Chapter 3 - An Awkward Conversation
Elizabeth showed Darcy into the front parlour, and rang for a servant. She had already lowered herself enough in his eyes by opening the door herself - if she ran on errands to notify her uncle and fetch refreshments, she would confirm every doubt the man had ever harboured about her family and herself. It would inconvenience the cook slightly to send the scullery maid, but it could not be helped.
Ever the gentleman, Darcy waited until she sat in her accustomed chair near the window before he gingerly lowered himself to perch on the edge of the sofa facing her. As hostess, it fell to Elizabeth to open the conversation, and after a nervous pause, all she could think of to say was,
"It is a surprise, sir, to see you here. I had thought you still at Pemberley. When we were there I understood you to have no plans to return to town so soon."
Darcy coughed uncomfortably and briefly considered lying about the purpose of his visit, but recalling Miss Bennet's past strictures against his dishonourable conduct, could not bring himself to lie to her now. Still, it was not an easy subject to broach. With all that lay between them, he worried that the truth would do him no more credit than a lie. "I departed," he said, "the morning after you and your companions left Lambton."
Elizabeth's eyes widened as she considered this revelation. What could it mean? It was impossible not to inquire further, but just at that moment, the maid arrived in response to her summons. She seized on the distraction, instructing young Alice to notify her master that a Mr Darcy was here to see him, and to ask Cook for a tray of refreshments. She noted with approval that Alice carried out her duties with a calm grace that belied the fact that she had not worked as an upstairs maid before. She would be sure to commend her to Mrs Gardiner when that lady returned.
Pulling her attention back to Mr Darcy, who was nervously waiting to learn if her quick mind would put the circumstances together and link him to the dastardly Wickham, she considered him for a long moment. He was as handsome as ever, although clearly flustered: his left leg was tapping nervously, apparently without conscious direction, and his hands were clasped firmly in his lap, as though to keep them from fidgeting. A slight flush had pinked his complexion, and his gaze flickered back and forth between her and the window, as though he could not bear to look at her for long.
Elizabeth had never expected to see Mr Darcy again. She knew how far her family had fallen since that memorable day on which he had explained that she was already immeasurably beneath him while her family's honour, at least, was still intact. Although he had been everything kind and gentlemanly in Derbyshire, and she had hoped that his affection for her might have been reviving, there was no prospect that Lydia's scandal would not extinguish so uncertain a flame, if indeed it had been more than her wishful imagination in any case. Now, he must congratulate himself on escaping such connections! She could not account for his presence at her uncle's house: the idea of him engaging in some business transaction with Mr Gardiner was quickly discarded - given their relative stations in life it would be Mr Gardiner who waited on Mr Darcy and not the other way around. Perhaps he was, ever the gentleman, merely returning the visit that the Gardiners had made to his estate? But, no, that would not answer either. A social call would be preceded by a note and a fixed engagement, not made on the spur of the moment when the lady of the house was not at home to receive visitors. Elizabeth's mind came full circle to her first suspicion: if Mr Darcy had rushed to town the day after learning her terrible news, he must have had some business connected to Wickham and Lydia!
Noticing that Darcy's eyes were now fixed on hers in anxious anticipation of her reply, all pretence of looking out the window abandoned, she stirred herself to speak again: "I am all amazement. Has your visit been connected in any way to the search my uncle has been engaged in?"
"The error was mine," he said, the words bursting from him without preamble. "It was my responsibility - mine alone - to fix it. How could I stay at Pemberley, entertaining guests, while your family suffered at the hands of one I could have exposed to the world, had only I acted when I should. But my pride - my abominable pride - prevented me from explaining his perfidy to you and your neighbours - left you all exposed to his manipulations. Wretched, wretched mistake!"
His evident distress stirred Elizabeth to sympathy. Setting aside her own embarrassment, she endeavoured to ease his: "You must not blame yourself, Mr Darcy. The blame rests with Mr Wickham, and I dare say with my sister Lydia. He chooses how to act without the slightest consideration of others, and I dare say he would laugh to think you took any share of the blame! You were right to guard your sister's reputation. I, myself, knew what he was, and did not think to warn my sisters for fear of saying too much. We might both have done more to protect our sisters, sir, but we did not, and at the time, we thought our reasons sufficient. We could neither of us have expected Mr Wickham's perfidy nor our sisters' susceptibility to his charms. Do not berate yourself for might-have-beens, sir, or we will spend all our lives in regret."
Darcy had watched her countenance carefully during this speech, and seemed to take some comfort from her words. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, Miss Elizabeth, but I will accept it gratefully nevertheless. I come today to give your uncle some news. While matters are not yet settled, I believe I may have located your sister and Mr Wickham, and I wished to confer with Mr Gardiner about our next steps. It is imperative that we recover them as quietly as possible, so that Wickham does not flee before he can be held to account." This was more, and more frankly stated, than Darcy would have said before any other young lady, but he found he could not bear to think of Elizabeth waiting in the parlour, ignorant of all hope, while he conveyed his good news to her uncle in his study.
Mr Gardiner chose that moment to enter the conversation. He had paused at the doorway, out of sight of Elizabeth and Darcy, thinking to give the young couple a minute or two alone before he stole Darcy away for a private conference. Hearing the gentleman broach the news that his missing niece had been located, however, he strode into the room, bowing curtly to Darcy before demanding further details. It took him no more than a moment's thought to consider and discard the idea of excluding Elizabeth from the conversation: she deserved to know the truth, and in any case would not rest until she had extracted it from him. She might as well hear it first hand. So he did not hesitate in calling on his visitor to elaborate: "You have found them, you say?"
"Mr Gardiner," began Darcy, who rose to bow in greeting before resuming his seat, this time a little more comfortably: the presence of the elder man assisted him in regaining his equilibrium, and he glanced only once at Elizabeth before getting down to business: "I do indeed have news. As you know, I placed a watch on the establishment of Mrs Younge." He turned to Elizabeth, adding, "You might recall, Miss Elizabeth, that Mrs Younge is a former employee of mine who turned out to be in league with Mr Wickham." He saw her eyes widen as she placed the name. "I hoped that they might still be in touch, and it seems to be the case. My man spent several nights outside her door before catching sight of Mr Wickham, but at last he has been found. It seems they are residing in a boarding house a few streets distant, and that Mr Wickham and Miss Lydia are still together." He lowered his tone and looked away as he added, "They are not, however, married."
Elizabeth's shocked gasp brought his eyes back to her face, which was now quite pale. "Miss Elizabeth," he said anxiously, "You are distressed. Please, let us call for some tea, or a glass wine. Truly, you do not look well."
Mr Gardiner coughed slightly, as if to remind his guest that the master of the house was present, and if anyone was to offer succour to his niece it would be him, before they were all once again interrupted by the maid - this time delivering the refreshments Elizabeth had earlier ordered, including tea.
Elizabeth, for her part, was more flustered by Mr Darcy's attentive care for her feelings than she had been by the news of Lydia and Wickham. Indeed, that they were living together out of wedlock was nothing more than she had expected: hearing it stated so frankly by Mr Darcy had put rest to all her remaining hopes for a better outcome, but the news had been anticipated these several long weeks so her shock had quickly passed. The extent to which Mr Darcy was discomfited by her distress was entirely unanticipated, and she knew not what to make of his solicitude.
She assured both men that she was well, and busied herself with preparing the tea, serving them before she took a cup for herself, adding a little more sugar than usual to help calm her nerves. After taking a sip, she raised a determined face to the room, asking, "Well, then, what shall we do to recover her?"
"You need not worry about the practicalities, Lizzy," began her uncle, before the stern look she bent upon him stilled his tongue.
"I will not sit idly by while my sister is in the power of that man," she insisted.
Well understanding her distress from his feelings during his own sister's near-disaster, Darcy wished nothing more than to hold her hand and assure her that all would be well. However, in her uncle's vigilant presence, and with no understanding between them, he bit his tongue and restrained himself to attempting to communicate his sympathy through a meaning look. Whether Miss Elizabeth understood him, he could not tell.
But understand him, she did. It broke her heart to perceive such sympathy in his gaze. She did not want his sympathy: she wanted so much more. At last, she came to know her own heart. Mr Darcy was the best of men, and she had been a fool to spurn his proposal. She loved him, and wished that his former ardent affection had not been extinguished - first by her own foolish and intemperate refusal, and then by the harshest reminder of her family's impropriety: a sister who had thrown away her virtue and reputation on George Wickham. But it was all too late: all hope was gone. Elizabeth drew a long, shuddering breath, and cried, "For God's sake, let me be of use or I shall run mad!"
Her uncle took the hand that Mr Darcy dared not, pressing it with warm concern. "Lizzy, dear, you may join our discussion, if you can withstand the necessary revelations that it must entail. But you must trust me to decide what role you can play." He was relieved that after her previous outburst, she meekly nodded and agreed to his terms.
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