Page 20 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

“Because he loves you, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner replied.

She was wholly committed to Elizabeth, but somewhere in her heart, she wondered with a trace of reproach how her niece could have refused such a proposal when she must have had feelings for him for a long while before that moment.

Perhaps not love but appreciation and interest—surely a good foundation for a happy marriage.

Elizabeth looked at them; the ladies in front of her knew much more about the story than she had been prepared to reveal, so she decided to confide particulars she had previously intended to conceal unnecessarily, as it seemed Lady Oakham already knew far more than she had expected.

“The colonel’s indiscretion was just one drop in a sea of ugliness. As I told you, Mr Darcy began his declaration of love by recounting his inner struggle to forget me, ultimately losing the battle, and surrendering to his emotions.”

“Oh!” Mrs Gardiner exclaimed. If it had not ended so sadly, she would have made terrible fun of such a pointless, even damaging honesty.

“No matter what you say, that is not a declaration of love.”

“Indeed, it is not. Anyhow, overwhelmed by guilt over the disastrous proposal, the colonel confessed to—”

“Lady Oakham,” Elizabeth said with a shadow of worry, feeling that too many people were already involved in her story.

“Yes. She was also stunned,” Mrs Gardiner said, trying to be discreet.

“By my refusal?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, she admired you and blamed Mr Darcy,” Jane intervened, showing she knew the whole story.

“She did not defend his actions, then?” Elizabeth asked.

“No! She pitied him but was mortified by his clumsy and pointless honesty.”

“You need not feel sorry for him. In truth, he disclosed those things not out of weakness but due to his overbearing conceit. And there is no cause for Lady Oakham or the colonel to feel ashamed, for his unvarnished frankness was ultimately good. Consider the consequences if we had wed and he had continued to harbour such disdain for my family. It would have been too late for me to escape. I could not endure a man who despises my family and views my sweet and honest sister as nothing but a mercenary creature.”

“He acted abominably, and I hardly can find any justification for his conduct,” admitted Mrs Gardiner, yet her voice was not accusatory, hoping to make Elizabeth see that his words were still a proposal—poorly considered, poorly expressed, and poorly received.

“He lost the battle in his mind—torn between his duty and his affection for me. I bear responsibility for his internal conflict,” Elizabeth said forcefully, feeling again the indignation that had engulfed her that day.

“Again—you are right to be outraged. Your rejection was warranted, even though it has become painful for you too. He played the honesty game, and the result was disastrous. Relying only on his feelings and temper was not such a good idea.”

“What counsel would you have given him? To conceal his aversion for my family?” Elizabeth asked Jane.

“By no means! He should have leased a house in Hertfordshire and stayed close to us for several weeks. Come to know our family in their natural setting and courted you in the traditional manner.”

Mrs Gardiner nodded in approval. “Jane is right. He held such a superficial impression of our family at Longbourn.”

“I am glad you understand my…refusal even if you do not entirely approve of how I acted,” Elizabeth replied.

“And I wonder how he can consider his family’s behaviour better than ours.

Think of Lady Catherine, about her pride, narrow views, and how she has raised her daughter to be like a lifeless doll. ”

“Stop, my dear,” said Mrs Gardiner gently, brushing her hand with affection. “You said you love him.”

“I wish I knew what I have said in the last few days about him and…me.” Elizabeth sighed, a deep ache settling within her. “It seems I do. I love him, with all his flaws.”

“That is genuine love when you see someone’s flaws but consider them less important than their qualities,” Jane murmured.

“Would you be capable of forgiving Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth asked, surprised.

“Of course,” came Jane’s reply, and she blushed deeply, showing that her sorrow had not passed and that there was still love in her heart.

But it was not Jane’s moment, so Elizabeth continued, “I could not have suspected that I loved him. For over two weeks, he has appeared like a man of sixty, taking aimless walks for his digestion and lapsing into silence during conversations. He asked ridiculous questions unrelated to us, remained mute for long periods, and seemed to scrutinise me while likely despising his weakness.”

“I do not remember him like that,” Jane said firmly.

“Neither did I. The first night at Rosings, he was amusing and warm, then disaster struck! Loving me was the last reason I would have imagined for his changed behaviour, and when he asked for my hand I was shocked as not a single previous gesture had led me to suspect his feelings. But—”

“But?” asked Mrs Gardiner, noticing the confusion on Elizabeth’s face and her hesitation to speak or understand.

“What interest does Lady Oakham have in all of this?” she finally asked, looking intently from her aunt to her sister as if suspecting them, too, of being part of some conspiracy.

“Interest?” Mrs Gardiner repeated. “I do not know whether that is the right word.”

“Perhaps it is, Aunt,” murmured Jane, who seemed present and engaged in something other than Mr Bingley for the first time in months.

“You might be right. Since my reunion with Diana, we have shared our lives, and inevitably, I spoke about Longbourn. Naturally, my stories revolved around you and Jane…” said Mrs Gardiner, blushing slightly, for she had indeed spoken almost exclusively of her two eldest nieces, whom she regarded as truly accomplished ladies, completely overlooking their younger sisters.

But, the two girls smiled, and with a small gesture, as though absolving herself, she continued, “I can say that Diana knows you fairly well.”

“And?” Elizabeth asked impatiently.

“When they returned from Kent, Colonel Fitzwilliam approached her for advice—”

“He told her what happened,” Jane interrupted.

“Not only that,” Mrs Gardiner went on. “Colonel Fitzwilliam was greatly impressed by you from the very beginning, and as he grew to know you better, he became increasingly certain that his cousin was in love with you, and that you were the woman best suited to him.”

“Because I stand up to him.” Elizabeth smiled, though her amusement was tinged with bitterness.

“Yes, for that reason as well. When Mr Darcy decided to go to Kent, it was because you were there.”

“He went to Kent because I was there?” Elizabeth repeated incredulously.

“I suppose so. The colonel and Mr Darcy visit Lady Catherine once a year. Still, this particular visit was not planned until Miss de Bourgh, who was staying in London at the time, received a letter from her mother with details about the Collinses’ guests.”

“He knew I was visiting Charlotte?” Elizabeth was astounded. She had never imagined that he might have come with the purpose of seeing her. Had she known, perhaps she would have viewed things differently.

“It seems he did, and he came to see you and, probably—this is only a guess on our part—to propose to you,” Jane replied.

“Still, my beloved ladies, you have not enlightened me yet about Lady Oakham’s interest in this tangled tale, which is not so different from the stories woven by my mother and Aunt Phillips,” Elizabeth said.

“When you put it that way, it may seem so. But Lady Oakham was genuinely pleased that you would become part of their family. They are uncommonly devoted to each other and always have been, but since old Mr Darcy’s death, that bond has deepened.

Every summer, they gather at Pemberley, and here in London they meet often, sharing a box at the theatre and organising balls together.

The colonel suspected you might have been the reason why Mr Darcy decided to travel to Kent.

There, it became clear that he desired to marry you. ”

“He did desire,” said Elizabeth, and the sorrow in her voice revealed more swiftly than a thousand words what was happening within her.

“Briefly—Diana secretly hopes that Mr Darcy’s wife will be like her, like us.”

“It seems that is a tradition in all families,” said Elizabeth, though her tone was now more sarcastic than angry.

Seeing that the ladies did not seem to understand, she continued, “In ours to arrange imaginary marriages and in theirs to meddle in the lives of those around them, family or friends alike.”

Jane lowered her gaze for a moment but then spoke with conviction. “Lizzy, I do not blame Mr Darcy for advising Mr Bingley to leave. I blame him instead for never trying to know us, for forming a shallow opinion based on stories likely told by Mr Bingley’s sisters.”

“That is true,” murmured Elizabeth, looking at Jane with gratitude, for she had graciously taken a huge burden from her shoulders.

“For what happened to me, the person I blame most, however, is Mr Bingley for how he left. And if he still loved me when he made that decision, then I blame him for his weakness.”

“You are so right,” Mrs Gardiner said with admiration. “But let us return to Lizzy. Only one question remains. What do you feel, and what do you wish to do next?”

“I do not know. I need time.”

“Time?” Jane asked, and she began to laugh. “My reckless sister needs time. How much time do we give her?” she asked her aunt.

“A day?” came the mocking answer, and they embraced Elizabeth again.