A Most Civil Proposal (7 page)

The uncaring fire that danced merrily in the fireplace had no answers, and Fitzwilliam Darcy had no one in whom to confide. He considered his cousin but rejected him. Surely, he had already retired; he was usually up before the sun — the result of years of military life — so Darcy had no one to debate with but himself. He most assuredly did not have the confidence of the one woman in the world with whom he most wished to talk.

Even if Miss Bennet will never see me again
, he resolved,
I cannot bear the thought of Bingley and Jane Bennet being in the same misery as myself. I must try to repair my fault on their behalf, no matter what else comes.

Chapter 5

Friday, April 10, 1812

Breakfast at Rosings was a dreadful affair for Darcy since he was anxious to be out of the house to the park. His aunt was as strident as always, but this time her attention was focused on him, and she spent half the meal chastising him for his disappearance the previous evening. He ignored her for the most part, restricting himself to a few responses as his cousin Fitzwilliam watched in some enjoyment but added no comment. At last, Darcy was able to excuse himself and leave the table. Fitzwilliam looked as if he might join him, but at Darcy’s slight shake of the head, he settled back in his chair. Shortly afterward, Darcy strode from the house toward the area of the park where he hoped to encounter Miss Bennet. He was anxious in two regards: whether she had already been up and out before breakfast, or even more alarming, whether she had decided against coming at all.

For her part, after a restless night, Elizabeth had awoken dreading the meeting she had agreed to with Mr. Darcy, for she had not yet recovered from the emotional tension of the previous evening. Soon after breakfast, she told Charlotte of her intent to indulge herself in air and exercise, and though Charlotte raised her eyebrows, she said nothing. As soon as Elizabeth exited the Parsonage, she could not help being cheered by the fresh air and sunshine, but all too soon, she caught a glimpse of a gentleman standing in the distance. Mr. Darcy stepped forward with eagerness as soon as he saw her, and shortly they met.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” he said with a bow as she curtseyed in response. “It was good of you to come.” Darcy could easily discern her agitation, but agitated or not, his heart swelled at the sight of her. He was distressed by the dark circles under her eyes though he knew his own eyes were red from lack of sleep.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.” Her voice was so soft as to be almost inaudible. “I have come as I agreed last night, sir, though little do I know what you wish to gain by it.”

“Perhaps you would care to simply walk for the moment? It is a lovely morning.”

“As you please, sir.”

Darcy did not offer his arm since he was uncertain whether it would be accepted, and they began to walk at a steady pace that gradually had an effect. Soon, despite her worry, Elizabeth’s spirits began to rise. Part of it was the joy of walking one of her favourite paths in the Park, but another part was due to the completely different light in which she viewed her companion. On their previous walks when he had intercepted her, their time together had been marked by uncertainty and tenseness where each had been unaware of the true nature of the other’s feelings. On this morning, at least, that was no longer the case. The intensity of the previous evening had dispelled those misconceptions.

They proceeded in cordial silence for upwards of fifteen minutes, and it was Darcy who first spoke.

“Miss Bennet, I informed Colonel Fitzwilliam that you might make enquiries of him regarding my association with George Wickham. He will accompany me when we call to take our leave later this afternoon and will make himself available to you if you have any questions yet to ask.”

Elizabeth flushed slightly. “Truly, sir, I have no questions for the colonel. Once you forced me to open my eyes, I soon remembered any number of ways in which Mr. Wickham rather effortlessly convinced me to deceive myself.” She looked down at the ground, suddenly angry that tears were again threatening to flow, and she needed several moments before she could again speak. Her voice was low, and Darcy was unable to see her eyes behind her bonnet. “I must apologize, sir, for the harshness of my accusations last evening regarding Mr. Wickham and for my own prejudice which previously prevented me from seeing what was most clearly apparent to me last night.”

“Do not distress yourself on that account,” Darcy said. “George Wickham has a talent for deception that is most dangerous to those who, like yourself and my sister, do not tend to the kind of suspicion that is likely to perceive his true nature. He has deceived, I am sure, countless others as a matter of course. I would wager that he has amassed a sizable string of creditors in Meryton already. It has been so everywhere he goes.”

Elizabeth did not say anything to this, and they walked on for several minutes more before Darcy spoke again. “I had much to think on last night as well, and there is one topic especially on which I dwelt with considerable discomfort. That is the affair of your sister and my friend.”

Darcy looked over at her, but he still could not see her face or judge the impact of his words on her. “I do not seek your sympathy, Miss Bennet, when I tell you that I felt extremely disheartened last evening. It is only the simple truth and is, I hope, easily understandable. But in the midst of my own disappointments, I also came to realize that your sister and very possibly my friend might, at that same instant, be feeling similar emotions. It was a thought that gave me considerable pain.

“I will not attempt to pretend that I do not wish for a chance to change your opinion of me. But whether you grant me that chance or whether you send me away, I realized last night that I must attempt to repair the harm wrought by my interference. I will call on Bingley as soon as possible after I return to London and acquaint him both with my knowledge of the true state of your sister’s affections and of the disagreeable part I played in the matter.” Darcy’s face was grim, because he was well aware of the hazards to his friendship with Bingley at such a confession. “I cannot foretell the outcome of my efforts, for that will be up to Bingley and your sister, but I am determined to make the effort.”

Elizabeth still said nothing, and at length Darcy, with great trepidation, ventured, “Miss Bennet, you have not spoken, and yet I confess that I cannot keep from wondering whether the content of our later conversation last evening and this morning has in any way altered those sentiments which led to your refusal of my suit.”

Darcy was now in such a heightened state of emotion that he could hardly bear to look at her, and yet he could not look away as she at last stopped walking and raised her face to him. His heart sank as he read her expression, for it showed only grim determination.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, “I do admit that my opinion of you as regards Mr. Wickham was completely in error. I will even admit that some part of your interference between your friend and my sister was due to honest error rather than callous disregard for their feelings though the end result still remains painful to both parties. And I do appreciate your willingness to correct your error.”

Elizabeth now came to the difficult part of what she had to say. “But even given my altered opinion in these matters,” she continued, “I cannot give a different answer than I gave last evening. I do not
know
you, Mr. Darcy. The nature of your proposal was completely at variance with the cold, proud, and indifferent manner you have displayed from our first acquaintance in Hertfordshire, and I am in complete confusion in trying to appraise your character.”

Darcy was stunned at her words, for he thought he had managed an adequate defence of his character the previous night. Since his father’s death had forced him to assume a number of responsibilities at an early age, he had laboured mightily to make himself into the man the world expected him to be. He had always been known among his friends and associates for his honesty, for his discernment, and for his obedience to the dictates of society; others often sought his advice in difficult matters. In no small measure, his relationship with Bingley had begun when he came to the aid of the younger man in just such a situation. Miss Bennet may have been correct that he had acted wrongly to separate Bingley and her sister, but that mistake did not condemn the whole of his character. Could she not see that his proposal was as much a part of him as was the correctness of his manners?

“I have always tried to conduct myself as a gentleman ought, both in my public and private affairs,” he said defensively. “I find myself at a loss to understand your claim of my being, as you say, cold, proud, and indifferent.”

“Mr. Darcy, do you not
see
?” she retorted in exasperation. “How can the man who professed such a tender regard for me just last evening be the same man who sat by poor, silly Mrs. Long for a full half-hour without saying a word? Who never deigned to even attempt conversation with any of the country savages and who rebuffed every friendly entreaty by those who sought to simply engage you in ordinary pleasantries?” She sighed at the shocked look on his face, and she concluded tiredly, “Mr. Bingley told Jane that you were remarkably agreeable among your intimate acquaintances, but until last night, the only impression I had of you was one of arrogant disdain for the feelings of others who were not of that group. How can I be blamed for forming an opinion of you that was only inflamed by Mr. Wickham’s vile utterances?”

Darcy was stricken to silence when she finished, and now he could no longer meet
her
eyes. Conflicting emotions warred within his breast, fierce anger at the unfairness of her charges, challenged by the sudden insight of those scenes she mentioned as they must have appeared to her.

Could she be right? Was this truly how he was seen by others, as cold, proud, indifferent, and arrogant? His mind was a whirl, and he tried to make sense of the contradictory thoughts and emotions flashing through his memory.
I need time
, he told himself numbly.
Time to sort all this out, to determine what is real and what is not.

But he did not have time. He was leaving the next morning, and in his arrogance, he had thought to leave with everything resolved between himself and Elizabeth. Instead, matters were more convoluted than they were before.

He heard Elizabeth sigh and tried to focus on her. “I believe I must return, Mr. Darcy,” she said tiredly. “My headache grows worse, and I cannot believe there is anything to be gained by continuing this discussion.”

As she turned back toward the Parsonage, Darcy automatically turned along with her. He was conscious of her glancing up at him in confusion at his continued presence, but he knew only that he could not let her go with this barrier still between them. It was obvious that even with her altered opinion of his actions, she still looked upon him with real dislike, and the pain from that drew both sharp anger and even sharper despair.

He forced himself to put aside his conflicting emotions, and after some minutes of silent walking and rather desperate thought on his part, he made his determination. “Miss Bennet,” he began, “I now find myself in a similar state of confusion as you earlier related. It is tempting for me to withdraw in order to sort out the truth of what we have both discussed, but I find that approach has one intolerable drawback. That is, that I might well leave this place tomorrow with no chance to change your opinion of me and with no assurance that I will ever see you again. So, despite the confusion of my feelings, I have rejected that alternative.”

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy in some apprehension. Surely he was not going to renew his proposal yet again?

“The dictum of our society is rather simple,” he pressed on, “in the situation where a man develops an attraction towards a woman who is not aware of that attraction or who has insufficient knowledge of the suitor on which to make a decision. That social practice, Miss Bennet, is a courtship.”

Elizabeth halted, her thoughts suddenly even more confused. Darcy said softly, “Miss Bennet, after I see Bingley in London, may I call on you at your uncle’s house?”

He looked down at her as she remained silent, her bonnet lowered so that he could not see her face. At length, after she made no response, he tried again. “Miss Bennet —”

“Oh, have done, sir!” she burst out. She could not master her own thoughts; they were in such turmoil, and she wanted nothing more than to be away from him and safe in her own room. Her emotions threatened to overwhelm her — anger at Mr. Darcy for all he had expressed and related the previous night, distress mixed with hope for her sister, mortification for her own errors of judgment, exasperation with the man beside her. They combined to make her forget all politeness. But almost as soon as the words were said, she realized her unfairness and sighed.

“Please forgive me, sir,” she said shortly, and though what she really wanted was simple silence, she added, “Pray continue.”

“I was asking whether I might call on you after your return to London.”

“Why do you persist in this quest?” she demanded. “Have I not made clear that I do not return your affections?” She made an effort to calm herself. “While I do admit that I have been in error about many aspects of your character, I have not yet been able to consider and think on all I have learned. I do not yet know if I even
like
you! We have not had, in the whole of our acquaintance, a single civil conversation, and now you ask my leave to call on me — to court me?”