“The colonel’s indiscretion was just one drop in a sea of ugliness. As I told you, Mr Darcy began his declaration of love by recounting his inner struggle to forget me, ultimately losing the battle, and surrendering to his emotions.”
“Oh!” Mrs Gardiner exclaimed. If it had not ended so sadly, she would have made terrible fun of such a pointless, even damaging honesty.
“No matter what you say, that is not a declaration of love.”
“Indeed, it is not. Anyhow, overwhelmed by guilt over the disastrous proposal, the colonel confessed to—”
“Lady Oakham,” Elizabeth said with a shadow of worry, feeling that too many people were already involved in her story.
“Yes. She was also stunned,” Mrs Gardiner said, trying to be discreet.
“By my refusal?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, she admired you and blamed Mr Darcy,” Jane intervened, showing she knew the whole story.
“She did not defend his actions, then?” Elizabeth asked.
“No! She pitied him but was mortified by his clumsy and pointless honesty.”
“You need not feel sorry for him. In truth, he disclosed those things not out of weakness but due to his overbearing conceit. And there is no cause for Lady Oakham or the colonel to feel ashamed, for his unvarnished frankness was ultimately good. Consider the consequences if we had wed and he had continued to harbour such disdain for my family. It would have been too late for me to escape. I could not endure a man who despises my family and views my sweet and honest sister as nothing but a mercenary creature.”
“He acted abominably, and I hardly can find any justification for his conduct,” admitted Mrs Gardiner, yet her voice was not accusatory, hoping to make Elizabeth see that his words were still a proposal—poorly considered, poorly expressed, and poorly received.
“He lost the battle in his mind—torn between his duty and his affection for me. I bear responsibility for his internal conflict,” Elizabeth said forcefully, feeling again the indignation that had engulfed her that day.
“Again—you are right to be outraged. Your rejection was warranted, even though it has become painful for you too. He played the honesty game, and the result was disastrous. Relying only on his feelings and temper was not such a good idea.”
“What counsel would you have given him? To conceal his aversion for my family?” Elizabeth asked Jane.
“By no means! He should have leased a house in Hertfordshire and stayed close to us for several weeks. Come to know our family in their natural setting and courted you in the traditional manner.”
Mrs Gardiner nodded in approval. “Jane is right. He held such a superficial impression of our family at Longbourn.”
“I am glad you understand my…refusal even if you do not entirely approve of how I acted,” Elizabeth replied. “And I wonder how he can consider his family’s behaviour better than ours. Think of Lady Catherine, about her pride, narrow views, and how she has raised her daughter to be like a lifeless doll.”
“Stop, my dear,” said Mrs Gardiner gently, brushing her hand with affection. “You said you love him.”
“I wish I knew what I have said in the last few days about him and…me.” Elizabeth sighed, a deep ache settling within her. “It seems I do. I love him, with all his flaws.”
“That is genuine love when you see someone’s flaws but consider them less important than their qualities,” Jane murmured.
“Would you be capable of forgiving Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth asked, surprised.
“Of course,” came Jane’s reply, and she blushed deeply, showing that her sorrow had not passed and that there was still love in her heart.
But it was not Jane’s moment, so Elizabeth continued, “I could not have suspected that I loved him. For over two weeks, he has appeared like a man of sixty, taking aimless walks for his digestion and lapsing into silence during conversations. He asked ridiculous questions unrelated to us, remained mute for long periods, and seemed to scrutinise me while likely despising his weakness.”
“I do not remember him like that,” Jane said firmly.
“Neither did I. The first night at Rosings, he was amusing and warm, then disaster struck! Loving me was the last reason I would have imagined for his changed behaviour, and when he asked for my hand I was shocked as not a single previous gesture had led me to suspect his feelings. But—”
“But?” asked Mrs Gardiner, noticing the confusion on Elizabeth’s face and her hesitation to speak or understand.
“What interest does Lady Oakham have in all of this?” she finally asked, looking intently from her aunt to her sister as if suspecting them, too, of being part of some conspiracy.
“Interest?” Mrs Gardiner repeated. “I do not know whether that is the right word.”
“Perhaps it is, Aunt,” murmured Jane, who seemed present and engaged in something other than Mr Bingley for the first time in months.
