the excuse of being ill. When Mr. Darcy had discovered this, he left the party immediately, traveled to Mrs. Shaw’s home and seized his opportunity.
The doorman allowed him entry and he told the steward that he would remain in one of the back parlors. When he was told that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in the house, he requested the steward to inform her that he wished to request her presence.
While he was alone in the parlor, he prepared himself. Pacing back and forth, he did all in his power to gather his resolve.
He imagined her there, in the room with him as he prepared himself for the most important decision in his life. In that moment, he considered the disinterested part that he played in elevating Elizabeth to a greater position in life, giving her his heart, his home, and his wealth. Thus, he was prepared to experience all forms of gratitude on her part.
Mr. Darcy was very much aware that, by doing so, he would have to take Elizabeth’s four sisters under his care, but he was prepared for it—at last. He spent many months laboring under the possibility that her family was a necessary evil that he couldn’t abide.
And then there was Mr. Bingley. This was the other weight that added to his woes. He had convinced Mr. Bingley to not propose marriage to Elizabeth’s older sister, Jane. And now here he was, prepared to look the role of a hypocrite, and not follow his own advice.
When Bingley discovered this, he would feel so terribly upset and he wondered how his dearest friend would receive such news. Yet his love for Elizabeth Bennet had reached such a feverish pitch that he was willing to risk his friend’s bitter feelings, as long as he seized his love of his by the hand.
He was startled from all his inner musings when the parlor door opened, and Elizabeth Bennet entered.
When seeing her, all his nerve gave way and he forgot everything that he was going to say! If he had undergone this kind of circumstance before, he would have known that this confusion was customary, for no amount of preparation could prepare him for the actual event.
“Forgive me,” he managed to utter, “I hope that you are feeling better.”
“I am, thank you,” Elizabeth responded. Reading her expression, Mr. Darcy could see that her cheeks were red, and she was uncertain of how to look at him.
“She was waiting for me,” Mr. Darcy uttered to himself. She is expecting me to propose and now I must satisfy the state of anticipation that must be rising up within her. She anticipates you! She wants this just as much as you do.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked him. When doing so, he was startled, because once more, words escaped him. Darcy knew what to say, but it was as if his words were caught in his throat and refused to be released.
She sat down in a chair and Mr. Darcy obeyed.
“Mrs. Shaw and Miss Shaw told me that you were unwell,” Mr. Darcy began. “My aunt, Lady Catherine, noted your absence.”
“I have suffered under a headache. My presence would not be good company, I feared. One should not burden others with one’s company when one is out of spirits.”
“Or when one’s health is indifferent.”
“Quite so.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam informed me that you were unwell when he spoke to you earlier.”
“Oh.”
“He said that you both encountered each other in the park. He saw you walking and offered you his company.”
“Your cousin is a very respectful man and contains congeniality.”
“Yes, quite so, quite so.”
For a couple minutes, they had sunk into silence.
At last, unable to withstand it, Mr. Darcy stood up and walked over to the fireplace. As he stared into the fire, the flames hypnotized him. Entranced by the illumination, he felt his courage rising.
It was time. He could not falter now.
Turning around, he faced her. Elizabeth had been sitting there, looking at him with a surprised expression. His behavior was, altogether, so very perplexing. He loved her all the more, ready to put an end to her confusion.
Taking a couple steps toward her, he breathed in heavily and began the declaration that would change his life:
“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, in a way that Mr. Darcy mistook for subdued excitement. Her cheeks turned redder, and her mouth fell slightly open.
“It has been a great deal of time since I have begun to feel a natural and passionate attachment to you, that has overcome all of my logical objections to such a match. Indeed, despite all the losses on my side that I may endure at aligning myself with marriage to such an inferior family as that of Longbourn, as well as establishing a connection that goes expressly against my family’s intentions, my friends’ recommendations, and I hardly need add, my own reasoning and logic. Despite all the ridicule I may endure by attaching myself to a quarter that will lead to me being censured for losing my rationality and dispatching of all logic. But it cannot be helped. All of this, I would willingly face, in the light of knowing that I have secured your hand. Therefore, I humbly request for you to return my affections and consent to being my wife.”
The question hung in the air as Elizabeth looked down at her lap. Darcy was left to remain standing there, waiting for her to give her acceptance, and relieve his suffering.
Eventually, she raised up her head and opened her mouth.
This was the moment! The very moment that Mr. Darcy had dreamed of but had withheld from himself for long enough! She would accept him. She would make him the happiest of men.
“In such cases as this,” she uttered, “it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you.” Her eyes grew darker, and her voice became stronger. “But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.”
This was a refusal!
It could not be.
Mr. Darcy could scarcely believe it. In fact, for a brief moment, he rejected the idea of what he was hearing. Although, very soon, the truth began to dawn on him that she had refused him, and the feeling of rejection began to swell up in his mind, making him feel a great offense. Before he knew how to reason with himself, he felt his anger rise within him. Unable to control his expression, he was almost certain that his disappointment gave way.
To conceal it from her, he moved away from her and rested his arm on the mantelpiece again, looking into the fire.
The fire mocked him!
It was as if it showed that it was more powerful, more overawing, than him. It provoked him to a drastic action. After a minute that felt interminable, at last, he turned back to her.
“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting!” he remarked. “I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.”
“I might as well inquire,” Elizabeth replied, standing up, “why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was this not some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against you—had they been indifferent, or had they even been favorable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”
Oh, dear lord!
She knew about how he had advised his friend, Mr. Bingley, to abandon his love for Elizabeth’s older sister, Jane Bennet. This was knowledge that she should never have learned about! How could she have found out? This, naturally, overturned every argument that he was about to make.
“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you,” she continued, “No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there . You dare not, you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other—of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind.”
Elizabeth stared at him with indignation, awaiting an answer that Mr. Darcy was not prepared to give.
“Can you deny that you have done it?” she repeated. This urging of him to answer finally pushed him to the reply that she did not want to hear.
“I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister,” he replied, calmly, “or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in alarm and disdain.
“But it is not merely this affair,” she continued, “on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? Or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?”
Now this gave him the right to respond. This woman, the creature that he had held so much in his esteem, had allowed herself to be duped by the most nefarious man of his acquaintance.
“You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns,” Darcy retaliated, heat rising in his cheeks.
“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”
What lies had that man given Elizabeth? And how could she listen to him? She had to have been foolish.
“His misfortunes!” Darcy exclaimed, resentful. “Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
“And of your infliction,” Elizabeth professed, spirited. “You have reduced him to his present state of poverty—comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! And yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule.”
Taking a step forward, his anger was at a feverish pitch. However, he now desired to put as much distance between him and herself.
“And this,” Darcy cried, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, “these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.”
Elizabeth stood up and walked away to the other side of the room, with her back to him. Translating her behavior as a retreat, Darcy pursued her, walking up to her to carry his point across. At this point, he knew that he had lost and was entirely mistaken in her feelings toward him. Now, he was only concerned in wounding her as much as she wounded him. It would not be until later that he would realize that he had sought revenge.
“Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related, he continued, “they were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”
This declaration was enough for Elizabeth Bennet. Turning to him, her expression was venomous. Now Darcy had her where he wanted—only now, he realized that he did not want that at all.
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.”
This comment felt as if he had received a slap in the face and his heart was stirred. Mr. Darcy blinked, and for a second, his power seemed to deflate.
“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it,” Elizabeth continued. “From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike, and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
He had no more words of retaliation. Her professions had disorientated him, to such an extent, that he had no more spirit left for argument. His energy was deflated, and his confidence was shattered.
“You have said quite enough, madam,” he voiced, his tone hollow and disturbingly calm. “I perfectly comprehend your feelings and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”
With alacrity, Darcy left Mrs. Shaw’s house and rode to Grosvenor Square, back to his townhouse. When he arrived, he ordered his valet, Jefferson, to send a note of apology to his aunt, for why he suddenly left her party.
Once he gave the instruction, he went to his room and sat down, both free and confined by the silence he experienced.
She had rejected him.
His pride was affected.
His confidence was shattered.
And his heart was broken.
Mr. Darcy rose above his haunted memory and blinked. He was still on the train, headed to Milton. It had been months since that painful day. Since Darcy had not seen Elizabeth Bennet since that disastrous hour, he believed that he would overcome the pain that his heart had endured.
Yet Elizabeth haunted his mind and there was still a place for her in his heart.
However, this trip to the North would surely be the perfect diversion for himself. After all, Elizabeth remained in the South. In the North, there was no chance of meeting her.
After an arduous journey, the train soon arrived in Milton and Mr. Darcy disembarked.
“Darcy!”
He turned to hearing his name being mentioned and his spirits lifted when he saw his old friend.
“Thornton,” he uttered.
Mr. John Thornton, the master of the cotton factory, Marlborough Mills, had come to greet him.
Despite that both men were stern by nature, there was an unexpected smile that rose to their lips as they approached each other. The bonds of long-term friendship!
Both men shook hands when they saw each other, and therein was a bit of relief in their eyes.
“How long has it been?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“A year, old man.”
“Who do you call old? Am I not three months your senior?”
“Three months is enough for me to put some gap in between us.”
“And that gap marks wisdom. Three months older, three months wiser.”
“You and I have the uncanny ability of starting our conversations right in the middle, as opposed to beginning at…the beginning.”
“The effects of experience, I suppose,” Mr. Darcy said as the porter carried his bags behind them. “Do you have a carriage?”
Mr. Thornton did not answer readily, and Mr. Darcy read in between his silence.
“Perhaps we can order a chaise when leaving the station?” Darcy asked, rhetorically.
“There are chaises at the ready, sirs,” the porter said, behind them. “I shall be able to get one for you quickly.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Darcy responded.
Both men didn’t speak again until they reached the hired chaise, the porter placed the bags into the carriage, Darcy tipped him, and then both men were traveling to Marlborough Street.
“I prefer not to keep a carriage anymore,” Thornton explained, “since I live on the same street as my factory, I hardly needed to ever use it. I still prefer to consider expenses—especially with a sister such as mine.”
Darcy chuckled inwardly, remembering Mr. Thornton’s family—especially Thornton’s little sister.
“And how is Miss Thornton?”
Thornton rolled his eyes.
“Fanny is the same as always. I wouldn’t be surprised if she still is quite taken with you. You won’t let her chase you away, will you?”
“Never fear, Thornton,” Darcy assured him, recalling his time spent with Miss Caroline Bingley when he was in her company at Netherfield Park. “I’ve spent the last few months with a friend whose sister began to feel an inclination towards me. Time has taught me to weather such company.”
“And who would this family be?” Thornton asked, with a raised eyebrow.
Darcy didn’t answer but looked out the window.
“You do not trust me?”
“It’s not that, Thornton. It is simply not my right to tell. Come now, if your sister were the sister of any other man, would you want me to expose her name to anyone else, even in a private setting?”
“Very well,” Thornton replied, casually, “I see the point of that view. Whatever her faults, Fanny is still my sister. I would not want to have her name passed around so carelessly.”
“Precisely.”
Mr. Thornton looked at Mr. Darcy curiously.
“What is it?” Darcy questioned him.
“I am glad to see you, Darcy. Make no mistake on that matter. However, what is the occasion? You have always despised the sight of factories.”
“Did I ever give the impression that I despised what you do?” Darcy asked, realizing the opinion that he might have left.
Thornton looked out the window.
“I knew the world that you were raised in,” Thornton said, by way of an answer, “I knew what to expect.”
“Yes, well…things are different now.”
“Different?” Mr. Thornton repeated, turning to Darcy. “What do you speak of?”
“It is only—John, have you ever had an overpowering moment? Something that made you doubt yourself and wonder at how you came to a certain point in your life?”
“You know that I have.”
“Well, I suppose, I have found that place. And I dwell there.”
“Mr. Darcy doubts?” Thornton asked, interested. “Now this is a surprising situation. We mortal men doubt ourselves, as we have no choice but to. However, I never thought it was a place where you would find yourself. Does that mean that you would be interested in touring Marlborough Mills one day?”
“I suppose that I would not be averse to it.”
This change was overpowering to Mr. Thornton, who was used to his old friend not being interested in the manufacturing side of his life. In fact, long ago, Thornton had to accustom himself to the fact that irony brought Darcy and him together, and irony maintained their friendship and correspondence through the years. Despite that his friend usually did not bother to acquaint himself with manufacturers, their characters were so much alike that their qualities couldn’t help but recommend them to each other.
“What has happened to you, Darcy?” Thornton pursued. “I do not mean to pry, and I admire this change in you, but I must know. Is this change organic, or was something brought on by an incident?”
Mr. Darcy breathed in heavily again.
“I am intruding on your emotions again,” Thornton acknowledged.
“No, it is not that,” Darcy assured him. “I appreciate your concern for my behavior.”
“Something does appear to be troubling you. As you said, your confidence is shaken.”
“It is. After a brief time, I will tell you, but for the moment, I need to adjust to what I am feeling. All I can tell you now, is that I needed to escape.”
“Escape? So much so, that you came back to the North?”
“The North was far enough away. I needed time to recover.”
“Recover?”
“Thornton, I have received a great shock,” he replied, heavily. “I have been dealt a great blow, and it rocked the very foundations of my spirit. You know that… I have no great love for the dust, dankness, and smoke that overcomes Milton, but I need to…”
“Find a refuge for a little bit of time?”
“Yes. If you will have me.”
“Of course, old friend.”
Darcy smiled slightly.
“Whatever my feelings on Milton, I am happy to see you,” Darcy assured him.
“I know. Never fear, I know how to read between the lines of your severity and see the affection underneath.”
Darcy smiled slightly.
“Thank you, Thornton.”
They rode on, and eventually arrived in front of Thornton’s home.
“I was remiss in inquiring on how your mother was doing,” Darcy acknowledged as he and Thornton dismounted from the chaise and four. Darcy paid the driver to wait for him, since he was remaining in a hotel for the duration. Thornton had invited him to stay at his home, but Darcy preferred to remain at a hotel, for the sake of maintaining his own autonomy. Thornton didn’t object to this because he knew how important freedom was to Darcy.
“My mother is still the same,” Thornton said as they both entered. “Tough as iron and still my foundation.”
“You have a good mother.”
“Correction, friend. I have a great mother.”
“So did I.”
Thornton looked at Darcy, sympathetic. “Appreciate her while she is here.”
“Believe me, I do.”
“Is that you, John?” called a woman’s voice. She came down the stairs and Darcy saw that it was Mrs. Thornton, John’s mother. Removing his hat, he bowed to her.
“Mrs. Thornton, it is a delight to see you once more.”
“Mr. Darcy,” she remarked, her voice hard, but sincere. “It is a pleasure to see you. You have been away from Milton for too long. John missed you this last year.”
“Mother…”
“No, she is correct,” Darcy acquiesced. “Mrs. Thornton, my apologies for not being the most conscientious companion. Milton air just does not agree with me.”
“It is not his fault,” Mr. Thornton said, kissing his mother’s cheek. “Much of his life is spent in the South. Despite our desire to see him, he can never fully adapt to our Milton skies of smoke.”
“If you all may accept my invitation to visit Pemberley,” Darcy added, “then you would see why I would miss the green that is home. But I daresay, you would get bored in the matter of a week there.”
“You know that we are too accustomed to urban living and industrial towns,” Mrs. Thornton said. “A leopard cannot change his stripes. Or her stripes, as is my case. Either way, I am happy to see that my son’s friend has found his way back to the North.”
Darcy was internally happy. Mrs. Thornton was a woman who was of his own ilk.
“Brace yourself,” Thornton warned Darcy, “it’s time to face the lion’s den.”
“Better for me to meet Miss Thornton now than wait later,” Darcy deduced. “She would be angry if I retreated. Then again, I never believed in retreats.”
Mr. Darcy followed John Thornton into a back parlor. Through the door, Darcy heard Fanny Thornton’s voice. It was as shrill as he remembered it being.
Thornton rolled his eyes and gave Darcy a look.
“I am ready,” Darcy assured him.
They opened the door and the first thing that Darcy was met with was the sight of Fanny Thornton turning around and standing up eagerly.
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Miss Thornton,” Mr. Darcy stated. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
“Pleasure indeed, you wicked man!” she bellowed, coming up to him and offering him her hand. Remembering that he was in Milton, he recalled that shaking a woman’s hand was proper. So, he did so while analyzing her form and figure. She had grown a few inches since he last saw her. Her figure was womanly, her blonde hair was styled in the proper fashion that suited her face and she had overcome the awkward stage where all her pimples had diminished.
“You are growing into a handsome woman,” Mr. Darcy offered.
“Oh, now that is a proper compliment,” Miss Thornton declared, “being in this house, I can go months before anyone says anything remotely pleasant to me.”
“That is not true,” Mr. Thornton objected, “Fanny, you exaggerate.”
“I do nothing of the kind. You and mama have as smoky a disposition as the skies themselves here. And Mr. Darcy, you finally arrive—and at the time where I have a guest.”
She gestured to the other side of the room. Both men turned and Darcy’s eyes widened, alarmed. His face froze, filled with horror.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Thornton said, happily going up to her and shaking her hand. “I didn’t know that you were coming to visit today.”
“My apologies if I took you by surprise, Mr. Thornton,” she responded.
“Not at all, not at all.”
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, turning to him. “It is a pleasure to see you once again. Who would have known that we would meet in the most unlikely of places?”
“Indeed,” he managed to utter. “It is a surprise.”
“You both know each other?” Fanny Thornton questioned, amazed.
“Yes,” she explained, “I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Darcy when he came to Hertfordshire and was our neighbor for a time.”
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, bowing to her, “it is a surprise to see you again.”
There, before him, stood Miss Jane Bennet.
The last woman in the world that he expected to see.