Page 26 of Requirements for Love (Love in London with Mr Darcy #3)
“On this subject, I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence. Good evening.”
He hastily left the room without a backward glance.
Elizabeth felt like her whole body trembled with mortification, from her tear-stained cheeks, her aching arm muscles, and down to her tender sprained ankle.
She wanted the anger she had felt for the last two days to stay on Darcy—for his bluntness, his honesty, his seeing and acknowledging something she had always endeavoured to ignore.
But the justice of his charge struck her too forcibly for denial.
In his presence, pride had restrained her tears, but no sooner was he gone than they burst forth.
The circumstances he alluded as having passed at the Netherfield ball—with all her family’s mortifying actions—could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers. All of her family, save for Jane, had exposed themselves to ridicule and contempt that evening.
She herself had avoided her mother for fear of overhearing her talk of seeing Jane settled in that very house.
Mary had insisted on showing off her weak voice and affected manner, and her father had humiliated her to remove her from the instrument.
Kitty and Lydia had indeed run about after the officers, demanding their attention with abandon.
Even Mr Collins had offended with his presumption and obsequious speeches.
How many times that evening alone had she blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation? And how many times on any given day had she winced at one of her sisters’ senseless talk or shameless flirting, or her mother’s noisy fretting and foolish gossip?
Darcy’s compliment to herself and Jane soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt that had been thus self-attached by the rest of her family’s impropriety. And, she knew, it was a justified contempt.
She remembered exactly what Darcy had said to Colonel Fitzwilliam: “I would receive a deeper wound from the want of sense in Miss Elizabeth’s connexions, than from their want of importance.”
Darcy had—she thought he had—affection for her. Had he admired her enough to offer his heart and his hand, despite her family’s improper behaviour? Or had he been telling his cousin that her family’s poor behaviour could never be disregarded enough for him to marry her?
It had to be the latter.
The housemaid’s folding back her window shutters the next day first roused Elizabeth from sleep. Instantaneously, with the consciousness of existence, she returned to her sad recollections of the previous evening.
Even if Darcy had been wavering, her own behaviour in refusing to acknowledge the truth she knew deep down to be true must have cost her the rest of Darcy’s regard. He valued honesty too deeply to not resent her for choosing not to acknowledge the truth about her family.
“Are you well, ma’am?” asked the maid. “You seem in low spirits. Is your ankle troubling you?”
Rather than admit to her mortification and heartbreak, she agreed, which was why the housekeeper came in while the family was at church and applied a cold poultice of vinegar and oatmeal.
She had offered her an ounce of laudanum, but Elizabeth declined.
A proper distraction would be better than opium, or at least as good without making her insensible.
She read and wrote letters and was resolved to have a day of solitude. However, at midday, Georgiana entered with her writing desk, looking nervous.
“I hear you are feeling a little poorly,” she said upon sitting down. “Do you think it will prevent you from dining with us this evening?”
Elizabeth sighed. She was too embarrassed to meet Darcy today. He mentioned her family in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach. To look him in the eye would only bring forth all the shame for having such relations as well as all the confusion of knowing that his regard for her had sunk.
“Oh, I passed a rather heavy night. I did not sleep a wink. I will not be good company.”
“Is your wrist sore from using the cane? And your ankle sore from moving around?”
“Something like that,” she murmured. Her heart was sore from judging Darcy so coldly for his honesty. It was so entwined in his character there was no separating them. And for that alone, his good opinion must be lost forever. “I will rest today and be better tomorrow.”
Georgiana ran her fingers over the writing desk. “It is only, my brother, you see, he asked me to extend an invitation. I hardly know how, but if you do not want to dine in company, I am unsure what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fitzwilliam said you must be missing your family, and that Mrs Gardiner might be feeling better now, and so we must invite the Gardiners and Miss Bennet to a family dinner this evening.”
His words last night tortured her with disappointment and embarrassment, and this gesture, considerate as it was, made it all the worse. Darcy did not resent her, and he would treat her with not only civility but kindness. A kindness he would bestow on her relations as well .
But that did not mean he loved her.
“Lizzy?” Georgiana asked. “Should we not invite them tonight if you are unwell?”
She forced herself into a little cheerfulness. She could not refuse Darcy’s gesture of goodwill, and she wanted to see her family.
“I would be honoured if you and your brother invited them,” she said. “But why do you appear so distressed by it?”
“I do not know how to write an invitation to a stranger. Mrs Annesley tells me I think too much on it, but I do not know your aunt, and my brother has never entrusted me to issue an invitation on his behalf before.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Neither Mr Darcy nor Mrs Annesley would misplace their trust. And if it helps, I will write my own note to go along with your invitation to second all of your generosity and a desire to see them here tonight.”
They worked together for a quarter of an hour, far longer than the task required, until Georgiana felt confident in her phrasing.
After a footman was called to deliver the note to Gracechurch Street and await a reply, her friend gave her a mischievous smile and asked, “Are you wishing that perhaps my brother invited Captain Peck instead?”
Darcy had grown to admire her, but he could not overcome her family’s faults. Her foolishness in challenging his integrity when she had not been honest herself had ended his bourgeoning affection—but her family had nearly prevented its formation.
Her visions of romance with Darcy were over. Elizabeth felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before. Perhaps it would be to her credit to find a husband while she was gone from Hertfordshire, without her parents or sisters nearby to scare away a potential spouse.
She could not quickly recover from her feelings for Darcy, but some day she would.
“I would never forsake family or friends for a man,” she said significantly, hoping that her romantically inclined friend would take the hint. “However, I would not be opposed another time to spend an evening with Captain Peck. ”
Captain Peck could possibly be an object of her attention, since Darcy no longer admired her. The captain was a lively man, and had not had the chance to be insulted by her family’s behaviour.
Darcy had not been sure what to expect at dinner with the Gardiners and Miss Bennet, but it was the most enjoyable evening he had in weeks.
There was not one discouraging moment of silence, not one exclamation that made him long for someone of character to lock eyes with, not a sarcastic aside or pedantic speech.
They all talked agreeably of London and Hertfordshire, of Lambton and Derbyshire, of travelling, of new books and music. Even Georgiana ventured a few words, and Elizabeth smiled the entire time.
Mr Gardiner was younger than he expected and a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sisters. Mrs Gardiner was an intelligent, elegant woman only a little older than himself. He ought to have invited them to see Elizabeth sooner, regardless of how he presumed they would behave.
The only awkwardness was when he had to carry Elizabeth down to the dining room and then back up to the drawing room.
She had blushed and avoided looking at him, and he felt the stiffness in her body as he carried her.
He knew her pointed “thank you” was for inviting her family as much as it was for moving her about the house.
There was gratitude, but nothing of love behind her words.
With the effort in settling Elizabeth, and it being more of a family dinner, they chose not to separate.
However, a natural separation occurred nonetheless, with all the ladies gathered in a cluster amid pleasantries about one another’s dress.
A slew of compliments passed back and forth, interspersed with where this pattern came from and how much she spent on muslin and who dressed her hair.
Darcy hid by the tea things, and soon Mr Gardiner, after pacing the room admiring the paintings, came to his side.
“I did not improve the odds much this evening,” Mr Gardiner said agreeably. When Darcy narrowed his eyes in confusion, he went on, “I add one man to your party, but I brought two ladies with me. The ratio still leans heavily in the favour of the women.”
He smiled. “I do not mind the ratio, but once the talk turns to fashion, my mind wanders.” He tilted his head toward the ladies and in a lower voice asked, “Do you suppose such an interest begins at birth, or does it emerge when a lady has her own pin money to spend at the shops?”
“I have two little girls, eight and six, and I assure you, it appears early. My boys are much younger, but I can already tell that, with those two, neatness in fashion will be the most I can hope for.”