Chapter 2.3 #4
She was aware that the timing was most improper. Besides the shock of seeing her at his door, Darcy would also be astonished and disdainful that a woman could call on him alone at that time of the day. But she had no choice —and nothing to lose.
The ride from Cheapside to the Park Lane area was long, and she needed to be there before he left his house or before he began receiving other visitors.
Her only hope was that he could find enough generosity in his heart to listen to her and to offer her some information about Wickham to direct their search —or to agree to receive her uncle later that day and provide him with the details he might refuse to give her.
The horses moved steadily, and the sound of the carriage disturbed Elizabeth’s thoughts. She was not certain what to expect, but she feared the worst.
“My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever,” he had confessed publicly one evening at Netherfield.
That was his general conduct towards ordinary people.
Then how would he react towards someone who had probably hurt and offended him more than anyone else?
Was there something worse than “resentful”?
Another thing that troubled her was the impossibility of expressing her regrets for what had happened between them —not for refusing his marriage proposal but for the gratuitous insult she bestowed upon him and for her insensible reaction to his letter.
She understood that she was wrong soon after the event, just as she recognised weeks ago that she had misjudged Wickham’s character.
But now such a confession was useless, and it would surely bring even more damage to their relationship.
No apologies, no explanations were possible as they would sound insincere.
He would surely take them as a poor attempt to gain his favour and induce him into complying with her plea for help.
There was nothing else to do but to suffer the consequences of her own behaviour and to pay for it.
The carriage stopped in front of the house, and she instructed the coachman to wait a few houses away. She moved hesitantly towards the main door and knocked. A footman appeared, staring at her in puzzlement.
“Yes?”
She cleared her voice and struggled to articulate.
“I am here to see Mr. Darcy.”
“Is the master informed of your visit?”
“No. But I trust he will agree to speak to me nevertheless.”
“Does he know you?’
“Of course. Mr. Darcy has been acquainted with my family and me for more than a year.”
“Very well, I will check to see whether he can receive you. I am not certain that he has even left his apartments yet.”
“Thank you. I know the time is improper for a call, but it is a most urgent and grave matter that can bear no delay. I am confident Mr. Darcy will understand as soon as I explain it to him.”
“I will pass your request forward,” the servant finally agreed, apparently uncertain about his own decision. “May I have your name?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I will wait outside if necessary,” Elizabeth said, taking a step backward.
The man hesitated only a moment.
“No need, ma’am. I am sure there is no problem if you wait here in the hall.” Elizabeth remained alone, suddenly feeling trapped, a sense of panic enveloping her as she wondered whether she should stay or run away.
She soon heard voices, and a woman of middle age with handsome features and a confident posture appeared, measuring Elizabeth with critical eyes.
“I am Mrs. Gilbert, the housekeeper. I understand you are here to see the master.”
“Indeed.”
“He is being informed as we speak, but I must warn you that it is very unlikely he will receive you without previous notice.”
“I understand that —thank you. I will wait.”
Elizabeth’s kind politeness seemed to gain the housekeeper’s sympathy.
“You should come inside and take a seat. May I offer you tea?”
“I thank you, no. I do not wish to interrupt your daily tasks. I will wait here as long as necessary.”
Elizabeth remained alone again; she clasped her hands together to hide her increasing nervousness. So far, she had found out that he was at home and there was a slight chance she would see him eventually. That was as good news as she could hope for.
To her disbelief, only a couple of minutes later, another servant appeared and bowed to her.
“Miss Bennet, the master awaits you in the library. I will show you to him.”
Her knees weakened, and her steps became unsteady. She prayed she would manage to overcome her turmoil and behave reasonably when she faced him.
The notion that he agreed so quickly to receive her was equally surprising and frightening. Was he willing to learn what she had to say and to offer his help, or had he hurried to see her just for the chance of throwing her out of his house?
The servant stopped in front of an impressive door and opened it slowly. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet to see you, sir.”
She dared to glance inside the room. The curtains were pulled shut, and she could barely see. She only observed a long desk by the window and a figure resting on the chair behind it.
His voice startled her, and cold shivers joined a sudden lump in her throat that left her speechless. The door closed, and a chill darkness held her in its grip.