Chapter 7 #2
“What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself on having lately saved Bingley from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning the name of the lady or any other particulars. Bingley is prone to get into a scrape of that sort. Evidently, Bingley had met this lady and her family some months ago the previous year.”
“Did Mr Darcy tell you why he took it upon himself to interfere in this way?” Elizabeth was seething, but she was fighting to maintain control.
“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady and her very improper family.”
“How did he separate them?”
“Other than expressing his opinions, I know not,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He told me no more than what I have related to you.”
Elizabeth did not respond right away, rather she walked on. She was filled with fury and indignation. She had to fight to maintain her outward equanimity, and she felt she was losing control.
“You do not look pleased by what I told you.”
“You have the right of it,” she managed as calmly as possible. “Your cousin’s conduct does not sit well with me. Who is he to decide with whom Mr Bingley should or should not form an attachment?”
“You call Darcy’s interference officious?”
“I do. Why is his judgement superior to that of Mr Bingley and the lady to whom he referred? Who is he to determine and direct in what manner his friend should be happy? However,” Elizabeth stopped herself as she realised she had said too much, “as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair of me to condemn him. I wonder if there was much affection between Mr Bingley and this unnamed woman?”
“What you have said has called the honour of my cousin’s triumph into serious question. Perhaps I should have said nothing, not knowing all the particulars.”
What the colonel had said appeared to Elizabeth to be an accurate picture of Mr Darcy and his hateful ways that she would not trust herself with an answer.
She, therefore, abruptly changed the subject of the conversation and spoke about less contentious matters as they reached the clearing and turned into the other grove in the direction of the parsonage.
Not long after they had begun the walk down the path, Elizabeth stopped. “If you will excuse me Colonel, I feel a megrim coming on.” With that Elizabeth turned and walked at speed in the direction of the parsonage.
Fitzwilliam was left scratching his head.
He had wanted to make Darcy look better.
How had the exact opposite occurred? It struck him that somehow Miss Bennet may be aware of who the lady in question was.
She had been so overset by what he shared that rather than walk with him, she had stormed off on her own.
As she walked, Elizabeth did not feel any better that she had been proved right that Mr Darcy had been instrumental in separating Jane from the man she loved.
She heard the colonel’s words in her head, over, and over again.
‘There were some very strong objections against the lady!’ Elizabeth was sure that stemmed from them having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in trade in London.
She took the path to the glade and stormed around the pond a few times before she had calmed sufficiently.
While she walked in circles Elizabeth was able to consider the colonel’s words without interruption.
As he had spoken of Mr Bingley, there was no one else in the world Mr Darcy’s interference could have harmed other than her sweet, tender-hearted Jane.
It was very cruel of Mr Darcy to use his boundless influence with Mr Bingley to hurt her Jane.
She had always suspected the hateful man of being part of the cabal to separate Mr Bingley and Jane; however, after that despicable letter the shrew sent to Jane and the way she had treated Jane in London, Elizabeth had always considered Miss Bingley the principal reason for coming between her sister and the man she loved.
But, no, it was the hateful, dishonourable Mr Darcy who was the main cause of all that Jane had suffered and still continued to suffer.
He had ruined every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world, and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.
Having walked and thought enough, Elizabeth took a seat on one of the benches which had the advantage of being in the direct sunlight. She threw her bonnet off and sat to cogitate.
“There could be no possibility of objection to Jane!” Elizabeth exclaimed to the glade.
“She is loveliness and goodness. Jane’s understanding is excellent, her mind clear, and no one, not even me, has better manners than her.
My family objectionable! Papa is a well-educated man, a gentleman.
What is to be objected to there?” Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted to the ball at Netherfield Park and the way her family had exposed itself on that night.
Remembering that caused her confidence to slip some.
She pushed that to the side. None of that was Jane’s fault!
This was all about Mr Darcy and his damnable, improper pride.
It was his need to control everyone and everything, just like Colonel Fitzwilliam had said he did.
Perhaps part of Mr Darcy’s motivation was wanting Mr Bingley as a suitor for his proud sister.
Could it be that Miss Bingley’s letter had some truth to it?
Being sure of Mr Bingley’s feelings for Jane, Elizabeth was certain that if this was the case it was something that Mr Darcy and the pernicious Miss Bingley wanted and they had used any means they could to keep Mr Bingley in London.
It was all tied to pride. Neither Mr Darcy nor Miss Bingley could countenance Mr Bingley marrying someone with such low connections, regardless of the fact that the Bingley’s father was a tradesman.
The agitation and tears occasioned a genuine megrim, not one about which Elizabeth would need to prevaricate.
She left the glade and made for the Parsonage.
On entering the house, Elizabeth saw Charlotte with Maria on their way to break their fasts.
“I am retiring to my chamber, I have a megrim,” Elizabeth told her friend truthfully.
“Go, Eliza; I will check on you later.”
When Charlotte knocked softly, Elizabeth feigned sleep.
The truth was that the more she thought about what she had learned as well as her outrage directed primarily at Mr Darcy, the pain in her head grew so much worse towards the evening, that, even though she wanted to meet the colonel’s parents and brother, Elizabeth felt she was not equal to joining those going to dinner at Rosings Park.
Juxtaposed to wanting to meet the nobles and prove her supposition correct, was that the last person in the world Elizabeth wanted to see was Mr Darcy. Her megrim was not nearly as severe as it had been, but she was determined not to be in that man’s company again.
Around teatime there was a knock on Elizabeth’s chamber door. “I am awake, Charlotte,” she called out.
Charlotte Collins let herself in and closed the door on her husband who stood behind her in the hallway. He could not enter his maiden cousin’s bedchamber without creating a great scandal. She noted how the room was darkened, something her friend needed when suffering from aches in her head.
“Eliza, dear, what do you want to do with regards to dinner?” Charlotte enquired.
“I do not feel well enough to leave the house and be in company. Please convey my regrets to Lady Catherine and her family. Do not be concerned for me, I will do quite well recuperating here,” Elizabeth claimed.
“You cannot disrespect my patroness and her brother in this way, you must come,” Collins, who had been listening at the door, called out.
“You rest, Eliza, I will deal with my husband,” a mortified Charlotte said.
“Quiet and rest is all I need to recover. Thank you, Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied and laid her head back down and closed her eyes.
When Charlotte exited the room, she practically had to push her husband away from the door. “Mr Collins, what do you think Lady Catherine would say if you forced your unwell cousin to attend her tonight? Have you forgotten how protective your patroness is of her sickly daughter?”
“But Cousin Elizabeth only has an ache in the head and is not sick. Lady Catherine, Lord and Lady Matlock, and Lord Hilldale will take her absence as a personal affront which will redound on us,” Collins insisted.
“Headaches often portend more than the pain itself. Lady Catherine will praise you for keeping Elizabeth home; there will be, I promise you, no censure.”
That brightened Mr Collins up considerably; he lived for praise from his patroness.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Darcy could not wait for those from the parsonage to arrive. This was the night he would propose to the woman he loved. He would be an engaged man before Elizabeth returned to the parsonage.
His words were rehearsed. He was certain for the honour of marrying him Elizabeth would not object to breaking with her family, aside from Miss Bennet of course. Fitzwilliam Darcy never needed anything, but he did need to have Elizabeth Bennet as his wife.
He was convinced that his behaviour since coming into Kent had left her no doubt of his intentions. Not only that, but he was sure she wanted him to propose to her as much as he desired to make her his wife.