Chapter Fifteen
Darcy pressed his forehead to the window in his bedchamber, staring out at the moonlight garden below.
He customarily enjoyed the view, even at night, if the moon illuminated the hedges and trees.
But tonight, despite the glow of the full moon, the garden looked like a haunted place with dark, mysterious corners.
The day had been eventful: the success of his musicale, Georgiana’s pleasure, Aunt Catherine’s pique, and Anne’s marriage.
But only one event occupied Darcy’s mind: Elizabeth had departed from the musicale without bidding him goodnight.
It was a small thing. Perhaps it had slipped her mind.
He had been occupied with guests after the exhibition.
Perhaps she had not wanted to interrupt him.
But none of those explanations satisfied Darcy.
She could have spoken to him if she wanted to.
Was she angry with him? Had he offended her somehow?
She had requested a private word with him; he had delayed, trying to observe his vow to avoid intimate encounters.
But she had not seemed unhappy that evening.
Her delight in Georgiana’s company had delighted Darcy… for his sister’s sake.
However, Darcy had been much occupied by other concerns and other people. Not to mention that he deliberately kept his distance from her. Well, he had obtained his wish; he should be happy.
He was miserable.
When did I last see her? It was… Lady Julia had suggested Elizabeth might help translate the aria, but Darcy recommended Georgiana.
Now he recalled the expression on Elizabeth’s face when he mentioned that she did not know Italian.
She had echoed his endorsement of Georgiana’s skill, but at the same time, she had lost some of her animation.
Of course. He had hurt her. He had blithely pointed out one of her greatest childhood regrets.
Worse, by identifying her deficiencies in public, he had acted like her father.
“Oh good Lord!” Darcy buried his head in his hands. In his pride for Georgiana, he hurt the woman he cared about.
He must apologize. I will visit Sterling House tomorrow and give her an abject apology. But would she accept the apology? Would she want to end the engagement? The thought was unbearable.
The more he considered that possibility, the faster Darcy’s heart raced. His hands trembled. When did I start cherishing the engagement? When did Elizabeth become so important to me?
It was as if he opened a door onto a long tunnel…leading to something he had kept buried.
Kissing her at the Sudleys’ ball had been a transcendent experience. For a brief instant, they had been almost one being. Their wishes and desires, their very destiny, had been in harmony. Their hearts beat in unison. He had experienced a brief spasm of joy that she was finally his.
What if the kiss was motivated by more than simple physical desire?
He allowed himself to consider everything he had avoided for so long. In his heart, he knew why it had been such a sublime experience. I have made a fool of myself with this willful blindness.
I am in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
Once he ceased denying the knowledge, it washed over him like a tide, gentle but implacable. I am in love with her. How could I ever have thought otherwise?
Her wit, vivacity, curiosity, and joy in life were the characteristics exactly suited to Darcy.
Moreover, he needed her. Desperately. They had agreed to dissolve the engagement at the end of the Season.
But that day seemed far too soon. How could he survive any amount of time without Elizabeth by his side?
Losing her would be like losing the air he breathed.
His family’s disapproval was nothing compared to Elizabeth’s loss. Richard and Georgiana would love and accept Elizabeth. Darcy did not particularly like the rest of his relatives. Perhaps they would eventually accept her; if not, Darcy would not care. He would have Elizabeth.
A corner of his mind knew that realizing his love for Elizabeth should provoke anxiety.
She was precisely the kind of woman he should avoid entangling himself with.
Instead, he felt…relief. He could stop fighting a battle he had not realized he was fighting.
He loved her. It was inevitable. Unstoppable. She was the one.
Surrender brought him peace.
With that admission, his course was straightforward.
Tomorrow, he would make her an offer of marriage. A genuine offer of marriage.
And then he could kiss her again. He permitted a fantasy of the event: holding her against him and knowing that she was his.
She would be astonished by his offer after all his protestations about how unsuitable she was.
It might take some time to convince her.
But he had no doubt that he would be able to persuade her of his most ardent love.
He would help her understand that their marriage would be nothing like her parents’.
He could not wait to show her Pemberley, to introduce her to Richard, to purchase a horse for her. Georgiana had told Darcy how much she enjoyed Elizabeth’s company. She would greatly benefit from having a new sister at Pemberley. Darcy’s heart flooded with joyous anticipation.
Elizabeth said she did not intend to marry, but she had never dreamed of receiving an offer from someone like Darcy, who could provide so many advantages to her family. If she knew Darcy was in love with her, she would certainly change her mind.
Yes, tomorrow he would visit Sterling House and make a real proposal.
No. Darcy uttered an oath. Tomorrow, he had pledged to visit Aunt Catherine as well as Anne and her new husband. He had wanted to see if he could affect a reconciliation—or at least the beginning of one—between mother and daughter. They would occupy much of his time tomorrow.
Perhaps his life was excessively defined by his responsibilities. The conversation with Elizabeth at the British Museum had provoked some musing about his father’s happiness and how much of his life he owed the Darcy name. Maybe he was allowed to carve out some happiness for himself.
Marrying Elizabeth would be a big step in that direction. Well, if I cannot visit Sterling House tomorrow, I will visit the day after. He could barely contain his excitement. Elizabeth would be his wife!
He closed the curtains, shutting out the moonlight. Perhaps now he could sleep.
***
Two days later, Darcy knocked on the door of Sterling House.
As expected, Anne and Aunt Catherine had demanded all his attention the day before.
His aunt insisted that he come to her London house and help soothe her nerves.
All day, he had gone between her house and the one where Anne stayed as he tried to affect a reconciliation.
He had some vague hope that if Aunt Catherine softened to him, perhaps his Uncle Matlock would as well, a more urgent consideration now that Darcy actually planned to marry Elizabeth.
But he cursed the necessity all day. He sent a note to Sterling House accounting for his absence.
His aunt harped on about annulling Anne’s marriage. Anne showed no sign of changing her mind. But Darcy had arranged a meeting between mother and daughter for the end of the week. Richard would arrive directly, and Darcy hoped he would help bring peace.
But today, he had rejected their pleas and insisted that he had important business elsewhere.
The butler opened the door to Sterling House; after Darcy presented his card, the man escorted Darcy into the second drawing room, where Lady Sterling embroidered.
It was a pleasant enough room but rather fussy for Darcy’s taste.
Every surface was covered in figurines, vases, and other things that would be easily broken.
Simply sitting down would require caution.
“Good day, Lady Sterling.” Darcy bowed but remained standing. “I hoped to speak to Miss Elizabeth.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I thought you knew. Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet have returned to Hertfordshire.”
Darcy’s stomach dropped as if he had been pushed off a cliff. “H-Hertfordshire? When?”
Her ladyship’s eyes were sympathetic. “Yesterday. Mrs. Bennet is eager to begin the preparations for Jane’s wedding…and I assume Elizabeth’s wedding as well. I thought Lizzy told you at the musicale.”
Her tone of voice suggested she believed he had made a serious error of some kind. He could not disagree. I should have agreed to speak with her in private. He cursed himself for allowing his aunt and Lady Julia to occupy so much of his attention that evening.
Behind him, the butler coughed. “Actually, madam, Miss Elizabeth gave me a letter for Mr. Darcy if he chanced to visit.”
Lady Sterling’s eyes widened. “Oh, I did not know.”
Wordlessly, the man handed Darcy the missive. Such a small piece of paper to contain such consequential information. He would not read the letter in front of two near strangers. He thanked them and departed the house.
He intended to read it when he reached home, but anxiety ate at him. His forbearance lasted one block. He sat on a low stone wall and unfolded the letter.
Dear Mr. Darcy,
First, I must apologize for not warning you of our planned return to Longbourn. I wanted to tell you at the musicale, but there never seemed to be a good time. Perhaps I should have tried harder.
But now that the circumstances have changed, I think it is best that we separate. Our engagement has served its purpose. Neither of us is in danger of being trapped in an unwanted situation. The reasons for our betrothal no longer exist, and there is only the question of when to dissolve it.
I judge that now is a good time to repair your reputation and your relationship with your relatives. You cannot do so with me at your side. I know what our betrothal has cost you. I do not belong in your world. My continued presence in Town can only stand in the way of your future felicity.
I will be less of a hindrance when I am in Hertfordshire.
After a month or two there, I will write you a letter to break off the engagement.
Thus, its end will appear to be the result of a natural waning of affections over time and distance.
I am not troubled if you blame me for the break.
As I said, I never intended to wed, so the harm to my reputation is immaterial.
I hope that you will feel free to pursue someone more suitable.
Perhaps, with time, our short acquaintance will be forgotten by London society.
I may encounter you at Jane’s wedding to Mr. Bingley. They are, I believe, planning a short engagement.
My best wishes for your continued health and happiness.
E. Bennet
Darcy crumpled the letter in his fist. How could she?
How could she write such things? Perhaps others might forget their “acquaintance,” but Darcy would never forget a minute of it.
And he could not imagine pursuing someone “more suitable.” His world was spinning, and he had trouble catching his breath.
She expressed her concern about the rupture in his family, but he had never complained of that to her. He would rather have her than one hundred uncles and cousins. Why had she taken that burden upon herself? Why had she not asked him about it?
But, then again, why should she? Darcy had made it clear their relationship was not a true romance.
That she was unsuitable. That his family would not accept her.
That he needed a more appropriate wife. Why would she not believe him?
How was she to know that his opinion had changed when he only admitted it to himself two days ago?
“The reasons for our betrothal no longer exist, and there is only the question of when to dissolve it.” Had their relationship meant nothing to her? Does she have no feelings for me at all?
Darcy wanted to be angry with her, rip the letter into pieces, and storm off into a new life. But he could not muster anger, nor did she deserve condemnation. All he felt was despair.
How will I explain this to Georgiana? Darcy groaned aloud.
He jumped to his feet and paced, ignoring the stares of passersby. Does Elizabeth love me? Such a simple question, but he had never considered it. In hindsight, it was a monumentally stupid lapse.
Once again, I only considered my own wants and desires. I assumed she would want me for my fortune, even though I have ample evidence that money would not move her. I do not even know if she holds tender feelings for me.
Darcy smoothed the letter and read it again. Then a third time. This was all that remained from their time together. All that he had to show for having loved Elizabeth Bennet. He held the paper to his nose, imagining he could smell her lavender scent.
She was concerned about Darcy’s future felicity. That suggested caring for him. Nothing in her letter suggested she looked forward to returning home or that she left for her own benefit. In fact, he detected a little wistfulness. But wistfulness was not love.
Why did I not realize the truth before? I am an idiot.
He wanted to ride to Hertfordshire immediately and declare his love. But would she believe him? Would she trust his declaration? Had she anticipated that Darcy’s feelings had altered? Was she endeavoring to avoid refusing him as she had with the viscount? Darcy winced at the comparison.
She did not think he was in love with her. Every line in the letter suggested it. She even believed he might find another woman to be his wife, for heaven’s sake! The only woman for him was Elizabeth.
He crumpled the letter again. If she did not want him, he would be a blackguard to impose himself upon her. If she did not want him, he would be a fool to expose himself to her rejection. If she wanted him to let her go, he needed to let her go.