Page 31 of Bitterness of Spirit

“Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me on our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him.”

“What is it you mean?”

“It is a circumstance which Darcy, of course, would not wish to be generally known because, if it were to get round to the lady’s family, it would be an unpleasant thing.”

“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”

“What I know is that he congratulated himself on having lately saved Bingley from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage.”

“Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”

“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady’s family and situation. Of the lady herself, Darcy said nothing ill, only that she did not seem to return Bingley’s affection.”

Elizabeth made no answer and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation.

“I can see you are upset by what I have told you, Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

“I was thinking…your cousin’s conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?”

“You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?”

“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend’s inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy.”

“You should know that I told him the same thing.”

“I am glad you share my opinion, sir. But, as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case,” Elizabeth concluded bitterly.

Having her suspicions now confirmed, she grew angrier with every moment. She abruptly changed the conversation, talking on indifferent matters till they reached the Parsonage. There, she shut herself into her own room, thinking without interruption of all that she had heard. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, Elizabeth had never doubted, but she had always blamed Miss Bingley and attributed to her the principal design and arrangement of them. And now, she discovered that he was the main reason, his pride and caprice were the cause of all that Jane had suffered and still continued to suffer. He had ruined carelessly every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world, and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

“There were some very strong objections against the lady’s family,” were Colonel Fitzwilliam’s words. These strong objections probably were: her having one uncle who was a country attorney and another who was in business in London.

When she thought of her mother, her confidence gave way a little. But she rejected it as being a reasonable enough objection. Mr. Darcy alone was to be blamed. She was quite decided that he had been partly governed by the worst kind of pride and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.

The agitation and tears brought on a headache, and she felt in no disposition to see anybody. Therefore, when Charlotte announced that Lady Catherine had unexpectedly asked them to join her for tea, Elizabeth refused. After some insistence, Mrs. Collins, seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go.

Even worse, Maria was unwell too, due to the monthly days that kept her to her bed.

Mr. Collins could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine’s being rather displeased and especially blamed Elizabeth for upsetting her ladyship. But in the end, he was forced to go with his wife alone and with great hopes of not raising his patroness’s rage.

Chapter 8

Darcy paced his room again and again, oblivious to the time spent in such useless activity. He gazed through the window, hoping to see the silhouette that tormented his mind and angry with himself for waiting for something that could bring him nothing good.

Earlier that day, the colonel informed him that he had met Miss Bennet in the wood and had a most charming interlude. Once more, the colonel expressed his admiration and discussed the notion of the lovely wife Miss Bennet would be. With enthusiasm, he spoke of his admiration for her and his regret at not being in a position to pursue her further.

Darcy became irritated with his cousin’s unrestrained declarations. Richard was used to speaking without consideration for the consequences of his words. He had spent time alone with Miss Bennet. What if somebody saw them? Was their situation proper, or could she have been compromised in some way? What if she were forced to marry Richard? And become his cousin? What if he were forced to see her as his cousin for the rest of his life? Meet her at family reunions? Watch her on his cousin’s arm? What if—?

His mind was so blurred that a strong headache engulfed his head. He secluded himself in his chamber, hoping to have some rest, but it was refused to him. Lady Catherine suddenly invited the Collinses and their guests to Rosings for tea. That meant at least half an hour—long and torturous.

But his distress was diminished by his eagerness. He would see her again; she would be in his proximity one more time. Soon. This time he would speak to her and engage himself in conversation. He would pay her compliments. He would not be a simpleton any more. She would leave soon—and so would he. And never see her again. Never know the taste of her lips, the scent of her loose hair, the softness of her skin, the feeling of her hands in his. She—and his entire happiness—would soon be gone. But, that said, she would be there.

Hours passed, and the time arrived. He was prepared but waited to see her before he went downstairs. So he paced the room and gazed outside until he spotted people walking from the Parsonage. But there were only two: the Collinses. She was not there. Would she come later? That was unlikely. What happened?

He wondered how he would bear the afternoon without her. He needed to know whether she was well, so a few minutes after the Collinses entered, he joined them. His aunt was just inquiring after Elizabeth, displeased with her absence. He was displeased too but, obviously, for different reasons.

“My sister and my cousin are both unwell. They are both deeply sad that they could not honour your ladyship’s generous invitation,” Mr. Collins explained with a deep bow.

“I met Miss Bennet in the park earlier. She looked perfectly well. I hope she was not too fatigued or caught a cold from the walk,” the colonel interjected.