10th April 1816
On that fateful morning, Darcy’s mood was as sour as a bottle of curdled milk as he looked through the window. After his adventures in the mud the day before, he had spent the rest of the day working hard, revitalised. But by afternoon, a message arrived. It was from his aunt’s steward, and he was requesting Darcy’s company to solve an important dispute between two of the tenants. For that reason, he was expected to meet the man earlier than usual and, regretfully, would miss his morning walk.
Yet, despite his annoyance, the recollection of the previous day brought a smile to his face. He raised his hand and touched his lips and chuckled as he remembered Elizabeth’s dirty face so close to his own, her eyes; their almost kiss.
“At least now I know what I need to do,” he reassured himself.
But that would have to wait for an appropriate occasion. Checking his pocket watch, Darcy sighed. It was time.
He tried to console himself by remembering that Mr Collins and his party were expected to dine with them again at Rosings Park that evening. Perhaps, then, he would find the right time to execute his decision.
~ ? ~
Hearing his aunt’s guests arriving, Darcy went downstairs taking two steps at a time, while buttoning his coat.
Mr Grant was a good steward, but even he had given up the discussion, leaving Darcy dealing alone with the two bickering tenants. The whole business had taken much longer than expected, and after arriving, he just had time to wash in the basin and change his dirty clothes.
Mr and Mrs Collins entered the room, followed by Maria, and then… the door was closed behind them.
“Where is Miss Elizabeth?” his aunt asked, stealing the words from his mouth.
“She went for her walk this morning and came back not feeling very well, I am afraid,” Mrs Collins informed her. “We thought it would be better to allow her to stay and rest.”
Darcy’s countenance darkened. Elizabeth was not well and after her morning walk. Was she expecting him to ask for her hand after what had happened between them? Or was she suffering the consequences of being trapped in the cold mud?
After tolerating the agonisingly long dinner and some of the necessary polite conversation afterwards, Darcy could not stay there any longer. He excused himself from the room, giving Richard a meaningful look, while his cousin mouthed something back to him.
But Darcy paid no attention.
After some long strides, he felt the cold door handle and the fresh breeze of the night. Then, without a second thought, he sprang into the night towards the parsonage.
~ ? ~
Elizabeth had gone for her habitual walk that morning, secretly expecting to see Mr Darcy again, wondering how he would behave after their muddy encounter.
She smiled, but soon she became serious again. She hated to admit that she was actually enjoying, even desiring his company, and it made her very confused.
Mr Darcy, the same man who had been so mean in his comments after arriving in Hertfordshire, had touched her hair, her cheek. His dark eyes had looked straight into hers with such an intensity she was absolutely sure he would have kissed her had the colonel had not arrived to save them. A strange warmth spread throughout Elizabeth’s body — an alien sensation. Her heart raced and her breath faulted.
Could that mean…?
The sound of hooves interrupted her reverie. She turned in the hope of seeing the man who had occupied her latest thoughts only to be frustrated when she saw who was dismounting the horse.
“Colonel.”
“Miss Elizabeth. How are you faring this morning?” Richard asked with an enigmatic smile. “I hope yesterday’s event has not caused you any inconvenience.”
She blushed. “I am very well, thank you, Colonel. And no. No harm was done, and no inconveniences took place — well, apart from a long lecture from my friend about the need to watch where one walks.”
Richard laughed and offered to accompany her on her walk, which she gladly accepted. It would be good to have some company and, perhaps, some distraction from her earlier thoughts.
As they walked and conversed about many things, Elizabeth could not avoid comparing the two cousins. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a pleasant and voluble man, naturally inclined to make people comfortable around him. In contrast, Mr Darcy was more reticent, aloof, mysterious. She could well imagine the two cousins together in a ballroom. Colonel Fitzwilliam would be dancing all sets, laughing, surrounded by giggling ladies, while Mr Darcy would only dance the unavoidable sets, just to return to a corner of the room to brood in his aloofness or discuss the latest news from Parliament with those knowledgeable enough to follow his deliberations.
The thought made her smile.
But what had truly amazed her was the colonel’s care for his cousin, and his honourable behaviour. She remembered the way the colonel had scolded Mr Darcy; he had not only been concerned for his cousin, but also for her reputation — for which she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was to have the man forced to marry her, especially when her feelings for him were still so confused.
It was in this unguarded state that the colonel let slip something Darcy had said about his visit to Meryton and Bingley’s decision to give up the lease.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said interested. “And did Mr Bingley give any reason for such a decision?”
“I understood Bingley was not exactly impressed with the property or the town. I am not sure. But I know his sisters were definitively unimpressed. As you hail from that area, perhaps you can understand it better than I do. Darcy said Bingley liked the neighbourhood well enough but preferred to stay in London for the time being. Apparently, some of the neighbours were a little… inconvenient. One of the local young ladies seemed to have attracted Bingley’s eyes, but Darcy said her family was not the most appropriate one. There were some strong objections against a mother, or younger sisters. I cannot remember. But I was very sorry to hear that. Bingley is a strange fellow; a little too concerned about status. By the way Darcy described this lady, she sounded perfect. I know I would not allow such a lady to escape if I had the means — family or not.”
But Elizabeth was not listening anymore; not after understanding that her family was not the most appropriate one was surely referring to her family. She felt dizzy and could no longer walk.
Richard noticed her pale face. “Are you unwell, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No… I mean, I am well. It is just a sudden headache. Perhaps I should go back and rest,” she said, clumsily turning towards her friend’s house.
Richard offered his arm. “Then allow me to escort you.”
Despite her desire to be alone, she was thankful for the support of the colonel’s arm; her eyes blinded by unwanted tears.
As they walked back, Richard thought about their recent conversation and a thought crossed his mind. “Was it something I said that distressed you? If that is the case—”
“No, Colonel,” Elizabeth interrupted him with a broken voice. “Your account just brought back some memories I would have wished to forget.” Jane’s sad face appeared before her. All the levity of the last few days was smashed by her previous disgust and prejudice against Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy. “But they are not your fault.”
A realisation struck Richard. Miss Elizabeth was not just his cousin’s love lady; Bingley’s neighbours were, in fact, Miss Elizabeth’s family! It could not be anything else. Darcy would put his champion greyhounds after him before he could finish his excuses — and with good reason. By her reaction, it would seem that the prospect of a possible courtship between them had been seriously damaged.
“Miss Bennet, please forgive my insistence, but I can guarantee that whatever happened, my cousin did not mean to offend—”
“I beg you to stop defending your cousin, Colonel,” Elizabeth interrupted him again, this time in greater distress. “Your loyalty to your cousin is admirable and speaks highly of your character. But I have spent two months in Mr Darcy’s company, and despite his civility, I know exactly what he thinks of my family.” I have just deceived myself believing he was not that man .
As if in a dream, she was again at the ball, dancing with Mr Darcy and seeing how annoyed he had become with one of her questions about Mr Wickham and his relationship with the man. After that, Mr Darcy’s mood had only worsened. He remained aloof, glaring at everyone, judging all, condemning all — including her, as if she had done something terrible. She had just asked a question.
To make things worse, Lydia had been laughing and teasing young men to chase after her, causing one of the local matrons to spill her wine over another gentleman. Elizabeth’s mother could not have been more embarrassing, visibly inebriated, shouting at her naughty daughter from the other side of the ballroom.
Mr Darcy had stared at them with contempt and disdain. If it was not for Jane’s interest in Mr Bingley, Elizabeth would have run from that place at once, not caring for the darkness and the cold. Anything would have been preferable to meeting Mr Darcy’s scorning eyes.
Richard observed Elizabeth’s changed countenance with great distress. As much as he desperately wanted to clarify the story, he could not go against her wishes and remained silent until they arrived at her friend’s house. There, without even a small glance, she quickly thanked him and entered the house.
Back at Rosings Park, Richard realised he would not be able to talk to Darcy as he was still out, busy with Mr Grant. He only hoped he could talk to him before dinner.
Alas, Richard did not have the opportunity. When Darcy excused himself from the gathering, Richard knew exactly where his cousin was going — and what was waiting for him. He only had time to shake his head and mouth ‘no’.
To no avail.
Without a second glance, Darcy was gone.
~ ? ~
By dinner time, as Elizabeth’s disposition had only worsened, she was allowed to miss the gathering at Rosings. She retired earlier to her bedchamber, and after a long time crying over her newly found disappointment, she was finally sleeping.
There was a knock on the door, and a small head peeked inside. “Miss,” the maid called, entering the room. “Mr Darcy is downstairs asking to see you. I don’t think I can send ’im away, Miss. Could you please come down?”
Elizabeth was surprised. She dismissed the maid with the assurance she would go down as soon as possible. But she did not hurry. She did not wish to see the man, not after what had been confirmed about his character, and certainly not as she was at that moment. Her eyes were puffy, her face red, and her head throbbing. But her greater pain was for her broken heart. She felt demeaned by the reminder that Mr Darcy, a man whose company she was beginning to appreciate, even desire, thought so badly of her and her family. He considered them beneath him. Despite their respectful position in the local community, her family lacked propriety and was not even worthy of his friend’s affection.
Her last impression of him, before their re-encounter, had been the correct one after all.
When she finally managed to make herself presentable enough, she went downstairs, praying to be able to keep her temper.
She found Mr Darcy in the drawing room, pacing from one end to the other. Pausing to see his agitation, her heart only hardened. You can go and hang yourself, Mr Darcy. I do not care.
“Mr Darcy,” she called, swallowing her anger. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not notice when she quietly closed the door after her. “I am sorry to make you wait for so long, but as I was not expecting any visitors, I was already in bed, sleeping.”
She did not need to continue. The effect of her cold words made Darcy swallow hard.
He seemed to hesitate, then looked straight into her eyes. “I am sorry to have disturbed you at this time, Miss Elizabeth, but I could not rest before making sure you were well. Please forgive me. I hope you are feeling better.”
The warmth of his eyes and manner made Elizabeth uncomfortable. “I thank you for your concern, but at the moment I am feeling… very bad.” She did not care that she was being rude. She only hoped her honest reply would be enough to make him leave.
She wanted him gone. Forever.
But instead of leaving, he gently took her hands and helped her to sit, dragging another chair for himself closer to her.
“Miss Elizabeth, I was worried that your sudden illness was, in some way, a result of my… absence this morning.”
She gasped, but did not dare say anything, hoping he would find a way to explain such an assertion.
Her temper was starting to boil.
“I know we have been meeting in the morning when we go for our walks,” Darcy continued hesitantly, “and after yesterday, we… um…”
He looked down at his hands and shook his head. He stood up and went to the window. “I cannot even dare to imagine what you might be thinking of me,” he said, distressed. He turned to her and added in almost a whisper, “I would have come to you, but I was detained by Mr Grant and had no way to let you know.”
She frowned, her discomfort escalating with his unexpected, kind words and consideration.
He resumed his pacing around the room before stopping and looking at her again. For some reason, her pained countenance, even her silence, seemed to be enough encouragement for him to continue.
He knelt down in front of her and took her hands again, looking at them. She flinched but did not oppose. “I have given much consideration to our… relationship, and I would like to tell you…” He raised his face, caressing her with his eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth. You do not need to worry—”
She gasped and pulled one of her hands to her mouth. Her pained expression softened, then turned into one of incredulity.
He seemed gratified by her reaction and exhaled. “I know the situation of our families is quite different. And I know of my duty to marry someone with more distinguished origins—”
She stood up, and walked to the other side of the room, suddenly torn apart by the cruelty fate had reserved for her. For a fraction of a second, she thought she could overlook the displeasure she felt for him.
He loves me!
“I know some in my family might consider our alliance a social step down,” Darcy continued, oblivious to her agony. “But I cannot help it. I love you, Elizabeth. I have loved you for a long time, but only recently have I fully comprehended the depth of my feelings. So, I came here to see you, to pour out my heart and to beg you.” He approached her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “Please, consent to be my wife. Marry me.”
Elizabeth kept her back to him, paralysed, sinking and drowning into her inner turmoil. Could it be possible that all this time his stares, his stiffness… were signs of a man in love?
Confused beyond words, she turned and looked back at him, as if seeing him for the first time, and in his eyes, she found the truth. The same eyes that had followed her in Hertfordshire, at their dance at the ball, yesterday in the mud — and now.
A sharp pang cut her heart, and she raised her hand to her chest. Mr Darcy loves me! His warm hands on her arms and his loving eyes on her should be proof enough.
But his words about her family echoed in her mind once again, reviving the pain of that day at the ball. Imagining what he could think of her family, even hearing it from the colonel’s mouth was quite different from hearing it from his own lips; “ my family might consider our alliance a social step down ”. She knew he was from a far superior circle, but to constantly remind her of that was not the most appealing gestures. Quite the contrary; it just showed his ever-present condescension.
She could not look at him and turned away again.
Her hands started to tremble, and she shook her head in an attempt to keep her temper. All in vain. A wave of blind anger washed away any sensible thought and all her previous prejudice against him resurfaced with such strength that she could have vomited it.
Only a proud and arrogant man would assume he could know about her feelings; to believe she was pining for him! Even if there was a grain of truth in his words, who was he to talk to her in such a patronizing way?
“… you do not need to worry…”
She could not think well of him. Not anymore.
Inhaling loudly, and gathering all her courage, she forced herself to face him, and reply in the most civil way she could muster. “I cannot deny the honour of your offer, sir, but I cannot accept it. I do not desire to expose you and your family to the derision of society with a close relationship with me or my family. I hope you can soon change your mind, especially consid—”
“What? Why you are saying these things?” Darcy interrupted in horror. “I would never consider our marriage a reason for the derision of society.”
He desperately tried to take her hands, to make sense of her words. But this time, she held her hands away from him.
“My God, Elizabeth! I only mentioned those things to show that I had overlooked our differences, and this was not an easy task. It took me many months to finally understand that those things mean nothing to me, if only I could have you by my side.”
“Do you think it would be possible for me to accept a man whose opinion of my family is so low?” Elizabeth replied, her eyes full of tears. “What do you expect from me? To abandon my family and rejoice in the love of a man who sees himself above people who do not belong to his own circle in society?” She put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying. “I cannot understand. Firstly, you offended me. Then, you treated me with consideration, and then you changed again and left. Now this? How can you come here today and propose marriage? How can I take your proposal seriously if you keep changing your behaviour? How can I trust you will still love me after some months of marriage? Besides, my family will still be the same. Nothing can change that. What will you do then?”
Her pain became clear to Darcy. He tried to approach her again, chastising himself. He had never told her how much she meant to him. “Elizabeth, please, let me—”
“No!” she shouted, raising her hand to stop him. “I do not want to hear your excuses. What does it matter if a lady is kind and beautiful when she has an embarrassing family? Do you think I ignore what your friend had done, Mr Darcy? My poor sister…” Elizabeth stopped as she finally broke into sob. “She is the most selfless person I have ever known, and your friend snubbed her — because of our family. Do you think I could ever accept the hand of a man who calls such man a friend? You are just like him, if not worse. ”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “You certainly cannot blame me for my friend’s poor attitude,” he retorted. “How can you compare me to him? Bingley falls in and out of love as often as he changes his clothes. But I am the one here, asking for your hand in marriage. I am the one overlooking all those barriers, family or not, and deciding they are not enough inducement to keep me away from you. Can you not see it? I love you, Elizabeth. Those things do not matter to me — not anymore.”
For a moment, he thought she would relent; see reason. In the silence of the room, only their ragged breathing denounced their distress.
Elizabeth brought both hands to her face and desperately tried to control her sobs.
He loves me. Oh, good Lord. Is it really true?
But another shadow filled her mind, and again his behaviour at the ball came to her mind.
“And what about Mr Wickham?” she asked in a grim tone. Why a simple question about this man could incite so much ire in Mr Darcy? “How can you defend yourself against the cruelty you have inflicted on him? Was it just because he was the son of your steward?”
“So, is that what he is saying about me now?” Darcy’s countenance changed drastically, all his pain turning into anger. “I would not believe everything he says, Miss Elizabeth.”
“He never gave me reason to doubt his word. He never disdained anyone nor was he contradictory in his attitudes. He was always kind and—”
“What? Kind?” Darcy chuckled mirthlessly. “Are we still talking about the same man? Elizabeth, how can you be so blind?”
“Perhaps because of his humble position in society, he is able to see the real person beyond appearances and situation in life, and you cannot. I do not believe you proposed to me because of love, but because you cannot bear to be denied anything you want; I saw that in your eyes yesterday. I wonder what you really have in mind, sir. You accused your friend of being inconstant, but what about you? Today you say you love me. But what about in some months? Will you marry me and then once used, throw me away and find your pleasure in the arms of another?”
Her words reached its target like a dagger in the hands of a trained assassin. He looked around, as if searching for a way to rip out that agony, struggling even to breathe, horrified by her assumptions. He felt humiliated having professed his love and being so cruelly rejected.
“So, this is what you think of me,” he whispered, staring at her with so much pain that for the first time since the beginning of their argument, Elizabeth knew her loose tongue had taken her too far.
She turned her face from him, unable to see his grief.
Darcy could not speak another word or continue to stare at her back — a physical proof of her rejection.
Not only she did not care for him; she hated him. And now he would live knowing it.
Gathering the little dignity that was still left in him, he added, “I am sorry for having taken so much of your time.”
Then he left.