Chapter Two #3
Darcy stared at her in astonishment. Anne rarely offered any opinion and he had long presumed that she was not at all interested in the world around her or at least not taking very much notice of it.
Clearly, this was just another thing he was wrong about.
"What makes you ask that?" he said, trying to effect an expression of indifference.
Anne’s expression turned almost apologetic. "You have spent a great deal of time walking near Hunsford since she arrived, and whenever Miss Elizabeth enters a room, you stare at her very markedly, Darcy. It was not difficult to interpret which way your thoughts inclined."
Fitzwilliam gave a soft snort. "You look at her like a man in the desert might regard an oasis. Really Darcy, did you think no one would notice?"
Darcy ignored him. "I had not realised my behaviour was so obvious."
"It was not obvious to Mama," Anne said. "But then she believes she can shape the world to her liking, so why would she trouble herself to take notice of other people and their feelings?"
Darcy smiled ruefully before, without warning, the misery of the afternoon returned with full force. He rose from the bed and crossed towards the window, though the view offered little comfort. Somewhere beyond the trees stood the parsonage and the woman who now despised him.
"I went to see Miss Bennet," he said at last. "I believed there was an understanding between us."
Behind him, Fitzwilliam shifted in his chair. "What sort of understanding?"
Darcy kept his gaze fixed upon the grounds below. There was no dignified way to say it, and delaying the admission would not make it less humiliating. "I asked her to marry me."
For once, Fitzwilliam had no immediate reply. Anne drew in a small breath, and when Darcy finally turned back towards them, both cousins were staring at him.
"And she refused you," Anne said softly.
Darcy gave a short, bitter laugh. "She did more than refuse me.
She informed me that I was arrogant, ungentlemanly and without any regard for the feelings of others.
She also made it clear that I was the last man in the world she could ever be persuaded to marry.
She was very specific on that final point. "
Fitzwilliam pressed his lips together, though the effort did little to hide his amusement. "I confess, cousin, when you decide to fail at something, you do it with admirable thoroughness."
Anne shot him a reproachful look before turning back to Darcy, her expression softening.
"I am sorry. Truly. Whatever passed between you, that must have been very painful to hear.
" She hesitated, studying his face. "But is all hope lost?
People say things in anger that they may not entirely mean once they have had time to reflect. "
"In this instance, I believe Miss Bennet meant every word.
I laid out all the deficiencies of her family and connections, explained at some length how hard I had fought against loving her and then expected her to feel honoured that I was willing to overlook almost everything about her and degrade myself to the match. "
Fitzwilliam’s amusement faded a little. "You said all that to the woman you hoped to win? Darcy, you are a dolt. No, that is too small a word, a blundering buffoon perhaps."
"I am keenly aware, cousin. What’s more, when she accused me of separating Bingley from her sister, I admitted it."
Anne’s brows drew together. "You purposely separated them?"
"I believed Miss Jane Bennet did not return his affection.
Her manner was composed, while Bingley was so plainly in love that he was blind to any reasonable objections about her family.
I truly thought she was only showing interest because her terrifying mother compelled her to.
Although it now appears I had the wrong of it.
I persuaded him that she was indifferent and encouraged him to remain in London. "
"And you told her this as part of your proposal?" Fitzwilliam asked, letting out a long low whistle.
Darcy sighed. He supposed he might as well lay it all out. "Not during it. She raised the matter after refusing me, and I defended what I had done. I told her I believed I had saved Bingley from an imprudent marriage and congratulated myself upon the success of it."
Fitzwilliam stared at him for a moment before rubbing one hand over his mouth. "Darcy, I am beginning to think the last-man-in-the-world remark was rather generous of her."
Darcy gave him a dark look, but could not disagree. "She also believes Wickham’s account of our history. By the time I attempted to explain myself, I was angry enough to speak with so little civility that she must think me a monster."
Anne’s face had grown increasingly dismayed. "Then perhaps you should stay away from the ball. I would hate to see her distressed, or you, cousin."
"Thank you," Darcy said, and meant it most sincerely.
Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair and considered him.
"On the contrary, I think the ball offers possibilities.
You are a handsome enough brute, and a few fences might be mended during a country dance.
At the very least, you could prove yourself capable of remaining in her company for half an hour without insulting her family or proposing marriage. "
"I have already demonstrated that I cannot."
"Then you have nowhere to go but upwards."
Anne tried to hide a smile and failed. "Richard, I do not think Miss Elizabeth will be won over merely because Darcy manages to behave himself for the length of one dance. She likely won’t even agree to dance with him."
"No, but she may revise her opinion of him from monster to tolerable. These things must be approached in stages."
Darcy shook his head. "Miss Bennet has no desire to revise her opinion of me. The kindest thing I can do is give her the truth about Wickham and then remove myself from Kent before I cause her any further distress."
Anne studied him for a moment. "Is that truly what you want?"
No, no, no. The answer rose in him at once, though he could not bring himself to speak it.
He wanted Elizabeth to read his letter and understand him.
He wanted another opportunity to stand before her and say everything differently.
Most of all, he wanted to see her smile at him, to hold his eyes with her dark teasing ones.
Even if it was the last time he ever saw her.
Fitzwilliam broke the silence. "The answer is writ large in that dreamy expression, Darcy. You do not wish to leave. And what does the Bard say? ‘Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss, but cheerly seek how to redress their harms.’"
Darcy glared at him. "Since when do you read Shakespeare?"
"I have hidden depths."
Anne and Darcy exchanged a look.
"He may have one or two," Anne allowed.
Fitzwilliam appeared wounded, though only briefly. "In any event, you need not decide tonight. Write your letter and remain until the ball. If Miss Bennet still cannot bear the sight of you after an evening of your best behaviour, Pemberley will still be there for you to lick your wounds."
Darcy was far from convinced. With Lady Catherine determined to parade him beside Anne while Elizabeth looked on, the ball seemed less an opportunity than another humiliation waiting to happen.
"There is one thing upon which I must insist," he said. "Neither of you is to speak of this to Lady Catherine. If she learns that I proposed to Miss Bennet, she will descend upon the parsonage and make matters infinitely worse."
"There is much my mother does not know," Anne said mildly. Her eyes moved towards Richard and held his for a beat. Something passed between them, a silent understanding which seemed both familiar and distinctly suspicious.
Fitzwilliam shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "And that is undoubtedly for the best."
Darcy looked from one cousin to the other.
Anne had lowered her gaze, though a faint colour had risen in her cheeks, while Fitzwilliam had developed an intense interest in the pattern of the carpet.
There was clearly something he did not know.
Considering the number of humiliating revelations he had already endured that afternoon, Darcy decided he could survive without another.
"I have your word?"
"Of course," Anne said. "I would never expose Miss Elizabeth to Mama’s interference."
Fitzwilliam placed a hand over his heart and grinned. "You may depend upon my absolute discretion."
Darcy regarded him doubtfully. "That would be more reassuring if you did not look so pleased with yourself."
Anne rose from the bed before Fitzwilliam could answer and shook out her skirts. "We should allow Darcy to write his letter. And try to get some rest, cousin," she added, looking at him with almost maternal concern. "Matters always seem brighter in the morning."
Darcy doubted that one night’s sleep could make Elizabeth despise him any less, but neither could he face another argument. He inclined his head, and Anne moved towards the door with Fitzwilliam behind her.
His cousin paused upon the threshold. "Remember, Darcy, apology first. Proposal much, much, much later."
This time the pillow struck the door just as Fitzwilliam managed to close it.