Page 11 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“That is true. He is the best of friends—and sometimes the most tyrannical.”

I smiled.

“Do you have an example?”

“Several. Just last year, he saved a close friend from a marriage he deemed imprudent.”

I slowed.

“Saved?”

“That is the word he would probably use. His friend was in love with a young woman whose family presented… certain difficulties. Darcy also had reason to believe the lady’s affection less ardent than his friend’s. He convinced him to quit the place before committing a folly.”

The world around me seemed to drain of color.

A friend. A young woman from an embarrassing family. A sudden departure.

Jane at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley in London.

I stopped so abruptly that the colonel took two more steps before turning around.

“Miss Bennet?”

“This friend… Was it Mr. Bingley?”

His expression changed. He had spoken carelessly and realized too late what he had revealed.

“I should not…”

“Was it him?”

“Darcy gave me no name.”

“But you knew.”

He hesitated. That hesitation was enough.

I thought of Jane, of her letters from London, of the gentleness with which she had made excuses for Caroline Bingley, of the pallor she believed she hid from us. Mr. Darcy had observed her composure and decided she did not love. He had condemned her family, separated two hearts, and then presented himself before me to explain how much it cost him to marry a Bennet.

Anger left me almost dizzy.

“Forgive me,” said the colonel. “I did not know you were acquainted with the parties involved.”

“I know them.”

“Darcy believed he was acting for his friend’s good.”

“Men who are very sure of their judgment always find a way to christen their decisions with the name of benevolence.”

I left him as soon as politeness permitted. At the parsonage, Charlotte tried to stop me, but I claimed a headache and went up to my room.

Jane’s letter awaited me on the table.

The day before, I had thought my marriage might repair what Bingley’s departure had taken from our family. Now I learned that the man I had accepted was the very one who had caused that loss.

I could not marry him.

The conclusion formed with absolute clarity. I could not bind my life to a man who arrogated to himself the right to decide the happiness of others. I could not look at Jane and hide the truth from her. I could not accept Darcy’s fortune as a remedy for a harm his pride had helped to cause.