Part 4
Elizabeth knew not how long she slept, but she awoke to Mr. Darcy's movements beside her. She rose on one elbow to look over his shoulder and see his face. "Mr. Darcy, are you well?"
"I am better, I thank you," he said weakly. "And you? Are you harmed at all?"
"I am very well, sir." And very hungry, she tried not to dwell on. "Shall I get you some water?"
"Do not trouble yourself. I shall get—"
"Mr. Darcy," she said with a small edge to her voice, "I require you to stay where you are. I said I shall care for you, and I mean to do it." She got up, replacing the blanket on top of him.
"You shall be my nursemaid?" There was a hint of amusement in his tone.
She decided to match it. "I shall—or I shall be seriously displeased." The gentleman's soft chuckle was her reward. Darcy drank about half the mug and then insisted Elizabeth drink her fill. Elizabeth then used the mug to refill the cooking pot, requiring several trips to the snow outside to do so. By the time she was done, it was very cold inside the cabin. More wood was required on the fire before she sought shelter beneath one of the precious blankets.
At first, Elizabeth sat up next to her patient but, finding that aspect unprofitable as regards to warmth, resumed her position lying next to Mr. Darcy. She resisted embracing him, however, and lay on her back.
For some time she stared at the ceiling, pondering her circumstances. She was hungry and tired and weak. Her body ached from lying prone on the hard wooden floor. Fortunately, her headache had not returned. Her short time outside revealed that the snowdrifts had blown very high and darkness was falling. There was no likelihood of deliverance that day, which meant another night with Mr. Darcy.
That brought her thoughts to the man beside her. He was, for all his faults, a very good sort of man. He did have faults, chiefly his stubborn reliance on his own abilities, but the dear man had nearly killed himself in her service, gathering wood in horrible conditions. When he left after their argument, Elizabeth supposed he would salvage a few limbs as before. Had she any idea that his purpose was to stock enough firewood for the next day or more, she would have insisted on helping. Together, they could have accomplished as much or more in half the time. But the headstrong gentleman had given no clue to his intentions. Obstinate reckless fool! She could just scream!
Elizabeth realized that her anger was due to her growing respect and admiration for Mr. Darcy. She now knew that Darcy was wise, caring, loyal, courageous, industrious, and clever. He thought things through, sometimes to an exhausting extent, but once his mind was made, he was resolute. This was a man of action; his family would never suffer due to indolence or negligence.
As mine has, she thought sadly.
Her eyes flicked to his broad back. Would Mr. Darcy respect his spouse's thoughts, dreams, and opinions, or would he be as most gentlemen and dismiss his wife as silly and inconsequential? Both examples existed in Elizabeth's immediate family.
She had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behavior as a husband. She had always seen it with pain, but respecting his abilities and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavored to forget what she could not overlook. She banished from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible. She could do that no longer.
Mr. Gardiner was the opposite. United in affection with a woman he both adored and respected, he gave her the deference due to the mistress of his household and mother of his children. But more than that, there was a wonderful similarity of thought and opinion. They were of like mind about almost everything, and her uncle constantly sought the counsel of his wife without fear of diminishing his role of master of his house.
The more she considered it, the more Elizabeth believed Mr. Darcy's behavior as a husband would be like her uncle's, rather than her father's. Painful as she found the recollection, Darcy had been remarkably consistent in his praise of her abilities and qualities, even in his anger and disappointment. He had fallen in love with her, even though she could bring nothing to him but herself—no fortune, no connections, and no influence. He had considered her worth greater than all those assets in revulsion of all that he had been taught his entire life. His incredible letter had not blamed her for his disappointment or condemned her for her faith in Wickham's lies. Instead, it stated that she was a woman above her family, and he was willing to withstand society's scorn for her sake. In their last argument, he clearly stated that he had been unworthy of her, a woman he shoulddespise,and not the other way around.
His impassioned declaration earlier had sent shivers down her spine. He had rejected utterly the conveniently dissolute conventions of his class. His ideas and desires closely matched her own seemingly unattainable dreams, hidden deep in her heart. Was there another man in England who would more suit her in disposition and talents? His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes, and she had thrown it away.
"Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth was startled out of her remorseful contemplations. "Yes, Mr. Darcy?" She dashed away her tears, hoping he was unaware of her weeping.
He was. "Your sister was truly in love with Bingley?"
"She was, and she is."
"I saw no evidence of it." Darcy's tone was not haughty or defensive but wistful. "She remains enamored of my friend?"
"Yes. Jane does not give her heart lightly." She considered his first comment and continued. "Jane is a quiet, reserved person. Her kindly disposition and gentle temperament hide deep feelings, feelings she is loath to reveal to the world. That many are unaware of her true nature does not make it any less real." She smiled sadly. "She is much like a certain gentleman of my acquaintance."
She heard the hiss of a quick breath taken and felt somewhat pleased that she was permitted to give him this little acknowledgement of his hidden character. She was happy in her weariness, for it gave her the courage to speak plainly.
The revelation sprung upon her like a lightning bolt. Not speaking openly has been our downfall. This must end.
Talking ceased for a time, Elizabeth lying in anxious concern over Mr. Darcy's understanding of her words. His breathing was normal, his body still, but there was a tightness to his shoulders. He was not sleeping; he was thinking.
He finally broke the silence. "I propose to bring Bingley with me when I call upon you at Longbourn. Do you approve of this plan, or would your sister find it painful?"
Several emotions raced through her body, but she labored to quiet them all. Mr. Darcy had said something important in a very offhanded manner. She would no longer assume; she would no longer guess. She would know his meaning, there and then.
"I should hope that I am charitable enough to forgive Mr. Bingley of unsteadiness. I would be happy to see him, and I can speak with reasonable assurance that Jane would feel the same. But you allude to a plan of which I was uninformed. I take it your design is to call upon me in Hertfordshire."
"Of course, there and in London," he said instantly. "I believe it essential, given our current…circumstances. I hope you do not find the idea too distressing."
"Distressing or not, I notice that you intend to carry out this scheme with or without my consent." Elizabeth was amused, not angry, but the effect upon Mr. Darcy seemed the same. He rolled over to face her, his expression earnest and concerned.
"Elizabeth—Miss Bennet, do you not see? I must! We have shared a cabin alone for two days! At the very least, I should pay court to you. I would do more if I could be assured—"
Elizabeth smiled gently as she placed two fingers on his lips, silencing him. "Just because a plan was not of my creation does not make it at once distressing. I suppose you find this necessary."
"I do." He spoke, even though she had not removed her fingers from his lips. "I know your opinion of me is not the highest—"
"Mr. Darcy, you really must allow a lady to change her mind." She dropped her hand. The absolute confusion on Darcy's handsome face was adorable, Elizabeth found.
"You—you have changed your mind?"
"I am not a frivolous creature, given over to following the whim of the moment here and there, like a butterfly fluttering in the breeze." At least, not any longer. "I think myself rational enough to weigh the evidence presented and come to a better understanding of any given question, even those of very vexing gentlemen from the north."
"You have a better understanding of me?"
"I do." Elizabeth delighted at the look of uncertainty and happiness she beheld in his countenance. How much more agreeable it was to engage in playful teasing rather than hateful mocking! Mr. Darcy, for all his admirable abilities and qualities, could be so amusingly obtuse sometimes. Perhaps it was true of all his sex. She gave him a cheeky smile. "Very well, sir, you may call on me if you wish."
"I do wish it, very much. Thank you, Elizabeth. You honor me."
Nay sir, you honor me. "But back to the matter at hand. You wish to reunite Jane and Mr. Bingley. Is this for her sake, his sake, or mine?"
"For all—and none. I propose to do this to right the wrongs I have done. I suppose it could be said I also do this for myself if a man's honor is himself."
Elizabeth nodded. "Do you think Mr. Bingley will be angry when you tell him of your actions? He may not wish to accompany you."
"I have no intention of telling him what I have done, or of your sister's feelings, until he has met with her."
Elizabeth was surprised by his answer. She felt her anger rising, but the fought to hold it under regulation. "Will you share your reasons with me? Did you not believe me when I said Jane still loves him?"
Darcy was plainly uncomfortable. "Elizabeth, I believe that you believe that your sister loves Bingley still, but as to the truth of the matter—" He paused. "Let me answer you in this fashion. You have exchanged letters with Miss Bennet while you were in Kent, have you not?"
"Yes, Jane is an excellent correspondent." This bouncing back and forth between Miss Bennet and Elizabeth was quite confusing. Perhaps it was for the best that he made use of her Christian name. He had certainly earned the right.
"No doubt. I do not wish to violate any confidences, but did Miss Bennet write specifically that she regretted Bingley in those letters?"
"Of course not! Jane would never put those words to paper. That is not in her character." She then saw to what Darcy was alluding. "Mr. Darcy, Jane is reserved, in speech and writing, but I can read between the lines."
"Can you? Then you have a power I lack." He smiled. "Your list of accomplishments grows."
"I fail to see the humor in that."
"Forgive me. But still, are you certain that Miss Bennet pines for my friend and has not grown somewhat indifferent? It would be very understandable and no mark against her if she has, given her disappointment and the length of time that has passed."
Elizabeth was almost ready to voice her disagreement with his assessment when she recalled her own opinion of Mr. Darcy. After her most hateful refusal, she was certain that Mr. Darcy's admiration had died, that he reviled and wanted nothing to do with her. Yet, with all that had passed between them, he risked his life more than once on her behalf, all the time believing that she despised him. She now knew his love had not died; he adored her still. Perhaps she was not as great a judge of feelings as she thought.
"I take your point, sir. While I think it most likely she still cares a great deal for your friend, I cannot say with certainty that she does."
"Then, do you have any other objection to my plan?"
"Have I heard the entirety of this plan?"
"In principle, yes. Should Bingley agree to accompany me to Hertfordshire, we shall call upon Longbourn, and we shall see."
"And what is it you hope to see?"
"Besides yourself?" he retorted with a small smile. "I will observe your sister as closely as propriety allows and determine her state of mind."
"So," she said as neutrally as she could, in a generous effort to allow Darcy to remove the foot wedged in his mouth, "it still falls to you to determine your friend's happiness."
He sighed. "I have displeased you. Forgive me, I spoke poorly." Elizabeth shrugged. Apparently, she was as unsuccessful at hiding her feelings as she was in judging others. It did little harm, though, as Darcy spoke on. "I anticipate Bingley will ask my estimation of the matter afterwards. If so, I will share with him what I perceive."
"And that is?"
"What I perceive, Elizabeth." Darcy rubbed his forehead wearily. "I will be as honest with him as I am honest with you. In truth, I would wish that he place trust in his own judgment rather than mine, unlikely as that seems. I will give my honest opinion should he ask it with the caveat that it is just that—my opinion. What weight he places on it is his choice. Should he decide in your sister's favor, I will reveal all."
It took a moment for Elizabeth to fully appreciate Darcy's statement. It showed courage she knew she lacked. She did not ever intend to tell Jane what was in Darcy's letter and would only do so under pain of death. "I see. That is generous. You could well lose his friendship."
"Yes." There was a world of concern and regret in that word.
"But you will do it anyway." Remorse filled her heart. "I cannot ask it of you."
"Thank you. But the matter is out of my hands if I am to be true to myself. Disguise of any sort is my abhorrence as I believe you know."
With anyone else, that statement would display conceit and condescension, but Elizabeth was coming to understand that this was the essence of Fitzwilliam Darcy—honorable to a fault, stubbornly determined to follow his personal code of conduct, and always endeavoring to do what he saw as the right thing, no matter how much pain it might cause him. It is unsupportable how I have misjudged this man!
"So, we should expect you both at Netherfield soon?" She could not add, assuming we are rescued from here.
"Not so soon. Bingley is in Scarborough with family at the moment. This is not something I can put in a letter. Once he returns to London, I will call on him." He gave her a half-hearted grin. "I fear you must make do with only my company for a time."
She unconsciously licked her lips. "I believe I will survive the experience."
"You were planning to stay in London until your sister recovers?" At her nod, he added, "Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay?"
Such an application should be no great surprise, given his previous declaration, but she was taken aback, nevertheless. "I would like that, but I will be at my relations in Gracechurch Street." She would never be embarrassed about the Gardiners and waited in dreadful suspense his reaction.
He blanched at her tone, but he sustained the blow with fortitude. "We should be happy to call on you there."
The words leapt unbidden from Elizabeth mouth. "You—you would bring your sister to—" She stopped herself in time and tried to repair the damage. "Sir, that is not necessary. Certainly, I would be amenable to other arrangements."
"I wish to pay court to you, and I am willing to do so wherever you are, Elizabeth. I know my pride has ill-served me, and I marvel that you have been so generous as to offer me another chance. You are your family, and your family is you. I will abide anything to earn your favor. Surely you must see that."
"I do, and I—" she could not finish. It was totally unnecessary what he was proposing, and she knew what he thought of her family. "My relations, the Gardiners, are superior people. I am certain you would like them. Indeed, they are my favorite people in the world."
Darcy smiled. "Then I am doubly determined to meet them."
He did not understand! Elizabeth's eyes filled. "Part of my anger with you at…at Hunsford was due to what you said about my family."
"Forgive me my stupidity! I assure you that I have been most heartily ashamed of what I said."
"You should not be, for it was the truth!" The two stared at each other; tears ran down Elizabeth's cheeks. "Everything you said I knew and agreed with, and I was humiliated. I have been embarrassed over my family's behavior from the time I understood what it meant to be embarrassed. I saw how our neighbors comported themselves and knew the Bennets suffered by comparison. I was hurt not only by your observation, that you saw my secret shame, but that you voiced your reservations—reservations that I share. I am a hypocrite, sir."
"I am a bigger hypocrite, Elizabeth," Darcy said softy. "While it is true that your parents are unconventional, even eccentric, no one can question the affection they hold for their children and their daughters for them, or the hospitality they offer their guests. Compare that with the behavior of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She prides herself on her condescension and generosity, but in truth she is an arrogant tyrant. Her manners are abominable and her understanding suspect, yet she prides herself as knowledgeable on all things. Instructing Mrs. Collins on how to clean her furniture! My aunt, who never did manual labor in her life, ordering the wife of her parson to scrub chair legs!
"That evening at Rosings, when you so graciously entertained us with your performance, Lady Catherine rudely suggested you needed to practice more, and then, with great indulgence, offered the use of the pianoforte in her daughter's companion's room! To you—the daughter of a gentleman! You cannot know how angry, how mortified I felt on your behalf. But I kept silent, as I have done these many years when in the presence of my aunt's ill-breeding. Is that polite behavior or cowardice?"
Elizabeth's tender heart wrenched as she heard his painful confession. "Sir, I should never call you a coward."
Darcy offered a half-smile. "I thank you, but I must face my shortcomings. Even my most excellent parents were not without fault. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves, allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing. I was expected to care for none beyond my own family circle and to think meanly of all the rest of the world.
"Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty, and such I might still have been but for you. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased."
His words touched her heart. She could only shake her head. "You give me too much credit. I have been nothing but trouble for you. You should not care about me at all."
"Far too late for that, I fear."
"Why?" Exhaustion, confusion, and curiosity overruled what propriety demanded. "Why do you love me? How can you love me? I have been so hateful and foolish and careless. I have mocked you and teased you and insulted you to your face! In return, you bear it all as if I was flirting with you! You risked your life to save me after I declared I detested you!" Tears filled her eyes. "I do not understand!"
"Elizabeth," he said brokenly, his own eyes filling, "I do not know when I knew I loved you; it is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun. I am certain of only one thing—that you are the only woman for me, the only lady I can love. If you tell me again you want nothing to do with me, I shall leave you in peace, but I shall always love you, always wish the best for you. It is like breathing. I will stop breathing the day I die, and that will be the day I stop loving you. And if what we are taught is true, not even then."
Elizabeth sobbed. "Oh, Fitzwilliam," she cried, allowing herself to use his name for the first time, ""I do not deserve such devotion! I have been so wicked and foolish!"
"It matters not, for you have my devotion in any case." He touched her cheek, his fingertips tracing the trail of her tears. "But do you feel nothing for me?"
"No! I do feel…something, but I cannot name it! I admire you. Sometimes, I am in awe of you. But is that what you seek? Is that enough to build a life upon?" She covered her face in her hands. "Oh, what is wrong with me? I should love you! I want to love you! Have I no heart? Why do I hesitate giving you what you deserve?"
"Elizabeth!" He pulled her hands away and she could see the high emotion on his face. "I do not deserve anything from you! Love is not gratitude. It is not coin to repay a debt. Love must be earned, and I have done nothing to earn your love!"
"You are wrong, Fitzwilliam. If there is a man on Earth who deserves his heart's desire, it is you."
In that moment, Elizabeth lost herself in his damp, dark eyes. In the next, his lips descended on hers, and all thinking stopped. She was shocked at the warm touch of his mouth. It was unexpected, alien. As he deepened the kiss, it all changed. It was now warm, natural, exciting. Her body reacted without thought. Her hands reached for his face, to cup his as he cupped hers. He moved closer, his body lying against hers, and she arched into him. She ran her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, closer. His rough beard, lightly scratching her cheek, only increased her hunger for his kiss.
She gasped when he released her, only to gasp again as he trailed kisses down her neck. Fire raced through her body. She was born for this. Could anything be as sweet?
As soon as it began, it was over. He rolled on his back, and the cold air washed her overheated body. She came to herself again, and she remembered where she was and who she was with.
"God in heaven, Elizabeth!" cried Darcy. "Forgive me."
For her part, she found it difficult to forgive him doing something so indescribably pleasurable. Her only guilt was wondering whether she deserved such lovely attentions, given that she had not pledged herself to him.
"I had no intention of doing that, you must believe." He draped one forearm over his eyes. "You need not fear for yourself. I am a gentleman, although I have given you no reason to believe that. I shall control myself. I shall not do that again."
An amused Elizabeth seriously doubted he could keep his vow but thought it wise not to contradict or tease him. Instead she sought to relieve his remorse. "I forgive you, sir. I am unharmed, but it might be best if we speak of other matters." She waited until his gaze returned to her.
She lay on her side facing him, her hands pillowing her head, and smiled at the man who loved her. "Tell me of your home, Fitzwilliam. Tell me of Pemberley."