“What is that downcast look for?” Fitzwilliam barked. “You should be thrilled the lady does not hate you after how you behaved early in your acquaintance. You don’t regret kissing her, do you?”
“No,” he cried. “Well, yes, and no. She made her feelings for me clear. She encouraged Mrs Sullivan in the invitation because she knew I would be there and Elizabeth told me she liked me, and I kissed her.” It had felt like the most sensible, most necessary thing to do. “But I should have confessed my own feelings in return and asked her to marry me first.”
“Then go see her this evening after we meet my parents and throw yourself at her feet before she changes her mind. I am noteven sure why she likes you. You are not amiable, you have an unyielding temper, you hate dancing, and you would rather go to a lecture than a party. You might not even be a good kisser.”
Fitzwilliam was teasing, but what if she regretted it? They had settled nothing between them, after all. The fear gripped him that she regretted it because their kiss meant everything to him.
“When I stopped kissing her, I apologised for taking such a liberty?—”
“If she kissed you back, I doubt she minded.”
“—and she asked me if there was someone else. Before I could answer, you and Mrs Sullivan came in.” His mind was a whirl with reasons Elizabeth might think less of him and refuse him.
“Is there someone else? Are you still hopeful about L?”
“No. In fact, I am going to write to L to formally end our communication.” He would wish her well, but tell her his affections were engaged elsewhere and that it would be inappropriate to continue writing. “And then tomorrow I am calling in Gracechurch Street.”
“You look rather miserable for a man expecting to be engaged.”
Any man who had so many reasons to be refused would look as distressed as Darcy felt. “She might suspect there is someone else and not trust me. I kissed her without making a declaration. I thought her sister was not good enough for my friend.” He rested his head in his hands. “I called her ‘tolerable’, Fitzwilliam.”
“This is why I thought you would find a woman to love you through letters. There was less of a chance of you saying something stupid. Break it off with L. Help me convince his lordship that the widowed daughter of a banker could make mea good wife, and then tell Miss Elizabeth you want to marry herbeforeyou kiss her again.”
He felt mortified. “A gentleman would have settled everything rather than kiss her senseless.”
“And a proper lady would not have put words to her feelings before you did,” Fitzwilliam quipped. “I guess you are both reprehensible and deserve one another.”
Fitzwilliam laughed heartily, and Darcy gave a wan smile and hoped that Elizabeth loved him.
Sunday,February 16
My dear friend,
I open with this sincere salutation knowing full well this will be my last letter. I have met a woman with whom I hope to share the rest of my life, and it would be disrespectful to her to continue writing to a single woman. Although we did not meet in person, we exchanged enough letters in friendship that could distress another woman. I do not demand the letters’ return—there was nothing shameful in our correspondence—but out of respect for a woman who I hope will be my bride, I would appreciate it if you burned them.
I cannot write to you again, but I hope you know I will always think of you with fondness and friendship.
I wish you health and happiness and remain your humble servant,
F
Elizabeth read Darcy’s letter in the drawing room while Bingley and his sisters visited with Jane. His letter arrived in Monday’s first post just as they had called this morning to express their joy in their brother’s engagement. Elizabethsuspected the connexion mortified them, but they would learn to be gracious for the sake of appearances.
Since she was in company, it forced Elizabeth to stay calm while her heart beat out of control. She wanted to believe that she was the woman Darcy had fixed on, but everything felt unsettled since the lecture. After her thoughts ran wild and she tried to keep a calm affect, she felt about to burst if she did not speak to Jane.
Begging to borrow her sister for a moment, she pulled Jane from her guests and made her join her in her room. After a few false starts, Elizabeth admitted what had been on her mind since Saturday night: that she had admitted to her fond feelings for Darcy, Darcy had ardently kissed her, but they were interrupted before he could make any promises.
“You let him kiss you?” Jane cried. “I am astonished, but I am happy for you. He must love you.”
The memory of the kiss made her blush, and it made her yearn for a quick marriage that she had no assurances would happen.
“There is more,” she said, holding out the letter. “This is from Darcy—to L,” she added. “He wants his letters destroyed because his affections are with another.”
Jane handed the letter back and gave her a curious look. “What has you so distressed to learn he cares for you and won’t write to L again? And whenever Mr Darcy calls to request an audience with you, then you can tell him you were L all along.”
The uncertainty she felt about Darcy’s feelings was nothing compared to the guilt at keeping the truth about their correspondence from him. Her integrity would be called into question, and Darcy would never love her. “Oh, Jane, how could I tell him? He is so principled. As soon as he knows I realised who he was and said nothing, he will be angry.”
“His affection for you will do away with any resentment about you keeping this from him for so long. You must tell him the truth,” Jane said firmly, but Elizabeth shook her head. “You mean to say that if you secure Mr Darcy, you will never tell him you were his correspondent? How else will you explain how you grew to like him so quickly?”
