Page 28 of A Most Unfortunate Gentleman
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Elizabeth stood motionless until Mr. Darcy moved ahead. Only then did she gather herself enough to follow. She felt the weight of every eye fixed upon her, though she dared not look back to confirm it. With a steady breath and her chin held high, she stepped out of the house beside him.
As they walked toward the garden path, her thoughts tumbled faster than her steps.
Her father’s words had prepared her somewhat, but not nearly enough.
Mr. Darcy was here. He had returned. And though it was likely he had come to explain his abrupt departure, Elizabeth’s heart beat with more anxiety than anticipation.
Whatever he said now could change everything.
“You must forgive my sudden departure, Miss Elizabeth,” he began once they found rhythm in their walk.
His voice, quiet yet certain, broke the hush between them. He studied her as he spoke, as though he sought from her expression some encouragement to continue.
When she offered a small nod, he resumed.
“Perhaps I ought to explain myself more fully,” he said.
“When I first came to Hertfordshire, the journey proved unlike any I had experienced. Until then, I had been considered by many as particularly fortunate. However, before I even reached Netherfield, I encountered a fortune-teller in London who declared that my luck would turn until I found the right heart.”
He glanced at her briefly, then continued, “I dismissed her words entirely—until everything about my arrival confirmed them.
The journey itself was abysmal. My carriage broke down, I lost my luggage, and arrived in such a state of disarray.
I scarcely recognised myself. The very bed I slept in at Netherfield collapsed beneath me on the first night, and I was tormented by a mosquito so persistent I thought it the devil in disguise.
“From there, it worsened. I broke a teacup without even handling it roughly, and lost at cards thrice in one evening to Mr. Hurst. You must understand, Miss Elizabeth—I never lose at cards. Not even when playing with gamblers.”
He paused for breath, watching her once more.
She nodded again, urging him on.
“By the night of the Meryton assembly, I had resolved not to dance, fearing I might embarrass myself or anyone near me. But then I saw you. From the moment I entered the room, I was drawn to you. Still, I feared that approaching you would only extend my misfortune to you. When Bingley encouraged me to dance, I hoped that by refusing his suggestion outright, he would desist. In doing so, I slighted you. It is, I think, the gravest error I have made since coming here.”
Elizabeth felt her hands trembling and clasped them together quickly, willing the nerves away. She raised her gaze again, eager not to miss a word.
“If you would allow me now, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with more gentleness, “I would like to apologise for that moment. I believe I never did.”
“There is no need, sir,” she replied softly. “You made amends that same evening with Mr. Bingley, and I overheard your remarks. I took them as apology enough.”
He gave a small smile. “You are very generous. Regardless, I regret having spoken so discourteously.”
“If I had truly taken offence, I should not have been civil when we later encountered one another,” Elizabeth replied with a small lift of her brow.
He let out a breath of release. “As you witnessed, my poor fortune did not relent. You saw the torn gown at the assembly, the horse that threw me when I saw you on your walk, the shelf that collapsed in the library at Netherfield and even the bonnet that caused me to fall on our walk.”
“I do remember them all, sir,” she said. “But I also remember you winning at whist when we played together. And I distinctly recall your triumph at heads or tails.”
This time, his smile reached his eyes. “You will note, Miss Elizabeth, that both events occurred when I was in your company.”
He paused, as if gauging her reaction, then added, “I have come to believe I am a better man when I am near you. Luckier, too. It was this sentiment I attempted, however poorly, to express while you were at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth felt something stir in her chest at these words, but she kept her voice steady. “That may be so, sir. But I was beside you when you fell on the path at Netherfield.”
He chuckled lightly. “Yes. I suspected, even then, that Miss Bingley was displeased by my partiality toward your company and may have interfered. I had wagered heads or tails with her brother earlier to demonstrate my supposed ill luck and lost ten times in a row. I decided to repeat the experiment before your departure. My hope was to prove that my fortune changed with you near.”
Elizabeth blinked. So that had been his reason for that curious game.
“But Miss Elizabeth,” he said, and his tone deepened, “you must not think I am drawn to you merely because of a shift in luck. I admired you from the first moment I saw you. It only took me some time to realise that the fortune-teller’s words were not about wealth or victory, but about events that would lead me to a heart. To yours.”
She faltered and found her balance again by resting her hand lightly on the trunk of a broad beech tree that stood near the path.
“When I left Netherfield,” he continued, “I told Bingley only that I had some affairs to settle. In truth, I went to consult with my sister and cousin. My family holds strong expectations—especially in matters of admiration. I knew what I wanted, but I needed to reconcile it with my obligations.”
Elizabeth looked down at the path, uncertain whether to speak.
“I intended to return within days,” he said. “But my carriage was stopped by highwaymen. Then one of the wheels broke—again. And upon arriving in London, I found Georgiana feverish. I remained by her side for three days.”
“I see,” she murmured.
“When she recovered, I told her of Hertfordshire and you,” he said quietly. “She approved at once. My cousin, on the other hand, laughed at me until a chair collapsed beneath me, and his dog ruined my shoes. At that point, he conceded that my curse might be genuine.”
Elizabeth could not help but smile at the image.
“After that, a string of unfortunate delays conspired to keep me away, and to recount them all would occupy the better part of the day. I wrote to Bingley twice,” he continued.
“Hoping he might convey something to you. The first letter, I am told, never arrived. The second was lost in a flood at the post office.”
“You tried,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I did. Whether it changes anything, I know not. But I could not bear that you might think I left you thoughtlessly.”
Elizabeth hesitated, then said, “Miss Bingley visited not long after and declared you had gone to Kent to visit your aunt—and that you were engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh.”
Darcy laughed softly. “That confirms what I suspected. Miss Bingley has endeavoured to part us from the beginning. My aunt indeed wishes for a union between me and Anne. But we have no such arrangement. My parents would never have allowed a betrothal without my knowledge. Anne and I have discussed it plainly, and she has no such attachment to me, nor I to her.”
Elizabeth’s heart lifted with each word. One doubt resolved, yet another remained.
Darcy seemed to read her thoughts.
“When I arrived last night and saw you engaged in dancing,” he said, “I was struggling with jealousy. But then I saw a face I hoped never to see again.”
“Mr. Wickham?” The name slipped from Elizabeth's lips before she could restrain it.
Mr. Darcy's eyes widened. “I saw him dancing with one of your sisters. I could not endure it and was compelled to withdraw.”
“Lydia has taken a fondness for him.”
“Then I must speak with your father as soon as we conclude.”
“But why? Mr. Wickham appears a harmless officer.”
“There is nothing harmless about Wickham,” Darcy said, his voice steeled with conviction. “He deceives many with ease, but those of us who know him understand the truth.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, the corners of her mouth lifting faintly. “That is curious, sir. He said something quite similar about you.”
Darcy gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Indeed, it is a favourite tale of his. He has always told those who care to listen to him that I denied him a position promised by my father, and withheld the compensation due him.”
“Did you?” she asked softly.
“No, Miss Elizabeth. My father intended for him to enter the Church. Mr. Wickham refused the offer and requested, instead, the value of the living in money. I consented. He spent it all on gambling and idle dissipation. When his debts mounted, I declined to give him more. It was during this time that he plotted to elope with my sister.”
Elizabeth's breath caught.
“I had trusted him enough to accept his recommendation of a governess for Georgiana,” Darcy continued. “He used that connection to gain access to her confidence. Had I not discovered their plan in time, the consequences would have been ruinous. I do not doubt that he seeks similar prey even now.”
Whatever confusion or resentment Elizabeth still harboured dissolved at his declaration.
She felt almost foolish to have ever supposed that Mr. Wickham might have spoken the truth.
Elopement with Georgiana? The very notion chilled her.
Her thoughts flew at once to Lydia, and with growing unease, she realised no more likely target could exist for Mr. Wickham’s designs.
“All I have told you regarding Wickham can be confirmed by my sister, Colonel Fitzwilliam, or even Bingley. They are the only others privy to these particulars.” He paused then, his gaze intent upon hers.
“When I saw him yesterday, my first thought was to protect my sister from the man who nearly ruined her. And yet, what I desired more than anything in that moment was to speak with you and confess what lies in my heart. But Wickham’s presence compelled me to act on Georgiana’s behalf. ”
“I would have done the same, were I in your place, sir,” Elizabeth replied quietly.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has written to the commandant of the militia to see that he is closely watched. But as of this morning, he has vanished.”
They fell into step again, walking in silence as Elizabeth digested all he had shared. Her head was spinning as she tried to understand it all.
After a short distance, he turned to her.
“Now, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, voice low and earnest, “to the matter that truly brought me here.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. Her knees threatened to fail her once more.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, stopping beside her, “will you permit me to speak plainly?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“From the first time I saw you, I have admired you. I have been captivated by your wit, your spirit, and your warmth. It is as though fate placed you before me to calm every storm I have known. If you deem me worthy, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
He held her gaze in silence, awaiting her reply.
Tears welled before she could stop them. She smiled through them.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth began, her voice low, trembling with long-held restraint, “I have often wondered whether it was all merely in my imagination. I scolded myself for the hopes I allowed to form, and did all I could to forget the moments we shared. When Miss Bingley told me you were betrothed to another, I confess, I was angry—angry that you had led me to believe I might have meant something to you.”
She drew a breath, steadying herself. “But your words today have dispelled every doubt. And so, to your request, sir, I say yes. Yes, I will be your wife.”
His expression softened into a smile so genuine that it stole her breath. It reminded her of how happy he had been on the night they had bested Mr. and Mrs. Hurst at whist.
“If you do not object,” he said gently, extending his hand, “may I have the honour of kissing yours?”
Elizabeth placed her hand in his without hesitation.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “You may.”
As he brought her hand to his lips with reverence and care, Elizabeth could not help but feel that whatever misfortunes might once have plagued Mr. Darcy, they had surely found their end.