Mr. Darcy’s expression grew grave.
“You honour me with your trust, Miss Bennet. The matter requires care, for Wickham’s charm is his most dangerous weapon. If you will permit me, I shall consider the best course and share my thoughts at our next meeting. For there must be another, must there not?”
The question, softly spoken, carried a note of earnest hope that stirred Elizabeth’s heart in a manner both new and strangely welcome. She met his gaze steadily, a spark of her former wit returning. “I believe the grove will prove accommodating, sir. And I shall greatly anticipate hearing your wisdom on the subject.”
The conversation having taken a turn both promising and delicate, Elizabeth gathered her courage, her fingers twisting lightly in the folds of her gown.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began, her voice soft yet resolute, “there is something else that has weighed upon my mind. I wondered whether there was some particular distress that troubled Miss de Bourgh so greatly as to increase her illness. She appeared quite well one day, then suddenly took to her bed, and I could not help but fear some deeper cause.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her with evident puzzlement, his dark brows drawing together. “I am lost to what particular distress you imagine.”
Heat rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks, embarrassment warring with the need for honesty. She looked away for a moment towards the sun-dappled path before meeting his gaze again.
“I have heard rumours — persistent ones, I own — that certain…expectations exist. That Miss de Bourgh should soon receive a marriage proposal from one near to her…”
The effect of her words was immediate. Mr. Darcy’s countenance clouded with distress and no small measure of upset.
“I assume you heard these rumours from Mr. Collins,” he said, his voice low and edged with displeasure. “And do you presume, then, that I broke some sacred engagement to my cousin when I proposed to you? That such a betrayal caused her to fall ill? That I would trifle so heartlessly with the affections and health of an honourable woman?”
His expression was dark, reminding her of the proud anger of that fateful day at the parsonage, and Elizabeth felt a pang of regret sharp enough to leave her still and speechless.
“I had better leave now, before more distressing things that should remain unsaid are spoken.”
He turned his back, and a sense of panic made her act without much consideration. She hurried towards him and grabbed his arm quite strongly, forcing him to stop.
“Mr. Darcy, pray, do not go. I spoke too hastily, and it was only my genuine concern that prompted such presumptions.”
“I understand your concern for my cousin, as well as I understand that you think so ill of me that you are ready to assume the worst. I cannot be surprised, since you so honestly revealed your opinion of me a few days ago.”
She halted, her breath catching at the warmth of his arm where she still held it and the sad earnestness in his eyes.
“Regardless of what I said a few days ago, I do not think ill of you, sir. If I did once, for just or unjust reasons, it endedthe day I read the letter. I can see you are angry and upset, and I apologise. If I offended you, it was most unintentional. My confusion led me to err once more. I did not know what to think.”
“I am angry and upset,” he admitted. “But I should apologise for my temper. It is a fault I have long struggled to master, especially where you are concerned.”
He turned, revealing his acceptance to continue the conversation, and she released her grip on his arm.
“If you did not know what to think, perhaps you should have asked, like you just did, without assuming I am a scoundrel with no honour and loyalty.”
“You are too harsh, sir,” she answered, lowering her eyes. “I never implied that. As for addressing questions — what woman would dare ask a gentleman about his engagement to another?”
“You are right. Since we tend to fight over new misunderstandings at every meeting, I repeat my offer to answer any questions you may have. As for my engagement to Anne, it is a silliness that began a long time ago and has still not ended.”
Elizabeth remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“It has been my aunt’s obsession for as long as I can remember, but nobody took it seriously except for her. As we grew up, neither Anne nor I ever agreed to it and told my aunt at every opportunity, but she would simply not have it. I care for my cousin deeply and always shall, as she is part of my family. But I have no intention of marrying her — regardless of any proposals I might or might not make to other women.”
“I see… I am sorry. Truly,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I am glad you told me as much. It would have pained me if we parted on unhappy terms after my enquiry.”
He nodded, his frame easing as he studied her.
“What a relief to know my assumption of you thinking ill of me was wrong.”
Encouraged, with a sudden burst she could no longer contain, Elizabeth continued,
“My opinion of you has changed greatly since I read your letter and reflected upon its contents. I see now how unjust many of my accusations were. Yet I remain upset with you for the pain you caused Jane. That wound is not so easily healed in me, but I am grateful for your decision to inform Mr. Bingley of my sister’s presence in town.”
“I thank you for your candour. I know my involvement has hurt your sister, you, and most likely Bingley too. I expect him to be upset and angry with me, as I well deserve. Keeping this secret from him was shameful on my part.”
