His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (41 page)

He sighed and shook his head. "I knew that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part especially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might justly make you hate me."

Despite their current good understanding, Darcy looked at Elizabeth with some anxiety. He could not help but feel he did not deserve her, and he trembled lest she might come to the same conclusion.

Instead, she laced her fingers more tightly through his and said, "The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily changed as that implies."

Her cheeky good humor brought a smile to his lips, but he could not quite let the subject rest. "When I wrote that letter, I believed myself perfectly calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a dreadful bitterness of spirit."

He glanced over at her and saw the way she tilted her head slightly as she considered. "The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The adieu is charity itself." Then she smiled up at him. "But think no more of the letter. The feelings of the person who wrote and the person who received it are now so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure."

He heard the lightheartedness in her voice, but the subject had depressed him slightly and he could not think thus. "I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind," he argued. "
Your
retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of innocence. But with
me
it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude, which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle."

That confession triggered an avalanche of words he could not hold in, and what a relief it was to finally have someone with whom he could share his thoughts! "As a child I was taught what was
right
, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, an only son (for many years an only
child
), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing--to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to
wish
at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!"

He stopped walking and faced Elizabeth, catching her other hand once again and holding both to his chest. "What do I not owe you? You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased."

Elizabeth's forehead creased and curiosity flickered across her expression. "Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?"

Darcy laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. "Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses."

To his surprise and amazement, Elizabeth blushed. "My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you." Her smile was earnest, beseeching him to believe her. "I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after
that
evening!"

Darcy started, and Elizabeth pulled at her hands, trying to get away. He held her closer and exclaimed, "Hate you! I was angry, perhaps, at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction."

She sighed, and he imagined she was looking for a new topic. "I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me when we met at Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?"

His jaw dropped and he shook his head quickly, but she saw neither gesture, for her eyes had drifted to the ground. Darcy placed a hand under her chin and tilted her head up. "No, indeed; I felt nothing but surprise."

"Your surprise could not be greater than
mine
in being noticed by you," she said ruefully. "My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I confess that I did not expect to receive
more
than my due."

"My object
then
was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an hour after I had seen you."

He and Elizabeth shared a smile at that, and then he said, "Georgiana was particularly delighted by your stay in Derbyshire. She had wished to make your acquaintance for some time, and for the opportunity to land so neatly in her lap was more than she had wished for."

"She is a sweet, unaffected young lady--exactly what I have always wished for in a younger sister." The allusion both to her own younger sisters and to the fact that Georgiana very soon would be her own sister made her blush again.

Eager to see that delicious shade of pink spread further across her face, Darcy said, "Georgie, too, has always wished for a sister--she will be very happy when I tell her those wishes are to come true." Her entire face was pink now, and he took pity on her. "She was most disappointed when you left so suddenly."

"Yes, as were we all. Lydia has not yet learned to time her escapades for the convenience of the rest of the family."

Her wry humor drew a chuckle from Darcy, but he sobered quickly. "I am sorry this incident happened at all, and only glad I was able to help as far as I was."

"When did you decide to follow them?"

"Almost from the moment I learned of the event. I confess I spent most of the time we were together thinking about how I would find them and what I would say to him."

She stared at him. "Is that why you were so quiet?"

"I was not aware that I was, but if I was so, then yes, that was the reason. Why, what did you think to be the cause?"

"I supposed... that is, I knew how repugnant Wickham was to you, and I thought..."

"Surely you did not believe that would be enough to put an end to my affection for you?" Elizabeth's silence told all, and in a moment of daring, Darcy placed his hands on her neck and caressed her jaw line with his thumbs. The pink of her cheeks deepened once more, but he would not let her look away. "I would never blame anyone else for the actions of George Wickham."

She smiled, and he ran his hands slowly down her arms and reclaimed her hand. "Your sister perhaps made her own bed, but I could not leave things like that, not when you were so unhappy. Your tears, Elizabeth, will always command me."

Silent understanding flowed between them, and Darcy knew they need not speak any more of Wickham. He examined his watch and said, "It is nearly dinner time. We should go back to the house, or your mother will wonder where we have been."

"We are not the only ones," Elizabeth retorted pertly. "What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!"

"Ah, but your family knows they are engaged. No one will wonder if they do not come home until dinner time."

"I must ask whether you were surprised?"

Darcy shrugged. "Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen."

"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much."

"Come now, Elizabeth, permission? Bingley is a grown man; he can make his own decisions."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You did not discuss it with him?"

"On the evening before my going to London, I made a confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself mistaken in supposing as I had done, that your sister was indifferent to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together."

Elizabeth smiled slightly, and he knew he had not successfully defended himself. "Did you speak from your own observation when you told him that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?"

Darcy cleared his throat. Surely the answer she wished to hear was the latter, but he had never been the kind of man who could be guided simply by the impressions and beliefs of another. He hoped she would understand that. "From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits which I had lately made here, and I was convinced of her affection."

"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him."

"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but his reliance on mine made everything easy. I was obliged to confess one thing which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months last winter--that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained in any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now."

"They are very happy together."

"Not nearly so happy as we are, my Elizabeth." She smiled tenderly at him and placed her hand on his arm, where it remained until the house came into view.

Darcy then allowed Elizabeth to be swept away from him by her elder sister, knowing there were already far more questions to be answered than he cared for. During dinner he found himself looking so often at Elizabeth that he felt sure someone must notice and comment, but no one did. She did not look at him but once, and were it not for the joy only he could read in that look, he might have feared she regretted her decision.

That evening when they sat down in front of the fire with their port, Bingley opened the conversation Darcy had feared at Longbourn. "Wherever did you disappear to with Miss Elizabeth this morning, Darcy?"

Darcy shifted in his seat. "Did she not already answer that question? We walked, and talked as we walked, and as we paid more attention to our conversation than to where we were going, we were soon far from Longbourn."

Bingley tapped his fingers on the side of his glass. "I do seem to recall a time when the lady would not have tolerated your presence for that long."

Darcy could not suppress a smile. "Thankfully, that time is past."

Bingley lowered his glass. "Darcy? Is there something you wish to share?"

Darcy considered for a moment. He had not intended to tell anyone until the information became public, but there was no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth was telling Jane even as they spoke. "I have asked Miss Elizabeth to marry me, and she has accepted."

For the first time, Darcy had the pleasure of seeing his friend absolutely speechless. Bingley opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally took a large swig of his port and immediately rose to refill the glass, downing that quickly as well.

"Darcy, I think there is something amiss with my hearing. Did you just tell me that you have proposed to Miss Elizabeth?"

"I did."

Bingley leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "Sister to Jane Bennet?"

"The very same."

"Whose relations you thought beneath me?"

Darcy squirmed. "I admit that, yes."

"Tell me, what could possibly induce you to make a match you deemed unsuitable for me?"

"It was hypocritical of me, I confess."

"I am glad you see that."

The sarcasm was unmistakable. "In my defense, Bingley, when I kept you from Jane last winter I was equally eager to get away from Elizabeth. It was only when I met her in Kent last spring that I realized my... affections could not be swept away as neatly as I had hoped."

"Last spring?" Bingley frowned. "Was that why you were in such poor spirits when you returned to town?"

Darcy sighed--he had not intended to mention Rosings.
At this point, I might as well make a clean breast of it.
"Yes. I proposed to Elizabeth once before in Kent, and she pointed out the same flaws in my reasoning that you just highlighted. She refused me."

"She never did!" Bingley rocked back on his heels, a smile spreading across his face. "Well, Jane does say she is quite independent."

Darcy smiled wryly. "Very much so."