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Two Letters
Jane and Elizabeth
walked the groves of Rosings early the next morning, discussing
Mr. Darcy's shocking proposal. Elizabeth was rather annoyed by
her sister's view of the subject. "Poor Mr. Darcy! Elizabeth,
I cannot blame you for refusing him; I know how much you dislike
the man. But to have loved you for so long - since Meryton! He
must have been bitterly disappointed in your refusal."
"Jane! Have
you forgotten what he has done to you? How he has influenced
Mr. Bingley? I will certainly never forgive him for it!"
"No…I
have not forgotten." They walked on in silence for a while.
"Elizabeth, I have been thinking about that…"
Before she could
say more the tall, proud gentleman appeared before them. "Miss
Bennet; Miss Elizabeth; I have been walking the grove some time
in the hope of meeting you." He pulled two letters from
his pocket. "Would you ladies do me the honor of reading
these letters?"
Elizabeth was too
shocked to speak as she took her letter, but Jane could speak
to Darcy with composure. "To what do these letters portend,
Mr. Darcy?"
Darcy colored. "I…am
a poor orator, Miss Bennet. They are an explanation of my actions
and, in your case, several heartfelt apologies. I must to town
to set right what I have done. Please excuse me."
Elizabeth finally
got a good look at Darcy's face. "You are injured, Mr. Darcy!
What has befallen you?"
Darcy touched his
blackened eye. "Nothing I did not deserve. Goodbye."
He turned to walk towards Rosings when he was interrupted by
Jane's voice:
"Mr. Darcy,
I cannot accept any letter from you." She allowed the unopened
message to fall to the ground. "If you have anything you
wish to tell me, I am at my leisure."
Darcy was discombobulated.
"Miss Bennet, I…I…"
"Jane!"
hissed her sister, but the lady was unmoved. Elizabeth then looked
up at the gentleman. Never had she seen him so uncomfortable.
Some dark part of her heart cheered at the sight.
Darcy began pacing
back and forth before the ladies, involved in some inner struggle.
A decision made, he turned to the Bennet women. "Does Miss
Bennet know of our…interview last evening?" he asked
Elizabeth. Confirmed in his expectation, he said, "I will
tell you all, but I must ask that you permit me to speak at length,
without interruption. After I have said my piece I will answer
what questions you may have. Is this agreeable to you?"
The ladies answered in the affirmative, and after finding a fallen
log upon which to sit on, they heard the following:
"Be not alarmed,
Miss Elizabeth, by the apprehension of any repetition of those
sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night
so…so disgusting to you. Those wishes cannot be too soon
forgotten; and the effort which the formation and the perusal
of those letters must occasion should have been spared, had not
my character required them to be written and read. You ladies
must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your
attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly,
but I demand it of your justice.
"Three offences
of a very different nature were laid to my charge. The first
mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either,
I had detached Mr. Bingley from you, Miss Bennet. The second
was with malice beforehand that I dispatched Colonel Fitzwilliam
to inform you of my success.
"I cannot deny
the justice of the former; indeed until recently I congratulated
myself on being of use to my friend. It is only within the last
eight and forty hours I have learned that the foundations of
my actions were false. My letter to you was an explanation of
my actions.
"However, I
absolutely deny that I sent my cousin on such a mission. Enclosed
within your letter, Miss Bennet, is his written apology for the
pain and mortification he has undoubtedly caused you."
"But then why
would he do such a thing?" cried Elizabeth.
"A mistake
on his part; nothing more. He did not know of Miss Bennet's involvement
in the affair."
"Come, come
- this is not good enough!"
Darcy closed his
eyes and then said in a low voice, "He thought of impressing
you, Miss Elizabeth, with examples of my 'goodness'. Apparently,
he was matchmaking."
Elizabeth could
only stare stupefied.
"Yes - a poor
choice of tales, wasn't it? I have…discussed this with him.
He has seen the error of his ways."
"Thus your
eye, Mr. Darcy?" asked Jane.
"Just so. Please
allow me to tell you of Charles Bingley.
"Bingley has
been my particular friend since my days in school; we attended
Cambridge together. His fortune came from his father's business
in trade; but he was to live like a gentleman. I have few friends,
but those I do have are like family to me. We are not related,
but to all intents and purposes, Bingley is my brother. He asked
me to accompany him to the estate in Hertfordshire he was looking
to acquire…"
"Netherfield,"
Elizabeth could not help blurting out.
"Just so. I
had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with
others, that Bingley preferred your company, Miss Bennet, to
any other young woman in the country. But it was not till the
evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension
of his feeling a serious attachment. You must understand, I had
often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I had the
honor of dancing with your sister," he nodded to Elizabeth,
who was mortified to realize that she blushed at his attention,
"I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental
information, that Bingley's attentions had given rise to a general
expectation of a marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event,
of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment
I observed my friend's behavior attentively; and I could then
perceive that his partiality was beyond what I had ever witnessed
in him.
"You I also
watched. Here I must give you pain - forgive me. Miss Bennet,
I found your looks and manners open, cheerful, and engaging;
but I could not see any symptom of peculiar regard. I remained
convinced from the evening's scrutiny that though you received
his attentions with pleasure, you did not invite them by any
participation of sentiment."
His face was filled
with deep pain. "I am now of the opinion that your true
feelings were quite the opposite. If it be so, if I have been
misled by such an error to inflict pain on you, your resentment
has not been unreasonable.
"But I shall
not scruple to assert that the serenity of your countenance and
air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction
that, however amiable your temper, your heart was not likely
to be easily touched. I did not believe you to be indifferent
because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction."
"And this was
the only reason, sir?" Elizabeth cried, once again breaking
her agreement, ignoring Jane's unspoken request to remain silent.
"I assure you that my sister's affections were quite attached
to Mr. Bingley! Are you saying that having one uncle a country
lawyer and another in trade had nothing to do with your interference?"
"I could have
set that aside, as I did for myself!" he shot back with
some passion.
Elizabeth colored
as she remembered.
He continued. "I
must admit that my objections to the marriage were not merely
those which I have related before. The situation of your mother's
family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that
total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed
by your mother, by your two younger sisters, and occasionally
even by your father."
"My father!"
cried Elizabeth.
"Pardon me.
It pains me to offend you. Let it give you consolation to consider
that no one can condemn the manner by which you conduct yourself,
Miss Elizabeth. It is all that a lady of the highest order should
strive for, and your sisters Miss Bennet and Mrs. Collins joins
you in this estimation of mine." The two ladies could not
speak for the world as their faces turned the brightest red.
Turning back to
Jane, Darcy said, "I will only say further that, from what
passed that evening, my opinion was confirmed, and every inducement
heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend
from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection for both parties.
Bingley left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as
you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.
"The part which
I acted is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness had been
equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon
discovered; and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in
detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly
in London. We accordingly went and there readily engaged in the
office of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such
a choice. I hesitated not in giving him the assurance of your
indifference."
Darcy struggled
at this point. "He had before believed you to return his
affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. But Bingley
has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment
than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived
himself was no very difficult point. To persuade him against
returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given,
was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for
having done thus much, except that it was done on faulty intelligence.
"That I have
wounded your feelings in certain; please know it was unknowingly
done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very
naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn
them. He is my friend; indeed I could not do less for him.
"Now I must
ask you to confirm what I have recently learned. Miss Bennet,
were your feelings attached to Mr. Bingley?"
Jane could only
nod.
Darcy appeared anguished.
"Then I have done a great injustice to you and to him! I
must set right that which I have damaged. I will go to London
to confess my superior knowledge of your feelings to my friend.
I do not doubt the reception I will receive - a break is not
inconceivable - but as unpleasant as it is likely to be, I shall
not waver from my purpose. However, I offer no other hopes other
than my confession. The rest must lie to the gentleman."
Jane would not lift
her eyes to the man. "You truly believed I was indifferent
to Mr. Bingley?"
"I did, yes."
"I forgive
you."
"Jane?"
Elizabeth was all astonishment.
Darcy's voice was
choked with emotion. "You are too kind. Miss Bennet; I deserve
no such consideration!"
"In any case
you have my forgiveness."
"Thank you,
madam, but it will be no little time before I can forgive myself!
I shall do right by you, I swear; I shall speak to Bingley in
London as soon as may be done."
In a strange voice
Jane said, "You must do as you must." Before Elizabeth
could react to her sister's statement, Darcy began talking to
her.
"The third
offence laid at my door was that I had, in defiance of various
claims, in defiance of honor and humanity, ruined the immediate
prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Willfully
and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the
acknowledged favorite of my father, a young man who had scarcely
any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been
brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity to which
the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be
the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison.
"I can only
refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with
my family. Of what he has particularly accused me, I am ignorant;
but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than
one witness of undoubted veracity.
"Mr. Wickham
is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years
the management of all the Pemberley estates; and was godson to
my father, who supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge.
My father was not only fond of this young man's society, whose
manners were always engaging; he had also the highest opinion
of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, intended
to provide for him in it.
"As for myself,
it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in
a very different manner. The vicious propensities - the want
of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge
of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young
man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities
of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not
have. "My excellent father died about five years ago; and
his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that
in his will he particularly recommended it to me to promote his
advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow,
and, if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living
might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy
of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long survive mine,
and within half a year from these events Mr. Wickham wrote to
inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders,
he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect
some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment
by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he
added, of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest
of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein.
I rather wished than believed him to be sincere. I knew that
Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The business was therefore
soon settled, and he accepted three thousand pounds. All connection
between us seemed now dissolved."
Three thousand
pounds! Can it be believed?
thought Elizabeth.
"For about
three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the
incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied
to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances,
he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were
exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study,
and now wished for the living that had been proposed for him.
You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty,
or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in
proportion to the distress of his circumstances - and he was
doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others, as in his
reproaches to myself.
"After this
period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he
lived I know not." Darcy paused and looked closely at his
audience. "But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded
on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would
wish to forget myself. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt
of your secrecy.
"My sister,
who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship
Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself. About a year ago, she was taken
from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and
last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, Mrs.
Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived, to
Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham. He, with the assistance
of Mrs. Younge, recommended himself to Georgiana's affectionate
heart and she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to
consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen."
There was a pair
of gasps.
"Fortunately,
I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement;
and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and
offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father,
acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and
how I acted. Mr. Wickham left the place immediately, and Mrs.
Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief
object was unquestionably my sister's fortune of thirty thousand
pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging
himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have
been complete indeed.
"This, ladies,
is a faithful narrative of every event in which Mr. Wickham and
I have been concerned together. For the truth of every thing
here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony
of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is acquainted with every particular
of these transactions."
~~~~}+{~~~~
Jane looked at Elizabeth,
who looked too overcome to speak. "Mr. Darcy, I thank you
for this information. I understand how painful it was to relay,
and speaking for my sister, we are honored by your candor and
trust. We, of course, shall keep what you have shared with us
confidential - your sister shall have no fear of exposure from
us."
Darcy bowed, but
his eyes remained on Elizabeth. "I expected no less from
you; thank you."
Suddenly Elizabeth
burred out, "But your sister - how horrible! Tell us not
that she still suffers; she is quite recovered, is she not?"
Darcy grimaced.
"She is well in body but not, I fear, in spirit. She is
not as happy as she once was. I would give all I have to have
her back as she was."
Elizabeth turned
away so that he could not see the tears in her eyes. Jane misunderstood
her sister's demeanor, thinking her distressed by being in such
close contact with the man she had rejected. "Mr. Darcy,
you have said much; much that we have to consider. Would you
care for these letters back?"
"No - I wrote
them for you. Do with them what you wish." Darcy knew he
was being dismissed. He did not know what he was to expect when
he began his confession. Miss Jane Bennet's quick forgiveness
was surprising. He did not know what was in the other lady's
mind. Her concern for Georgiana told him that she at least believed
him about Wickham; other than that he had no idea. He hesitated,
for he feared that he would never see her again. Finally, with
one last earnest glance at Elizabeth, he took his leave with,
"I thank you for your time, ladies. I will only add, God
bless you both." With that he turned and returned to Rosings.
~~~~}+{~~~~
The sisters sat
in stunned silence. Then, as one, they opened their letters and
read. After the ladies finished their own letters by unspoken
agreement they exchanged messages.
If Elizabeth, when
Mr. Darcy came upon them, did not expect a renewal of his offers,
she had formed no expectation at all of the contents of the letters.
But such as they were, it may be well supposed how eagerly she
heard what he had to say, and what a contrariety of emotion they
excited. Her feelings as she listened were scarcely to be defined.
With amazement did she first understand that he believed any
apology to be in his power; and steadfastly was she persuaded
that he could have no explanation to give, which a just sense
of shame would not conceal. With a strong prejudice against every
thing he might say, she heard his account of what had happened
at Netherfield. His belief of her sister's insensibility, she
instantly resolved to be false, and his account of the real,
the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have
any wish of doing him justice. He nothing expressed for what
he had done which satisfied her (though it apparently was enough
for Jane); his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all
pride and insolence!
How Jane could so
quickly forgive him was a mystery to Lizzy.
But when this subject
was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham, when she re-read,
with somewhat clearer attention, a relation of events, which,
if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth,
and which bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of
himself, her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more
difficult of definition. Astonishment, apprehension, and even
horror, oppressed her. She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly
thinking, "This must be false! This cannot be! This must
be the grossest falsehood!" - and when she had gone
through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing any thing of
the last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she
would not regard it, that she would never look in it again.
"Lizzy,"
said her sister, "I wish to return to the Parsonage. Shall
you come?"
"I beg leave
to stay in the woods, Jane. My mind is all bewilderment. A walk
is what I need."
"Very well;
I understand. Do not be too long."
She assured Jane
that she would not tarry; and she was alone within a short time.
She walked the woods and glens of Rosings. In a perturbed state
of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked
on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter was unfolded
again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she again
began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham,
and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every
sentence.
The account of his
connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what he had
related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though
she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with
his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when
she came to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham
had said of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled
his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was
gross duplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments,
she flattered herself that her wishes did not err.
But when she read,
and re-read with the closest attention, the particulars immediately
following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions to the living,
of his receiving, in lieu, so considerable a sum as three thousand
pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the letter,
weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality
- deliberated on the probability of each statement - but with
little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she
read on. But every line proved more clearly that the affair,
which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance could
so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than
infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely
blameless throughout the whole.
The extravagance
and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay to Mr. Wickham's
charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring
no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before
his entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged
at the persuasion of the young man, who, on meeting him accidentally
in town, had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former
way of life, nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what
he told himself. As to his real character, had information been
in her power, she had never felt a wish of enquiring. His countenance,
voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession
of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness,
some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might
rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the
predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors, under
which she would endeavor to class what Mr. Darcy had described
as the idleness and vice of many years continuance. But no such
recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before
her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember
no more substantial good than the general approbation of the
neighborhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained
him in the mess.
After pausing on
this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read.
But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss Darcy,
received some confirmation from what Colonel Fitzwilliam had
said only the morning before; and at last she was referred for
the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam himself
- from whom she had previously received the information of his
near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character
she had no reason to question. His written apology to Jane was
heartfelt. At one time Lizzy had almost resolved on applying
to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application,
and by the fact he was attempting to forward his cousin as a
possible companion of her future life! At length her impulse
was wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never
have hazarded such a proposal if he had not been well assured
of his cousin's corroboration.
She perfectly remembered
everything that had passed in conversation between Wickham and
herself in their first evening at Mr. Philips's. Many of his
expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was now struck
with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and
wondered how it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy
of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency
of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had
boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy - that Mr. Darcy
might leave the country, but that he should stand his ground;
yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She
remembered also, that till the Netherfield family had quitted
the country, he had told his story to no one but herself; but
that after their removal, it had been every where discussed;
that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's
character, though he had assured her that respect for the father
would always prevent his exposing the son.
How differently
did every thing now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions
to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully
mercenary. The mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the
moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything.
His behavior to herself could now have had no tolerable motive;
he had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had
been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which
she believed she had most incautiously shown.
Every lingering
struggle in his favor grew fainter and fainter; and in farther
justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow that Mr.
Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness
in the affair; that, proud and repulsive as were his manners,
she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance - an
acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and
given her a sort of intimacy with his ways - seen any thing that
betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust - any thing that spoke
him of irreligious or immoral habits. That among his own connections
he was esteemed and valued - that even Wickham had allowed him
merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so
affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some
amiable feeling. That had his actions been what Wickham represented
them, so gross a violation of every thing right could hardly
have been concealed from the world; and that friendship between
a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as Mr. Bingley,
was incomprehensible.
She grew absolutely
ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think,
without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced,
absurd.
How despicably
have I acted! I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I,
who have valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained
the generous candor of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in
useless or blamable distrust. How humiliating is this discovery!
Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not
have been more wretchedly blind.
But vanity, not
love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one,
and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning
of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance,
and driven reason away, where either were concerned.
Till this moment,
I never knew myself.
From herself to
Jane - from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line which
soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation
there had appeared very insufficient; and she read Jane's letter
again. Widely different was the effect of a second perusal.
How could she deny
that credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had
been obliged to give in the other? He declared himself to have
been totally unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; and she
could not help remembering what Charlotte Lusas' opinion had
always been:
"If a woman
conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of
it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then
be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark.
There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment,
that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin
freely - a slight preference is natural enough; but there are
very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without
encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show
more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly;
but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help
him on."
Neither could she
deny the justice of his description of Jane. She felt that Jane's
feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there
was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united
with great sensibility. Apparently Jane recognized herself -
that must have been the reason she forgave Mr. Darcy so readily.
When she came to
that part of the letters in which her family was mentioned, in
terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame
was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly
for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded,
as having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all
his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression
on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sisters
was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for
the contempt which had been thus self-attracted by the rest of
her family; and as she considered that Jane's disappointment
had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected
how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety
of conduct, she felt depressed beyond any thing she had ever
known before.
After wandering
along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of
thought; re-considering events, determining probabilities, and
reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden
and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence
made her at length return home.
~~~~}+{~~~~
Elizabeth entered
the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the
resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit
for conversation. She was immediately told that the two gentlemen
from Rosings had each called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only
for a few minutes to take leave, but that Colonel Fitzwilliam
had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return,
and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found.
"They asked
about Jane, of course," Mary said, "but she remained
upstairs, indisposed. Both gentlemen seemed quite concerned."
"Even Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes - even
so." Mary gave her sister a most pitying look.
"You…you
did not berate them, I hope."
"It was not
necessary."
~~~~}+{~~~~
The two men rode
in the carriage in silence.
Finally: "How
is your jaw?"
"About the
same as your eye, I should think."
A pause. "I
am sorry, Fitz."
"I am too.
Me and my big mouth. How was I to know that Miss Bennet was Bingley's
'undesirable'?"
"What possessed
you to say such a thing?"
"Believe it
or not, Darce, I was trying to help you!"
"Help me? By
this?"
"I thought
by showing what a caring, conscientious friend you are to Bingley,
it would ease your way with Miss Elizabeth. You've been rather
obvious, Darce. Anne and I discussed it."
"Oh, wonderful.
Who else knows my business?"
"Aunt Catherine
is oblivious."
"At least that
is something."
"Darce, why
in the world did you warn Bingley off Miss Bennet? She's an angel!"
"Because I
am an idiot!"
"Too right,
there." A pause. "So what do you do now?"
"I must repair
the damage I have caused." And learn to live without
Elizabeth Bennet.
A pause. "Need
any help?"
"If I do, I
know where to turn. Thank you, Fitz."
"Don't mention
it, idiot."
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