Page 35 of The Power of Refusal
I n the clear light of the cloudy morning, Elizabeth reflected. “What a fool am I,” she muttered.
Her mind reeled, recalling the previous night’s events. Had she truly accused Mr Darcy of making a dishonourable offer?
“His words were odd, but when has he ever been articulate about feelings?” she whispered to herself.
She recalled his eloquence in the drawing room, his superb writing in the letter after Hunsford. Yet, in matters of the heart, he stumbled.
“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.”
The memory of his Hunsford proposal made her wince. He had insulted her family in the same breath as declaring his love. And now at Lockwood, had he fumbled again? Or was she too dense, too self-absorbed in her own fantasy of him, to understand what he was offering.
“ Elizabeth, please... I only wish to offer you a way out of your difficulties. Surely you know what I could provide for you? ”
She remembered the hurt and confusion in his eyes as she lashed out. How foolish she had been to give every phrase its worst possible meaning!
“I gave him no chance to explain,” she realised. “I never considered his awkwardness might stem from his own insecurities.”
Her own accusation from years ago came back to haunt her. “ Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner... ” Now, she wondered if she was the one guilty of “selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”
In the cold light of the carriage, Elizabeth reflected on his tender expression, his kind tone. How difficult it must have been for him to open his heart after so long.
She buried her face in her hands, shame and regret washing over her. Had she just thrown away her one chance for happiness?
∞∞∞
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Bingley’s study, casting a warm glow on the two men seated within. Darcy, his brow furrowed and his eyes ringed with dark circles, sat across from Bingley, who leant forward in his chair, a look of concern etched upon his face.
“I cannot account for it, Bingley. Elizabeth was so warm and welcoming when I arrived. At least I remember her so. Last night, though, I barely knew her.” A heavy sigh escaped Darcy’s lips as he leant back in his chair. “I only wanted to offer my support, to care for her. I dared not, well, I had failed so wretchedly when I addressed her years ago, I may have overthought. I wanted to show my respect for her… I never meant to offend her or make her feel pitied.”
“I know, my friend,” Bingley assured him. “And I am certain once Elizabeth has had time to reflect, she will see that too. I think, perhaps, you spoke to the point too quickly.” Darcy’s eyes met Bingley’s, a glimmer of hope kindling within them.
“In fact, I believe this may be an opportunity for you,” Bingley said. “Take your time. Court her, Darcy. Show her your feelings are genuine and not borne of pity. Woo her. You have not spent two hours together in years. And Elizabeth’s experiences with men during that time have not given her a positive sense of our sex. She requires some assurance of your honourable intentions.”
A flush crept up Darcy’s neck at the suggestion, but he could not deny the appeal of the idea. “I am not well-versed in such matters,” he admitted, his tone sheepish.
“You need no grand declarations or extravagant gifts. Simply let her know you are thinking of her. Send her a book you think she might enjoy, or have flowers sent from your hothouses.”
“She is going to Alton now. What of Couper? Is he an amiable man? Might I be able to call on her there?” he asked, his mind seeking possibilities.
“Excellent idea!” Bingley exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Couper is a bit of a prig for my tastes, but his situation is not bad. There is a decent inn at Alton. You might take her for a turn in their garden. Clear the air between you. It is closer than Meryton to London. You could travel there in a day and half.”
Darcy stood, a new sense of purpose filling him. “Thank you, Bingley,” he said. “Your counsel and friendship mean a great deal to me.”
Bingley rose as well, clapping Darcy on the shoulder. “Think nothing of it, my friend. I have every faith that you and Elizabeth will find your way to each other. Let your actions speak louder than your words. And perhaps find some better words.”
Darcy had learnt one lesson. He did not ride but took his carriage from Lockwood to London. He had business to attend to before he could make his way to Alton to pursue Elizabeth, and he would not risk illness delaying him.
Darcy stared out the window of the carriage as it rumbled along the road. The countryside passed by in a blur of green and gold. He hardly noticed the beauty of the landscape. Thoughts of Elizabeth and their disastrous encounter the previous evening replayed over and over in his mind. What had gone wrong? How had he so badly misread her?
Elizabeth had been confused, had misunderstood his intentions. Darcy clenched his fists in frustration. He had never been a man of many words. He preferred actions to speeches. But now, it seemed, he would need to find the right words to convey his feelings to Elizabeth. He needed to show her his affections were genuine and not borne of base desire. Not entirely. She was always exceedingly appealing. To think she thought him capable of making her a dishonourable offer! He recalled the drawing he had found in her book. That was not the work of an indifferent artist. He had to believe she had feelings for him.
The carriage struck a rut in the road, jostling Darcy from his thoughts. He needed a plan. He would need to befriend Couper. Perhaps a discussion of needed improvements to St. Lawrence’s parish and parsonage? Dash it, he would rebuild the entire blasted church if it would help win Elizabeth.
The carriage rumbled on towards London. Darcy leant back against the squabs and closed his eyes. He had much to do in the city before he could return to Elizabeth. This time, he would not let her slip away. He had to prepare with care before he approached her again. He could not abide another blunder.
His eyes flew open with a long-ago memory. A conversation he had had with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, not long after his first disastrous proposal to Elizabeth at Hunsford. Richard had told him, “Should you decide to propose to a lady in the future, please consult me first. I daresay we could improve upon the utter rubbish you spoke to Miss Elizabeth.” Perhaps it was time to swallow his pride and take Richard up on his offer. He could use all the help he could get if he wanted to win Elizabeth’s heart.
Darcy leant forward and tapped on the roof of the carriage. “Change of plans,” he called out to the driver. “Proceed to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s residence first.”
As the carriage changed course, Darcy sat back against the squabs once more. This conversation with Richard would be just as mortifying and humiliating as the previous one. But if it meant he had a better chance of winning Elizabeth’s love, it would be worth it.