Chapter Twenty-Five
The calm presence of Mr. Gardiner at the Parsonage that afternoon provided some much needed steadiness.
Fully apprised of the situation, he settled Mr. Bennet in the study to pen necessary letters to family and friends, sent Dr. Trent about his other duties, determined that Jane, Elizabeth and Charlotte were very ably taking care of each other, and decided that he himself would be of most use escorting Maria Lucas to church to pray for the souls of the departed.
Charlotte decided that she wished to rest, and Jane elected to escort her upstairs, leaving Elizabeth alone in the parlour, staring out of the window, hugging her arms around herself.
Two of the most terrible moments of my life have occurred in this room, she thought to herself. Two moments in which I most seriously misjudged two men; one fine man, to his detriment; and one man whom I trusted, to mine.
Leaning her brow against the window, she wished, silently but fervently, that she could turn time back a few days, try once again.
If only… she sighed, watching her breath huff against the pane.
If only I had not been so judgemental, so prejudiced, against Mr. Darcy!
If only I had not spoken so harshly to him!
Elizabeth could admit to herself, now, that at least part of her harshness to him had been motivated by her pricked pride, but that a greater part had been caused simply by pure shock.
Because she, who took such pride in her skills at making out the character of her acquaintances - she had not had the faintest idea that Mr. Darcy had ever looked at her other than to find fault.
His passion had come as a complete surprise, and she, unable to comprehend it, had lashed out.
Movement in the front garden caused her eyes to lift, and she saw the object of her thoughts even then walking up the front path. Seeing her at the window, he halted in his brisk stride, staring at her.
For a long moment they stared at each other, and then he bowed slightly, though he did not take another step forward.
He awaits my invitation, Elizabeth realised. Slowly, she nodded, and Mr. Darcy proceeded to the front door.
She had a few seconds to collect herself, to pat a little at her hair and smooth her skirt, before he entered the room, bowing again to her a little awkwardly.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied. He had a black ribbon bound around his sleeve already, she realised, and thought that she herself must do so as soon as possible, though her soul rebelled at showing even the slightest sign of mourning for Mr. Collins.
For an extremely awkward moment there was only silent staring between them, and then Mr. Darcy gave a great sigh, took a step forward, and said;
“My actions caused irreparable harm to come to you and those you love, and I can never apologise to you enough. You, of all people in this world, are the last one whom I would ever have wished to see suffer.”
“Your actions!” she gasped, quite startled, “why, Mr. Darcy, whatever can you mean? You cannot possibly hold yourself responsible for Mr. Collins!”
“No, but I do hold myself responsible for the letter which seems to have been the cause of his - descent, perhaps we should call it? And for the way I reacted so angrily to your accusations, which necessitated my writing the letter in the first place. Which I should not have done, it was quite inappropriate…”
Elizabeth found herself smiling, taking a small step towards him.
“You take a great deal of the blame upon yourself, Mr. Darcy! I feel that I must have my share in it, for I should not have taken the letter from your hand; nor should I have acted in the unconscionably rude manner which led to your having to write it!”
He matched her smile with a tentative one of his own. “I must ask if you ever had the chance to read it?”
“I did not, I’m afraid.” Without hesitation, she gestured to a chair. “But I must assume that it contained answers to the accusations I flung so unfairly at you. Pray, will you not sit with me and tell me what you wished to say to me?”
Mr. Darcy waited only for Elizabeth to seat herself before sitting where she had indicated, placing his hands on his knees and looking at her earnestly.
“Your accusations were not entirely unfounded. I did act quite unconscionably in seeking to separate Mr. Bingley from your sister and I am deeply sorry for it. I wrote to him in an effort to make amends, which resulted in his presence here today.”
Elizabeth smiled a little sheepishly. “This may result in another problem in and of itself, I fear. It seems that I do not know Jane quite so well as I thought I did - but then, I do not think that she knew herself until after I was hurt.”
“I see,” Darcy said, realising at once what had happened. “Miss Bennet was a little more in love with the idea of being in love, than with Charles?”
“Please do not mistake me, I believe she did and still does, perhaps, care for him, but she has realised that she cannot love a man who is so willing to let others determine the course of his happiness.”
Darcy nodded with a rueful little smile.
“Charles is still young, and he is definitely too much influenced by his sisters. And yes, by me,” when Elizabeth gave him an arch look.
“I hope that I have learned my lesson, though, and I shall leave Charles and Miss Bennet to make their own decisions in future.”
That caused Elizabeth to bestow an even more radiant smile upon him, causing him to stare at her in wonder for a moment before recalling himself, coughing briefly into his hand and turning a little pink.
“I must now address the more serious matter of which you accused me; that of my interference in the affairs of Mr. Wickham.”
“Before you speak any further,” Elizabeth said, holding up a hand to stay him, “I must tell you that I no longer believe Mr. Wickham’s accounts of your dealings with him.”
“Why?” Darcy asked, mystified.
“Because I believe I have learned more of the kind of man you are in the past two days than I had any idea of in all our acquaintance, despite the fact that we have spoken little in those days. I have heard a good deal of your actions from others, though, enough to know you a good deal better I think; and the man I know now could not possibly have acted so.”
He gazed on her then with such adoration that she blushed, and looked at her hands shyly.
“You are quite correct,” Darcy said, when he regained his voice. “Jealousy, though, caused me to be quite severe upon you, and my hatred of George Wickham only exacerbated my reaction. The thought that he might have won your heart was so painful that I could barely comprehend it.”
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth said, startled. “Although I liked him, and he flattered and paid a good deal of attention to me, I do not believe that I ever considered him seriously as a suitor. While my mother and my youngest sisters cannot look beyond a red coat and a handsome face, I am not quite so shallow as that, I hope. Should I marry, it will be to a man of substance - in character, not necessarily in estate.”
“I am certainly aware that the size of my estate was not a consideration in your rejection of me,” Darcy said, trying to smile, though the memory of her harsh words still stung.
“You are correct in that, though I believe that I was sadly mistaken as to the substance of your character.”
For a moment of shocked disbelief he stared at her. The question was trembling on his lips again when the disastrous reality of the timing struck him. They were both in mourning, their relatives yet to be buried. He could not ask her now.
Passing his hands over his face, Darcy sucked in a slow, deep breath before exhaling and looking again at Elizabeth.
“I still wish to tell you the truths of my dealings with Mr. Wickham. I believe that he sensed my regard for you even before I was willing to acknowledge it to myself, and he might still target you or your family merely to spite me. Forewarned is forearmed, Miss Bennet, and when it comes to Mr. Wickham, I have learned my lesson in that regard. Never again will a woman I care for be left ignorant of what exactly he is capable of.”
A becoming flush spread across Elizabeth’s cheeks as he spoke plainly of his affection for her, but she met his eyes steadily. “I will be glad to hear anything you have to tell me, Mr. Darcy.”
“I have known George Wickham my entire life,” Darcy began. “His father, as fine a man as I ever knew, was steward at Pemberley; George and I played together as boys.”
Elizabeth nodded. “This much, he told me.” She gave Darcy an encouraging smile. “The best lies hold a grain of truth, I believe ‘tis said.”
“Wickham is an expert at seeding his tales with just enough truth to make his listeners believe him, as I have learned to my sorrow. The first indications I had of his true character came when we were at school together, at Eton; at first I thought it just a natural jealousy.”
“Natural?” Elizabeth queried, wondering if Mr. Darcy was again about to show some of his pride in his noble lineage.
“Indeed. We grew up together and were treated equally by my father; I loved George as the brother I never had. It was not until Eton and other boys treating us differently because I was the heir to Pemberley and he naught but a favoured steward’s son, that I believe George himself began to feel resentment. ”
“I see,” Elizabeth said softly.
“I was welcomed, without effort, into the innermost circles at Eton, and George was left out. Despite my earnest efforts to include him, he was not of noble lineage and he would never, could never, be accepted.” Darcy sighed, looked at his hands.
“George resented me for the actions of the other boys. He began, then, to try to turn my father and I against each other, and I regret that it is entirely my fault that he was able to partially succeed. My father could see no wrong in him, and would not listen to my words. At Cambridge, Wickham’s depravities only increased.
I knew, then, that he should never be a clergyman.
” Darcy looked around the room briefly, then back at Elizabeth.
“He would have been no better than Mr. Collins; worse, perhaps.”
Elizabeth only watched him with wide eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“Following the death of my beloved father some five years past, Wickham came to demand the living that was promised to him. Yes, it was indeed promised,” when Elizabeth’s lips parted as though to speak, “written into my father’s will, along with a very generous legacy of one thousand pounds.
Wickham, however, told me that he had no intention of becoming a clergyman and stated that he wished to study the law instead.
I paid him the sum of three thousand pounds in return for his resigning any claim to the living, and thus, I hoped, our acquaintance was at an end. ”
Four thousand pounds, Elizabeth thought; but that is a fortune! Worse was yet to come, though, she was quite sure of it. Darcy took a deep breath and continued.
“For about three years I heard little of him, until he wrote to me confiding that his study of the law had proved most unprofitable, and that he was now absolutely resolved upon being ordained, if I would but present him with the living in question. His circumstances, he assured me, were exceedingly bad, and I had no difficulty in believing it, for I knew that his life had been spent in idleness and dissipation.”
Elizabeth gaped. “He spent four thousand pounds in three years?” she said disbelievingly.
“He did. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with his entreaty, and resisting every repetition of it.” Mr. Darcy smiled, a little, at her evident indignation.
“His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances, and I have certain knowledge that he was most violent in his abuse of me to others. Yourself being the most recent example.”
Horrified that she had been so taken in, Elizabeth nodded, shamefaced. Mr. Darcy leaned towards her, rather daringly reached out to gently touch her hand.
“Pray, do not blame yourself, Miss Elizabeth. Wickham is the most talented liar it has ever been my misfortune to encounter; yet I thought it beneath my pride to publicly denounce him.”