Author's Note: Well, I'm back! I have edited and reposted the previous chapters if you would like to go back and re-read. There is no major change to the plot, but I feel like I've altered it a lot in little ways. This chapter felt odd to write, as it's the conclusion of the argument I posted months ago. I would recommend at least reading the previous chapter again, as it's a two part-er and I have gone back and changed it quite a bit- moved things around. Thank you to all the new readers and reviewers since I have last posted, and the past readers who have been so encouraging. I would particularly like to thank Myshlp and SixThings for their support. I'm oddly nervous, coming back after my months away, like the first time I posted, so be kind to me!
Recap: (But you should go back and read chapter 14 first!) Due to an epidemic of scarlet fever, which kills Mr. Bennet and Mary, the oldest Bennet daughters' stay at Netherfield is extended. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy strike up a cold and dysfunctional sexual relationship, before he leaves suddenly for London, frightened by the strength of his feelings for her and afraid that he will lose control and compromise her. After reconnecting with Mr. Darcy at Rosings, Elizabeth becomes alarmed by his attentions, fearing that he has some nefarious plans for her. He finally confronts her when she is alone at the parsonage and proposes. He is disbelieving of her refusal and they descend into an argument. This soon develops into a passionate, but angry kiss and they have sex for the first time in Elizabeth's bedroom. During the act, Kitty and Mr. Collins come home and Darcy must hastily hide under the bed from Kitty. He then hears the ladies disparaging him.
Chapter 15
Eager to conclude their interlude, Elizabeth refused Kitty's offer of a bowl of caudle and pretended a few yawns to hasten her sister's exit. Kitty eventually did leave, and Elizabeth was careful to inform her of her fatigue and that she would be going directly to sleep (1). She rose quietly to lock the door behind her sister and looked back to the bed, so seemingly quiet and undisturbed, wondering what would happen next.
The first sign of Darcy's emergence was in the form of his hat, flung up onto the bed in his fisted hand. The rest of him followed soon after, a little dusty and ruffled, but none the worse for wear; and finally, he was there- irrefutably and unescapably there- once again, as he twisted his battered hat in his hands. An awkward feeling pervaded, as the pair stood separated by the bed, and it was soon clear that they would not be continuing from where they had left off.
The words that Kitty had voiced and with which Elizabeth had so eagerly concurred could not have figured more prominently in the void between them, had they taken corporeal form. Darcy had never valued Kitty, had looked down on her as jejune and avoided her company. It had never occurred to him that she would feel a similar aversion towards him- that she had the right to- he now knew better. As for Elizabeth, her brief, dismissive agreement with her sister's opinions had finally shown Darcy, more than all her witty rejoinders, how little she truly thought of him; how hopeless his pursuit of her was. He would not be able to fuck her into loving him.
His attention was caught by the small bloodstain on the vacated bed, where Elizabeth had sat. Darcy contemplated that this maroon smudge was the only remaining evidence that she had- briefly- been his- that he had claimed her first. This was what men always wanted- to be the first pioneer on virgin territory, the first to plant that flag; but he had soon come to realise how hollow a victory it was to be first, how preferable it was to be last; only.
Darcy wanted to put all of this out of his mind and harrumphed onto the bed, boots and all, sitting with his back to the headboard. To Elizabeth's inquisitive look, he replied without grace, "I cannot leave until the Collins's retire to bed, unless you wish us to be caught and face the consequences."
The idea of being forced into marriage with this crabby man forced Elizabeth's acquiescence and she sat up gingerly beside him, leaving as much elbow room between them as possible. Seeing that she had offended him, and that he was feeling sorry for himself, she was determined to wait it out in silence. Her bare feet caressed the bed cover and she let her mind wander, to escape this stifling room.
Out of the blue, Mr. Darcy spoke, beginning gruffly, but he rapidly became tangled in a morass of embarrassment: "You know you need not worry about there being a child. The way we… I did not… It's called a 'dry bob' and conception is very unlikely (2)." Mr. Darcy was blushing more than she by the end of this speech, undermining the forbidding, affronted air he was eager to maintain.
"Quite honestly, I had not even considered it," Elizabeth replied, feeling very unworldly to admit it, "I am still in a state of astonishment." Darcy could not prevent himself from searching her face, as she clearly re-lived their coupling. He was eager to determine her feelings, desperately hoping that she had enjoyed their dalliance and that - despite his prior, eavesdropped, intelligence- it could lead to more. What he wouldn't give for her to smile on his efforts to please her.
Elizabeth was not eager to further analyse their tryst and, shaking off the memories of his warm weight on her and grunted assurances in her ear, lapsed again into silence. Both retreated to their own thoughts for some minutes.
Mr. Darcy's mention of Wickham came as a surprise to Elizabeth, he being the last person on her mind at that moment. Darcy, however, could not, once reminded of Elizabeth's friendship with the cad, leave the topic alone.
"I do not know to what degree it will pain you to hear it," he began, "but you ought not to trust Mr. Wickham's assertions. He is a scoundrel."
"Mr. Wickham says the same of you," Elizabeth rapidly responded, unable to curb the ghost of a complacent smile on her face.
Darcy was more than irritated that she would not accept him at his word, but demurred to say more, not knowing what he should reveal. Elizabeth's antagonistic demeanour did not invite confidence.
"Will I never be free of that man's malicious interference?" He spoke mostly to himself, but Elizabeth responded, in spite of her recent resolution not to engage with him on this topic.
"You need not blame him, exclusively, for my opinion of you. Had not my own feelings decided against you- had they been indifferent, or even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?"
Mr. Darcy started at this and looked around him as if grasping for meaning. "What nonsense is this? What sister?"
"I am speaking of Jane, of course! You spirited Mr. Bingley away to London and she was left to the ridicule of the neighbourhood for her disappointed hopes."
"And, of course, I am responsible for your sister's happiness!"
"Do you deny separating them?" Elizabeth asked.
"I brought Bingley to London with me, if that is what you mean."
"And saw to it that he had given her up before reaching Barnet, I'd wager."
"I did no such thing! You have a very low opinion of me indeed, madam, if you think I would separate two people, merely for my own convenience."
"However," he continued, "my words to you at Netherfield were the truth. I could see that your sister turned to him in grief and, as for Bingley himself, I have seen him in love many times before; he did seem to show a preference for Miss Bennet, but it does not surprise me that he didn't return to the neighbourhood."
At Elizabeth's huffing breath, he was urged to explain himself further.
"Would you blame your sister's broken heart on me for the iniquity of requesting a riding companion? You give Mr. Bingley too little of either credit or blame, I think, in such an analysis."
"Do you claim to have had no part in his remaining in London? I cannot believe that you were as silent on my family's unsuitability with him as you were verbose with me."
"I did not raise the topic," he replied tersely.
"A fine evasion, Mr. Darcy."
With a sigh, he recognised that he must be completely honest. "We did discuss the matter, but it was only once and at Bingley's behest. I understand that his sisters had been pressing the topic and he requested my advice. I reiterated my opinion, as I had previously presented it to you, but I didn't try to persuade him of any particular action."
"You didn't tell him that Jane was an unsuitable wife for him?"
"No, I did not. She, in herself would make an admirable wife." That flare of jealousy, almost forgotten, now flickered momentarily in Elizabeth's mind, on hearing even this faint praise. Did he linger a moment too long on the word 'admirable'?
"In any case," Darcy continued, "I don't believe that that was Bingley's reservation. Even your family's improprieties were nothing to the belief that Miss Bennet was indifferent to him- of which his sisters' had convinced him."
"And you told him of your good opinion of Jane, of her love for him?" Elizabeth asked, knowing that her hope was pointless.
"No I did not, not the latter."
"But you know that it's the truth! Jane loves Mr. Bingley." Elizabeth was about to elaborate on her disappointment in the strongest language, which Mr. Darcy prevented by resuming his explanation.
"I had never had it from the lady's lips, or your own, and I had not observed as much of her behaviour towards him as Bingley had himself. It wasn't my place to assure him of opinions of which I was not certain and sentiments which he was in a better place to judge."
"How could you not have been certain? I spoke to you of Jane's devastation should Mr. Bingley leave. You saw her with him. Anyone could have seen what was between them."
"You spoke of expectations, of intentions, never of love. As for my observation of your sister, I saw nothing that I have not observed in many a London coquette; nothing indicative of love. That was when I was observing her… I was much preoccupied at that time," Mr. Darcy concluded quietly, looking down at his hands.
"But could you not have…" Elizabeth began. Mr. Darcy interrupted her shortly, tired of this going around in circles.
"Contrary to what you may believe, men don't sit around endlessly discussing ladies' intentions and the meaning behind fluttering eyelash. We do not divulge our intimacies: for which you should be thankful. Do you think that Mr. Bingley would wish for a sister in law such as you?" His words felt like a punch in the stomach to Elizabeth. Darcy was hit with the realisation that he had just called the woman he loved a whore. The notion horrified him and he was desperate to retract his words.
Elizabeth was left heaving in indignation, once more floored by his spiteful remarks. "If I am so contemptible, Sir, why would you wish to marry me? I am not shocked by your exclamation, for it's merely the latest in a long line of alternately veiled and candid insults. You have accused me of being everything from a fortune hunter and a wanton, to an out and out harlot."
Darcy could not believe that he had attacked her yet again. He grabbed a fistful of his lustrous curls in each hand and tugged savagely. In remorse and frustration, he spoke from this position: "I apologise; that was unforgiveable. I am aware that I have not always been kind to you, but that is not my true opinion of you. You… provoke me and I find myself lashing out."
Elizabeth's cool demeanour belied the fury boiling within her. "Perhaps you will now own that I did not and could not anticipate a proposal from you, with such outbursts as these. I didn't comprehend your intentions, even once you had begun to speak!"
Darcy had sat up to listen, carefully it seemed, but ignored her last statement in his response. "As regards my belief in your being a fortune hunter," he said, with all the formality of a pre-prepared speech at a school debate, "it was not unreasonable to think that you might seek to entrap me into matrimony through a liaison- which fear is the best deterrence from that vice- I confess, had I comprehended your disgust for the institution, you may not have survived your first night under that roof." His stare was intense and unwavering, but she was unmoved by his passion.
I am not disgusted with the institution, merely the proffered partner, Elizabeth thought acerbically.
"But all of that was before I really knew you," Darcy continued, oblivious to Elizabeth's resentment, "before I recognised your innate integrity."
Quietly, she inquired, "Then what's changed now?" gesturing to the bed in reference to their actions within it.
"My intentions are honourable; it's you who is misusing me. I would still marry you in the morning." He sought to meet her eyes, moving his head slightly to do so, but she couldn't look at him, aware of the edge of melancholy and lingering self-pity in his voice.
She was saved from having to construct a reply by the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Collins in the vestibule downstairs. Soon the creak of floorboards hailed their ascent to bed and the parade was completed by the definitive closing of Kitty's bedroom door. Elizabeth had not stirred, staring into space as she ruminated on Mr. Darcy's words. She dismissed his self-pity as beneath her attention, but he was right: she had used him from the beginning, for her own pleasure, without a thought as to his desires, or any other need. He had treated her badly, but she had chosen to continue their arrangement out of selfishness. She considered her own frustrations and contemplated that his must be manifold, unsatisfied as he surely had been after their encounters. She felt herself softening towards him.
Elizabeth had many flaws, but she could not comprehend such a major fault in herself, without seeking to atone for it. She felt the mounting need to apologise for her part in their sordid affair, to admit to her self-centredness, but could not show such weakness to this man, sensing that to give him such power would be dangerous.
Instead she leaned towards him- he seemed to have been watching her, as he was immediately at attention. His eyes implored her and she felt not a trifling measure of satisfaction to know that she was about to reach out in a way that could not fail to be acceptable to him. She continued to tilt into him. His eyes moved to her lips and followed their progress towards his, only returning to meet her gaze as she delivered a delicate kiss, so gentle and gradual, that the exact moment of connection could not easily be determined. Elizabeth shifted into the vicinity of his body, placing a palm on his chest and allowing herself to enjoy his smell, so familiar and invigorating. Their actions evolved into a compassionate embrace, one that would be so jarringly halted by Mr. Darcy's pulling away from her a moment later.
Elizabeth had slid down in the bed, and, when she grasped his shoulder and drew him towards her, he knew what it was that she was requesting. Darcy moved over her, his hands around her, and he caressed her leisurely in that sensitive spot just underneath her breast, never releasing her reassuring gaze as he explored her with his lips and hands, and for one delicious moment, it seemed they would continue their coupling, and that this time they would share a more tender experience. Darcy put a stop to all of this, however, and disentangled himself with lightning speed, leaving Elizabeth reeling in a miasma of breathless frustration and perplexity.
Struggling to regain his composure he turned and sat upright on the side of the bed, his head in his hands, his back and shoulder muscles flexing and tightening. Eventually Darcy rose from the bed and turned to her.
"I believe I am well enough acquainted with your obstinacy to say that is not a signal of your change of heart. However, I cannot go on without asking you whether… whether it is possible that you have, or could reconsider." To even ask the question was killing him, and he could almost not bear to hear her answer.
Elizabeth righted herself on the bed again and began to speak without looking Darcy in the eye. Unlike her previous iteration of her refusal, she would take no pleasure now in the opportunity to tell Darcy what she thought of him. "I know that I have misjudged your intentions in some respects, but," and here she brought her eyes to his, bolstered by the strength of her conviction, "you remain the most arrogant and censorious man of my acquaintance. You claim to love me, but you have never shown it. You openly insult and belittle me at every opportunity and if you had any respect for me, you would never have started this dalliance, or gone so far as you did. I could never allow myself to marry a man with such a poor impression of me."
"And this is your opinion of me!" cried Darcy, before remembering where he was and lowering his voice. He walked in quick steps across the room. "This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. And yet you were willing, just now, to act as you would with only a most intimate partner- to continue, after you knew I…"
"If I have behaved less than gentlemanly towards you…" He breathed heavily out of flared nostrils as the thought clearly pained him. "If I did take advantage of you, you have repaid me in kind. You are by now fully aware of the extent of your influence over me and you have, over the length of our acquaintance, used that knowledge to get exactly what you want, to gratify yourself; and I have no doubt that you would continue to do so, if I allowed it. I can tell you now: after today, I will never see you again, if I can help it."
With that they both were silent, both brooding. He rounded the bed and took one last look down at her, his expression striving for disdain, but he could not prevent the pain from slipping through. He reached for the doorknob and exited silently. Elizabeth listened on tenterhooks until she saw him stomping up the rectory path.
The next morning, after a very fitful and restless night, Elizabeth braved her habitual walk, though neither the exercise, nor the bracing breeze offered much relief from her tumultuous feelings. She was unconsciously proceeding directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's often coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane, which led her further from the turnpike-road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side.
She had arrived in Kent at a time when changes were becoming evident, even over so short a period, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. After walking farther down that part of the lane than she ever had before, she was tempted by the pleasantness of the morning to stop at a gate and look into the estate. She scaled the it, intending to pass a moment in a sort of grove which edged the park, having noticed an interesting feature in the landscape: a stream, seemingly springing from the roots of a mature oak tree. She was bent, trailing de-gloved fingers in the cool stream when the glimpse of a gentleman standing by the line of trees caught her eye and stole her breath. She had begun her automatic retreat to the gate when he called her name.
Indeed it was not Mr. Darcy, as she had feared, but his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he was walking towards her. By now she had backed up as far as the gate and had taken a crushing hold on the rusted iron there. Coming to stand beside her, he said, with a look of some confusion, she thought, due to her anxious demeanour, "Miss Bennet, I have been walking the park for some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading this letter?"
On witnessing Elizabeth's dubious countenance he elaborated, "I am here on an errand from Mr. Darcy. He has not divulged the contents of this letter, but was most insistent that you receive it and that the information contained within was pertinent to you."
He was acutely aware of the impropriety of the whole situation and how uncomfortable Elizabeth must feel. For no other person on earth would he commit such an act, other than Darcy. He could not, however, honour his cousin's request of handing over the letter and leaving directly, not when presented with Miss Bennet's distressed countenance.
"I do not pretend to know what is going on between you and Darcy; nor do I wish to, by the way." His doubtful and troubled expression could not fail to charm Elizabeth, even in such a situation.
"But it is clear to me that you are not at ease with the state of affairs," he continued more seriously. "I cannot leave without asking if there is anything that I can do for your comfort or convenience. I would not see you discomfited, even for the sake of my cousin."
Elizabeth assured him of her well-being, convincing neither with her performance. The Colonel could not give up his inquiry.
"Darcy is as closed mouthed as you on the subject. This cloak and dagger is most unlike him. He is not one to dally with… he is an honourable man. I would not perform this office for him were I not convinced of his good intentions. I begin to believe that he… But I will say no more."
He offered to escort her back to the parsonage, but Elizabeth could spare no attention for pleasantries and dismissed him with as much courtesy as she could, eager to read her letter and savour, once again, the delights of loathing Darcy. She did not for a moment consider that it would contain an apology or peace offering. Seating herself on one of the giant, gnarled roots exposed next to the water, she broke the seal and to her still-increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter-paper, written quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise full.
It was dated from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning and began as follows:
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you.
Her initial expectation confirmed, Elizabeth could not prevent her eyes from rolling at the self-indulgent and acrimonious tone of his opening, sorely tempted now to throw the remainder in the river unread and watch it wash downstream and away forever.
She skimmed through the opening paragraph to arrive at the substance of the letter- what did he want!
Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge, and my character requires this letter to be written and read. The first-mentioned was, that, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, I ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham- and the other, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I helped to detach Mr. Bingley from your sister, through my unwillingness to influence him in her favour.
Elizabeth's attention was now arrested by the information in the letter and she read it through in one sitting before running home in distress and distraction.
Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam left Kent the next day. By the time she noted their coach trundling down the road outside, Elizabeth had read and thrown down Mr. Darcy's letter too many times to count. She had folded and unfolded it until the creases in the paper were entrenched and threatening to detach, though she had never managed to crumple it into a ball or throw it into the fire- as much as she had wished to.
Though chiefly concerned with the ignominy of Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy had briefly touched on the issue of Jane's disappointment and his part therein, clarifying and elaborating on that which they had canvassed the night before. At first, she could allow him no justice on either score, but was soon disappointed to find that she believed his account of Wickham in its entirety. His defence with regards to Jane, an issue he was inclined to minimise, was the more difficult for Elizabeth to accept.
Elizabeth was fated to spend another fortnight in Hunsford, which was punctuated by more of Mr. Collins' bumptious civility and the intermittent company of the residents of Rosings. She left behind a tearful Kitty, whose distress at losing her sister's support was slightly ameliorated by the novelty and charm of Elizabeth's late wedding present of a clutch of pullets (3). Elizabeth's own departure was a relief, but she did not altogether relish the thought of reuniting with Jane, bearing in mind all of the knowledge and experience that must further the gap between them.
(1) Caudle was a warm drink/broth of oatmeal, mild spices, water and wine or ale.
(2) Coitus interruptus was the main method of birth control at the time (though some used a natural sponge soaked in lemon or vinegar that would be inserted before sex). As for its effectiveness, if used accurately, it has a similar success rate as the male condom, apparently. Stone Laurance, The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500- 1800 (1979); Publications-and-Resources/Quick-Reference-Guide-for-Clinicians/choosing/Coitus-Interuptus
(3) Pullets are young hens that have not begun to lay. Egg money was a source of independence for women in Kitty's situation. She could make up to 3 pounds a year from her flock of chickens and have some financial independence. . /egg-money/
