A few days later Darcy saddled up his horse to follow Bingley to Longbourn. The excuse was to inquire after Miss Bennet's health.
He wanted to see her.
He needed to apologize and explain himself before he left forever.
After their fencing match, Bingley and his sister had a loud argument. The muffled shouts reached Darcy in his second floor apartment. The result had been that Miss Bingley no longer spoke to Darcy but instead treated him with a cold, offended silence.
Netherfield was far more comfortable without need to talk to her. Darcy was in no hurry to leave. At home there would be endless tasks, none of which would change that he was ninety thousand in debt. He'd meet his uncle near Christmas. Matlock would berate him for giving away thirty thousand pounds, and then they'd go hunting, get drunk, and laugh together. He would tell his uncle he hoped to marry to reduce the debts, and Matlock would arrange introductions to the daughters of his friends.
There would be no one but Mrs. Reynolds who he could talk to at Pemberley.
Darcy and Bingley cantered into Meryton. The houses and shops clustered together with their sloped roofs and brown wooden beams. Colorful signs stood in front of many buildings garishly proclaiming what trade the proprietor was engaged in. It showed the pretty image of an English market town. Darcy idly watched the brown and white façades of old timber framed buildings as he rode through town with Bingley.
There she was.
The Bennet sisters, with the exception of Mary, gathered on the side of the street. Jane and the two youngest sisters spoke to Captain Denny while a gentleman Darcy had never seen attempted to interest Elizabeth.
Despite how she politely paid attention to him and nodded at his words, Darcy perceived Elizabeth was bored from the flat aspect of her face when not forcing a partial smile, and the way she slightly rolled her eyes and smirked when he glanced away. The man was short, rotund, and wore a clerical collar. His slow gestures gave the impression of careful deliberation.
He stood possessively close to Elizabeth. Darcy unconsciously ground his teeth and rode up to them.
Bingley called out as he dismounted. "Miss Bennet! It is most good to see you. We just rode out to call upon you. You look very well. I had worried you might take some injury from your illness. We were bound for Longbourn to inquire after your health."
Jane smiled at Bingley. She made a small curtsy and said in her soft voice, "As you can see I have suffered no ill effects."
Darcy dismounted and glared at the churchman next to Elizabeth. He forced himself to relax. Elizabeth was not his to protect, and she never would be. He needed to remember that.
His eyes turned towards her again. Those brilliant eyes had watched him. Their eyes mingled. There was a question in her look; there was desire in it; and there was hurt in her vivid brown gaze. They looked at each other longer than proper. Darcy recalled himself and hurried closer. The hand on his horse's bridle felt shaky and warm.
"You look — I had hoped to see you, all of you." Darcy bowed his head in the direction of Elizabeth's sisters, and he forced his eyes to look anywhere but at Elizabeth. He knew he had her full attention.
Neither Kitty nor Lydia, whose faces he kept his eyes turned upon, responded. Elizabeth said in a voice infused with false cheer, "We have heard no news out of Netherfield since Jane and I returned to Longbourn — are any announcements of import likely to come?"
Darcy looked at Elizabeth; there was anxiety and affection in her eyes. He hated himself. She had affection for him, and he had — accidentally and then drunkenly — encouraged it. He could not marry her.
"No — Bingley shall throw a ball in a week's time, but… I thought on your words last time we spoke. You spoke rightly, my —" Darcy paused to search out words that might express what he wished to her only. "My scheme would not have suited my purposes."
A smile bloomed over Elizabeth's face. She was happy, and he would need to make her understand that he could not marry her. She must have some hidden hope, especially now that he would not marry Miss Bingley.
That light, it would dim. She would fight to keep tears away. He was the worst sort of person.
Darcy looked away from her face. He kept his eyes on her companion. His face was thick and jowled. Darcy couldn't watch her eyes while he said it. "I shall leave Netherfield following the ball, and once I return to Pemberley, I shall write my uncle to see if he might suggest a… a better scheme for achieving the same end."
Darcy heard Elizabeth rapidly pull in her breath. He looked at her. His horse whinnied as he pulled the animal's head forward with his tense grasp.
Her face was white, but steady. "I expected you would plan something like that." She shaped her lips into a weak mimicry of a smile and added waveringly, "I wish you good luck and happiness in your future scheme."
The two gazed at each other. Her cheeks were pinched and pale. Darcy was disappointed that she did not argue with him or make some claim on his honor.
Elizabeth felt as though a knife had been slowly forced through her breastbone. She would keep her dignity. This was the best possible outcome.
She should be happy.
Her advice had helped him. That should make her happy. At least… he at least would not marry that horrid woman. He would not face that unhappiness.
Be happy.
Mr. Collins grunted and drew their attention to him. Elizabeth spoke in a thin, rapid voice, "Oh, I apologize. Manners — I forgot my manners. Mr. Darcy, allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr. Collins. My cousin, Mr. Collins. Yes, this is my cousin. Let me introduce you." Elizabeth gestured towards Mr. Collins with a fast jerking motion. She was frightened that tears would start, and in front of Mr. Collins. If it was only Mr. Darcy, she would let them fall, he cared for her a little, even if it was not enough.
Darcy inclined his head, and Elizabeth made the formal introduction.
"Mr. Darcy? Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley?" Mr. Collins exclaimed with surprise.
Darcy nodded his head. He tensed and waited for this man to refer to his sister or his debts. "You are the Fitzwilliam Darcy who is the nephew of that most distinguished lady, Lady Catherine de Bourgh — the Mistress of the most sparkling and burnished gem of southern England, Rosings Park?"
Darcy nodded again, a little amused by this description of Lady Catherine. He sounded much as his aunt's steward used to.
"I have the good fortune to have it in my power to inform you that your most dignified aunt and estimable cousin were well on Sunday past when they attended the morning services at Hunsford parish. It is my good fortune for Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park to be my patroness. She is, as you know, the most estimable and perfectly condescending woman in England."
Mr. Collins continued for some minutes in a speech filled with an astonishing level of flattery for his patroness, his dear cousin Elizabeth, Darcy's far more admirable cousin Anne, and Darcy's own wellborn personage.
His verbosity normally would annoy Darcy, but now it allowed him to regain his composure. Darcy's eyes helplessly turned to Elizabeth's stiff face again and again. She was frowning like Georgiana did right before she burst into tears. Darcy flinched away but then looked back at her. This was his fault, but the only choice consistent with his character was to seek an heiress.
Darcy turned to his horse and softly patted his shoulder, a little comforted by the warm solidity of the large animal. He barely pretended to pay attention to Mr. Collins, who needed little of that pretense to be satisfied.
Mr. Collins recaptured Darcy's attention when he said, "Your aunt has spoken upon the immoral behavior of your sister at great length. It horrifies me that one so closely connected to her glorious ladyship could act so disgracefully. It is a most disgraceful connection. Most disgraceful. You must feel the stain on Lady Catherine's honor keenly, and the stain on your own honor as well. However, it is my duty, as a clergyman, to remind you that while you ought, of course, never admit Mrs. Wickham to your presence, or even allow her name to be spoken within your hearing, as that would be encouragement to vice and imprudence, Christian charity demands you forgive your sister for her misdeeds against yourself and your family honor."
Darcy's fist clenched around his horse's reins. Ever since Lady Catherine loudly pronounced to Darcy that due to his debts he was no longer a fit husband for Anne, relations between them had been cold.
Though Darcy did not know his quiet cousin well, he and Lord Matlock had thought it a promising idea to follow his aunt's often mentioned plan for them to marry. The value of Anne's estate was greater than his debts. However, until Georgiana eloped, Darcy had come to think the refusal had been fortunate. He did not wish to deal with Lady Catherine as a mother-in-law.
Elizabeth saw Darcy's face grow pained and tense while Mr. Collins spoke of Georgiana. She hated the foolishness of her relative more than ever. It must hurt Darcy so, to hear his sister discussed and insulted in this way.
Elizabeth wanted to change the subject, but Mr. Collins never paused for breath. Darcy sharply spoke over Mr. Collins, "My aunt? My aunt has told you all this? She speaks so openly to you?"
"She has. Your aunt is knowledgeable about all matters. Her condescension is such that she will share her advice to all and sundry. Why, she has thrice used the example of your mismanagement of your sister's education to edify my parishioners. There is none who is more charitable, or who is a greater credit to her exalted rank, than she. She has further complained to me that you do not write to her frequently. If you had showed greater filial feeling and sought her wise advice on how to raise your —"
"Yes, my aunt's family feeling and wisdom are irreproachable. No one shows more Christian charity than she." He had no need to listen to this bombastic fool tell him every problem in his life, every failure he had made with his sister, would have been avoided if only he had attended to his Aunt's impertinent demands.
Mr. Collins missed Darcy sarcasm. "She is perfection itself. If you humbly approach her, she will forgive you for your sister's transgressions, and advise you how to manage your present strained situation."
"Yes. I do not doubt she wishes to see me humbled."
Elizabeth saw Darcy was too angry at his own family to be offended by hers. It fit with the impression she had received from Mr. Collins that Lady Catherine would be cruel to her niece and nephew.
Jane stepped up to them with Mr. Bingley. Mr. Denny had continued upon his own business. Jane's clear voice asked, "Mr. Collins, may I introduce you to Mr. Bingley? There is a matter of doctrine I discussed with him a week past I would like to hear your opinion about. We shall walk back to Longbourn, as Mr. Bingley was headed that way to call upon us. Would you travel with us and enlighten us on the path?"
The way Mr. Collins's eyes lit up showed him very pleased at the suggestion. "I am indeed always most willing to enlighten the laity. Most willing. Please describe the issue."
Mr. Bingley began to speak and they drew Mr. Collins away. Jane turned back to smile at Elizabeth, who gave her a grateful look.
Lydia exclaimed, "We only just arrived. You may wish to walk all the way back to Longbourn before talking to anyone, but I must hear my fill of the gossip." Lydia and Kitty ran up to Mrs. Phillips's house and knocked on her door.
Elizabeth involuntarily studied Darcy. He was as handsome as ever. His lean tall form was set off nicely by his riding breeches and the backdrop of his horse. He took her arm and led his horse with his free hand. Elizabeth peeked at him as they strolled silently. Her heart was torn; she hurt because, no matter how prudent and rational his plan to marry an heiress was, he was rejecting her.
Despite his words after he kissed her, she was merely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him.
He may not love her, but his presence thrilled her. Little jolts bounced up her arm from where he held it, and it was impossible for Elizabeth to keep herself from glancing at his lips. She wanted to be kissed again.
She wished to speak; he would not be near for long, and she must take advantage while she could. But it would be horribly improper to allude to their last meeting. Elizabeth could not bring herself to do so. But, her sense of injury, and even shame, meant light conversation was impossible.
Darcy at last spoke. Elizabeth looked at him, however, he stared straight ahead, "I must apologize for my behavior in the library, it was ungentlemanly of me, and I heartily regret treating you so."
He regretted kissing her.
Of course he did. Her friendship and affection wasn't enough. She wasn't handsome enough. She felt sick disgust for thinking his kiss had been anything more than a drunken whim, and a flood of tears gathered in her eyes.
Don't be silly. Don't be silly.
Darcy saw that her face was gaunt with the skin pulled tight around her forehead. She grasped Darcy's sleeve and looked away from him. She was crying. Darcy spoke without thought, shocking himself, "Miss Elizabeth, if you believe it to be a matter of my honor, I am prepared to make you an offer of marriage."
"No!" She jumped away from Darcy and stared at him aghast. "I do not wish that. How dare you treat yourself and me in this manner. I — how could you think I would wish you to hurt yourself over an event you regret. How could you think I would wish you to… to marry me out of a cold duty and honor. You would certainly regret that. I don't want you to regret anything."
Elizabeth turned angrily and kept a distance of several feet between them. She walked forward at a stiff and rapid pace. They passed under a bower formed by the bare branches of a grove of oak trees.
The tears streaked down Elizabeth's cheeks till she brushed them away. First, he said their kiss was only a drunken mistake — he said it meant nothing to him and was only a mistake he regretted. Now, he treated her like a husband hunting Miss who cared for nothing but acquiring the man she wished.
Darcy followed her, confused. He'd had no intention of making such an offer. Her rejection of him hurt — and relieved him. Jane, Bingley and Mr. Collins were one hundred feet ahead of them. Their privacy was assured. The air was chilly but not freezing. The road was bordered on one side by hedges and on the other by trees.
Darcy stepped to Elizabeth's side again. She openly cried. Darcy's stomach sank. "Speak to me. Please, Elizabeth, what do you want me to say?"
"I don't regret it. I do not regret it at all. That moment, our kiss, it was the most beautiful — the most beautiful moment I ever experienced." Elizabeth choked. "To know you regret it, to know you wish that kiss, our kiss, had never happened. That is why I cry. You ask what I wish — I wish you had meant to kiss me. I wish it had not been a drunken foolishness you regret. I wish you cared for me. I wish you had meant it when you spoke about my beauty. I had thought… I thought you felt a little real affection for me."
Elizabeth's eyes pled for him to say he loved her. Her face was red and wet with tears. She was so close to him, and her pretty hand waved inches from his chest. He could seize it and bring it to his lips. Her lips were pale with tension. The tears made her cheeks shiny in the morning light. His belly felt the memory of her body pressed against his. He swallowed and fought the desperate desire to pull her in and kiss her again.
They stared into each other's eyes.
Elizabeth smiled, and Darcy felt the world tilt on its side.
"Oh," she exhaled, "you feel it too. You do. I see it. This bond between us is real. It is in your heart also." Elizabeth stepped close; her eyes were on him; she was close. He could smell her sweet breath. She lay a hand upon his chest.
Instinctively Darcy began to lower his head towards hers.
This was wrong — madness.
He would not throw away all hope of marrying an heiress due to the giddy sense of desire and happiness Elizabeth's presence created. He must tear the bond between them apart.
Darcy stepped away and closed his eyes to block out the sight of her. He breathed heavily; his body longed for her. His lips tingled from how they had nearly kissed.
His father. He saw his father reply to his demand for retrenchment. You would make me abandon every comfort, every friendship, every affection. I will not make myself unhappy for your misnamed prudence and duty.
He would not be like his father. He would not.
This was the desire of a moment. It would not cast out every thought. He would not throw away the habits of a lifetime for this passion.
He pulled in a deep breath and opened his eyes. His mind was steady.
"I do feel this bond — you are the handsomest, cleverest, kindest woman of my acquaintance. I felt as much as you when we kissed. But it matters not. I shall not forget my duty to my name, to my tenants, and to the future. I shall not. You know my debts; you know my situation."
Elizabeth's heart swooped with happiness at his words of praise — his words of affection. The fact they would always be separate meant nothing next to her happiness at his hopeless attachment. She did understand. That horrid sum of money overshadowed any wishes either had.
"Oh, if only you were not in debt. If only your father had done better — Oh!" Elizabeth gripped Darcy's arm through his coat, "If it were possible, if you were free to act however you wished, would you —"
Elizabeth blushed and looked away, unable to continue. Darcy took her hand and squeezed it, then he placed it on his arm and led them down the road again. Elizabeth looked at him. Darcy had a sad smile, and he said, "I would. Had it been possible, if my position and my character allowed it, I would."
It was impossible to feel unhappy. The moment was painfully bittersweet, like when in a novel the heroine found her father, after seeking him for a long time, only to discover he was dying.
Elizabeth did not grin, but there was more of happiness in her emotions than sadness. They walked in silence. A gust of wind tried to disarrange Elizabeth's curls and forced her to reach her hand up to resettle her bonnet. Her mind was full of the tragedy of it. She exclaimed, viciously biting the words out, "I hate money — I hate the very thought of it."
Darcy smirked in reply. The handsome curve of his lips set Elizabeth's heart beating hard. "Is that not too extreme? To condemn money as such, with no exception, over one situation? Money is, after all, merely a means for facilitating the exchange of goods and labor."
Elizabeth blinked then smiled at Darcy. She leaned her pretty eyes close to his face, "'Tis not too extreme, besides the Holy Book claims it is the root of all evil. To hate that shows great sense."
"The Holy Book says the love of money is the root of evil. Not money itself."
Elizabeth shrugged insouciantly, showing she thought the distinction trivial. Her smile combined with her still red eyes and cheeks were terribly inviting.
They must stop. He needed to stop. He could not banter with her like a friend.
They had reached Longbourn. Jane and Bingley stood in the entryway to the garden exchanging pretty glances while Mr. Collins talked endlessly. Darcy spoke quietly, "I must go."
Elizabeth asked, "Must you?"
Her voice was wistful.
"I must. You know I must. You understand we cannot —"
"You must dance with me. Bingley's ball — you must dance with me. Promise me." Elizabeth's heart was in her eyes. She pled with them for Darcy to give her this at least.
"Elizabeth," he replied, with pain in his voice. Elizabeth's heart leapt at the use of her name. "It would be wrong. With the way things stand between us, it would be wrong. We must part."
"I know we must part — but I care not. We have not parted yet — you owe me. You admit you acted in a most" — Elizabeth smiled at the memory — "un-gentlemanlike manner. I demand a boon in recompense, I demand you dance with me. Your honor demands it." This logic amused Elizabeth, and she smiled more brightly. "Do not be a silly. It is only a dance. And with a woman you now acknowledge to be handsome enough to tempt you. I am handsome enough to tempt you to a dance? Am I not? I shall feel hurt if you do not say I am."
He would regret this.
It was wrong to encourage her, but her pleading smile could not be refused. Darcy bowed elegantly and pulled her hand to his lips. The contact left a tingling sensation on his lips as he spoke, "Miss Elizabeth, might I dance with you during the second set at Mr. Bingley's ball on Tuesday next?"
Darcy felt stupidly cheerful when Elizabeth grinned back, flashing her white teeth happily. "Mr. Darcy, I would be delighted to accept. It would be impossible for a lady to have a finer partner."
AN: So a quick semi apology, the updates have been a bit irregular, instead of every other day the way I'd like them to be, mainly because I'm travelling through Southern Europe right now, and while I'm having a lot of fun and getting work on my next books done, I am rather less organized than at home. I update when I remember to and have my computer with me, which isn't always. This is also why I'm not usually leaving regular author notes like I did for my first two books. And why I'm not posting to Archive of Our Own or A Happy Assembly, let me spend a half hour using my girlfriend's computer once uploading all of the doc files to it, and I can just post with fifteen seconds of work, the other sites take a bit more time, at least I think they do.
The other thing I'd like to comment on, is we are getting near the part of the novel where the path of love becomes long and twisted (though it will inevitably reach its happy end soon enough). And the main reason it is twisted is because Darcy makes choices which seriously annoy some readers. So fair warning.