ChapterOne
Elizabeth Bennet wandered the grove with tears on her cheeks as she clutched Mr Darcy’s letter. While she still felt indignant at the style of his proposal, she had compassion for his disappointed feelings. It was gratifying to have inspired so strong an affection, however unconsciously done. The shock of Mr Darcy being in love with her, and anger toward herself for her poor conduct, left her too fatigued to continue her walk.
I was so mistaken about his character.
In the unlikely event she ever saw Mr Darcy again, she would make it clear to him that she was ashamed of her despicable actions. Her vanity, wounded six months ago, had prejudiced her against him so much that she rewarded an unscrupulous man with her favour and misjudged a good one.
On her way back to the parsonage, Elizabeth reviewed her conversations and debates with Mr Darcy. Shehadbeen unfair to him, no matter how improper his pride. She was surprised to realise he was her match in intelligence and wit, and she wondered if he had appreciated her for being a lively woman who never flattered him. Perhaps he had stared at her not because he found fault with her appearance or manners, but because he had admired her all along.
When she entered the house, she paused in alarm as she recognised Mr Darcy’s and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voices through the drawing room door. She had not dreamed it possible she would encounter him again. How could he greet her civilly after what they said to one another last night? More importantly, how could she communicate to him across Charlotte’s sitting room, and in the presence of others, that she knew she had misjudged him?
She was ashamed of herself. And for that, her self-imposed punishment would be to walk into the room and find a way to tell Fitzwilliam Darcy that, although she did not regret refusing his proposal, she regretted her treatment of him. She would also leave him with no misgivings of her new, low opinion of Wickham.
With a sigh, and with no expectation of pleasure, Elizabeth walked into the drawing room, determined to correct one aspect of their many misunderstandings before she forever shut the door on their acquaintance.
Darcy consideredhimself to be a strict observer of the proprieties of polite society, and civility called for him to visit the ladies of the parsonage before departing for London tomorrow. Of course, he had suggested to Fitzwilliam this precise time to call because he knew Elizabethwould still be in the grove and he could avoid her.
Did his letter make her think better of him? Sighing, he looked out the window at the path leading from the lane. Darcy felt his heart stop. There was Elizabeth, head downcast, clutching sheets of paper in her right hand as she wiped her cheeks with her left. He was relieved to see her moved by his words. It implied that she believed him—that she thought on her behaviour with regret. But what of his own?
His own regrets had prevented him, until now, from considering her criticisms. Had he, in truth, allowed conceit to rule his every interaction? She had held a mirror up to his conduct, and Darcy was not wholly pleased with the reflected image.
He was polite but rarely attentive to others’ interests or desires. Darcy felt sick to his stomach as he realised that not only had he failed to compliment the woman he loved, but he insulted her by nearly every means imaginable. He was ashamed of the lack of respect he showed to those outside his own circle and to the family of the woman he had proposed to. Elizabeth Bennet would never be his bride now.
She was not expecting my addresses. On the contrary, she has disliked me these many months.
Something other than Wickham’s malevolence and his own interference regarding Bingley and Miss Bennet must have made her decided against him. Her heartless words stayed with him: that she had not known him a month before she felt he was the last man in the world whom she could marry.
“Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.”Elizabeth must have overheard his remark at the Meryton assembly. Darcy suppressed a groan. He thought meanly not only of others, and their sense of worth compared to his own, but of the woman he had wanted to make his wife. It was little wonder she refused him.
When had she becomeElizabethin his mind? She had been Miss Elizabeth Bennet when he was trying to convince himself of her unworthiness, but since seeing her again in Kent, she was hisdearest Elizabethin every waking moment. He may have written in his letter that he had no intention of dwelling on his wish to marry her, but now, with his anger abated, Darcy could not deny the depth of his continuing attachment.
Is there any reason to hope that she could someday return my affections?Or should he gather what remained of his dignity and forget her?
The front door opened and closed; Elizabeth would enter the drawing room at any moment. He would show her, by every civility in his power,that he did not resent her and that he would attend to her reproofs.By some means, he had to ask for her forgiveness, and he had to do so in the company of his cousin, Mrs Collins, and her sister.
He schooled his features with a command of countenance that he hoped would mask his inner turmoil and rose as Elizabethentered the room.
“Why, Eliza,”said Charlotte, “I did not expect you home for some time!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s countenance brightened as Elizabeth sat. “We despaired of seeing you, Miss Bennet. I was almost resolved to walk after you until you could be found. Will you miss your morning rambles at Rosings after you return home?”
She could not help but look at Mr Darcy at the mention of early morning walks and was met with only a solemn stare. “I often prefer to be out of doors, and the company in Hertfordshire will certainly not be the same as here in Kent.”
“At least the militia will still be encamped near Meryton when we return,” Maria Lucas said. “The officers offer us lively society, do they not?”
Mr Darcy’s face turned white. Did he expect her to extol Wickham’s virtues again? She could disavow him of that notion easily enough. “For myself, I am pleased the regiment is leaving in May and we shall once again enjoy the companionship of only our dear neighbours.”
His expression now looked incredulous. “You are pleased to see the regiment removed from Meryton?”
“That is correct,” she said, meeting his eye. “While I found the officers diverting, my opinion of them has changed. It must be the great distance between Kent and Hertfordshire. I was too hasty in preferring their mere appearance of happy manners to our long-established friends in the neighbourhood.”
Mr Darcy had been leaning forward in his chair, and at this, he sat back and exhaled.
Elizabeth felt exquisite relief. Mr Darcy must understand she was ashamed of both her misjudgement of him and her former—and now contemptible—approval of Wickham. Mr Darcy was entirely blameless in regard to Wickham, although she still harboured some resentment over his interference with Mr Bingley. He might have been unconscious of her sister’s feelings, but he ought not to have separated them.
After a stretch of silence, where Mr Darcy stared at the carpet, Charlotte asked him if he was looking forward to being in London.
He blinked and forced himself into attention. “I happily anticipate reuniting with my sister whom I have not seen since February. Miss Bennet, is your elder sister still in town?”
