Page 19 of Friendship and Forgiveness (Mr. Underwood’s Elizabeth & Darcy Stories #7)

Elizabeth had spent two sleepless nights between when she learned that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were to suddenly visit their aunt at Rosings, a mere ten minute walk across the park, and their arrival at that finely windowed and mowed estate.

Did she fear that he would ignore her? Or did she hope that he would, and thus avoid all awkwardness? Did she hope that those sentiments which she had rejected several months before remained?

Or was she wholly indifferent to Mr. Darcy’s coming?

They were both rational creatures!

Elizabeth determined that she would meet him as nothing but an acquaintance who she was pleased to see again. Awkwardness was inevitable at the first meeting, but she trusted the haughty reserve of Darcy’s manners and the steady cheerfulness of her own to keep whatever feelings they had from being visible to anyone else.

Charlotte, Miss de Bourgh, Lady Catherine — not one would see a thing!

Colonel Fitzwilliam likely would.

He had clever eyes.

Yes, Elizabeth was wholly more eager to see Colonel Fitzwilliam than his complicated and confusing cousin.

Thus Elizabeth determined, after two hours of restless turning, that she was in fact wholly indifferent, and fell asleep.

The second night gave rise to anxiety.

What would Darcy think of her now?

No regret allowed! — she was Caroline’s friend once more. Her sister had married Darcy’s former friend, with whom he had ended all connection. Of course he would never think to renew his proposals to her — not after the shock of that night. Not now that her brother was the brother of the woman who had injured him in that way.

No hope!

Of course she did not wish for a renewal of his suit.

Elizabeth repeated that sentiment to herself multiple times, in different words, tones, and intonations.

She would not see him for some days. They were to arrive on Tuesday, and Lady Catherine had only invited them to cards and dinner on Thursday .

Ample further nights to roll about sleeplessly, thinking thoughts about the thoughts of a man whom she had already refused, and whom she did not love. Or maybe she did, she wasn’t sure.

Was there a sillier, more thoughtless creature in all of England than Elizabeth Bennet?

The question answered itself: No.

She resolved to think nothing further upon Darcy and only, as she had determined already, meet him as an indifferent acquaintance on Thursday .

So saying to herself, Elizabeth picked up the pillow, and covered her eyes with it, intending to sleep, and think no more.

One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep. Four sheep. What would Darcy think if I wore the green silk on Thursday?

He’d like it. It was her best dress for the spring weather — fashionable and fetching.

He’d once said something about green being a good color for her complexion. And he always took his coffee without sugar, but with a surfeit of cream. She must remember what to give him if she had the opportunity to serve him coffee. With every likelihood it would be Miss de Bourgh who would be made to do the honors.

He surely did not like her ?

But perhaps after the choice of his heart had refused him, he would turn towards family connections and greater wealth.

No doubt that was the whole reason he had determined to visit Rosings: It was to at last court his cousin, and he was going to marry Miss de Bourgh, and she would have to watch him looking at Miss de Bourgh with that serious nodding intensity.

Those beautiful dark eyes.

And then he’d smile at Miss de Bourgh, and Elizabeth’s heart would clench, and she would imagine clawing the poor mouselike Miss de Bourgh to bits, but she wouldn’t say anything, or let anything be visible in her manner and eyes, but she’d go back home to this very bed, and cry her eyes out the night after they announced the engagement.

Oh, Lord! My dear mind, can you be quiet with these fevered fantasies, I am trying to sleep!

But he’ll be here — breathing the same air! In the same neighborhood! Less than half of a mile distant! Tomorrow!

Be quiet!

As it happened, despite her conviction that she was not to see Mr. Darcy until Thursday , that gentleman and his cousin came to pay their respects to the ladies of Hunsford Parsonage within a half hour of arriving at their aunt’s abode on Tuesday . Further they brought along with them Darcy’s young sister Miss Georgiana Darcy.

The alacrity with which they made the call surprised Elizabeth at first. But in the moment of reflection she had between when the maid announced their visitors, and the entry into the room of the three, the dismayed thought crossed her mind that there was nothing more natural than for them to call early upon two friends.

It was a dismaying thought because Elizabeth had expected no such compliment to her and Charlotte, and therefore she had not dressed with any particular care this morning. Elizabeth had not examined herself closely in the mirror, but she was sure that she must have quite noticeable bags about her eyes due to the difficulty she had sleeping the two nights previously.

Ugh.

And what would he think when he saw that—

They entered the room.

Elizabeth’s eyes stuck on him, and his stuck on her.

He nearly filled the whole doorway, towering above Charlotte’s maid of all work who stood holding the door open. He paused and seemed unable to move, but then at a grunt from Colonel Fitzwilliam standing behind him, Darcy hurried into the room, bowed over Elizabeth’s hand, and made a formal request for information about how her father and mother did.

Before Elizabeth could reply, Colonel Fitzwilliam bounded forward, first heartily shaking Charlotte’s hand and then Elizabeth’s. “Allo, allo — haven’t seen you in months. Look better than ever. Tan and fine. Eh, Darcy?”

“Yes, certainly.” He studied her face. But his voice was restrained, and his manner reserved.

Teasing, twisted man — what did he think?

Miss Darcy cautiously creeped into the room following the two gentlemen. She was a lovely, well-formed girl, flaxen haired and taller than any of Elizabeth’s sisters. She had a shy quiet smile, and a persistent inability to meet the eyes of anyone but her cousin and brother.

Was it hope that made Elizabeth believe that Mr. Darcy was not wholly at his ease?

He did ask, more than once, after her parents. And then again, even after she had answered. His gaze often looked towards her, and though he was attentive to his sister's needs as well, and it was clear that he worried for her behavior in some respect, though Elizabeth could hardly guess why.

As the course of the visit wore on Mr. Darcy became generally silent, while Elizabeth engaged Miss Darcy in conversation, and Colonel Fitzwilliam turned his attention chiefly towards Charlotte and her sister Maria.

Darcy watched her.

Inscrutable, impenetrable, impossible man.

She wished she could lean close enough to just smell him.

Fifteen minutes saw the proper time for a call end, and Darcy at least had kept an awareness of the passage of time, nearly on the moment he glanced at his watch and told Miss Darcy that they must leave.

And just when the girl was beginning to loosen, and actually speak more than a whole sentence at a time in reply to Elizabeth’s questions.

With blushes and promises of seeing each other soon again, Elizabeth genially parted from Miss Darcy, with a silent shake of the hand she parted from Mr. Darcy, and with a roll of the eye, and a jovial, “You look very well, the spring rains agree with you as much as with flowers, Miss Elizabeth — pay no attention to Darcy. He is being remarkably thick tongued today,” Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed and took the last parting.

As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth groaned, ground her teeth together, sighed and slouched onto the sofa.

He must be wholly without interest in her.

None at all.

He had merely called to convince himself that her beauty was of no particular interest, and with that conviction confirmed she would see little of him during their remaining stay.

“Well, it was certainly not as a compliment to me that they called so early after arriving,” Charlotte said.

“I have no notion of what you speak,” Elizabeth replied a little airily. “Are my eyes particularly horrid? Horrible black bags under the lashes? I did not take any care with my face this morning.”

Her friend laughed. “You look as beautiful as the spring dew.”

Elizabeth made a disgusted face. “Like a fat round droplet of water?”

“ Precisely how I intended the metaphor, I congratulate you upon finding the insult within the compliment.”

Laughingly Charlotte ducked as Elizabeth pretended to throw a pillow at her with embroidered red stitching that said, Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.

“I had wondered what Colonel Fitzwilliam meant,” Charlotte added, “when he compared you to the spring rains.”

“Mr. Darcy did not compare me to anything .”

“Ah, and his silence is the principle way through which he shows his disapproval. You are an excellent reasoner. Another girl might find some compliment in his coming immediately upon his arrival, and bringing his sister with him to be introduced. But not my Elizabeth!”

“If he meant any friendliness, why did he remain so silent? Why leave so soon? And why so quiet? — you can hardly answer such a question. Am I particularly out of looks today?”

“Oh, certainly.”

Elizabeth glared.

Charlotte replied with a bubbly voice, “You have already found insult in my compliment upon your appearance, I expected you then to see compliment in its deprecation.”

“Oh, asking you is useless!”

Elizabeth set forth soon after for a long ramble in the woods and park, particularly enjoying an oak grove that over arched the pathway, and where she had enjoyed the thickening green upon the trees in its progress week by week. There were subtle differences in the ways of spring here at Rosings in Kent from Longbourn, or the town easily accessible to the metropolis where her school had been, or to how it appeared in Manchester. Each day Elizabeth found ample delights in her walks.

A walk of two hours was required for her to wholly settle her feelings, and Elizabeth was glad now. She would be able to easily meet him on Thursday as an indifferent acquaintance, and there would be no awkwardness on either part then.

She was glad, rather than saddened by the apparent extinction of his amour , and, she thought, a little resentfully, that his feelings could not have been so strong as he had said if they could not survive her clear refusal of his hand, Caroline’s behavior, and the absence of four months.

However, as Elizabeth returned to the parsonage the footman from Rosings arrived with a note: They were to dine with her Ladyship on the morrow in addition to on Thursday.

Rather to her own shock, though perhaps not to the shock of those who consider that Elizabeth was a healthy and active young woman who had little sleep for two nights in a row, she slept soundly this whole night, and woke refreshed and with a face that even she thought looked as pretty as the spring dew.

Elizabeth took some pains over her appearance before they went to dinner, but not as many as she might have if she was not forced to share one maid with both Charlotte and Maria, and if she had not been wholly aware that Charlotte was watching her and snickering at her occasional claims of disinterest in Mr. Darcy.

Lady Catherine’s carriage came to pick them up — her second one, Mr. Collins proudly informed them. It took longer for them to be driven round to the front entrance than it would have taken them to walk if they’d cut across the park.

Mr. Darcy was solid and calm when they arrived, while Lady Catherine was loud and ebullient. She was delighted to have her nephews as guests, and proud to show them off to the visitors.

Elizabeth observed the behavior of Mr. Darcy with Miss de Bourgh, and she could detect no sign of any particular attention towards her. Elizabeth felt quite certain before dinner was half done that her refusal had not changed the match between them into more than Lady Catherine’s happy delusion.

Elizabeth’s eyes moved naturally towards Mr. Darcy whenever they had the chance. His expression seemed to have some satisfaction in watching her talk with Miss Darcy, as the two of them became more friendly. He had a ruddy glow to his cheeks, tanned skin, deep eyes, and lips that looked very soft. Such dark, serious eyes…

During Jane and Charlie’s engagement, Elizabeth had taken her turns at being the “chaperone” — a creature, who, like the excise man, was best liked when they did a poor job of their assigned task — Elizabeth had seen Jane and Charlie kiss many times from the corner of her eye.

She wanted Darcy’s lips.

After dinner, Elizabeth found herself chiefly in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy, with Darcy sitting to the side, clearly watching her, but saying very little. But presently he addressed her directly and said, “It surprised me very much when I heard that you were present at Rosings.”

“I hope it was not an unpleasant discovery.”

“Quite the opposite.”

Darcy looked at her and as she smiled back at him, he flushed and glanced away. “That is to say, I am very happy to renew our acquaintance. We have not seen each other since… oh it was the 26th of November when Bingley held his ball.”

It was now Elizabeth’s turn to flush and look down at his precise memory. She would not have been able to recall which day the ball had been on.

“An eventful night.”

“Mostly unpleasant — but in the midst of the unpleasantness we danced together, and the band was exquisite.”

“You remember the music when we danced?” Elizabeth flushed. She wished that there was no one else there, and she could talk more openly to Mr. Darcy.

“My brother has the best taste in music!” Miss Darcy exclaimed. “He has always encouraged my love of playing.”

On consideration, Elizabeth was rather glad to have the previous subject of conversation interrupted — though she hoped dearly it would at some later point be resumed.

“So I have heard! I have been told your playing is exquisite.”

“Well, no…” Miss Darcy blushed and smiled shyly. “It is only that I practice a great deal. I enjoy the sound and effort.”

“We must play a duet,” Elizabeth said, “and I shall take the singing part, as my voice is superior to my playing.”

“No! Brother told me that you have a perfect love for music.”

Elizabeth laughed, flushed, and looked at Darcy who met her eye with a pleased smile.

“I have never enjoyed something so much as watching you listen to music,” he said.

“Ah! Listening to music.” She said, “I can listen with more enthusiasm than any other woman of my acquaintance. That I’ll confess to. I have a love for music, but my talent to produce it is rather less than that of many. I never applied myself, having no need to do so as many of my friends were amply capable of providing that entertainment.”

During the course of the night Elizabeth played, and then Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and smiled, letting the flow of the notes go through her. She could happily listen to Miss Darcy play every night of her life. Pieces by Beethoven, Mozart. Robin Adair by Cramer.

The way Miss Darcy brought an extra feeling, an extra bit of heart and emotion to the music caught Elizabeth’s heart and made it soar.

She once played a favorite of Caroline’s, the same piano concerto that Caroline had played one night at Lucas Lodge when Elizabeth made Darcy sit next to her to turn the pages for her.

This time Elizabeth could not help it. The sad rolling sweep of the first movement brought tears to her eyes.

When Miss Darcy finished the concerto, she rose with a little bow, and Elizabeth clapped vigorously.

Lady Catherine called Georgiana to sit next to her, while Darcy said to Elizabeth in a quiet voice, “I can think of no prettier sight than watching you enjoy music.”

“What!” Elizabeth looked at him with wide eyes. “What can you mean by that?”

“Yes.” He had that intent and wholly serious look that he often used. “You close your eyes as you listen and start swaying with the music. There is a sort of pleasure, ecstasy… complete delight and loss of self-awareness in the expression of your face. It is beautiful… your expression is as lilting and sweet as the song itself.”

“Oh, I fear I’ll never be able to forget myself while listening to music in the same room with you again.”

“I sincerely hope that is not the case,” he said. “I recall one time at Lucas Lodge… you had enjoined me to turn the pages for Miss Bingley. I believe she was playing the same piece that Georgiana just finished with. But though I sat by her , I believe all my attention was upon you.” He lowered his voice and added very quietly, “It was from that day I began to think of you as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

“Oh, my.” Elizabeth flushed bright red.

He was standing far enough away from her that it could not be obvious to Lady Catherine if she glanced their way that he was flirting with her, but to Elizabeth… knowing that he had admired her… this amounted to a declaration that he still admired her.

“Oh, my,” she repeated. “And to believe I thought you were unable to flirt.”

Darcy laughed. “Did you?”

It seemed to Elizabeth that on the other side of the room there was an implicit conspiracy on the part of Miss Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Charlotte to keep the attention of Lady Catherine firmly fixed upon them, thus giving her and Mr. Darcy a little semblance of privacy.

The attention of Mr. Collins, of course, was always fixed upon his noble and condescending patroness, Lady Catherine, the widow of a baronet.

“And I made such diligent attempts to push Caroline forward before your attention.” Elizabeth shook her head with a half-smile. “What failure!”

“I assure you,” Darcy said with an edge to his voice that made something of its intimacy fall away, “I had perceived that you meant to advance the interests of your friend . No one could have been more attentive to her interests than you.”

Well.

He still resented. And he had ample reason to resent Caroline.

That gave Elizabeth herself a little reason to back away from him.

“Yes but with no success. A perfection of friendship would have led to my efforts showing some fruit. You cannot judge a person for ineffectually striving, when no harm was done.”

“Do you not mean benefit?”

Elizabeth flushed.

“You’ll have no success in improving my opinion of her. You cannot succeed in that — I always hold firm to the principle that the intention matters more than the result in judging men.”

A damned sensible, damned opinion. Elizabeth could hardly determine what response to make.

The two of them studied each other for a long moment further, eyes meeting and some spark going between them.

Those soft lips. His deep eyes. His serious expression.

By some mutual agreement the two of them went to rejoin the general conversation.

Lady Catherine noticed them returning, and she frowned as she glanced between the two and her own daughter who demurely sat in her chair by the fire, blankets piled atop her.

Poor creature!

Cold in such a way in April. The fire made the part of the room nearest the head quite unbearable, but Elizabeth needed to let her heart stop speeding.

Was Caroline always to be the subject that divided her and Mr. Darcy?

Even if he still admired her — no, Elizabeth would be honest with herself: Even though he clearly still admired her, he would hardly make an offer to the sister-in-law of Bingley, to a woman who still insisted on championing her friend.

But Caroline was her friend.

She did not wish Darcy to forgive Caroline. She certainly did not wish for Darcy to become Caroline’s friend in turn.

But she would not abandon her attachment to Caroline ever. Certainly not now that it was clear to Elizabeth that her friend had taken to heart the lesson of her wrong, immoral and improper behavior and had determined to “go forth, and sin no more” — or at least to sin no more in such a manner.

Lady Catherine exclaimed suddenly, “Your sister, did she not marry that man who was once Darcy’s friend? That Mr. Bingley.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “He was the son of my father’s partner in business.”

“The same Mr. Bingley whose sister engaged in such shocking behavior, and attempted to compromise my nephew’s honor through deceit and methods that were most… well a lady such as myself cannot use the words to describe such a woman, but I am sure she shall never be accepted in polite society.”

Was this how Lady Catherine meant to discourage Darcy from the interest that she had perhaps detected in him towards her?

“It is my view that our judgement of a person’s character ought not be wholly reduced to a single mistake, no matter how serious its nature is.”

“You mean to abolish all punishment, do you?” Lady Catherine peered at her. “You state your opinion most firmly for one so young. But I suppose you are forced to make a pretense of accepting such a crime, as she is now nearly your sister .”

“Miss Bingley has always been nearly my sister. That has not changed.”

“It was a scheme doomed to fail. Mr. Darcy knows his duty. He knows what his family wishes of him. And one day soon I imagine there will be a happy marriage satisfying all those who have a proper concern and affection for him.”

So saying Lady Catherine looked between Darcy and Anne meaningfully.

Darcy replied, “I assure you that my choice will be honorable, but it will be based purely upon my own judgement and preferences.”

Miss Darcy pulled at Elizabeth’s sleeve, and when Elizabeth inclined her ear to her, she whispered, “You must know that he and Anne would not suit, he has no intentions to ever marry her.” Miss Darcy worried at her lip, and pressed her fingers together.

“I know, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, patting the girl on her hand. She smiled at her.

The girl replied, “Please, call me Georgiana.”

Elizabeth smiled back at her. “You must call me Eliza, or Lizzy if you prefer.”

“What are you two speaking of?” Lady Catherine interrupted. “I must have my part in the conversation.”

Seeing Georgiana look down and refuse to meet the eye of her aunt, Elizabeth replied, “We were discussing the difference between one’s Christian name, and the family name, and when a friendship is such that one ought to use the Christian name, rather than ‘Miss such and such’.”

“Hmmph. And I suppose you now show approval for the actions of the sister of your own sister’s husband by still using her Christian name?”

“I certainly cannot approve of what Miss Bingley did.”

Miss Darcy said suddenly, “It shocked me very much that she acted so, even though I never liked her above half.”

Everyone looked at Georgiana, and she blushed and looked down. “I do not mean that…”

“Hear, hear!” Lady Catherine slapped her hand several times on the side of her chair. “But Darcy, this is what comes from associating yourself with lowborn persons — a fortune from trade! I can never stand to let any good families associate themselves with money from trade.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “Wasn’t half the land in Rosings bought with the money of that brother of the third baronet who came back from India as a wealthy nabob?”

“You surely cannot compare the brave work of those men who spread Christianity and civilization to the benighted and uncivilized lands of India, men such as Clive and Hastings to the work of a low manufacturer, a tinkerer with machinery? — trade has its place, but it has no place in marriage .”

Darcy scrunched up his face and rolled his eyes for just a moment in response to his aunt’s speech.

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “It would make my father dance and delight with capering if I married a fortune from trade.”

“You ought,” Lady Catherine added, speaking directly to Darcy, “take more care with who you allow young Georgiana to associate with. The daughter of a manufacturer? It is our good fortune that Georgiana’s character and breeding are such that she can shake off, like water from a duck, any contamination from such an immoral and ill-favored connection.”

Miss Darcy flushed and looked down, wringing her hands together, and hanging her head low.

“I will not,” Elizabeth suddenly said, “listen to such with silence. Caroline is still my dearest friend in the world. She acted wrongly. She knows she acted wrongly. She heaps more abuse upon her own head than anyone else could. She suffers more grievously in the heart from that sense of wrongdoing than from the scorn that society has heaped upon her. I will not despise her. I will not listen to you despise her. I will not stay silent.”

“It surprises me,” Darcy said coldly, “that you still consider yourself such a dear friend to that woman.”

To her surprise Elizabeth felt sad at Mr. Darcy’s continued insistence on hating Caroline. She didn’t want him to be her friend, to have everything simple and straightforward, but something in Elizabeth needed him to accept that Caroline did not deserve eternal hellfire and damnation for her wrong actions.

“I do not abandon my friends, neither over trifles nor over serious matters,” Elizabeth sharply replied.

“You know. Elizabeth, you know this is no trifle.” He glared at her, and then seeming to recollect himself added, “I mean Miss Elizabeth.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted.

Elizabeth replied, “The Holy Book instructs us to forgive those who have sinned against us.”

Darcy replied not at all. She could not read the frown on his face. She pressed her fingers together tight enough that they hurt. She had sweat on her forehead from the fire kept over hot for Miss de Bourgh’s sake.

“Well?” Elizabeth demanded. “What do you have to say to that?”

He let out a long breath. “Give me time to gather my thoughts.” Darcy smiled at her. “You are loyal, and it is impossible to not admire loyalty, but not every person is worthy of your loyalty.”

“Caroline is worthy of my loyalty.”

They glared at each other again.

Eyes clashed. At first it was an angry glare but then there was a change, a softening. Now their eyes kissed.

He looked down. “Miss Elizabeth, it is terribly difficult to construct a clear argument when you look at me in that way.”

“My goal achieved.”

“To triumph in such a way?”

“Any triumph is a triumph.”

And Darcy laughed, and the anger was gone.

He looked up at the corner of the room. “To force a marriage, to destroy someone’s reputation, to besmirch the honor of another, to seek to remove a man’s freedom in perhaps the most important decision of his life — to make me into a slave, an unfree creature subject to her whims. All of this is most serious. Perhaps not so serious as a murder, but no trivial, no small, no forgettable thing. But then as I was the one attacked, the one who she attempted to enslave, perhaps I take that more seriously than I ought.”

“Oh, don’t make a melodrama of it,” Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed. “I’ve been to the sugar colonies. I’d damned rather be married against my will to a pretty creature with twenty thousand than an actual slave.”

Darcy replied annoyedly, “And perhaps I also in my rhetoric meant to presuppose the conclusion I wished to draw. But a forced marriage is a deep and animal form of unfreedom. I’ll not forgive her soon. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

Elizabeth could not help but feel a sort of coldness in her soul at Mr. Darcy saying that.

Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, “I’ve killed a man. Probably several, but only one who I am certain of the corpse.”

“As a soldier,” Darcy replied. “In the course of your duty.”

“Ah, so I had good reason — all that it takes to transform the most serious crime, murder, into a matter of glorious duty.”

“You cannot seriously compare the selfish, grasping, controlling action of such a woman as Caroline Bingley to the noble pursuit of duty, standing in the line of danger, bravely facing the flying bullets and chance of death for God and Country?” replied Darcy.

“I merely mean to say that she tried to marry you for the position you were born into, instead of trying to kill you for it.”

“I never acted against her . England must defend itself, and that is the key difference you pretend, for reasons I cannot understand, to not understand. The intent. The purpose — that is what matters. Good intentions are the proper domain of morality, what is in the soul. That Miss Bingley lacked the capacity to harm me does not change how I judge her.”

“Oh, Zeus! You sound very much the philosopher,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied sardonically. “Quite like you must have sounded in Oxford club. She was in love. My good man. In love. Love leads to stupidity.”

“I am wholly convinced that her attachment to me had no substance in it. Nothing beyond a general desire for my position and money, and a great liking for the idea of being admired by her fellows for making an excellent match.”

“No,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “That at least I can say is not true. She had those tender feelings, that real emotion, admiration and infatuation. She loved you as much as — it was not base motives that drove her. She acted wrong, but it was not from greed but rather a foolish, stupid, broken heart.”

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and he sighed.

“Ha,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “And every poet says that love is a good motive for action. There are some who would place it higher than duty, than that feeling we have for our king and the drooping of his flag over more cities and castles.”

“I would not judge love as higher than duty.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. “I did not tell you that you did.”

“But what about Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth asked Darcy. “You judge him not based upon any criticism you have of his soul, his intentions, but upon his capacity.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brother, he only acted in the manner that any man of honor who believed his sister would. His failure was that he too easily trusted Caroline, and that his eyes did not instantly see through this misjudgment.”

Darcy looked at her for a long time.

“You said that your good opinion once lost is lost forever. Perhaps that is a flaw in your own character, one that you might strive to overcome… to improve. Forgiveness—”

“Forgiveness may be divine,” Darcy replied sharply, “but I make no claim to ascend above humanity.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, “everyone has a flash of the divine in their souls. So I believe.”

He drew his breath in to deliver some sharp retort, but then he frowned and tilted his head. He pressed his hand against his chin.

Elizabeth perceived that this at least had struck him in some way.

Lady Catherine said, “Forgiveness! No, no, no! Darcy, you must promise me that you will not seek to rebuild such a connection — no matter what the man’s sister by law says. There is no benefit to you in knowing such a scandalous family, with a new built fortune. Bingley was always beneath you. Personable friendly fellow, but I never understood what you saw in him — I told you once. And now my prescience has been proven. I dare say you never received any value from the connection — I mean no offense to you or your sister, Miss Bennet.”

“Of course you meant none,” Elizabeth replied. She preferred Lady Catherine’s pompous absurdity to Darcy’s serious distemper.

“I can detect the impertinence in your tone,” the older lady replied. “I’ll brook no such insults in my house.”

“I do not mean to insult.” Elizabeth smiled sweetly, falsely. “Only to say that I do in fact feel insulted to hear my dear brother labeled as a worthless person whose connection is of no value.”

“ Cousin Elizabeth !” Mr. Collins exclaimed in horror.

Darcy stopped the conversation though, by briefly pressing his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Perhaps, Miss Bennet, you might show that spark of the divine in yourself, by forgiving Lady Catherine.”

“I do not require—”

“And you, my dear aunt. You might apologize.”

“Harumph.”

Georgiana, Charlotte, and Mr. Collins stared between them, their faces ranging from horror (Mr. Collins and Georgiana) to bemusement (Charlotte). Colonel Fitzwilliam had that delighted look in his eyes, as though he credited himself with having started the tussle.

Anne de Bourgh then giggled. It was the first time Elizabeth had heard an actual pleased sound from the young woman, though it turned after a minute into a fit of coughing.

Somehow this triggered laughter in everyone, except Lady Catherine, but even she smiled a little. But Elizabeth could tell that she’d kept close eyes on her for the rest of the night, and it was impossible for any conversation between her and Mr. Darcy to be continued in anything but the most public manner.