“I see. Why particularly sensitive?”
“If you had my mother, and Jane for a sister, you would understand.”
Darcy looked at the ground. “Perhaps I understand better than you might think. I grew up with two other boys, Robert Breton, and Mr Wickham. My father was a very good man, astute in every area of his lifeexceptMr Wickham. He never favoured Wickham per se, but he made it clear on any number of occasions that I should be more like him socially. He was a lively man and found me too sober and taciturn for his taste, so he spent quite a bit of time with his godson. It is clearly not as bad as what you suffer, but at least enough to give me the general notion.”
“Fair enough. Now imagine a life where your father told you explicitly, nearly every day, that you were not as good as him. Not as clever, not as handsome, whatever adjective you would find most troublesome. Then, imagine Lizzy as a peer, and the very first thing she did is slight exactly the same attribute your father slighted, and you will be getting close.”
Darcy coloured and looked at the ground. “I understand much better.”
“Put the pieces together and throw a snake into the garden at the worst possible moment, and you will see the obstacle youfaced. You must be aware that wherever Lizzy is, Mr Wickham’s poisonous words have not been refuted, since you passed up your chance in the autumn. She probably still believes him unless she has managed to work it out for herself.”
“I am aware of that, among my many failings. But may I ask a question? You worked out that I would like to court her. How?”
Mary laughed. “Lizzy is very clever… cleverer than I am by far, but she does have her blind spots. She frequently wondered why you stared at her and advanced the theory that you stared to find fault.”
“And?”
“As a woman with plenty of faults to find, I can tell you that it takes a man very little time to identify them. No staring is required.”
Darcy gasped and halted, bringing Mary to a stop as well, though she stared down in such embarrassment that she might have tripped over the next pebble in the path anyway.
Darcy said very gently, “Miss Mary, I have shared your home and your table for a fortnight and have had ample time to study you at my leisure. It has not been sufficient to find any real fault. Perhaps you underestimate yourself, or perhaps your mother’s poison has caused you to underestimate my sex in general.”
Mary met his eyes. “You say thatnow, and you do it with the voice of sincerity, though a practised deceiver would do that while spouting empty flattery. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you are sincere, but may I ask,what did your evil twin that was here last autumn think?”
Darcy studied his boots, flushing with shame. “Anyone who listened to that idiot ought to have their wits questioned.”
“But what did he think?”
His colour deepened. “He thought you beneath him, and not worth getting to know. Beyond that, he did not think of you at all. Much to his discredit, he dismissed you and all your sisterssave one with a glance. That one he dismissed with a great deal of effort… or tried to anyway.”
Unaccustomed to such brutal honesty, Mary smiled, thinking she could well get used to it. It would make life so much easier and less confusing.
“Thank you for your candour. Your doppelgänger has more adherents to his way of thinking than you do.”
Feeling quite out of his depth, Darcy said, “Perhaps… but may I ask you this? How many husbands do you desire? Is it zero or one?”
“One of course. I may not be the most beautiful or accomplished or lively Bennet daughter, but I still want tolive, just like any other woman.”
“So, amongst the multitude of men, does it matter how many are worthy of your attention and how many are not?”
“Even Jane is unwed after seven years. I have no dowry, no connections, little in the way of accomplishments, and beauty that is marginal at best. Do you honestly think I stand any chance at all?”
Wondering what hole he had dug himself, Darcy asked, “Do you think the less evil version of myself will not help you?”
Mary stopped again, staring at him as if the idea had never occurred to her.
“Put the matter of help from me aside for the moment. Evenbeforemy return, Jane spent four months in London at your uncle’s house. According to her reports, she just wasted her time pining for Bingley. If she had been in the right humour, is it likely your uncle would have introduced her to eligible men in that time?”
“Yes, they always offered, but Mama does not want us marrying tradesmen. She thinks them beneath us.”
“I see. Do you believe this?”
“Of course not. My aunt and uncle are the finest people I know, and of course, my mother is born of trade; but none of us have become desperate enough to oppose her. We will eventually, but not yet.”
“We all fight our chains. You fight your mother’s influence and your father’s indolence. I fight the big target on my back and my own addlepated ideas about my position in society. Bingley fights his indolence, his indecision, his pernicious sisters, and his over-reliance on my advice, which is far from infallible. I suppose the question for all of us is whether we let the chains define us, or whether we break free.”
“Have you broken free?”
