‘How cold you are.’
Her words chased themselves around my head, and I began to see how I must appear to her. Always so careful to show no weakness to those eager to exploit such to their own advantage, to someone like her—open and genuine—I must appear devoid of every proper feeling. Certainly my behaviour on our first meeting gave her ample reason to dislike and distrust me, but even had I not spoken so, what in my demeanour or manners would have given her cause to view me in a positive light? I wondered, suddenly, how many other good people, how many more potential friends, I had driven away by trying and convicting them of unworthiness, without evidence.
Several days passed after I had left my letters with Sir Edward, and I began to conclude that either he had declined to give Miss Elizabeth hers, or she had declined to reply. A more definitive answer did at last come from Lady Gardiner, and its contents astonished me.
Mr Darcy,
My nieces and I would be delighted to receive you, and to make the acquaintance of Miss Darcy.
Here, she listed several days in the next fortnight when they expected to be at home, and offered to reserve any of them for our visit, if I would only let them know which, at my earliest convenience.
We look forward to meeting your sister and to knowing you better. We hope that before long we will all be good friends, as we have become with your own friend, Mr Bingley.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Gardiner
I saw what I hoped was Miss Elizabeth’s hand in those words. I was to attend, not only my sister, and it was hoped that we would all be friends. Surely Lady Gardiner would not express such wishes without Miss Elizabeth’s approval. I was to have one more chance to demonstrate to her that I was not always an unmitigated churl.
I wasted no time acquainting Georgiana with the fact that I wished to introduce her to Sir Edward’s family. She was not as reluctant as she usually is, for she had heard of them from Bingley and owned to a curiosity about the Miss Bennets and their relations. Having secured her agreement, it was then necessary that I swallow my pride and inform her that she must not expect to find anyone there who thought particularly well of her brother. I explained what I had done and how it had affected Miss Elizabeth’s time in society, ending with a reference to a gentleman deliberately engaging her affections while not believing her worthy of his hand in marriage.
“Poor Miss Elizabeth!” she gasped after some moments of shocked silence. “Brother, how could you?”
“I cannot justify my actions, and will not attempt to. But I will tell you, as I told her, that I believe you and she have many inducements to genuine friendship, not the least of which is that you have both been injured by the schemes of dishonest men.”
“You cannot have told her of Ramsgate!”
“I said only that a fortune hunter deceived you in hopes of securing your dowry. If you should ever wish that she know more, that must come from you. Nor have I told you all I know of her disappointment, for it is her story to share or withhold as she sees fit.”
“And you would allow me to tell her more, if I wished?” she asked uncertainly. My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, her other guardian, and I had impressed upon her that the incident at Ramsgate must be kept concealed from society, so her reticence was understandable.
“I believe that she, and also her sister, could be trusted with the information,” I answered carefully. “Unlike many, they do not delight in spreading the misfortunes of others.”
With Georgiana’s agreement, a message was dispatched to Lady Gardiner accepting the first of the dates she had offered, and on the appointed day we presented ourselves in her parlour, where I introduced my sister into her acquaintance and that of her nieces. The Miss Bennets quickly drew my sister aside and set about making her comfortable, while I spoke with Lady Gardiner.
“Thank you for allowing this,” I told her. “My sister is in great need of sensible, good-hearted friends.”
“Is not everyone?” the lady replied with a smile. “In this, I will admit, I was guided by my younger niece,” she added, giving weight to my hope that I had not lost all hope of gaining some measure of Miss Elizabeth’s esteem.
“She is generous,” I murmured, smiling as I watched my sister hide a giggle behind her hand. I returned my attention to my hostess, picking up the thread of our previous conversation on the subject of the village of Lambton and its manifold charms. A little later, Miss Bennet called her aunt over, and Miss Elizabeth vacated her chair for Lady Gardiner’s use, taking up a place near me.
“And how are you today, Mr Darcy?” she asked graciously.
I swiftly decided openness and humility would be my best course. “Much better, for having been readmitted to your presence,” I replied, “though I do not know that I deserve the honour.”
Her eyes widened, but she replied with apparent composure, “I am grateful to you, sir. Your intervention was most timely. And if you continue to bring your charming sister around, I might well forget that I ever disliked you,” she concluded with a twinkle in those remarkable eyes.
I glanced at the others, finding the younger ladies engrossed by whatever Lady Gardiner was saying. “I confess, I did not quite know what to make of your aunt’s invitation. It seemed to suggest that I was welcome, but my sister could easily visit with her companion in future, if you prefer, and I could make myself scarce if you wish to call upon her.”
“I see no need for that. If you are willing, we might begin again.”
CHAPTER19
ELIZABETH BENNET
When Mr Darcy agreed that we might begin again, I had no notion he meant to take it so seriously. I hoped we would be civil, even friendly, for his sister’s sake and that of Jane and Mr Bingley. He, however, seemed quite determined that we become true friends. Our return to Longbourn was postponed indefinitely, for my sister chose to marry from my uncle’s house rather than subject Mr Bingley to an uncomfortable stay at the Lion Inn in Meryton. My mother wrote Jane a long, unhappy letter complaining that she was not to enjoy Christmas with her most beautiful daughter, nor to be allowed to plan her wedding. When Jane wavered Mr Bingley had only to whisper in her ear and she found the strength to hold firm.
Miss Darcy rarely called without her brother, and when we called upon her in Grosvenor Square, he was sure to be there. He always found a few minutes to speak with me, and my early impression of him as a dark Adonis come down from Olympus to sneer at us mere mortals was quickly replaced by that of a quiet young man, perhaps too inclined to gravity, who often had to be cajoled into joining the conversation, but always listened to what was passing with focused and flattering attention.
