"And while we are on the subject of your great aunt, it should be noted that she is thought of as a bit of a public nuisance, her wit is apparently is not to everyone's taste, but her notoriety is nothing compared to that of her dog who is best known for doing something indelicate to Lord Barrymore's leg. Then there is your uncle James, though I have heard nothing to impeach his character, he did threaten to kill Mr. Vane in my presence and I do not think he was jesting. And I have yet to address the milder eccentricities your bloodline seems rife with—Dora—need I say more?"
"I think it would better serve you to say less." Darcy looked thunderous, though he kept his rancor in check. Pity that. I wanted a row now.
"Have I offended you? It isn't pleasant, is it? Hearing your family spoken of in such a manner."
"It is not," Darcy replied. His tone was contemplative and perhaps a little abashed. I did not want that, not at all. He was on the cusp of apology and here I was all riled again.
"All that separates your family from mine is money and illustrious ancestors. Do not pretend the Darcys are perfect—"
He interrupted, "I never claimed—"
"—because they are not. Despite all their ridiculousness, not a single one of my silly sisters has ever made plans to elope with an unsuitable man—"
"Tread carefully," Darcy warned. Any hint of contrition was now quite gone from his visage. His temper was hanging on by a thread.
"I will tread as I like. Have I mentioned it since you told me? Have I ever given Georgiana the slightest indication that I knew, that I judged her for her mistake?"
Darcy kept his silence and his temper.
"Well, have I?"
"You have not," he acknowledged at long last.
"Of course I haven't. What good could have come from holding it against her? By treating her as if her mistakes, her imperfections were so absolute that there was no need to get to know her because nothing could compensate for them?
"I was determined from the first to treat her as I would my own sisters, to treat all yourfamily as if they were my own. In the beginning I did it for your sake, for the sake of our marriage, but as I have said, I have grown to like your family, they are all rather absurd, but of course I have had a great deal of practice loving absurd people." My voice broke and I gasped for air in an attempt to hold back tears. I would not weep in front of him. Not again.
"Elizabeth, I am—"
"No, you don't even know what you are apologizing for. My point is—oh, God what is my point?—the point is I am so angry with you and it isn't even about Jane and Mr. Bingley or what you said about my family—well, it is about that but I have been angry with you since before that, since before I even really met you.
"I hate the way you treat people, and I hate the way you judge people and then dismiss them forever. My family is ridiculous, yes. Mortifying, sometimes, yes. But there are so many wonderful things about them you will never know because you have already decided they are not worth knowing.
"When I think about the wedding breakfast—how you sat there silently, grimacing at every word from my mother's lips, making it perfectly clear that you hated us all, confirming everyone's belief that I trapped you—I want to slap you. And I know you will say that it is your nature, that you meant no offense. But you can be pleasant, I have watched you. You can at the very least sit there with a smile on your face and look pretty, but you couldn't do it then, not for me."
"Elizabeth—"
Suddenly the thought of hearing the apology I had so wanted these last three days was repulsive to me. Here I had this lovely grudge and I wanted to shine it and put it on a shelf and admire it forever.
"I do not want to hear it."
"Elizabeth—"
I tried to make my escape but Darcy grabbed both of my hands.
"Release me."
He held gently but fast. I looked away, unable to meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
So he has said it. Now I must decide whether to accept it or not.
Sensing an apology was not quite enough, Darcy added,"I am an idiot."
"Finally you say something sensible." I did not smile, but there was a hint of absolution in my tone. Just a hint, mind you.
"You were correct, I am arrogant and conceited. I resented you for daring to accuse me of such faults yet the only inadequacy of your accusation was you neglected to mention the worst of my deficiencies. Arrogance and conceit, yes, but also selfishness blights my character. That day I thought only of my own discomfort never considering how my cold manner would wound you.
