Chapter Fourteen #2
“She says she must attend to her studies,” he said. “While I cannot fault her dedication, she is too much alone. She still only practices her pianoforte or writes her letters when she is not studying.”
Elizabeth wished her own sisters were as dedicated to their education.
April came and on one of her rambles, Elizabeth encountered Georgiana Darcy rather than the lady’s brother.
They greeted each other politely and Elizabeth asked Miss Darcy if she would care to join her.
Miss Darcy agreed, and they set out, speaking of inconsequential things and of their mutual acquaintances in Meryton.
“How are your dear sisters?” Miss Darcy asked. “I greatly enjoyed their company in Meryton and the many intimate conversations we shared. I was rather remiss that I did not ask them to exchange letters. Tell me, how do they fare?”
“Their letters are filled with the everyday goings on of their lives,” Elizabeth said.
“Mary continues her studies and works to master a new piece on the pianoforte. Lydia has taken up many of my tasks, as I am away, and visits the tenants regularly. Kitty is much as she ever was and is bemoaning the imminent departure of the officers.”
“Oh?” Miss Darcy asked. “Are the officers to leave Meryton?”
“Indeed,” Lizzy replied. “They will leave for Brighton in May. Kitty is quite upset.”
“I suppose a man does look rather fine in a red coat, if you favor the color,” Miss Darcy mused. “I myself, prefer the dress of a gentleman rather than a gentleman soldier.”
Lizzy nodded in agreement, and they continued on their way.
“And how is Mrs. Bingley?” Georgiana asked. “She seemed everything genteel and kind when I met her.”
“My sister is still on her wedding tour,” Elizabeth said. “Her letters speak of her happiness. I am very pleased she could marry the man she loved.”
“I understand from my brother that Mr. Bingley could have married much better, if he so chose,” Georgiana said softly. “Though I do not understand how. Mrs. Bingley is everything lovely.”
“He… he said this recently?” Elizabeth asked, failing to appear nonchalant.
“Why, yes.”
Elizabeth gaped silently for a moment, attempting to marshal her thoughts. Hurt filled her. How could he say such a thing now? She knew he had had his doubts, but that was when he first came to Meryton.
Jane was perfect for Mr. Bingley. Her status as a gentleman’s daughter raised his place in society, and their temperaments were so well suited. Such a thing did not sound like the Mr. Darcy she was coming to love. Perhaps she did not know him as well as she thought.
“Have I upset you?” Georgiana asked, turning to Elizabeth. “I am dreadfully sorry if I have.” The girl’s eyes were wide and pleading.
Lizzy sought to reassure her. “No, no,” she said weakly. “I am quite well. I simply have had too much sun today, I suppose. I think I shall turn my steps back toward the parsonage.”
“Allow me to accompany you to the bend,” Georgiana said.
They walked on in silence and parted ways at the bend in the path. Lizzy watched Georgiana go; the girl did not look back.
Elizabeth was sorely tempted to stay back that evening when she discovered the parsonage had been invited to Rosings to dine.
In the end, she decided that Mr. Darcy’s opinion was hardly relevant.
Jane was happily married after all. But the hurt in her chest would not go away so easily and she resolved to ignore him throughout the evening.
Elizabeth avoided Mr. Darcy successfully up until just after dinner. She excused herself briefly to refresh herself and was startled to nearly collide with Mr. Darcy on her way back to the drawing room where the rest of the party was gathered.
“Miss Elizabeth!” he cried, his face splitting into a wide smile. “I had hoped to speak to you privately over the course of the evening. I am pleased to have the opportunity at last.”
“And I had hoped to avoid being alone with you,” she snapped. “So, you see, we are at cross purposes.”
Confusion, sadness, doubt. All those emotions and more played on his face.
“Might I ask what I have done to merit such sentiments?” he asked quietly.
“You ought to know,” she said hotly, “that I do not take kindly to anyone attempting to destroy the happiness of my most beloved sister. I knew of your desire to separate them as early as the Netherfield Ball, but I had believed you came to accept and even sanction the match. And yet, just today, I learned that you believed Mr. Bingley might have done much better than my sister.”
“I do. I did. I do not understand,” he said miserably.
“Then let me be clear,” she said slowly. “I do not know what to make of you. If my angelic sister is not good enough for Mr. Bingley, how am I to believe that I, who you have paid such attention to, is good enough for the great Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley?”
Tears were leaking from her eyes at this point, and she hurried quickly away, wiping at the traitorous drops angrily as she went. She settled herself, breathing deeply before she reentered the room.
Mr. Darcy followed five minutes later. He avoided her the rest of the night, and while Miss Darcy played some complicated piece of music, Elizabeth contemplated her confrontation with Mr. Darcy.
She really had not been terribly fair to him.
She had not let him answer her accusations, and she had allowed her temper to speak for her.
Perhaps she should let him defend himself.
Miss Darcy retired, and soon thereafter, the Hunsford party prepared to depart. Mr. Darcy helped Elizabeth in the carriage, and as he did, she leaned a little closer and whispered, “Tomorrow morning? In our grove?”
He squeezed her hand tightly in response and assisted her the rest of the way into the carriage.
Elizabeth went to bed anxious and hopeful. Tomorrow she would mend the damage she had inflicted. Hopefully, Mr. Darcy would forgive her. She did not doubt he would, for he was the very best of men, and she did not think her heart could handle the pain if he did not.
Mr. Darcy stood watching the carriage depart, his heart lighter than it had been for a goodly portion of the evening. Miss Elizabeth’s words had pierced his heart, and he was eager to speak to her, to clear up any misunderstandings there might be.
As he entered his aunt’s house and started toward his room, he heard his aunt shouting. He redirected his steps toward the drawing room, her words becoming clearer as he went.
“…dare he even contemplate such a thing!” his aunt’s voice screeched. “He is engaged to Anne. I will not see him marry some country nobody! Find him! He should have returned some time ago!”
A flustered butler exited the room and nearly ran into Darcy.
“Lady Catherine requires your presence,” he said shortly. He bowed and hastened down the hallway.
Already well aware of what his aunt wished to say, Darcy straightened his waistcoat and took a deep breath before entering.
“Where have you been?” Lady Catherine snapped. “I have been waiting these ten minutes for you! I have something to say, and you will listen!”
“As you wish, Aunt,” Darcy said mildly, seeking to diffuse some of her anger.
“A report,” she said, “of an alarming nature has reached me, that you intend to propose to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, throwing off your cousin- my daughter- for a lady of no consequence and little fortune. I wish to hear these claims refuted immediately.”
“Your confronting me on the matter would rather confirm it, if such an intention does exist,” Darcy said calmly.
“Then it is true!” she screeched. “Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted? Is my dear sister’s place to be filled by one of inferior birth and abysmal connections? Have you no shame? Such a girl would do better to marry within her own sphere.”
“I am a gentleman, she is a gentleman’s daughter,” Darcy snapped. “She would not be quitting her sphere; we are equals.”
“But who is her mother?” Lady Catherine retorted. “Who are her aunts, her uncles?”
“I have met them all and am pleased with their acquaintance,” Darcy said reasonably. “If I wish to associate with Miss Bennet’s family, it can be of no concern to you.”
“I am almost your nearest relation,” Lady Catherine cried. “It is my responsibility to ensure you do nothing to sully the names of Darcy, Fitzwilliam, or de Bourgh. By breaking your engagement to Anne, you shall ruin her, and yourself!”
“I am not engaged to Anne, as you well know,” Darcy said, his temper flaring. “This cradle engagement you have dreamed up is nothing but a figment of your imagination.”
“I will have satisfaction!” Lady Catherine shouted back. “You will tell me once and for all, are you engaged to that trollop?”
“You will not speak of a respectable lady in such terms,” Darcy said coldly.
“Are you engaged to her?” Lady Catherine pressed.
Darcy was silent for a moment. “I am not,” he said finally.
Lady Catherine seemed to deflate in relief. “And will you promise never to enter into such an arrangement?”
“I will not,” Mr. Darcy replied. “I will do whatever I need to in order to ensure my own lasting happiness, with no regard or consideration for you or anyone else.”
“Not even Georgiana?” Lady Catherine said slyly.
“Georgiana?” Darcy asked, momentarily caught off guard.
“She came to me, after our guests had departed, greatly upset,” Lady Catherine said.
“Her brother, she told me, was on the brink of making a terrible mistake, one that she said would ruin you and could cost her a chance at a respectable marriage. I heard her plea and promised that I would talk some sense into you.”
“Georgiana?” Darcy said in disbelief. It was too much. His sister seemed to like Elizabeth, or at least the rest of the Bennets a great deal. What was she playing at?
“I will speak to her at once, and allay her fears,” Darcy said firmly.