Chapter 8
Elizabeth’s sharp words seemed to strike him like a physical blow. For several moments, he did not speak. His jaw tightened, the muscle along his cheek twitching as he stared at her. She noticed the cold armour of his countenance had cracked, replaced by a dark, uncomfortable gravity.
“I have no wish to deny my involvement, Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice lower and far less steady than usual.
“Nor shall I pretend that the remembrance affords me any satisfaction. I acted for what I then believed to be Bingley’s benefit — wishing to protect a friend I judged to be entering an imprudent match. ”
“Protect? From Jane? Really?” She laughed bitterly.
“My intention was to prevent a marriage he thought he was ready for, in which his affection seemed far stronger than hers,” Mr Darcy replied, a shadow crossing his features. “At least, that is how I judged the matter at the time. But I cannot defend the manner of my interference.”
“Who are you to judge my sister’s affection? And who are you to decide when you tell your friend the truth and when you lie to him? Is this a common custom of friendship among the higher circles of society?”
He paused, taking a slow, heavy breath, as though forcing the final admission past a deep-seated reluctance.
“As harsh your words are, I shall not defend myself. I am not proud of my actions in this. When his sister mentioned Miss Bennet was in London, and they had met, I should have informed Bingley. After witnessing his joy and hers at their unexpected reunion, I can admit my good intentions cannot compensate for my errors. I am a man of my word, and I shall present my apologies to your sister. I have already done as much with Bingley.”
“Oh…that is very gentlemanlike of you, sir,” Elizabeth said, softening slightly despite herself. “I assume Mr Bingley has forgiven you, and my sister will do the same. They are both sweet-natured and kind-hearted.”
“Bingley did not forgive me easily, nor completely, and rightfully so,” Mr Darcy added, his tone sombre.
“He accused me of not trusting his wisdom and judgment, which is probably true when it comes to affection and admiration. Perhaps I have seen him charmed too many times, and I simply assumed he was enchanted by your sister’s beauty but that it would pass soon. As I said, I was wrong.”
A short pause followed, with their eyes still locked. He seemed honest in his regrets, and she assumed his discussion with Mr Bingley had been as difficult as he deserved it to be.
Eventually, she formed a smile.
“You might be the best master and the best landlord, Mr Darcy, and you might be educated and clever and the best brother, but you are certainly not an expert in matters of the heart.”
Her words clearly surprised him, and his expression brightened immediately.
“That, I cannot deny,” he admitted. “I am glad that Bingley proved me wrong. Georgiana wrote to tell me that she had visited your aunt and sister, with Bingley. From her detailed letter, I believe you should expect news soon.”
“So…you knew Miss Darcy visited my sister? You approved of it?”
“Of course.”
“Oh… Now it is my turn to admit my wrong and to apologise. I assumed that, since you found my sister unsuitable for your friend, you would find her and me even less appropriate to befriend your sister.”
“No apologies are needed, but indeed you have been wrong, Miss Bennet. I did not always approve of the manners displayed by some members of your family — I shall not deny that — but I never found anything wanting in you or your eldest sister. I believe a friendship with you two would be an important asset for Georgiana, regardless of whether Miss Bennet marries Bingley or not.”
His words caused a stir of emotions in Elizabeth, and she needed a moment to compose herself.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. I find a strange satisfaction in knowing we were both wrong and have admitted our errors. I must hurry back now, but I hope to have the chance to talk more again soon.”
“It is my pleasure to share the guilt with you, Miss Bennet,” he answered with a smile and in a teasing tone. “And I certainly hope for another meeting very soon.”
The encounter with Mr Darcy changed Elizabeth’s state of mind; in fact, it improved it greatly.
The conversation had been more honest, more open, than she could ever have imagined; Mr Darcy — of all men — had admitted his unfair intervention between Mr Bingley and Jane and apologised for it.
There were more questions she would like to ask, but to what purpose? After all, the matter was settled; he was willing to remedy his mistakes, and he approved of his sister’s friendship with her and Jane. What had caused that change of heart mattered little.
Furthermore, if Jane found her happiness with Mr Bingley, indeed, nothing else mattered at all.
When she returned to the parsonage, she found the party in awe, as Lady Catherine had invited them to dine at Rosings the next day.
It was the perfect fulfilment of their expectations and the answer to Mr Collins’s prayers.
As for Elizabeth, she thought of Mr Darcy for the rest of the day, with a tumult of feelings that distressed and pleased her at the same time.
He was certainly not a man without faults, as Miss Bingley once called him, but he was honourable and fair.
At least he seemed to be as much. But how could he have treated Mr Wickham so unfairly and disregarded his own father’s dying wish?
There must be more to the story, and it was something Elizabeth desperately wished to know; perhaps she would gather her courage to enquire the next time they met. But would she dare?
The following morning, Elizabeth went for a walk again, without even daring to admit any particular expectation.
Her unvoiced hopes were fulfilled when in the same spot as the previous day, she found Mr Darcy.
Neither of them pretended to be surprised, they only exchanged greetings and fell into step together for a while.
She did not dare ask anything particular, except general enquiries about Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Mr Darcy expressed his joy at the prospect of dining together.
“Bingley just wrote to me about his intention to reopen Netherfield,” Mr Darcy said.
“He asked your advice, I assume? He is not upset with you any longer?”
“He is upset, but he did ask for my advice.”
“Mr Bingley must learn to decide for himself, without asking for advice,” Elizabeth said. Mr Darcy smiled.
“Bingley is an excellent man but not very confident in matters of business. He has never owned an estate before, so asking for advice is proof of his wisdom.”
“I am tempted to agree, as long as the advice is only in regard to business,” she replied with a smile of her own.
Their walk continued with less conversation than the previous day but with more strange mixed feelings for Elizabeth.
She had never before been alone with Mr Darcy for any length of time, and she had always known she disliked him.
Now they found themselves in each other’s private company for the second day in a row, and she was surprised to feel equal disquiet and pleasure.
Could her new friendship with Miss Darcy be the reason for that?
His manners were also somehow changed. He was still restrained, but his smile, his voice, and his countenance seemed somehow different, though they were very much the same.
The morning walk was brief, both of them in haste to return home before breakfast. A scolding for being late for the morning meal was equally annoying whether it came from Lady Catherine or Mr Collins.
“I look forward to seeing you again tonight, Miss Bennet.”
“Likewise, Mr Darcy,” she said, watching him as he swung himself into the saddle and touched his hat in an amiable farewell.
***
The afternoon was exceedingly agitated at the parsonage.
Mr Collins supervised even their clothes, insisting that Lady Catherine did not require elegance and fashion from them but modesty and propriety.
Charlotte arranged Maria’s hair, then her own several times, then she put in more pins to catch Elizabeth’s rebellious locks.
Elizabeth was amused but also in a disquieted state of mind and struggled to understand the reason.
They walked through the park, with Mr Collins offering detailed explanations about every flower, every tree, every path, and insisting they to admire the splendour of Rosings’ windows.
He spoke so much and so hastily that Elizabeth abandoned any attempt to follow his explanations.
As they approached and she looked at the impressive building, she noticed Mr Darcy’s figure next to a lit window.
She wondered whether he was waiting for them, and her heart began to race; then she scolded herself for such a response. What was happening to her?
In front of the main entrance, Mr Collins and the entire party stopped. The clergyman inspected their appearance one more time, then breathed deeply before he rang the bell and a servant opened the door.
With solemn gestures, he entered, then indicated to the others to follow him.
He walked through the entrance hall then stopped once again in front of a door.
Another servant introduced them, and only then did they step into the large, elegant dining room, where Lady Catherine, her daughter, Mrs Jenkinson, and her two nephews were waiting.
“Come, Mr Collins, you may enter,” her ladyship said. “You all should sit on the other side of the table. Dr Linfield said there is no danger of illness, but one cannot be too cautious.
“Indeed, your ladyship, we shall do as you say…” Mr Collins stuttered.
“I shall take the chance and sit next to Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared. “I believe such lovely company is worth the risk.”
He was joking, but Lady Catherine immediately frowned, and her voice became even colder.
“You should be more careful with your actions, Nephew! Miss Bennet might get the wrong impression about your intentions!”
“I assure you that is not the case, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth replied, and her response displeased the lady even further. From the other side of the table, seated next to Miss de Bourgh, Mr Darcy gazed at her.
“Let us all sit. Miss Bennet, Sir William, you must tell me how you are enjoying your stay so far. But not now, only after the first course is served.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her plate, wondering whether anyone had noticed her amusement. She wondered whether Lady Catherine would indicate when they were allowed to swallow.
Footmen entered with the dishes, and everyone waited in formal silence. Elizabeth could not help glancing at Mr Darcy. She observed his usual stern countenance but also a little smile that twisted the corners of his mouth.
Suddenly, the butler entered, bowed, then froze in front of Lady Catherine.
“Yes, Benson. What is the matter? Has anyone died?”
“N-n-no, ma’am, it is just that…there is a gentleman here… He asked about Sir William.”
“Sir William?” Lady Catherine repeated, glaring at the man, who turned pale and held his breath. “Here at Rosings? At dinner time?”
“It must be a mistake. I am not expecting anybody.” Sir William struggled to speak, looking at Charlotte and at Mr Collins as if begging for help.
“Did you hear that, Benson?” Lady Catherine said. “It must be a mistake! Tell the man to go to the parsonage tomorrow if he wants to talk to Sir William.”
“As you wish, ma’am…but he also asked for Mr Darcy,” the servant muttered, his eyes to the ground.
“For me?” Mr Darcy repeated, puzzled, rising on his feet. “Who is this man? Do you have his name?”
“Yes, sir… A Mr King, from Meryton, Hertfordshire.”
Mr Darcy frowned, this time in evident confusion. Sir William turned pale, then flushed, while Elizabeth felt a grip in her chest.
“Mr King? I do not remember him,” Mr Darcy declared. “Do you know him, Sir William? Miss Bennet?”
“I do know him, sir,” Elizabeth responded. “He is a friend of Sir William’s and of my father’s…”
The situation was strange and disturbing; what Mr King could be doing in Kent was impossible to imagine.
Their amazement was complete when, at the door, appeared a very disturbed Mr King, the image of utter distress and misery.
Sir William immediately stood up, while Mr King stepped forward.
“I cannot apologise enough for disturbing you, but I was lost as to how to proceed further! I beg your forgiveness, and I pray Mr Darcy will grant me a few minutes of his time. There is an urgent matter that cannot be delayed and requires immediate attention. Forgive me…it is a great emergency, otherwise I would have never dared to intrude!”
“Mr King, what happened?” Charlotte asked the clearly distraught gentleman. “Are you injured, sir? You look very ill indeed!”
“I must speak to Mr Darcy, if he would be so kind as to grant me a few minutes of his time,” Mr King repeated.
Mr Darcy, dumbfounded, looked at Elizabeth, then at Lady Catherine, who looked utterly furious at the interruption. Elizabeth herself was confused, struggling to guess what could possibly bring Mr King to Rosings in that perturbed state of mind.
She expected Lady Catherine to throw the gentleman out, but, to her astonishment, Mr Darcy stepped towards him.
“Let us go to the library, Mr King, so we can speak privately. A few minutes of my time is not too much to ask. Please begin your dinner without me, and I shall return shortly.”
“But, Nephew, this will not do!” Lady Catherine cried angrily.
“Aunt, the sooner I attend to this matter, the sooner I shall return to dinner,” Mr Darcy replied before showing Mr King out.
Sir William seemed to remember that he had been asked for too; he hesitated a moment, glanced around the table, his face changed colour again, and then he stood up and hurried to follow the other two men.
Behind them, Lady Catherine and the rest of the party sat in silence, lost for words until her ladyship burst out to express her disapproval of such horrible manners and such an appalling breach of decorum.
Elizabeth mused that she had never had so little appetite and so much curiosity during a dinner party. Mr Darcy was the last man in the world to whom she expected Mr King to apply for anything whatsoever.