A little one-shot where Darcy explained his actions about Bingley and Wickham before leaving the parsonage, and Elizabeth comes to some realizations much faster.
Agony
Absolute agony. That is what Elizabeth felt as she heard the front door of the parsonage close. While Mr Darcy had been in front of her she had thrown her anger at him for purposely separating her sister and his friend, but now he was gone all she could feel was regret and hurt. He had cut down her accusations about Wickham, telling her the truth in gruelling detail, and she could no longer fault his actions there. While she still blamed him for her sister's unhappiness, she also knew that he was correct about Jane hiding her feelings behind a serene facade, and that Bingley was also responsible for his own actions regardless of his friend's opinion. And now with her arguments against the man destroyed, all she could hear in her head was his professions of love.
It was imprinted in her mind; the genuine adoration that had been displayed on his face as he expressed his love for her. While his disparaging of her family still upset her, she couldn't help feeling gratified that he had loved her in spite of them, for while she loved her family, she was still acutely aware of their shortcomings. But while Mr Darcy's expression of love was uppermost in her mind, so was his tightly controlled anger as he had bid her goodbye and left the parsonage.
It was only when the door had closed that her world came crumbling down. Along with it came the realisation that she had just lost the only man who had the intelligence to hold real conversations with her, and was not put off by her own intelligence or her impertinence- the only man other than her father who had ever earned her respect. She also realised that throughout her time in Kent he had been subtly courting her during their almost daily walks together through the park- and she had enjoyed it. She had never questioned his honesty, and while she disliked his pride, she had still felt that he was an inherently good man; even the best of men had some faults. They had had many intriguing conversations, but she had brushed off the powerful feelings she had often felt in his presence as hate. Now with many of her arguments against the man abolished, she recognised the reality of her feelings- love.
And with that revelation the tears started cascading down her cheeks. She wanted to run after him and beg him to come back to her. She would walk through fire to have him back at her side with his adoring gaze on her. But now he was no doubt angry and would never wish to see her ever again. Despair set in as she realised that she had just thrown away the man she loved because of too many misinterpretations of each other's actions, and a mistaken understanding of her own feelings for him. Through her tears she spotted his gloves, left on the side table where he had thrown them before his ill fated proposal. She picked them up and hugged them to her, breathing in the scent of sandalwood that she associated with her newly realised love.
Agony was uppermost as she realised that he must hate her now, and she would probably never see him again. She sobbed, clutching his gloves tightly to her chest as despair shot through her. She felt as if her heart had been shattered into sharp and jagged fragments. She was sobbing so loudly that she didn't the approaching footsteps, nor the door reopening.
"I forgot my gloves," the familiar voice of her newly acknowledged love momentarily broke her out of her hysterics. She looked up into his surprised eyes and began to sob even harder, dejection evident on her face as she looked at him through her tears. Reluctantly she moved his gloves from their place, pressed against her heart, and held them out to him, but he didn't take them.
His expression had slowly turned pained as he watched her weep. The last thing he had expected when he returned for his gloves was to find her crying. He had not even known whether she would still be in the room, but he had expected that if she was, her beautiful eyes would still be sparking with anger, not flooded with tears and sadness. While he had no idea what had upset her so, he immediately wanted to comfort her. Ignoring the gloves she was offering him back he advanced closer. "Elizabeth?" he asked hesitantly. "What's wrong?" She didn't say anything, but she allowed him to draw close enough to touch her shoulder. He wasn't sure whether she would actually allow him to offer her any form of comfort after his despicable and insulting proposal to her earlier, but he wanted to try.
He had been angry at her refusal when he left the parsonage, but that anger had quickly turned inwards as he realised his despicable pride and arrogance. Assuming she would welcome his proposal simply because of his wealth and privilege had caused him to lose her. All he could feel after that was desolation at his own inadequacies and regret for his injustice towards Elizabeth and her family. When he realised he had left his gloves behind he had been hesitant to go back, but felt it necessary to avoid any awkward questions from the Collins' if they found his gloves. The last thing he had expected was to find Elizabeth in tears.
He was shocked when she turned and collapsed against his chest, his arms automatically engulfing her in his comforting embrace as she sobbed. "Whatever it is, you'll be okay," he tried to reassure her as his jacket was steadily soaked in her tears.
She turned her woebegone eyes up to his, sniffling as she fought back another wave of tears. "No I won't!" she cried, "I've lost you forever, and I didn't even realised I loved you until after I threw you away." Her sobbing increased and she buried her head back into his chest, her arms winding around his chest as she pressed against him. Hope rose in his chest at her words, and for a few seconds he could scarcely believe he had heard her correctly.
"Oh Elizabeth, my love, I am so sorry. I have hurt you so badly, and I assure you that your rebukes have been taken to heart, for I am determined to mend my ways. But you have nothing to be sorry for- you were right about my pride and arrogance leading me astray, and I shall never forgive myself for losing you because of it," he whispered in her ear as he held her shuddering body in his arms. He felt her still at his words, and her head once again turned so that she could look up at him. This time there was a spark of hope lighting them.
"You mean you don't hate me?" her voice was hoarse from crying.
His eyes opened wide in surprise. "Oh course not. I deserved your anger Elizabeth- I truly did, and I will not hold it against you when it was only in response to my own actions." Slowly her tears had started to subside as hope warmed her chest. He didn't hater her! He looked deeply into her eyes, staring into them intensely so that she would believe the truth of his next words. "I love you Elizabeth, and that will not change because of some angry words and misunderstandings."
Her breath caught at his affirmation of love, and the fragments of her heart fused back together. Whole again, she could have but one reply. "I love you too." Her voice was croaky from crying, but to Darcy it sounded like a choir of angels.
His responding smile was blinding, and Elizabeth suddenly found her heart pumping wildly as desire and affection coursed through her. As Darcy looked down at her he finally saw what he had been searching for in her eyes these past weeks- love. He cupped her cheek gently with one hand, smoothing away her tears. "My darling Elizabeth. Even if you never accept my hand and heart, they will always be yours, and I can only hope that one day I will be deserving of yours."
His words pierced her heart with happiness, warmth flooding through it to replace the despair, and she smiled joyfully at him. "My Darcy, I find that after some thought, the idea of having your hand and heart is most appealing, and I will gratefully accept them, for there is nothing I desire more than to be your wife."
Their happiness abounded and their despair was abolished as they gazed adoringly into each other's eyes. Slowly Elizabeth reached up on her toes, and Darcy bent his head. Their lips met in a tender and heartfelt kiss.