Page 7 of More Than You Know (The Love Conquers Pride #3)

Chapter Six

T hat the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was a custom of long duration. However, on the morning following the Meryton assembly, Elizabeth awoke with no inclination to revisit the previous evening’s events.

Rising at her usual early hour, she donned a simple day dress and a woollen pelisse, intent on a solitary ramble through the Hertfordshire countryside. Slipping quietly out of the rear door that led to the garden, she inhaled the crisp, cool air, her feet instinctively carrying her towards Oakham Mount.

Although she had quit Longbourn’s parlour the night before without voicing her opinion on Mr Darcy’s conduct, the truth was she had been deeply disappointed—and embarrassed—by his behaviour. To see the gentleman who had occupied her thoughts for so many years act in such an uncivil manner had wounded her pride and unsettled her far more than she cared to admit. And to hear her younger sisters speak of him with such disparagement had only heightened her discomfort. If she had been silent, it was only because she was forced to concede that her sisters’ criticisms were not entirely without merit; Mr Darcy had behaved poorly.

But once she had sought the privacy of her chambers and allowed her thoughts to settle, her indignation had begun to recede. She had found herself wondering whether his actions had not been without some provocation. True, it had been unconscionably rude of him to refuse to stand up with Jane, but her mother’s mortifying behaviour could hardly be overlooked. Mrs Bennet had loudly extolled Mr Darcy’s wealth and rank, all but demanding that he partner Jane for a set with no regard for the gentleman’s feelings or preferences. Could it be any wonder, then, that he had declined to indulge her expectations?

As Elizabeth wound her way along the familiar path, her thoughts turned to a new and unsettling possibility: Could Mr Darcy’s refusal to dance with Jane have been motivated by…loyalty? Despite her better judgment, her pulse quickened at the thought. Could it be that, beneath his reserved demeanour, Mr Darcy still harboured some tenderness towards her? The notion was absurd, of course. And yet, the mere suggestion stirred something within her that she had long tried to suppress.

A sudden snapping of a twig nearby pulled Elizabeth from her musings. Startled, she spun in the direction of the sound, her breath catching as a tall figure emerged around a bend in the path, framed against the morning sun.

“Mr Darcy!” she exclaimed, her tone a mix of surprise and annoyance. It seemed almost as though her thoughts had conjured him, the very object of her ruminations appearing before her as if by design.

At her cry, the gentleman halted, removing his hat with deliberate precision before offering her a formal bow.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. “Pray, forgive me. I had no intention of startling you.”

Regaining her equilibrium, Elizabeth released a low chuckle. “I am afraid I was lost in my own thoughts and did not hear you approach. I am also unaccustomed to seeing anyone on my morning walks, especially the day after an assembly. I am certain most of the neighbourhood is still abed.”

Across from her, Mr Darcy studied her with a serious expression. “I have always been an early riser, and I also enjoy a morning walk, as you may remember.”

Elizabeth’s skin prickled at the tacit allusion to their first meeting, but it was his previous remark that garnered her immediate attention. “You cannot mean that you walked here? From Netherfield?”

When the gentleman nodded his confirmation, her eyes widened. “But that is above four miles! You must have left before daybreak!”

Mr Darcy shrugged lightly, as if travelling such a distance in the chill of an October morning—not to mention near darkness—were a matter of no consequence. “I remembered you saying this was one of the places you liked to walk, and I wished to speak with you. I did not like the way we parted last evening.”

Elizabeth regarded him with a measured gaze. Choosing to overlook his last remark, she answered instead, “I only meant that I am surprised you did not ride. Surely Mr Bingley could spare a horse from his stables if you did not bring your own?”

Much to her astonishment, Mr Darcy responded with a faint, slow smile. “Indeed. I dare say Netherfield’s stables are bursting at the seams. However, I do not ride unless circumstances require it.”

“Oh, I see,” she replied, though in truth she did not see at all. “Well, you have come a long way on foot, so I suppose it would be churlish to refuse to listen to whatever it is you have to say.”

Mr Darcy inclined his head, his gratitude evident. Extending his hand to indicate they should proceed along the path, the pair ambled in silence for several moments before he began haltingly, “I must first beg your forgiveness for my manner of address as you were leaving the terrace. Using your sister’s name when I called after you was unpardonable. I do not know what took hold of me.”

Studying him from the corner of her vision, Elizabeth shrugged. “You have no need to apologize for that. It is how you were accustomed to thinking of me, after all. Besides,” she added lightly, “you are certainly not the first gentleman to have done something similar. Growing up with a sister as beautiful as Jane has its disadvantages at times.”

Mr Darcy blinked at her, his brow furrowing. “Your sister seems a pleasant young lady, but I hope you are not insinuating that my addressing you by her name indicates any partiality towards her. It is simply, as you said, that I have not yet accustomed myself to thinking of you as Elizabeth—that is, Miss Elizabeth,” he hastily amended.

“Very well,” she replied with a faint smile. “And as I have also said, you need not have come all this way to apologize for a slip of the tongue.”

“I thank you, but that is only one of the things I wished to speak to you about,” Mr Darcy said earnestly. “I owe you an apology for my behaviour as well. I do not have the talent of conversing easily with those I have never seen before, and I have not been much in company these last five years. It was never my intention to slight your sister. It is just that…” He paused briefly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, before continuing, “I do not do well in ballrooms. All the candles and the noise… I cannot fully explain. Suffice it to say that I was not prepared to dance last evening. But you were right to chastise me. If I was unwilling to participate, it would have been better not to attend.”

Looking up into Mr Darcy’s dark, expressive eyes, Elizabeth felt a sudden surge of emotion. Jane was forever telling her that allowances must be made for differences in situation and temperament. Not everyone was at ease in company, particularly when surrounded by strangers eager to pass judgment. Even she, who had glimpsed facets of Mr Darcy’s character during their first meeting all those years ago, had been swift to assume the worst. What distressed her further was her silence when her friends and family had spoken harshly of him; she had offered nothing in his defence.

Suddenly, all the anger and resentment she had harboured against Mr Darcy since his arrival in Hertfordshire seemed to melt away, leaving her with only a deep sense of humiliation for her own bad behaviour.

“I shall accept your apology, Mr Darcy, if you will accept mine. I should not have been so severe upon you last night. It could not have been easy to walk into a room full of unfamiliar people to find oneself the object of such scrutiny. As for standing up with Jane…” She paused, then offered a wry smile. “Let us just say that I cannot place the blame entirely upon your shoulders. My mother’s behaviour would have put almost anyone out of countenance.”

Mr Darcy’s brows lifted slightly at her remarks, though he soon concealed his amazement, offering her a sombre nod. “Thank you. I am glad we have had this opportunity to clear the air. I have been hoping to find a moment to speak with you privately since Lady Copley’s ball.”

“Have you?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity piqued.

He nodded. “It is why I followed you out to the terrace.”

They walked on in silence for a few moments before Mr Darcy continued. “I hope you know that I was pleased to encounter you again in town. We parted with such haste that day in Yorkshire, and I have always regretted not offering you a proper farewell. I have thought of you often these past four years.”

At his words, a frisson of exhilaration coursed through Elizabeth’s veins. He had thought about her? Taking a calming breath, she forced herself to reply evenly, “Well, I am glad to hear it. Though I should not have imagined a gentleman of your consequence would have had any cause to reflect on an inconsequential meeting with a stranger,” she added with a quiet chuckle.

Mr Darcy halted, turning to face her with a puzzled expression. “That was never how I viewed our acquaintance. I have always considered you a friend.”

“Ah, but that was before,” Elizabeth quipped. “Before you knew I was not the daughter of a peer but rather an insignificant country miss of no particular importance.”

“No, of course not! That is…” He paused, visibly flustered. “Although I now know your station in life is decidedly beneath my own, it changes nothing. I think as highly of you now as I did before.”

A startled laugh slipped from Elizabeth’s throat. How was it possible for this man to be so endearing one moment and so exasperating the next? “How magnanimous of you,” she replied sardonically. “I am gratified to know that my humble origins will not affect our friendship.”

Mr Darcy exhaled heavily, briefly removing his hat to rake his fingers through his hair. “You are twisting my words.”

“Am I?” she countered, her voice tinged with amusement. “Well then, pray tell me, what are you trying to say, sir? If it is for my sake that you have followed Mr Bingley into Hertfordshire, you would do well to make your intentions clear.”

The moment the words left her lips, Elizabeth regretted them. Not only was it highly improper to seek validation from a gentleman in such an overt manner, but she already suspected she would not like his reply.

Across from her, Mr Darcy blanched, his countenance a study in pained mortification. He briefly looked away before saying gravely, “I hope you know that I would never think of pursuing any young lady who already had an understanding with another gentleman, let alone one whom I consider a close personal acquaintance. But even if Bingley were not a factor in the matter, I would not wish to give you false hope. You should know that I am not free to marry.”

At his words, Elizabeth’s heart sank, and it was all she could do to lower her gaze lest he see the shock and humiliation in her eyes. Good God! He is already married! Of course he is! How could she have been so foolishly na?ve as to think a gentleman of Mr Darcy’s consequence would be unattached? Stupid, stupid girl!

Fighting to school her features, Elizabeth managed a thin smile, though she could not meet his eyes. “I beg your pardon, sir. I should have realized…”

She turned away to further hide her embarrassment, but a moment later, she felt the warmth of Mr Darcy’s gloved hand on her arm. “What should you have realized?” he asked quietly.

“That-that there must be a Mrs Darcy,” Elizabeth stammered. “Naturally, someone of your social standing?—”

“There is no Mrs Darcy,” he interrupted. His voice was firm but tinged with frustration. “It is…a complicated situation. Forgive me. I wish I could explain, but I am not at liberty to say more.”

Elizabeth blinked, searching his face for answers, but he turned his head, staring off into the distance. “I should not have come here,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, and Elizabeth sensed that he did not merely refer to Oakham Mount.

She was still composing a reply when he offered her a rigid bow. “Miss Elizabeth, forgive me for taking up so much of your time. I hope you will accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

And with that, he lifted his hat and strode off in the direction of Netherfield, leaving Elizabeth alone, her emotions in turmoil.

Darcy marched along the rutted path, his racing thoughts keeping time with the pounding of his heart. Although his eyes took in the rolling hills and bright blue sky, all he truly saw was Elizabeth’s lovely countenance and the sanguine expression in her clear brown eyes when she had asked him if it was on her account that he had followed Bingley to Netherfield.

Devil take it! He never should have let his cousin talk him into coming into Hertfordshire. No good could come of it—for anyone.

Veering from the lane, he forged through standing puddles, crossing field after field at a brisk pace. His booted heels sank into the damp earth as he turned their conversation over and over in his mind.

After the way they had parted the previous evening, he had been prepared for Elizabeth’s ire. What he had not anticipated was the fleeting vulnerability in her gaze when she questioned his intentions—the swift betrayal of emotion before she turned away. It haunted him, that look; not merely wounded pride, but something deeper, more intimate.

Could it be that she had once cared for him—as he had, and still did, for her? The thought unsettled him more than he liked to admit.

And more disquieting still was the way she had spoken of her sister’s beauty. While her tone had been light, her eyes told a different story.

Darcy frowned. He knew all too well what it was to be measured against another only to be found wanting. He had lived in the shadow of George Wickham for most of his youth.

But the thought that Elizabeth—whose beauty, to his mind, eclipsed all others—might view herself as lesser than her sister pained him deeply. And yet, despite his own inclinations, there was no denying that Jane Bennet was an extraordinarily handsome young lady. Darcy had not missed the look on Bingley’s face upon their introduction at the assembly, nor the way his friend’s gaze had strayed to her again and again as the evening wore on.

What would it do to Elizabeth’s spirit and self-worth if Bingley were to withdraw his attentions in favour of her sister?

The mere thought made Darcy’s stomach clench with fury. Not only would Elizabeth be deeply wounded, but she would be made to look a fool before the entire neighbourhood.

Climbing over a stile that marked the boundary between Netherfield’s property and the neighbouring estate, Darcy walked on, his agitation mounting with every step. He had long since accepted the things he could not change. For him, there would be no marriage, no children. He could not give Elizabeth—or any woman—the future she deserved.

But Bingley could. Bingley could provide Elizabeth with a good life. He could offer her financial security and a happy home—a future filled with comfort and ease.

And Darcy would be damned if he allowed Jane Bennet, or any other woman, to take that away from her.

He had scarcely reached Netherfield’s curving drive when he was greeted by the sight of Richard advancing at a rapid pace. The colonel’s face was set with equal parts irritation and relief, and he called out in strident tones, “Darcy, thank heavens! Where have you been? Walsh and I have been searching everywhere—we were worried sick!”

Drawing to a halt, Darcy’s mind wrenched back from its single, blinding focus on Bingley—on all that must be said, and soon—only now realizing that he had been gone far longer than he intended.

“Forgive me,” he replied, attempting to regulate his fractured emotions. “I woke early and went for a walk. I had not realized how late it had become.”

“A walk?” Richard echoed, incredulity written across his features. “With no one to accompany you? And without leaving so much as a note? Do you have any idea how frantic we have been? Walsh has ridden into Meryton to search for you!”

Feeling the familiar stirrings of impatience, Darcy resumed his strides towards the house, his boots crunching against the gravel. “Once again, you have my apologies. Pray, send a footman after Walsh to apprise him of my safe return. As you can see, I am perfectly well.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught his cousin’s sceptical expression as he fell into step beside him.

“You do not look perfectly well,” the colonel muttered, his voice low. “Did something?—?”

“No,” Darcy cut him off, his voice sharp as he turned to fix his cousin with a dark, forbidding glare. “Leave it, Richard. As I said, there is nothing amiss. Now, if you will excuse me, I must speak to Bingley as soon as may be.”

Without waiting for a reply, Darcy stalked off in the direction of the house, leaving his cousin no choice but to follow in his wake.

“Darcy! There you are!” Bingley exclaimed with his usual exuberance as Darcy entered the breakfast room some moments later, Fitzwilliam close at his heels. “Your cousin has been in quite a state. Another quarter of an hour, and I think he would have sent half the household to search for you,” he concluded with a hearty chuckle.

Darcy frowned, momentarily diverted by Miss Bingley, who sprang to her feet at his entrance, her movements too eager by half.

Darting a glance in his cousin’s direction, Darcy returned his gaze to his friend before saying in a clipped tone, “I have already made my apologies to Fitzwilliam, but pray forgive me for causing you any undue concern. I felt the need for some fresh air and neglected to leave word with one of the servants before setting out. For that, I am sorry.”

He might have said more, but Miss Bingley interrupted with an exaggerated gasp. Turning once again in her direction, Darcy saw that her wide eyes were now fixed dramatically on the hems of his trousers as she cried out in a shrill voice, “Good heavens, Mr Darcy, what an ordeal you must have been through! To have walked out so early and in such dreadful weather! How thankful we all are for your safe return.”

Darcy followed her gaze and noted, with no small measure of embarrassment, that his trousers were at least six inches deep in mud—a glaring testament to his expedition across the sodden countryside. But there was nothing to be done about it now. Acknowledging Miss Bingley’s outburst with a curt nod, he returned his attention to her brother.

“Bingley, there is a matter of some urgency that I must discuss with you. Now, if you please.”

Bingley’s eyebrows shot up at the firmness in Darcy’s tone, but when he replied, it was with his characteristic amiability. “Of course, Darcy! But first, you must have some breakfast. Caroline is quite right—you do not look well. Here, let me pour you some tea.”

“I thank you, no,” Darcy replied through tight lips.

“Coffee, then? Or if you require something stronger, I?—”

“Bingley, pray, desist!” Darcy snapped, his patience wearing thin. “I am in want of nothing save an explanation for your behaviour at last night’s assembly. What were you about, showing such marked attention to Miss Jane Bennet?”

Bingley blinked, visibly startled. “I-I beg your pardon?” he stammered. “I do not believe I paid any undue attention to Miss Bennet.”

“Oh no?” Darcy retorted, his voice a low thunder. “Your eyes practically fell out of your head when you were introduced, and you could scarcely look away from her for the remainder of the evening.”

Bingley coloured slightly before saying, “I was merely being cordial. Though I cannot deny that Miss Jane Bennet is uncommonly pretty. Even you must have noticed that.”

Darcy’s scowl deepened, though he forbore to enquire into the meaning behind his friend’s insinuation. “I suppose she is handsome enough if one is attracted to that sort. For my part, she lacks Miss Elizabeth’s vivacity. And she smiles too much.”

“Smiles too much?” Bingley echoed, his tone incredulous. “I hardly think?—”

“No,” Darcy interrupted, his voice rising. “It is abundantly clear that you do not! That is the problem.”

A tense silence fell over the room as Darcy’s words hung in the air. Beside him, Richard exhaled sharply, and Miss Bingley let out a nervous titter, but Darcy paid them no heed. His gaze remained fixed on Bingley, his eyes narrowed.

“How many young ladies have you paid court to since our days at university?” he pressed on. “How many ‘angels’ have there been before Miss Elizabeth Bennet? And now you would throw her over because her elder sister has captured your attention? It is beyond the pale, and I will not stand for it!”

“Darcy,” Fitzwilliam murmured, his tone heavy with caution, but neither his cousin’s warning nor Bingley’s stunned expression could stem the flow of words now that they had begun.

“Can you not see that you have given rise to certain expectations where Miss Elizabeth Bennet is concerned? Not only did you pay court to her in London for all the ton to see, but then you followed her here to Hertfordshire, leased an estate not three miles from her home, and called upon her the very moment you arrived! It is a wonder Mrs Bennet has not had the banns read by now!”

“Darcy,” Richard said loudly, his voice cutting through the tirade, “might I speak to you a moment?”

Darcy opened his mouth to protest, but his cousin had already taken hold of his arm, steering him out of the door and into the adjoining entrance hall.

“Good God, man, what are you about?” the colonel hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. “For someone who professes to have no interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you certainly are making a display of your feelings. Did you not see the notice Miss Bingley was taking of the conversation?”

Heat prickled at the back of Darcy’s neck. In truth, he had been so caught up in his righteous indignation that he had scarcely given a thought to anyone beyond Bingley.

Straightening his cuffs, he replied churlishly, “I care nothing for Miss Bingley’s opinion. I will not have Elizabeth humiliated!”

Richard darted a glance in the direction of the breakfast parlour before dragging Darcy farther across the hall. “Can you not see that you are blowing this entire situation out of proportion? I did not notice anything improper in Bingley’s behaviour towards Miss Bennet last evening, and I dare say neither did anyone else until you just called attention to it!”

“That is because you do not know Bingley as I do! He would throw Elizabeth over in favour of her sister in a trice if the mood struck. And I will not have her made a laughingstock.”

Richard released an irritated huff. “Be that as it may, you cannot wear your heart so plainly on your sleeve. Not if you wish to persuade the good people of Meryton—or our hosts, for that matter—that you do not have feelings for the lady yourself.”

Darcy’s anger began to dissipate as his cousin’s words took root, and his shoulders slumped. He regarded Richard, regret tightening his throat.

“Very well. I shall concede that I should have insisted on a private audience with Bingley rather than airing my grievances in the breakfast room. But I stand by what I said. Bingley has already raised expectations where Miss Elizabeth is concerned. If he does not mean to continue to court her, he would do better to leave the neighbourhood entirely.”

“And is that what you truly want?” Richard asked, with a narrowed gaze. “For Bingley to continue to court Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

Darcy briefly looked away before answering, “They seem well suited. He would make her a good husband.”

“Mayhap. But that does not answer my question,” Richard replied gently.

Darcy kept his eyes averted but straightened his shoulders, his jaw tightening.

“Elizabeth deserves to be happy, and Bingley can give her what I cannot. So yes, if she is his choice, then I wish them well. Now, if you will excuse me, this conversation is at an end.”

After taking a few moments to collect himself, Darcy re-entered the breakfast room with the colonel. Once past the threshold, he wasted no time in approaching his friend.

“Pray, forgive me, Bingley. I had no right to speak to you in such a way,” he began, his tone contrite, before turning to offer similar words to Bingley’s sister. “Miss Bingley, I also owe you an apology for my lack of decorum.”

Bingley began to stammer his own expression of regret, clearly embarrassed by the earlier confrontation, but before he could say much, his sister’s voice rose above his.

“Mr Darcy, I was just telling my brother that you were quite right to chastise him for his conduct towards dear Eliza Bennet.” Turning to face her brother, she continued with exaggerated disapproval, “Really, Charles, you have treated the poor girl quite infamously.”

Visibly abashed, Bingley shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I assure you, it was not my intention to show any preference for Miss Jane Bennet, and I feel dreadful to think I may have caused Miss Elizabeth any distress. I have just been speaking to Caroline about how I might make amends.” Turning back to his sister, he added eagerly, “Perhaps you might invite Miss Elizabeth to tea? You did mention wanting to get to know her better.”

Whether or not Miss Bingley was in favour of this scheme remained unclear, for Darcy interjected before she could reply.

“Singling out Miss Elizabeth in such a way will only add fuel to the fire. Unless you are prepared to make her an offer of marriage, you would do well to cease showing her such marked attention.”

“Yes, you are right,” Bingley agreed, his shoulders slumping. “The last thing I would want is to cause her any undue discomfort.”

He paused, staring into space for a moment before suddenly straightening his spine. “I know! Why not invite the entire Bennet family to dine with us? That way, we might all come to know one another better without giving rise to any particular expectations where Miss Elizabeth is concerned.”

“All of them?” Miss Bingley cried out, her voice rising in alarm. “Really, Charles, I have no objection to becoming better acquainted with Miss Eliza Bennet, and Miss Jane Bennet does seem like a sweet girl, but the younger sisters are intolerable! And the mother!”

Disregarding his sister’s objections, Bingley continued, undeterred. “Perhaps I shall invite the Lucases as well. Sir William has been exceedingly hospitable, and it would be a friendly gesture.”

This suggestion was met with approval from the two remaining gentlemen. Colonel Fitzwilliam, in particular, looked amused as he responded, “A fine idea, Bingley. The more the merrier.”

Miss Bingley, however, drew a sharp breath, clearly struggling to mask her displeasure, though her expression remained pinched. In the end, she could do nothing but consent, albeit grudgingly.

With the matter settled, Bingley wasted no time in seeing that the invitations were written and dispatched without delay.