"I will hear you, sir," she said quietly, and moved to sit on the low branch of a nearby tree.
The gentleman paced in front of her for some moments, gathering his thoughts. Then he began:
"First, I most sincerely and unreservedly apologise for my words on the evening of the Meryton assembly. I could explain why I was in a foul mood that evening, determined to be miserable, but nothing could excuse my rudeness. I should not have said such a thing about any young lady even were it true. To injure an innocent bystander because of my own foul humour is insupportable. But I must also tell you that, even at the time I said it, I never thought those words were true. You are among the handsomest women of my acquaintance, and I was then, and still am, most sorely tempted by your beauty."
"But ..." Elizabeth made to interrupt, but Darcy rushed on: "Please, let me continue. I have much to say, and if you interrupt, I may lose my courage. I beg of you to listen to all I have to say before you speak. I promise to listen to your reply when I am done."
Elizabeth nodded her agreement, and waited to hear what this surprisingly eloquent Mr Darcy would say next.
"Miss Elizabeth, I have never disliked you. On the contrary, the more time I spent in your company, the more I became enchanted by your wit and vivacity, your kindness, your strength of character in standing up to the impertinence of others, and the grace with which you avoided causing harm even where it might be merited. I enjoyed our battles of wit, delighted in your intelligence and willingness to challenge my ideas, and always, always, admired your person to distraction.
"You are right to upbraid me for failing to reveal my affections. I resisted my growing attraction to you, Miss Elizabeth. If I hid it from you, I tried valiantly to hide it from myself, too. I was raised to be proud of my station in life, and to look meanly on those less fortunate than myself. I now understand the foolishness of such an attitude, and strive to overcome it, but I know old habits of superiority often shape the way I present myself in unfamiliar company. But at the same time, my initial reluctance to engage openly with others has been exacerbated by my experience of society since my father's passing.
"I have spent my whole adult life as the target of matchmakers and fortune hunters. I came into my inheritance at a young age and still a bachelor. Usually when marrying even the first-born son to a family of fortune there is the risk that the current head of the family might live for many years yet, or that the heir might die before inheriting. With me there was no uncertainty. Marrying me would secure immediate status as Mistress of Pemberley, and access to the full Darcy fortune. As a result, I was seen as a prize catch, and I have barely been able to step into a ballroom or attend a dinner party without being accosted by single young ladies and their even more hopeful parents , none of whom have cared a jot for my character, but only for my purse.
"I do not tell you this to brag, but to explain why I have developed a deep scepticism of professions of affection, and an aversion to placing myself into social situations where I might be hunted or even compromised. When Bingley and I arrived at the assembly at Meryton, it was immediately apparent that word of our fortunes and that we were bachelors had already swept the neighbourhood. We could not but hear whispers of "ten thousand pounds" and "what a wonderful thing for our girls". I wanted to be anywhere else, but my duty to my friend Bingley meant I must attend. It did not mean I must enjoy the experience.
"I was already in a foul mood, for reasons unrelated to Hertfordshire, and I selfishly allowed my own ill temper to dictate my impressions of the neighbourhood. By the time Bingley pressed me to dance, I would have spurned Aphrodite had she been there! You were the accidental victim of my spleen, and for that I most humbly apologise." Here he paused his pacing to look once more with that strange intensity into her eyes, before continuing.
Elizabeth, although she had promised silence, could not help but say, "I do accept your apology, Mr Darcy, but I still find it hard to believe you developed a tendre for me when my behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. How do you account for it, sir?"
© 2017
