Chapter 32: Averting Disaster

I spent a restless night unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Not knowing what Miss Elizabeth was thinking tormented me. At times I thought that all would be well; at other times I was convinced that nothing could be mended.

In the morning without consulting with Georgiana, I called at the parsonage. I was told the ladies were not at home and spent an uncomfortable fifteen minutes with Mr. Collins. He happily discussed his gardens for perhaps three of those minutes, praised my aunt for the next ten and then the last two were devoted to discussing how blessed he was in his marriage.

He told me, "Mr. Darcy, I would not have believed it before it happened, but my marriage has changed everything, and I recommend the marital state for all who are of age. Men are not meant to be alone; we all need to find a missus. Like the animals going onto the ark, we must all go two by two. Of course, choosing the right bride is of utmost importance. How blessed you are that you have found your future bride in Miss de Bourgh!"

Mr. Collins patted me familiarly on the shoulder, a great liberty indeed, but as I could see his hand coming, I managed not to flinch. There was perhaps a pause on his part of two or three seconds after he thumped me, but it took me longer to recover from my shock than that, or I certainly would have corrected his misapprehension about Anne. Instead I listened as he blathered on, counting the seconds until I could politely depart.

"While originally, I selected Miss Elizabeth as my future bride, it was not to be. However, it must have be preordained by God that I be joined with Charlotte. Mrs. Collins and I are like-minded; I am certain she was made for me and I for her. In the course of my cousin's visit, it has become abundantly clear that she did me a great favor in refusing my hand, though naturally enough it was unpleasant at the time."

My only response was a slight nod. I was glad that Miss Elizabeth had earlier told me of his bumbling proposal, as it allowed to react to his conversation with aplomb.

Finally, he paused long enough for me to say, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Collins. Please convey my greetings to Mrs. Collins and your guests." I rose to depart, but he would not let me leave.

Instead, I stood and suffered through a full five minutes longer of his praise of me. He said things like, "Mr. Darcy, how you have honored me with your gracious and noble condescension, in calling on me and those within my humble abode." Then, apparently unsatisfied with only praising me, he waxed on about Lady Catherine for three minutes more before he would accept my departure and allow me to pass through the parlor door. Mr. Collins even offered to walk back to Rosings with me, saying, "Allow me a moment to find my hat."

I did not, instead I said, "I am in a terrible hurry," and opened the front door myself. Perhaps it was a bit uncivil of me, but if he had delayed me more than a few seconds more, surely I would have acted quite rude. Mr. Collins hurried after me and I almost broke into a run. Fortunately, he stopped after a few moments, calling out loudly, "Mr. Darcy you are always welcome to come see us and certainly next time I will walk back with you."

I did not trust that he had indeed turned back until I was more than halfway from the parsonage and took a moment to glance around. Finally, I was willing and able to slow my stride a bit.

On this second part of my return walk to Rosings, I was able to clear my head of visions of Mr. Collins pursuing me. However, my mind kept circling back to whether I might also be rejected by Miss Elizabeth like the parson was and if that occurred what would become of me. My previous plan of simply picking a suitable woman to give me children no longer had any appeal. I had no illusions that if Miss Elizabeth rejected me that there would be someone as kind as Miss Lucas waiting for me.

Miss Elizabeth did not come to play the piano forte on Wednesday or Friday, instead sending her regrets. I supposed it made sense to avoid the setting that had caused her such unhappiness, but I was hopeful I would see her on Saturday as she was engaged to come to tea at Rosings with the Collinses and Miss Lucas.

When they arrived without her, I felt despair. Mr. Collins apologized to my aunt profusely for her absence, saying, "My cousin's headache was quite severe you may be sure, to keep her from your gracious hospitality. Indeed, Lady Catherine, you can be confident that she understands well how solicitous you have been of her in allowing her to spend time with your niece."

As Mr. Collins spoke on and on, I quietly asked Mrs. Collins, "Was Miss Elizabeth suffering a headache yesterday as well?"

"Yes," Mrs. Collins replied, but did not meet my eyes. I wondered if Miss Elizabeth's headache might be an excuse for her monthly indisposition. Georgiana had taught me that a headache was a common excuse to prevent having to talk about unseemly matters. I waited and then Mrs. Collins looked up and told me, "She is out of sorts."

Was that a confirmation? If so, perhaps her absence had nothing to do with Anne's outburst at all. I felt a flicker of hope.

"Please tell her . . ." I began, only to somehow attract the attention of Lady Catherine who leaned toward us and interjected, "Oh, what are you conversing about, Darcy? I must have my share of the conversation."

"I have just been asking after Miss Elizabeth," I confessed.

"Is she ill?" Lady Catherine inquired, apparently forgetting already what Mr. Collins had been telling her, if she had been paying attention at all. "Has she allergies to the new blooms? She neglected to visit Georgiana and to practice her playing twice this week. I do hope she has not become discouraged about her playing. Constant practice is most essential."

I wondered at Lady Catherine not making the connection between Anne's outburst and Miss Elizabeth avoiding Rosings. Then it occurred to me that perhaps Lady Catherine believed that if she ignored that issue, Miss Elizabeth might simply return of her own accord.

To Lady Catherine's statements about practicing, no one made any reply. When Lady Catherine was well occupied in attending to something that Georgiana was saying, Mrs. Collins breathed to me, "Mr. Darcy, surely you must know that Eliza needs reassurance."

I felt she was wanting me to do something, but I was unsure what I should do. Sometimes things that may be obvious to others evade me.

Mrs. Collins gave a little sigh. "She is at the parsonage presently." She inclined her head slightly toward the door and then I finally understood what she thought I should do.

I arose and addressed everyone together, "I have forgotten a matter of some importance that I must attend to but will return when I can." As I was walking away, I wondered if they believed I was heading for the necessary.

I slipped out of the house and walked directly to the stables. Even though I was not dressed for riding, I was not going to reprise my prior error of just running after Miss Elizabeth and appearing unsuitable for company. As I was waiting for my horse to be saddled, I could not help but wonder whether I should have consulted with and gotten advice from my sister. I considered whether I should just go for a ride instead and clear my thoughts. Yet when my horse was ready, I rode straight for the parsonage and called on Miss Elizabeth.

Miss Elizabeth seemed very surprised to see me, standing up momentarily which knocked a light-yellow blanket from her lap. Perhaps indeed she was unwell.

She sat down again and leaned down to pluck the blanket from the floor, giving me a quick view of her décolletage, which would have normally been concealed by the modest neckline of her light blue gown. Her face pinked upon seeing me, but once she was sitting down with the blanket (which was too light of yellow to match the ribbon in my pocket) arranged over her lap again, her bright eyes became dull as marbles.

I suspected Miss Elizabeth did not want me there and I was uncertain as to whether I should leave or not. Not knowing what to say, I stood in silence for several moments before stating, "I hope that your headache has left you, or at least is no worse."

"It is not worse," she said, but no smile did she give me. It was as if we were strangers and I felt a disquieting feeling inside.

Anxious to make that feeling go away, I begged, "Please tell me what is wrong. Georgiana said Anne scared you, but why should that make you avoid me?"

Miss Elizabeth remained silent and only gave a tiny shrug. I tried to sit but then realized she had never invited me to do so. I walked around the room instead and when I was facing away from her, I finally had the courage to say more. I told her, "You demanded my honesty to know the real me."

Not a sound did I hear from her, and not knowing what expression she might be making was worse than not seeing. I turned around and only saw that same blank look. "Miss Elizabeth, do I not have the right to demand the same? Please, I beg of you, can you not share with me what you are thinking and feeling?"

"I cannot," she said, her eyes more expressive than before. But then she turned her face away from me and proclaimed, "I do not wish to hurt you."

"Telling me nothing is hurting me, too." My voice sounded rough and foreign.

I thought that her silence meant she was considering my words, so I waited. Finally, she looked back over in my general direction and spoke to my middle. "Mr. Darcy, you have told me when you were a boy you had terrible tantrums." Her eyes rose slightly, now looking at my cravat, "When is the last time you were truly angry?"

I felt myself blush as I recalled the interaction with Edwin. Before that it had been when confronting George about Georgiana. I would be honest. "A few days ago, with the Colonel."

"Tell me, what did you do?" I heard Miss Elizabeth's disembodied voice as I strode about the room in an agitated manner. I could not help but notice she asked what I did and not what he did to cause my reaction. I slid my hand in my pocket, taking reassurance from touching her ribbon for just a moment.

"I became angry. I wanted to strike my cousin or challenge him to a duel, but I did neither. I left and went to my room. I certainly had cause for my reaction." I hoped she would ask me what he did, but she did not.

"Have you ever struck a person?" Miss Elizabeth's words were like a blow to my middle and my stomach hurt with a physical pain.

I did not like where her questions were going, but I would answer anything for at least she was talking with me. "I remember kicking Governess Hayes once or twice. I was no more than eight years then. George and I fought each other before when we were lads, but mostly I have avoided people when angry."

I paused and looked over at Miss Elizabeth to gauge her reaction. I wished so strongly at that time that I could tell what her facial expression meant. She was not smiling or frowning; I thought perhaps she was thinking hard.

"Have you ever hurt your mother or your sister?" Now she was looking perhaps at my chin.

"No, never!" I felt deeply insulted that she would suggest I could ever treat them that way.

"Did they ever have reason to think you would hurt them? Were they ever afraid of you?" Her questions were coming quicker now, but she still was not meeting my eyes.

I thought long and hard about that. While I was thinking I could feel myself nodding rhythmically.

It was hard to know if my mother and sister had ever been afraid of me. I hoped not. The idea of it was distasteful but I was not sure how to answer as I was not them. I did not know what they thought or felt unless they told me. Had they ever been afraid? I was not sure. "I do not believe so. I do not recall them ever saying so. You may certainly ask Georgiana."

"And would she tell me, I wonder, if you had scared her? She seeks very vigorously to promote you interests." Miss Elizabeth was speaking with more feeling now. She finally looked at me for just a moment and then looked away. I noticed then that Miss Elizabeth appeared stiff and her elbows were pulled tight against the side of her body, pulling the blanket taut over her lap, while her hands grasped the arms of the chair. Her form was beautiful even with the blanket atop her.

I walked some more as I could not be still, and I heard my footsteps clomping very loudly in the silence, like horse hoofs. I stopped my pacing before answering. "Georgiana is always sincere and honest. I believe she would tell you the truth if asked, even if it was hard for her. To what do all these questions relate?" I paused from walking and looked at her. Again, she would not meet my gaze. I noticed that her near hand was trembling a bit even though she was still tightly connected to the arm of the chair.

Miss Elizabeth responded, "I am trying to make out your character. You have told me you are like Anne and I wonder if you would ever act as she did." She looked up at me, bit her lower lip and then said in a rush, "I cannot live in fear."

I suddenly remembered Mrs. Collins's words, "Eliza needs reassurance." I considered whether I had yet provided it. I recalled occasions when Georgiana had needed similar reassurance from me. Strangely enough I felt more at ease because it was very clear that Miss Elizabeth certainly was not indifferent toward me.

It was improper, but I sat down near her and reached over to take her nearer bare hand, the left one, lightly tugging it away from the arm of the chair. I would not have dared to do so if her hand had rested in her lap. She let me.

I gave Miss Elizabeth's hand a gentle squeeze, very aware of how it felt to touch her skin and grasp her hand. It was warm, soft, and smooth. In feeling her hand, I was reminded of seeing the flash of her décolletage. I wondered if it would be even softer and smoother than her hand, but almost immediately tried to rein in my thoughts and focus on the present.

I looked at our joined hands as I spoke some more, trying to gentle my voice. "I also told you Anne is different than me. I had many advantages she did not but perhaps also her condition has always been worse than my own. I have had to learn self-control; she has not."

I squeezed Miss Elizabeth's hand three times and then gently lay it down on the arm of the chair once more. I did not want her to think I was too forward. "That is why I pause and consider before I answer and am deliberate in all things. I remove myself from a situation if I cannot behave. I know things that I can do to soothe myself which may be unseemly in company but help me return to myself. You have asked if I have hurt people. Things were always more likely to be the focus of my wrath than persons."

I confided, hoping my honesty would be rewarded and not instead become another reason for avoiding me, "I have broken and destroyed things before, but none since my youth, at least none that mattered. Sometimes I collect pebbles and throw them in a stream or use a hatchet to cut down a tree. I have found that physical work can serve as well as breaking things and relieve my anxiety."

I added, "There is something helpful about engaging in the same motion over and over. Or sometimes I may need a quiet place away from everyone where everything is under my control, to rock and nod and cover myself up. I have places at Pemberley where I may safely go to relieve all anxiety."

I heard a shuddering breath leave her. "That is good," was all Miss Elizabeth said. We were both silent for two or three minutes.

"Is there aught else that troubles you?" I asked after the silence had stretched on and on. I longed to hold Miss Elizabeth's hand again, to offer some reassurance.

"I know not what to think," she said quietly. I looked over at her and it seemed to me she was looking more like herself, her dark eyes more at ease.

I found myself blowing out a deep breath and relaxing a little. "What can I do?" I asked, leaning slightly forward.

"Tell me about Miss de Bourgh; why did she become so angry?" Her voice sounded odd. As she waited for my answer, Miss Elizabeth finally glanced at me before her eyes returned to her lap. It bothered me that I could not look into her eyes and I wondered if that was what other people experienced when I did not look at them.

"You did nothing wrong," I explained. "Anne has certain firm ideas that she does not like contradicted. I do not know what they all are, but I know she especially is protective of Anne Boleyn and any other woman named Anne, especially one who is royalty. She feels that every Anne is a part of her and that an Anne can do no wrong."

I gave her time to think about that or ask any questions, but Miss Elizabeth remained silent. I finally continued. "Anne wants us to take part in her interests but only talk about them in the manner she has preordained. In her play we are puppets that she directs, each playing a set part. We can perhaps expand on that part but not alter it. When you unknowingly altered her script, she lost the control that she craves, it made her anxious and she lashed out."

"I do not understand why she is like that," Miss Elizabeth admitted, her voice sounding less strained.

"I do not fully either. When I was a young child my actions were similar to hers now, but it is hard to recall what I thought and felt then. I do remember that my strings made me feel safe and their loss made me anxious. However, anytime I lashed out in anger and was out of control I felt worsening anxiety, my world all adrift. I knew I was not to act that way and I felt awful afterwards."

"I am a bit afraid to see Miss de Bourgh again," Miss Elizabeth admitted and her body tensed, but she met my eyes. "If Miss de Bourgh saw me again, how would she react, do you think?"

"Georgiana says she has said she is sorry and has asked why you have not come to call." I wanted to reassure her, but also prepare her, so I explained, "However, when Anne sees you next she may remember her past anger and agitation, and repeat whatever angry words she used with you before, but it would be a shadow of her past anger and hopefully quickly run its course."

Miss Elizabeth shifted slightly in her chair, so that she was turned more toward me. "I should like to see her again if it could be as before when she was happy with me, but I fear doing something to set her off again."

"I think it shall be that way again, though there may be some awkwardness at first. Georgiana felt responsible for leaving you with her and not warning you and says it shall never happen again. She and I have missed you."

Miss Elizabeth looked up at me again. I noticed that her eyes looked wet, as if she were holding back tears. Was it me who was making her nearly cry?

She told me, "I have been so scared, but I see I have nothing to fear from you." She smiled, sniffed, delicately dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief and then reached out with her free left hand. I clasped it in my right. Together, we held the other's hand tight.

I felt a disaster had been averted. There was still hope. I wished I could speak of my ardent admiration and love, to tell her of the strength of my attachment and ask to be rewarded by her acceptance of my hand, but I knew it was too soon.

With one final squeeze, I then removed my hand. "I must go. It would not do for me to remain when the Collinses arrive home. May Georgiana and I call on you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you may." Finally, she gave me a smile. It was smaller than her usual smile, still I felt the improvement of her mood from what it had been a half an hour before.

I stood up, gave her a deep bow and admired her form as she curtseyed in return. I wished her a good day and departed.

I decided to ride my horse for a while, fearing that if I returned too soon that everyone would know where I had been. I feared there was not yet enough time left to woo and win Miss Elizabeth before she and Miss Lucas were scheduled to depart for London on the following Saturday.

When I finally returned to Rosings the Collinses had long ago departed but Georgiana waited for me. "Brother, are you well?" She asked, looking at me with a slight frown.

I looked down at my clothes which were rumpled from my ride. I was sure I looked unkempt and smelled of horse.

"I am better, now. Would you like to join me? I plan to look for a book in the library."

Georgiana nodded her understanding. The library was often a good place to talk without interruption. As I escorted her there, she told me about finally being able to draw shy Miss Lucas into some conversation. "She is a sweet girl, but our aunt intimidates her so. I am glad Miss Elizabeth can hold her own against Lady Catherine."

When we were finally alone, I told her about my conversation with Miss Elizabeth and asked her to join me for the call. "Do you realize," she asked, "that by asking to call on Sunday and her accepting, she is acknowledging us both as close friends? Sunday calls are for close friends and family."

I confessed to not even considering the matter. "You may not have, but Miss Elizabeth surely knows." She smiled happily. "Oh Brother, you were so wise to slyly slip out and call on her when everyone else was occupied. While you did not obey Lady Catherine's strictures on propriety, even she would be pleased if thereby she is restored as Anne's friend. Mayhap soon she will be my sister."

I was less certain and explained, "I think she might sooner be ready to claim you as a sister than me as her bridegroom. You are everything sweet and she has naught to fear from you. Tell me, oh sister of mine, have I ever given you cause to fear me? Miss Elizabeth asked, and I did not truly know. I hoped not."

"Not since I was very young indeed," Georgiana said quietly, looking up at me while giving my arm a little squeeze. "I do not think I knew why you were angry, but you were hitting broken branches against that old oak tree's wide trunk. After a few blows they would shatter and then you would either hit some more with the longer remaining piece or seek another fallen stick. I was taking a walk with mother when you came quite close to us to look for another branch, but as we were far to your side you did not appear to see us."

I tried to visualize the scene that was evidently clearly before her, to try to remember the day she was recalling. I was snapped into remembering with her next sentence.

"There had been a windstorm and the gardeners had not yet collected all the debris to pile for later kindling. I wanted to help you find sticks, but mother held me firmly by the hand when I tried to leave her side and go towards you. I must have made some sound because you paused, turned, and looked straight at us. You did not look like yourself. It was as if your body was that of Fitzwilliam, but you wore another man's angry face. You had the wild eyes of the wolf in one of my story books. I did not know you, and that frightened me so much that I began to cry." Georgiana paused for a moment, sliding her hands along her skirt.

I recalled pushing myself to gather and destroy more and more sticks. I did not recall exactly why I was so angry that day, but I did recall feeling out of control, a storm inside. I did not remember even noticing my mother and sister were outside that day. I continued breaking things until my arms ached, my back was sore and my hands could grasp and hit no more.

"Mother said, 'We must leave Fitzwilliam alone for now. He is angry and must spend his anger so he can return to himself.' Then she told me a story she must have made up in her head just then, about a man cursed to become an ogre when angry, who would swell up to twice his size and throw rocks so hard that they would shatter into thousands of pebbles. She told me other examples about what his feats of angry strength would cause, but I do not remember them now. She then told me, 'Your brother is nothing like that angry ogre but like him you must leave him alone when he is angry, until his anger departs, and he becomes your brother again.' I have never forgotten that lesson and I have learned that my brother always returns."

I hugged her then. "I am sorry that you have ever had cause to fear me. I was mad about something George did but I cannot recall what it was. It seems to me that tomorrow if you can arrange to have some time alone with Miss Elizabeth, it would be well if you shared that story with her. I do not wish to hide anything from her. I would not have her chose me without understanding me."

Georgiana agreed to do so and then said, "I have been thinking about the problem of Miss Elizabeth leaving before she is ready for your declaration. Perhaps we can enlist our aunt's aid in trying to extend Miss Elizabeth's visit. If the great Lady Catherine suggests it, surely Mr. Collins will rapidly act to do all he can to ensure her pleasure in making it happen."