“You did what? Why? What exactly did you tell her?”
“Darcy, calm down! It was nothing but a light-hearted conversation. Why are you so agitated?”
“I am not agitated,” Darcy answered, immediately checking himself. “I simply wonder about you choosing to share with Miss Bennet a subject I mentioned as being private.”
“I revealed nothing particular as I did not know any details myself. It was as general as a conversation can be, and it was a very brief one since Miss Bennet desired to return to the parsonage shortly afterwards. You have no reason to be upset.”
“I am not.”
“Of course you are. Darcy, your behaviour in regard to Miss Bennet puzzles me. Sometimes you seem to approve of her. At other times you object to everything about her.”
“This time I object to you, not to Miss Bennet, Cousin. But let us end this discussion now. My headache has taken a turn for the worse, and I need to sleep.”
“So I assume a game of cards is out of the question?”
“Absolutely. Tell Lady Catherine I shall see you all tomorrow at breakfast.”
The colonel hesitated, attempted to say something further, then only nodded and left.
Alone, Darcy’s turmoil increased as he had discovered at least one reason for Elizabeth’s rage — the confirmation, from the colonel, of how he had separated Bingley from Jane Bennet. Whilst he could not fault himself for acting for Bingley’s benefit, Darcy could understand Elizabeth’s anger. A marriage between her eldest sister and a rich man like Bingley would certainly solve all the Bennets’ problems. But then, if marriage to a rich man was all the family needed, why had she rejectedhismarriage proposal? His fortune and situation were far better than Bingley’s. Of course, he would not have allowed the entire Bennet family to disrupt his life, but he would have provided them the means to live in comfort. Obviously, Elizabeth’s contempt for him was stronger than her concern for her family, and that could only have been brought about by her affection for Wickham. And if her affection for that idiot was so strong, she was certainly not worthy of Darcy’s admiration.
The storm of feelings and thoughts, fuelled by plenty of brandy, fed Darcy’s anger and restlessness, and the voices of his relatives, issuing from downstairs, only annoyed him further.
Eventually, silence fell over Rosings Park, and he opened the window widely. The night was warm, yet cloudy, with no stars in the sky.
He lay on the bed and attempted to sleep, with no success; his thoughts roamed out of the open window, towards the parsonage, wondering about Elizabeth. He would return to London in two days’ time and likely never see her again, but he would surely find no peace knowing how poor her opinion of him was. She must know the truth — if only to realise how unfair she had been to him and perhaps to regret her accusations and rejection.
Led by bitterness and resentment, he stood up, paced the room, then pulled out a piece of paper, sat at the table, and began to write as if he were talking to her directly.
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter…
He kept writing, filling two pages; his hand, guided by hurt pride, was as quick as his tumult, and he wondered whether he had chosen the right words. He paused and pondered whether he should mention Wickham’s attempt to elope with Georgiana, and he finally decided that it must be revealed in order to draw her an accurate image of that wretch. To his disclosure he added a request for her discretion. As angry as he was with her, he did not doubt she would protect Georgiana’s secret. When it was done, he sealed the letter and put it in his pocket. He was uncertain what to do with it and how to give it to her, but he wished to hide it from any prying eyes.
Then he lay down on the bed again, but only for a short time. Restless, he resumed pacing the chamber until suddenly he put his coat on and left the room without even considering where he was going. Once out of doors, he walked through the gardens, then out of the gate into the park; then he stopped, looking about until his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Behind him, the light from Rosings’ torches was fading.
He kept walking, without any goal or destination, just to cool his mind and in the hope that the exercise would exhaust him enough to fall asleep. Against his will, he looked towards the parsonage, the place where his hopes had all broken into pieces a few hours earlier. The building was dark and silent, as it should be in the middle of the night. And why would it not be? The Collinses had no reason to be up, and Elizabeth was certainly sleeping soundly, pleased she had been offered the opportunity to offend and accuse him.
He hastened his pace, regretting he had not taken his horse; a long ride in the dark could have been good medicine. The walk was rather efficient too since his mind had cleared of the brandy, but that did not bring him tranquillity — quite the opposite.
He recollected very clearly his quarrel with Elizabeth — his foolish proposal and her hurtful rejection — and anger grew inside him again. A clap of thunder interrupted his musings, and he decided to return. Being caught in the rain was all he needed to complete the worst day of his life. A soft breeze was blowing through the trees, but a different and stronger sound drew his attention.
“Is someone there? Show yourself!” he demanded a few times. Since there was no answer, he stepped towards the sound, and he heard footsteps moving in the opposite direction.
“Is someone there?” he repeated, undecided whether he should pursue whoever it was or simply disregard them.
“It is I, Mr Darcy. I shall return to the parsonage in a moment,” he heard Elizabeth’s soft voice answer, which weakened his knees and gave him shivers.
“Miss Bennet? What on earth are you doing out at this hour? Are you alone?” he asked. Against his better judgment, his feet took him closer to her. In the dark, he could barely distinguish her face.
“I could ask the same of you, Mr Darcy,” she replied boldly.
“Not quite. I am in the grounds of my aunt’s estate. And I am a man.”
“I was not aware that I was not allowed to walk in the park. If this is the case, I have broken the rules several times, as you are well aware.”
“Of course you are allowed to walk in the park, Miss Bennet. Your taunt is not appreciated as my question was born from genuine concern. You may walk whenever you want, wherever you want, and with whoever pleases you.”
“I fail to understand your meaning, Mr Darcy. Your taunt is not appreciated either.”
