Page 24 of Moments of Truth

“Yes, it is.” Miss de Bourgh replied softly as she also turned and looked at the sky.

“As a woman, you know, I could be able to help.” Miss de Bourgh had quietly muttered those words to herself, but Mr. Darcy had heard her. He immediately turned to her and looked at her in surprise, but it only lasted a few seconds before his brows furrowed.

Her offer, whispered in earnest, stung him—both for its futility and for the pity it implied. He had not come here to be counselled, least of all by one who could never fathom the depth of his present misery.

“Cousin Fitzwilliam would not die if he learned to keep matters to himself.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was sharper than he intended, the edge of his unrest cutting even those nearest to him.

“He has no choice. If he tries to hide something, I shall force it out of him,” Miss de Bourgh replied quickly.

“I knew something was wrong the moment you did not come down for dinner—it is not at all like you.” She spoke in haste, fearful that Darcy might believe Colonel Fitzwilliam had betrayed his confidence.

“I know…” Mr. Darcy shook his head helplessly. When at last he turned to his cousin, he found her gazing at him with an expression of mingled surprise and curiosity.

“Why do you look at me so?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“I have not seen you in such a state before,” Miss de Bourgh explained softly. “You most certainly care for her deeply, if it has rendered you into such disorder.” A fleeting smile touched her lips, but it vanished almost at once. Darcy saw the change and felt a pang of guilt.

They had once been close, but his aunt’s schemes to bind them together had driven him to distance himself. He had meant no unkindness, but avoidance had slowly turned them into strangers.

“Did you avoid seeking my counsel because of my mother?” Her question startled him; his body stiffened at once. A wave of guilt swept through him, for he understood her meaning only too well.

“To hurt the women I care for seems to be my curse…” Darcy murmured, his eyes lifting to the night sky.

Silence followed, until at last he spoke again.

“What do you think of Miss Bennet? Was I wrong?”

The impropriety of the question struck him at once. How strange, to confide in Anne about another woman, when she herself was the object of his aunt’s designs.

Yet she met his gaze without flinching.

“I can see you struggle to speak with me,” she said gently. “But remember—my mother’s wishes are hers alone, not mine. You never asked what I thought, nor gave me leave to speak. That was your error.” Her voice trembled, her eyes glistening.

Her words pierced him. He realised how thoughtless his silence had been, and the sting of conscience followed fast.

“I must apologise.” Darcy turned to her with sincerity.

Seeing her usually stoic cousin thus humbled, Miss de Bourgh smiled faintly.

“Pray, what in my apology provokes your laughter?”

“It is not your apology; it is my curiosity—what exactly has Miss Bennet done to make you so docile?” she teased.

“That is the very question I ask myself, with no answer.” Darcy sighed.

“I suspect you have never felt anything like this for any woman?”

“Never,” he said firmly.

“Then it explains why you feel it so powerfully.”

On impulse he asked, “Have you ever felt so?” but regretted it at once.

She caught his awkwardness and laughed, though the laugh dissolved into a cough.

“Are you unwell?” Darcy asked, instantly concerned. “It is not good for your health to be abroad at this hour.”

But she raised a hand in protest. “There is no need to worry—I am quite well.”

“Quite well? If my aunt discovers you out here, she will have both our heads.”

“I like being outside. I rarely am permitted it at all.” She lifted her gaze toward the heavens.

Darcy said nothing further. For a moment they stood side by side, their unspoken thoughts carried upward to the stars.

“I have never felt what you feel,” Miss de Bourgh admitted, still gazing skyward. “But I pass my days with little company but books and the maids’ gossip. It gives me time to observe.”

Darcy’s heart softened. For the first time that night he felt the true extent of the distance between them, and it pricked him with remorse.

“I suppose you already know everything,” he said at last.

“Oh, pretty much,” she answered with a faint smile.

“If you ask for my frankness, you must be prepared to hear it,” she continued. “I will not claim my truth outweighs yours, but perhaps a woman’s perspective may shed some light.”

“I am listening,” Darcy said gravely. “If you can show me how to remedy Miss Bennet’s accusations, I submit myself to your counsel.”

To his surprise, he meant it. Anne’s words, quiet though they were, seemed to hold a weight his cousin Fitzwilliam’s had not. For in her voice was the perspective of a woman—and to Darcy, that lent it peculiar power.

“Miss Bennet’s accusations of you are not without reasoning. However, I must say, her prejudice towards you is astounding. Growing up, I have always felt the same way about you, and many women and men have said the same –”

“Really? How is it that I never heard of such a thing while growing up?” Mr. Darcy was surprised to hear.

“Because they all wanted to be friends with you. No one would openly say something to make them fall out with Mr. Darcy,” Miss de Bourgh said sarcastically.

“Your mannerisms and speech convey arrogance deeply seeped into your bones. If one did not take the time to study you and pay enough attention to you meticulously, it requires no effort on such a person’s part to assume you are arrogant,” Miss de Bourgh said.

“Why have you never told me this?” Mr. Darcy was slightly surprised to hear.

“Forgive me, Cousin, but you have never cared…until now.”

Miss de Bourgh’s words struck Mr. Darcy. She was right. He had never cared what others thought about him in youth, because everyone wanted to be his friend. As an adult, numerous men and women tried to curry favour with him. He had not had anyone tell him that he came across as arrogant.

“However, you are not. Sadly, it takes a certain rapport with you to make that truth obvious. What a mirage. The closer one gets to you, the clearer the illusion of pride appears.” Mr. Darcy found his cousin’s tone to bear a note of lamentation.

“I do not, however, blame you. Knowing you, I can imagine the people you must have encountered. These must have been men and women who walked up to you for what they could get from you while not caring about loyalty and friendship. The same could be said of me. Men have shown interest in me, but I can see right through their facade. They care nothing about my happiness, and neither does their confession of love amount to anything. They all have their sight set on my inheritance. Such a man who marries me will never have to worry about his finances for the rest of his life. That is why Mother wants us together.”

Mr. Darcy silently listened to his cousin. He did not interrupt her but paid rapt attention to her words. It was the second time someone had told him the truth without caring about his feelings.

“Miss Bennet cannot be blamed for her shortsightedness. However, it still does not excuse such prejudice against you. From what I know, you have in no way been rude to her save for your comment on her family. No woman or man would happily listen as their family was ridiculed in their presence. I trust you must have had your reason for what you said. However, Miss Bennet does not. She does not know you as I do. That is something you need to change.”

Mr. Darcy had been silently listening when he perked up. He quickly turned to his cousin. “What do you mean?”

“What has happened to you, Cousin? Has a woman so easily defeated you that you no longer have your wit?”

Mr. Darcy could see the slightly teasing look and smile on his cousin’s face.

“To think a day would come when my cousin would speak to me in such a manner. Truly, this spell Miss Bennet has cast on me has stripped me of my sanity.” Mr. Darcy could only pity his present dilemma.

He had never been in a situation like this.

He was utterly clueless on a matter and, worse, a matter that deeply affected him.

“It is no spell. It is simply what easily beseeches every man and woman on this Earth. Did you think yourself immune to it?”

Mr. Darcy turned away from his cousin. He could see she was determined to mock his present dilemma. However, as soon as he looked away, he realised his silence and avoidance were the same as admittance.

“Did you?” Miss de Bourgh burst into laughter.

Hearing his cousin mock him, Mr. Darcy was annoyed.

However, turning to look at her, he felt his anger subside and be replaced with a smile of his own.

Darcy could not remember the last time he had seen his cousin like this.

They must have been children then, as far back as he could remember, Mr. Darcy thought.

“I apologise.” Mr. Darcy saw his cousin looking at him with remorse. She could tell he was slightly annoyed by her constant teasing.

“To love a woman is one thing; to gain her love is another. Confessing your feelings to Miss Bennet does not mean she is compelled to feel the same way. To make matters worse, she sees you as a villain. The only thing you can do is tell her the reasons behind your decisions. The choice shall then be left to her. You cannot force or coerce her to incite the flame of love for you. Only through the subtle use of words can you truly hope to convey your reasons to her. However, Cousin, I must warn that this does not automatically mean that things between you two will be resolved.” Miss de Bourgh had a sombre expression.

Mr. Darcy, who had been listening, nodded his head in silence. What his cousin had said was the same thing Colonel Fitzwilliam had said but in a different manner.

“It is getting late. Goodnight.” Miss de Bourgh slowly walked away.

Mr. Darcy watched the slowly departing figure of his cousin and smiled faintly.

He could tell she had left because she wanted to leave him alone to process his thoughts.

As Darcy watched her enter the manor, he felt warmth.

He was genuinely grateful for her advice.

It had helped him immensely. Listening to his cousin had made him better understand Miss Bennet and her reservations towards her.

Secondly, it had also enlightened him to Elizabeth’s flaw – she was prejudiced against him.

Realising this, Darcy knew the best approach was not to see her again but to communicate in a manner where she would not have to see him. He believed the mere sight of him was probably repulsive to her.

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Darcy turned away from the manor and looked at the night sky.

His mind began to narrate his first encounter with Miss Bennet.

As he thought about the day of the ball, he remembered his first opinion of her.

He remembered how her beauty had not immediately swayed him; instead, he had developed a slight interest in her.

She had not come across as the typical woman.

She did not throw herself at him but carried herself with respect and elegance that did not seem forced or learned but was her person.

These details had intrigued him despite his outer appearance of indifference. Although he did not walk up to Miss Bennet during the ball or pay her any noticeable attention that she would have noticed, he watched and studied her throughout the ball.

The next time he saw her was when she came over to the manor Mr. Bingley and his sister had moved into to check on her sister.

Her mannerisms and brilliance had not failed to snare his attention.

He found that, unlike other women, he rather enjoyed her company.

Her replies bore the freshness of unstudied wit, at once playful and keen, such as he had never before encountered in society.

Her responses were fast, unhurried, and quirky.

It was both humorous and mentally stimulating for him.

He remembered he found her presence both refreshing and different from what he was used to.

Being around a woman who was not scheming ways to appear more attractive was nice.

He could remember when he thought, for the first time, how nice it was not to have his guard up against the seduction of a woman.

Miss Bennet had been completely different from what he was used to.

Remembering his cousin’s words, Mr. Darcy began thinking about how his words and mannerisms could have easily been misconstrued as arrogance and pride.

For each speech and behaviour Darcy could think of, he mentally noted why he had done and said what he did.

Mr. Darcy remained outside alone. He reflected on the first time he met Miss Bennet and how their last meeting had ended. Memories of accusations against him flooded his mind as Darcy slowly turned, and his head almost slipped from the palm of his left hand.

The dream ebbed away slowly, like a tide withdrawing from the shore.

The garden path where he had walked, Anne’s pale countenance bathed in moonlight, her quiet words that pierced his defences—all wavered and dissolved until nothing remained but a hush more desolate than before.

His head had sunk heavily into his hand, the weight of his grief pulling him downward, and there he had slumbered without knowing it.

For a time he lingered between the two worlds, half-dreaming still, reluctant to leave that imagined comfort, unwilling to admit it had been no more than the play of an overwrought mind.

When at last his senses cleared, he lifted his head and found himself alone, the candle guttering low, the sheets of paper before him still unsullied by ink.

The silence of the room pressed upon him, yet not all was lost: though it had been but a dream, its counsel rang true.

It reminded him, with a force no waking friend could equal, that Elizabeth’s accusations must be met soberly, one by one, with candour and humility—and that no defence but honesty would ever prevail.