Page 13 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

“Darcy, what is wrong with you?” the colonel asked, almost furious yet clearly concerned.

Of late, he had stood by in silence, witnessing a dreadful failure.

If, on that first evening, Miss Bennet had looked at Darcy with a promising smile—and he had hoped the relationship would unfold favourably—at their more recent meetings, where he too had been present, it seemed that the young and spirited man he once knew had been replaced by a hesitant, irritable creature, one who appeared intent not on drawing near to Miss Bennet but on escaping her entirely.

“What do you mean?” Darcy asked, though he too sensed the relationship was not moving in the direction he desired, while of late, their conversations seemed to revolve solely around Miss Bennet.

Yet the colonel did not know how to voice what he felt.

Never before had he reproached his cousin.

Even when Darcy had struck him as excessively proud or arrogant, he held his tongue, for his cousin’s qualities far outweighed his faults.

But now, Darcy was swiftly distancing himself from the woman he loved—and solely because of the way he behaved around her.

“Darcy,” he said, with difficulty and hesitation, “if you wish for Miss Bennet to dislike you altogether and to hide from you, then you are on the right path.”

“What are you saying?” exclaimed Darcy in a show of despair uncharacteristic for him. “I cannot decide, and this indecision is tearing me apart.”

“It is not only destroying you but also exhausting me with dullness. And Miss Bennet has long since been put to sleep by your manner. If you wish to leave, now is the right moment.”

“I need more time,” said Darcy. “Every morning I resolve to propose to her, and then I see Mr Collins, or recall another member of her family, and I feel a need to flee.”

“I cannot stay much longer,” the colonel replied, plainly worried.

“I know. At times, I feel tempted to propose to Anne and put an end to this torment that threatens to undo me.”

“An excellent decision,” the colonel replied with bitterness. “Exactly the sort of woman you need to be happy.”

Darcy, however, shook his head, “What does happiness mean, truly? Can you define it?”

The colonel sighed, exasperated. A philosophical conversation was the last thing he needed now; he did not want his cousin to get lost in such considerations when the best method to confront dilemmas was directness.

“Let us keep to simple matters, I beg you. To comparisons, at least. Picture the two young ladies side by side, each one during a morning at Pemberley.”

Darcy shook his head again like a stubborn youngster. “I know, but the image does not hold only my wife—it includes her family as well.”

“And is Lady Catherine any better?”

“At least I know her. I know how to avoid her faults.”

“You will learn how to avoid theirs as well. But with Miss Bennet, you will not wish to avoid your wife. Or perhaps you would prefer Lady Olivia?”

Once again, the colonel noticed a slight trace of embarrassment on his cousin’s face, just as he had before when Lady Olivia had been mentioned. Something in his past involving her had clearly left him unsettled—or worse, irritated.

“Why do you not like Lady Olivia?”

“It is simple. If you marry her, she will certainly avoid you. You can be sure you will find yourself alone at Pemberley while she enjoys your fortune in London.”

“At least I know how to manage her and her family,” Darcy tried again as if grasping for justification.

“Her family, perhaps. But her? I am certain you do not.”

“Give me a few more days,” said Darcy at last, and the colonel, without a word, gave his assent.