“Why the long face? She is sensibly avoidingme, not you.”
It took a moment for him to see a tear sliding down her cheek, and a sob escaping her throat. Feeling like the biggest heel in the world, he handed her a handkerchief.
“Thank you, Cousin. Perhaps Jane is just angry with you, but considering the astounding number of coincidences my friendship with her is founded on, the very short time we have been acquainted, and the fact that I have done more than one thing that would appear at least at first blush as dishonest, and that her sister is fleeing some combination of Darcys and de Bourghs—do you not think it possible or even likely she believes we were all involved in some scheme to deceive her?”
Darcy gasped at the insinuation, then sat opposite to consider the possibilities. Each moment of reflection presented even more ways for Anne to be correct, but he finally replied.
“It is not only possible, but likely. It is time for me to call on her and confess all.”
“If she will even see either of us.”
“Yes—well, if not, we shall devise a plan. Can you be ready for a call to her uncle’s house tomorrow?”
“I will be ready.”
“Come, Anne. Let us go home. Tomorrow is another day, and you are not to be defeated by a single setback.”
Kympton
After the debacle with Lady Matlock, Elizabeth questioned the entire enterprise. She must believe either that she had misjudged the man, or that Lady Matlock was overly protective of her family; yet she had wasted a golden opportunity with someone who could answer her questions… or at least could answer them if Elizabeth were willing to abandon all pretence of good breeding.
That Lady Matlock might be overprotective was not difficult to credit, for Elizabeth viewed her own family in the best possible light, though they always mortified her. However, Lady Matlock’s frank assessment of Mr Darcy’s defects seemed to contradict that assertion. There was no reason to believe the Fitzwilliams should be any different, and though she had tried her best to dance around the issue, Lady Matlock had seen through her without difficulty.
The worst part was that Elizabeth believed the countess would have happily accepted anything she had to say, and equally happily answered any question; but Elizabeth’s courage had failed her at the last minute, and it was too late to return.
She was still a fortnight from her majority, still had no idea what to think of Mr Darcy, and was more confused than ever. Though the trip was enjoyable, and she loved the Wythes, thus far she had not accomplished any of her goals, nor even made meaningful progress—aside from the many hours of restless attempts at sleep where she worked what she thought and what she knew like a dog chasing its tail.
Of course, absence alone for two months or more would likely accomplish the goal of not becoming engaged to him, but the spectre of the Bates ladies made her reconsider. Was it right to penalise her mother and sisters simply because she did not wish to marry a man who did not respect her?
What did she truly know of Mr Darcy? He was certainly involved in separating Mr Bingley from Jane. That was indisputable, but frankly any spineless worm who walked away from Jane was probably at least half-simple anyway. Jane was probably better off without him, and definitely better off without the pernicious Bingley sisters; so, was she truly to hold that to the Darcy account, even if the man had done everything to separate them for Mr Bingley’s benefit and not Jane’s?
And what of Mr Bingley’s culpability? If he were to abandon Jane, did he not at least owe her the courtesy of taking his leave like a man, instead of crawling off like a mongrel?
What of Charlotte’s assertion that Jane had her own culpability because she did not show her affections? That disturbed Elizabeth more than Mr Darcy’s interference. Could she truly hold him to account if Jane showed no affection, but her mother boasted of ‘capturing’ the man… within Mr Darcy’s hearing? It was difficult to see how she could fault him. Especially as her mother had slighted Mr Darcy in the same breath when Elizabeth tried to get the matron to speak more quietly.
For a few minutes, Elizabeth tried to picture the world from Mr Darcy’s perspective. He was master of a great estate and rich as Croesus. Mrs Bennet was certainly not the first matchmaking mama to hunt him or one of his friends, nor was the Meryton assembly the first place where rumours of his income and consequence circled the room within five minutes of his arrival. For the first time, she realised that it must happen everywhere he went!
She clearly remembered his entry to the assembly hall. She had seen plenty of ghosts of the past before, but this time she saw herself speaking with Charlotte. Elizabeth had found the man quite handsome on first appearance but then found his expression not to her liking.
As if watching herself from afar, she observed the conversation, and was far from satisfied with the result:
And the person with the quizzical brow?
That is his good friend, Mr Darcy.
The miserable poor soul!
Miserable, he may be, but poor he most certainly is not.
Tell me.
Ten thousand a year and he owns half of Derbyshire.
The miserable half?
Elizabeth wanted to flush in embarrassment, for she realised her behaviour was only a slightly more subtle version of her mother’s. She was measuring a man she had never met by his income and demeanour as he climbed into what must have seemed like a vat of boiling oil.
To make matters worse, she had the temerity to become mortally offended when the gentleman later failed in his God-given duty to find her handsome enough to dance with when his friend badgered him publicly.
