An Endeavour At Civility

By Jennifer Ray

Beginning, Next Section

Author's note: This story was inspired by Bim's story 'Better Than That', which serves as Chapter 1.

Chapter One

Posted on 2008-07-25

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.

She felt exasperated, and anger rose in her for his presumption. Should it be the first proposal she received and had to reject, she would allow her anger to answer for her as soon as he ceased speaking. But alas, it was not the first time she found herself in this position, and had still freshly in mind her considerations on that topic.

No matter how ridiculous a suitor Mr Collins was, it still made her think on the topic of what a proposal means to a man, and what it must be to him to gather his courage and approach a woman of his choice. Even if the suitor was as confident in his success as Mr Collins was, it still was a hard task for him, especially that he usually had no previous experience nor possibility to practice such a situation beforehand. Even Mr Collins was nervous, though he could have no clues about the possibility of being rejected (well, there were many clues, but he still was clueless).

And because a woman was expected to thank the gentleman for his addresses and demurely accept, the more the blow an actual rejection was.

She stopped to consider for a while what a blow it will be to Mr Darcy - he surely was not on the search of the wife as Mr Collins was, and he would not so easily turn away and propose to the next available girl in neighbourhood, nor will he take her refusal with no explanation and go away, she was sure of it.

She could accuse him of many things, but not of lack of understanding and well-informed mind. From their battles of wit she knew at least that - he will inquire, and though it was tempting to throw all her hatred into his face, she hoped, she was better than that and could conquer the temptation to hurt him as much as possible, to take her revenge for the suffering of Jane.

In any other situation, if their chances were equal, or even to her disadvantage, she would laugh in his face and tell him exactly what she thought. But now, when he made himself vulnerable to her, she could not take the advantage of it, even if he would, being in her place. She was better than that.

After receiving her first proposal of marriage, she thought much on the situation of the suitor scorned. She knew, Mr Darcy, apart from being inquisitive, will - with all his pride and his self-confidence - be all the more hurt and furious after hearing her refusal. He will overcome it soon enough, but this didn't mean, his position now was any better.

She must be strong, and so she would. She just needed not to look at him.

And so, looking at her lap, she imagined it was Mr Bingley she was talking to, and softly stated:

“Sir, I do thank you for the great compliment you pay me by your addresses. I am truly sorry to disappoint you, as I would be towards any man that I had to reject. But it cannot be helped. I am sure you would expect your bride to bring into your marriage, if nothing else, then at least feelings equalling yours. I'm afraid I am not able to fulfil this demand. I hope you would find a woman, who would be happy to receive your addresses as much as you would be by paying them and thus will be more deserving of the title of Mrs Darcy than I ever could.”

Yes, thinking of Mr Bingley was a good idea. It was good, she did not say “Mrs Bingley” - she almost smiled at the thought, but stopped herself in time, lest Mr Darcy thought her mocking him, which was the last thing she wanted now.

She just wanted this interview to end, and so she rose, still not looking at him.
“Again, Sir, allow me to express how sorry I am, but you do not know me, and it surely would be a great mistake, had I agreed.”

“You aren't... Are you refusing me?”

At least he was sensible enough to understand she was not one of the young ladies who decide to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour, as Mr Collins believed her to be.

Oh, how she wished for this interview to be over!

“Sir, I hope you see it yourself, that all the objections you have about or toward me as your wife do not bode well for our felicity in marriage...”

“But I overcame them, as you can see from my proposing to you.”

“Yes, Sir, but you seem not to take into account, that there are some objections on my side as well, that I had not overcome, nor had I any forewarning from your side, that I should even attempt to do so. As you yourself struggled so long with your feelings, I hope you can understand, that acting against one's will, against your reason, and even against your character is not an easy thing to do.”

She was looking at him by now, so she noticed, that he coloured slightly at this, though she wasn't sure if it was of embarrassment or of anger.

“Sir, I'm not saying that I do not appreciate the compliment you paid me by your addresses, but still this alone is not enough to make me accept a suitor that suddenly appears at my doorstep. I assure you, I had no knowledge of your struggles or your intentions, for if I did, I would have discouraged you somehow in this regard.”

“How could you not have been aware of the attentions I paid you, at least here in Kent?”

His shock was so genuine, that it somehow became clear to her, that he was genuinely puzzled.

“Sir, I know many gentlemen, that are not married, and this fact alone doesn't make me suppose, that they are considering me as a potential bride. There are Mr Lucas, Mr Keeling, Mr Bingley, Pastor Jones - just to mention some from Hertfordshire, you know as well. You would be as unexpected a suitor to me as any of them, if not more so. As to our time in Kent, if I had to, I would rather say that your cousin was acting more like a suitor, than you ever have...”

He became rather agitated at this. “He will never propose to you.” He blurted.

“As I well know, Sir.”

He stopped his pacing and stood there looking at her. She was a bit unnerved, for his face was unfathomable.

“So you had expected to hear a proposal from me even less than from my cousin, and you knew his was impossible.”

“Yes.” She was relieved, that he was reasonable enough to understand this, without her need to clarify this any further. She was tired of this interview, as being careful not to harm her suitor and the tension of not being able to predict his reactions was wearing her and she resumed her seat.

“I don't want to impose on you Miss Bennet, but I hope, that even if you won't accept me now, you will at least allow me to try to rectify the situation you just mentioned.”

She looked at him confused, and then astonished and terrified, as soon as she understood his meaning. She never expected that her being gentle with him as a suitor will give him an impression, that he could change her decision in time.

“Sir, please understand, that, as I see it now, the gulf between us is too great to ever overcome. I had no intention of giving you such an impression or misleading you in this regard. I think it would be in the best interest of both of us, that you would not tender any proposal toward me again.” She was so tired of this, that she let her guards drop for a moment and the irony she put into word `tender' was unmistakable. She looked up at him to gauge, if he noticed it, but she saw only his back, as he was looking out of the window. When he turned back, she didn't see any sign he caught her meaning.

“Still, I will take my chances, Miss Bennet.”

She was at a loss how to discourage him, without actually openly offending him - which she already decided not to do, even if her present anger toward him tempted her sorely to just do that.

“Sir, I don't know how to...”

But he (quite rudely, she would have noticed, if she had had any time to think on it) interrupted her in the middle of the sentence: “Miss Bennet, I am afraid it was quite an exhausting interview and you were not feeling well - you must be tired and have been long desiring my absence. I will now leave you to your rest. I hope to see you tomorrow.”

“You and the Colonel will call to take your leave tomorrow? You plan to leave on Saturday do you not?”

“We do plan to call tomorrow; the Colonel is to take his leave of you. My cousin has an engagement with his regiment, that he cannot miss, but I have no such obligations, so I decided to extend my stay.”

There was nothing she could say to this, she could only hope against what she believed to be true, that this decision was not made this moment.

“Have a good evening, Miss Bennet.”

He bowed, and she stood to make a curtsy. And then he was gone.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth returned to her seat, her mind scarcely believing what had just happened. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case, was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection.

Despite the vast contrast between Mr Darcy and Mr Collins, and the difference in the wording of their proposals she could not help but compare their offers and there were some striking similarities between her previous and present suitors: she had not knowingly encouraged either man, each had commented on her situation in society and at least hinted of the benefits connections by their marriage would bring, and most pertinently neither were easily dissuaded from their suit. However this time Papa was in Hertfordshire, while she was in Kent, and could not support her decision with Mr Darcy as he had with Mr Collins. There was no Jane to confide in and she could not speak of this to Charlotte. Her marriage to Mr Collins had irreparably fractured their friendship and marriage was the last subject she wished to raise with her childhood friend. Charlotte would blame her for refusing Mr Darcy's proposal outright and would not be able to understand, let alone support, her wish to deny his offer of courtship. Her lips formed a wry smile as she thought that the only person in her immediate vicinity whom she believed would support her case was the last person she would confide in. Lady Catherine did not impress her as a reliable confidante. She was on her own.

That she would refuse his courtship was the only option she could consider. Had she not felt such a deeply-rooted dislike, his dissuading Mr Bingley from his pursuit of Jane would be enough to deny his request. Add to that his cruelty towards Mr Wickham, his pride, his arrogance and his conceit - there was simply no way she could possibly accept his suit.

Her efforts to be courteous thus far had been rewarded with the threat of a week of the unwelcome courtship from a proud, disagreeable man and she was sorely tempted to abandon all attempts at making measured and polite responses and let just her temper rule her tongue. But she would not allow herself to break her resolve to at least attempt an endeavour at civility. She was determined to show him that for all her `inferiority' and the disparity of their stations she could behave with good manners despite his behaviour.

The thought of receiving marked attention from Mr Darcy made her uncomfortable in the extreme and her thoughts were deliberating on how she could politely reject any further advances when the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's observation, and she hurried away to her room with one thought dominating her reflections: “I need to change his mind”.

Darcy was feeling rather confounded. In a state of abstraction he walked towards Rosings without being fully aware of his surroundings. Of all the possible responses to his offer he had dreamt of, ranging from her demure, blushing acceptance to their sharing a desperately passionate first kiss, he had never thought to consider her refusing him. When he heard her say the words he could scarce believe it and had found himself, rather stupidly he thought in hindsight, asking for clarification. A woman surely does not say `you do not know me, and it surely would be a great mistake if I agreed,' if they plan to accept you. But he did know her, his mind cried out, and he could not agree that it would be a great mistake. Far from it, he could think of nothing better than to have her accept him. To have her comely form grace Pemberley in reality, rather than just in his imaginings could never be wrong. She belonged there as much as he did. He could imagine the delighted expressions that would brighten her face as she discovered the various walks there with him, and as he introduced her to his favourite haunts. She would love the library he thought wistfully. They had a mutual love of reading, they shared a great deal, they suited so well he was amazed she could not see it. He knew her opinions in many areas and where he could not agree with them he could respect them. He admired her compassionate nature, her artless grace, and her unrelenting vivacity and energy. He could feel that their tempers though different would compliment each other, they were evenly matched in intelligence and understanding. She was his true other half in all ways that mattered except the most important. He knew her well but his information was acutely lacking, it seemed, concerning her deepest feelings and thoughts for the future. She did not love him. “How did that escape me?” He mounted the steps to Rosings' entrance with a single thought running through his head: “I need to change her mind”.

As Darcy entered the entrance hall Colonel Fitzwilliam broke into his reverie, “Darcy! Thank goodness you are back - Lady Catherine is becoming increasingly difficult to mollify. Where have you been?”

Darcy continued to the staircase as he spoke, “Tell Lady Catherine I have business, Fitzwilliam. You may wish to mention that I shall not be returning with you to London and shall stay another week. That should placate her.”

“It should indeed. When did you decide this?” The Colonel flashed Darcy a sly smile, “Is not Miss Bennet also to stay another week?”

The Colonel did not miss the flicker of pain that crossed Darcy's face at the mention of her name. Darcy paused, his hand on the banister, and fixed the Colonel with a cool glare, “Fitzwilliam, let us not talk of this now.”

“Darcy when else are we to talk? I am to leave tomorrow.”

“Precisely.” Darcy moved quickly up the stairs, “Goodnight Fitzwilliam.”

Darcy hoped rather than believed the good Colonel would be so easily dissuadable from continuing that conversation and a little more than half an hour later he was made to wish he had locked the door to his rooms as Fitzwilliam unceremoniously entered, with a tray holding a decanter and two glasses.

“But knowing Fitzwilliam,” Darcy thought ruefully as he glowered at his cousin, “he would not hesitate to use the servant's entrance.”

“Glare as much as you wish Darcy” the Colonel said as he took a seat opposite Darcy and placed the tray on a side table, “I shan't melt, or turn to stone and I certainly shan't run away! Good grief! I've survived many much more evil looking foes on the continent and have lived to tell the tale. You don't scare me. Before I leave tomorrow you shall tell me what has happened between you and Miss Bennet to cause you to retreat behind your stony façade.” his smile broadened wickedly, “You can speak willingly, but due to the time constraints I am not above resorting to drastic measures.”

“And what measures would those be, dear cousin?”

“As you see, I have come armed with a very full decanter of best brandy and if that will not loosen your tongue…” he poured himself a measure then leaned back in his chair, warming his brandy in his hand, and fixed his cousin with a pointed look, “well let me say that Lady Catherine would be very interested in my information, and as I am leaving tomorrow I can leave you to deal with the consequences all alone.”

Darcy paled at the thought, “Even you would not stoop so low.”

“I am well versed in all forms of torture, but I will not have to carry out any threats if you confide in me.”

Images ran through Darcy's mind of an irate Lady Catherine ranting about his lack of prudence and familial duty. He could almost hear her piercing cry of “What about Anne?” He doubted not that she would begin strident abuse of Miss Bennet, and could imagine her storming off to the Parsonage to voice her concerns to Miss Bennet in person…he could not risk it. Darcy's face took on a resigned air, “Are you going to share that brandy?”

“Of course.” He poured Darcy a glass, handed it to him, then settled back comfortably in his chair, “Now how is the parsonage this evening?”

“Civil, polite and holding out little hope.”

“You sound rather desperate.”

“I am rather desperate. I love her, I need her and she will not have me.”

“For goodness sake Darcy! Just ask her to marry you and end your suffering. A woman would be out of her senses to refuse you.”

Darcy replied through gritted teeth: “Miss Bennet is not out of her senses.”

“No, so she will not refuse you.”

“She did.” Darcy whispered

“What?” The Colonel sat bolt upright, giving Darcy his full attention.

Darcy shot out of his chair and leaned against the mantelpiece and stared into the space where there would be a fire, had it been lit. “I asked her. She refused.”

“She refused to marry you? I can scarce believe it. What did she say?”

“She was very polite, gentle even.”

“Did she give a reason?”

Darcy swirled the brandy in his glass and then quickly drank the entire contents, his voice came out slightly choked, “She does not love me; she had no notion that I loved her.”

“She did not know of your feelings?” Fitzwilliam asked incredulously, reaching over to refill Darcy's glass, “What have you been doing on these early morning assignations in the grove?”

“Apparently, not enough.”

“Did you not follow my advice?”

Darcy glanced at the Colonel reproachfully, then turned his attention back to the empty hearth. After a moment or two he spoke: “She mentioned…she said you had played the suitor more than I.”

The Colonel reclined in his chair, a wide rakish grin on his lips, “I usually do, do I not? Is that not why you came to me in the first place?”

“I did not come to you, you came to me and I should not have confided in you.” He turned to glare accusingly at his cousin, “You have spent the last few weeks endeavouring to make me jealous.”

“And succeeding most admirably, I might add. Come - stop glaring before your eyeballs pop out. We were indulging in a little harmless flirtation, we both knew it, she would not be expecting a proposal from me - she certainly will not be receiving one.”

Darcy returned his attention to the fireplace, “She was not expecting one. A proposal from you she saw as impossible one from me she deemed even less likely.”

“Either she is quite, quite blind, or you are an incompetent suitor.”

Darcy thoughtfully took a sip of brandy this time savouring the smooth, oak-like bouquet. He could not think where he had gone wrong but could not in good conscience pass all the blame onto the woman he loved. “Perhaps a little of both.”

“An unenviable combination.” The Colonel's brandy had warmed sufficiently and he inhaled the almost buttery aroma before taking a slow, appreciative drink, “Is she worth it?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Then court her and do it properly this time.”

Darcy took another comforting sip, “I asked to court her, she tried to refuse.”

“Tried to?”

“I asked…she said she could offer no hope, I said I would take my chances and when she began to reject me again I … I interrupted her, I said I would see her tomorrow and left.”

“You interrupted her? Fitzwilliam Darcy - a man of impeccable manners, the same man who is unceasingly polite to Miss Bingley, interrupted the one woman on whom he needs to make a good impression?”

Darcy closed his eyes in pain Colonel's words but nodded as he acknowledged the truth of them. “I simply could not handle a further rejection, no matter how civil.”

“And what do you expect tomorrow? Open arms?”

“No, of course not. I fully expect her to dismiss me, but I have to try.”

“I can understand her refusing a proposal of marriage if she does not return your feelings - it is admirable considering her situation in life - but to refuse your offer of courtship outright seems rather dim-witted. Unless of course…”

Darcy spun round to face him. “You cannot leave that sentence unfinished!”

The Colonel met Darcy's pained eyes and said calmly, “Unless she is in love with another.”

Darcy raked his hand through his hair, “Would she not have said so? She did not imply anything of the sort.”

“She may have,” Fitzwilliam shifted in his seat, he tried valiantly but was simply unable to resist teasing his cousin, “Unless she was in love with someone who she had deemed would never propose to her.”

“You are not suggesting she is in love with you!”

“I do not think she is,” The Colonel's roguish smile widened, “but then again I could be wrong - she did not think you in love with her.”

“I thought you wished to help!”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Darcy's pained expression sent feelings of remorse through him and he drew a heartening drink from his glass, “Very well…why do you think she tried to refuse your offered courtship?”

Darcy racked his brain. He tried to recall her words but she had given no real reason. “She said that I had had time to overcome my objections but the unexpected nature of the proposal had given her no time to overcome hers. I have no idea what objections she could have.” He swallowed the contents of his glass and then refilled it. “If she does love someone else…oh that does not bear thinking about…I would kill him but that would surely make her hate me.”

The temptation for Fitzwilliam was too much to bear, “How do you know she does not already hate you?” Darcy answered this only with a fierce look, The Colonel continued, “That could be her objection but she is too polite to say outright:” his voice rose to a falsetto, “`I will not marry you because I despise you'.”

“If she does hate me I may very well kill myself.”

The Colonel realised Darcy's grave thoughts were stemming from him having swallowed, very quickly, some excellent brandy on an essentially empty stomach. Darcy had toyed with his food at dinner, much to Lady Catherine's consternation. His thoughts had obviously been on his forthcoming proposal. Ruefully, the Colonel considered that if Darcy did win the heart of his Miss Bennet it would in all likelihood mean the end of such a fine cognac being provided during his annual pilgrimage to Rosings. Brandy of this quality was rarely seen in an all female household and Lady Catherine offered it purely for Darcy's benefit, and Darcy rarely drank the stuff.

“I think your tongue is loosened well enough now.” said the Colonel reaching for Darcy's glass.

Darcy stepped back protectively shielding his glass from the Colonel's hand, “No, not nearly enough.”

Fitzwilliam sighed, not envying the headache Darcy would undoubtedly have in the morning. “Hate is not so very bad - trust me, it is far better than indifference - remember hate and love are two sides of the same coin. If she hates you at least she is passionate about you. You simply need to work out the reasons behind it and change it to a more pleasant passion. If she is indifferent then you have problems, you may as well resign yourself to being little more than a brother.”

Darcy let out a mournful groan and returned to leaning on the mantelpiece staring at the dead hearth, sipping his brandy.

Fitzwilliam seemed lost in reflection, cradling his glass and twirling it, watching the candlelight dance on the amber liquid, after a while he voiced his thoughts, “How did she come to know of your objections?”

“I told her.”

“Good Lord! What did you say?”

“I described the difference of our social stations and how the family would be somewhat disappointed and emphasised that my love for her overcame my struggles and I would stand by her in the future.”

“Do you really believe the best way to recommend your suit is to point out her family's inferiority?”

Darcy turned to his cousin and looked incredulous, “What should I have said? That I rejoice in her inferior connections? Congratulated myself on acquiring relations whose condition in life is far below my own?”

“Of course not! You say nothing! Do you think she does not know her own situation in life? Do you think she does not know you belong to the first circles? Why do you think she thought a proposal from either of us so impossible? Of course she knows - you do not have to make her feel it so acutely, and certainly not as part of a marriage proposal. You tell her she is not worthy to kiss the ground beneath your feet, but you are willing to condescend to marry her.”

Darcy stood staring into the hearth as he absorbed this new information. He raised his glass to his lips and took a mouthful of the aromatic liquid, feeling it burn its way down his throat.

“You make me sound like Lady Catherine.”

“No, you accomplished that quite admirably with no help from me. Had Miss Bennet been as sycophantic as her cousin she would have undoubtedly fallen at your feet. But she is no Mr Collins! To fully guarantee that you will never see her again all you need is for her to draw the same comparison. You could not have alienated her more had you set out to do so.”

Darcy sank into his chair and looked defeated, “What can I do?”

“Grovel.” Fitzwilliam fixed a pointed stare on Darcy to convey the message that he had no choice in the matter, grovelling was his only option. “Is there anything else you should tell me?”

“No I believe we have covered all the salient points.”

“You have a week before she is to return home. My advice is to think carefully tonight - not about yourself, you have thought about yourself enough, think about her.”

Darcy laughed scornfully. He, whose every waking thought was haunted by a pair of laughing, sparkling eyes, needed no such advice, “She is never out of my head.”

“Perhaps, but had you spared more than a passing thought for her feelings you would have realised she was not ready for your proposal.”

This gave Darcy pause. He had wondered before how he had not noticed her lack of feeling towards him. This is how it had escaped him, she was in his thoughts constantly of what she was to him but he seldom thought of what he meant to her.

“You have improved my mood no end, Fitzwilliam,” he replied in sarcastic tones, “I am the image of Lady Catherine - condescending and arrogant - with ungentlemanlike manners who has selfishly given no thought to the feelings of the woman he loves, who by the by is either in love with you or despises me.”

“Or quite possibly both.”

“Thank you. I had not considered that consoling possibility. But at least I can take comfort in the fact that she is not like Mr Collins. Why did I ever think you could help me?”

“At least you know now where you went wrong and, if you can repair the damage, you can prevent yourself from repeating those mistakes.”

Chapter Three

Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of any thing else, and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's sometimes coming there gave her pause. She remained at a loss as to how to dissuade Mr Darcy from his suit politely, without offending him, which she was resolved not to do. However she must meet him at some point, it would be very hard to hide from a determined suitor for the whole week, and as it would be best that this awkward first meeting was endured alone rather than in the company of others she continued down towards the grove.

The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. Elizabeth was admiring a particularly fine specimen, just breaking into blossom, further along the walk, when as the path rounded she caught a glimpse of a gentleman leaning against its trunk. His shoulders were somewhat slumped and his head bowed but despite this uncharacteristic attitude she knew it to be Mr Darcy. Reminding herself of her determination to be civil she fixed a smile on her face which she hoped was not too encouraging, closed the distance between them and called out a greeting. He looked up on hearing her voice; his eyes were tired and red rimmed and she doubted not that he had slept very little, if at all. Elizabeth appeared to Darcy as all that was lovely, she was looking at him earnestly with a tentative smile on her lips, the fresh air and exercise had enhanced her complexion and had worked their usual miracles with her eyes. The vision of her was a balm to his troubled soul. As Darcy stepped toward her and made his bow she almost gasped. Never had she seen a man so altered in so short a space of time. Gone was the air of hauteur that usually encompassed him instead before her stood a man ill at ease, frighteningly vulnerable, almost broken.

“Can this be Mr. Darcy!” thought she. Any lingering thoughts of lashing out with her temper were replaced with an almost overwhelming compassion and desire to protect him. If this was the result of a civil rejection to the man, what would his condition be had she allowed her anger free reign? That did not bear thinking about.

“Miss Bennet, I am very glad to see you this morning,” he spoke in soft tones, his voice holding no hint of anger or resentment, revealing only his pleasure in seeing her, “I was afraid you would not come.”

“I thought it best for this first meeting to be alone sir, rather than in company.”

“Then I am indebted to you.” He replied, his style not haughty, but penitent “I wish…Miss Bennet, I beg you would accept my apologies for my behaviour yesterday evening.”

Whatever she had expected him to say, this - the proud and disagreeable Mr Darcy humbling himself and begging her forgiveness - was the furthest thing from her mind. His behaviour was so strikingly altered. Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this morning. She knew not what to think, nor how to account for it. Elizabeth hardly knew how to answer him and it was a moment before she could formulate a response.

“Your behaviour was quite unexceptional, sir, you have no need to apologise.”

“You are too kind, however if that behaviour was unexceptional for me then I am even more in need of your forgiveness.”

“Mr Darcy, I…”

“No please,” he replied, pleading with his eyes and making a small gesture with his hand indicating his wish for her to stop speaking, “allow me to continue. I did nothing correctly yesterday. I was selfish and arrogant. Had I stopped to consider your feelings I should have realised that you were not prepared to hear my proposal…at the very least,” he continued in a small voice, “I should not have attempted it when I knew you were in poor health. Forgive me - I hope I did not exacerbate your symptoms? Are you well?”

The events of the previous day: the revealing discussion with Colonel Fitzwilliam and her subsequent tumultuous thoughts followed by a difficult and wearing interview with the man in front of her had certainly taken their toll. But Mr Darcy himself looked very ill indeed, and looked at her with such an earnest expression in his eyes, she felt she could not add further to his anguish by confessing the true effect his ill-timed proposal had on her.

“I am very well this morning, sir.”

“I am very relieved to hear it.”

Darcy looked as though he would continue to speak then checked himself and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. By the expression on his face it was apparent to Elizabeth they were not pleasant. It pained her to see it. The silence hung heavily between them and she felt a pressing need to break it.

“Perhaps sir, if we are done with apologies, I need only assure you of my forgiveness and we can continue on the walk?”

“Would that that were the end of my apologies, Miss Bennet!” he said with a voice thick with emotion, “But I believe I can walk and beg at the same time.”

Darcy looked at her with such an expression of regret in his eyes her astonishment was extreme and she was grieved for the unhappiness which her refusal must have given him. They walked in silence for a short while as Mr Darcy was busily composing his anguished thoughts. Elizabeth could not bear to meet his troubled eyes and directed her attention to the wild violets and fresh new spurts of foliage peeking between the blades of grass at the side of the path. She contrasted Mr Darcy's current self-doubting expressions with the look of security on his face, last evening, which showed him to be very sure of succeeding and considered how such feelings must have increased his disappointment. Elizabeth was heartily sorry for him but felt his other feelings would probably soon drive away his regard. Amazed at the alteration in his manner since they last parted, the few minutes in which they continued together were some of the most uncomfortable of her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness:

“Miss Bennet, I have been trying to formulate my words carefully in an endeavour not to cause you any additional pain. But I must apologise for my failure to do as much yesterday evening. What was intended as a declaration of love became an insult to you and your family and I cannot begin to express my regret. If you can believe it I was endeavouring to prove to you that my offer was not rash, that I had thought through any and all consequences and was prepared to weather any resulting storm and protect you from it. I expressed myself very poorly and I fear instead of protecting you from harm I must have pained you greatly.”

During his speech, she had turned away from him as she walked, her eyes were fixed at a point on the horizon and her face was shielded from Darcy's eyes by her bonnet, so he could not see her expression. Her posture became rigid and she had wrapped her arms around herself protectively. It had taken every ounce of restraint Elizabeth possessed last night to remain civil to the man who had deemed her family `inferior' and connection to them as a `degradation'. She believed his apology to be truly sincere but though he had explained his motivation and expressed his remorse the pain he inflicted had only lessened by a degree, not vanished completely. The wound was too fresh to heal completely with a few carefully chosen words, no matter how heartfelt the sentiments.

“I cannot deny that I was hurt.” She said in a quiet, tight voice.

“I hardly dare ask for your forgiveness.” Darcy replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew he had pained her more deeply than she would admit to him and tried to think of anything that he could say or do to remove that sorrow. Would that he could take her in his arms and comfort her! But he knew full well that she would reject any such advances. He would have to rely on words alone and making pretty speeches had never been his strong suit. He wished, not for the first time in his life, that he could have something of Colonel Fitzwilliam's easy manners, and wondered what his cousin would say in a similar situation. Deciding that endeavouring to introduce some humour may lighten her mood, Darcy decided that to redress the balance he would share an anecdote to the cost of himself and his family.

“I took my cousin into my confidence.” he told her, his sharing of such personal information drew her attention and she turned to look at him. “He is a Job's comforter indeed, but it is no more than I deserved,” Darcy continued, “He implied that if Lady Catherine were ever to propose marriage that would be the way she would go about it. He hoped for my sake that you would not consider the similarities.”

He was rewarded when he saw a small smile playing on her lips. It took Elizabeth only a very little while to fully appreciate his motives in revealing this to her. He was trying to make reparation by acknowledging that his own family was far from perfect and in order to do so he had shared an embarrassing and private conversation in an effort to cheer her. There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation towards him than she had ever felt in the course of their acquaintance. “In what an amiable light does this place him!” she thought.

She arched an eyebrow as she replied, “You may assure the Colonel I did not draw any such comparison.”

Darcy studied her face to see how his disclosure had affected her and saw with delight that an amused smile still graced her face, as he watched her eyes began to sparkle and her teeth bit down on her bottom lip.

“May I ask what you are thinking?” said Darcy, “I have often seen you with that expression on your face as you battle not to say something and I have just as often wished to be privy to those same mischievous thoughts.”

Elizabeth began to weigh up her response and Darcy sensed her indecision.

“It is presumptuous of me, I know,” he said, “and you need not humour me but let me tell you that if you are deliberating an unflattering comparison between myself and Lady Catherine I have undoubtedly already tortured myself with it last night and you would be saying nothing new.”

Elizabeth was unable to resist teasing him, Darcy's speech had given her all the encouragement she needed to voice her thoughts, “I was remembering a comparison I drew last night - not to Lady Catherine, but to another even less favourable, I believe.”

Guiltily aware of sacrificing good manners at Lady Catherine's expense he encouraged her to be more forthcoming, “Indeed? Less favourable than Lady Catherine?”

“Mr Collins?”

Darcy stopped walking abruptly and looked positively stunned. Elizabeth giggled. “Mr Collins?... How?...That is worse than Lady Catherine…In what way are we similar?...I do not know that I wish to hear your reply to that question.”

Elizabeth's laughter had never previously conjured up such conflicting emotions for Darcy. He was torn between delight at his success in lightening her mood, discomfiture that it was at his expense and mortification that she had found a similarity between him and his Aunt's fool of a rector.

Elizabeth, her eyes shining in amusement belying her innocent expression, had Darcy entranced, as she said, “Indeed Mr Darcy, Mr Collins is a very respectable man. Why are you so afraid of a comparison?”

“Because Miss Bennet, I do not believe you drew a comparison between us to prove `respectability' is the trait we share.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly at him, “Let me just say that you do not have the distinction of being the first to propose marriage to me.”

“Mr Collins proposed to you?”

“Indeed he did.”

Darcy frowned and was lost in thought for a moment, “Forgive me, but he did not play the rejected suitor at the Netherfield ball and I had heard he was staying in Hertfordshire only a further week, when did he become engaged to Mrs Collins?”

“Three days after the ball. Two days after failing to secure my hand.”

“Two days! He is…a singular gentleman.”

“He is indeed.”

Unwelcome thoughts entered Darcy's head asking him whether there was more to her comparing him with Mr Collins. His opinion of himself at that moment was so low that he began to suspect there was. Could she think neither man had a single agreeable quality? Did she believe him to be a self-important fool?

“I am almost afraid to ask,” he said after a brief pause, “but am painfully curious, did my comparison with Mr Collins run deeper than the fact that we both have the honour of being rejected by you?”

Mr Darcy was displaying his vulnerability again and she decided not to tease him further, “Not to the character or intelligence of either suitor, but I admit I did compare the proposals. And there again, not to the wording or behaviour of either man, merely as to the basic content.”

“And there were similarities, other than the obvious question and reply?”

“There were indeed. Are you sure you wish to hear?”

Darcy tentatively nodded his assent. He was not entirely sure he wanted to hear but submitted to his morbid curiosity,

“Both contained words of my situation in society,” She continued, staring at the ground, unable to look at him, “Both, surprisingly - or not, I suppose - contained the thoughts and expectations of your family to the match,” Darcy scoffed at this, “I had encouraged the suit of neither man, yet both to a lesser or greater degree had some difficulty accepting my answer.”

“Was I the lesser or the greater degree?”

“Oh the lesser most definitely.” She met his eyes and smiled up at him, “I had to flee from Mr Collins after refusing him, as I recall, five times - each time decidedly less civil than the last. You, however, felt the need to flee from me.”

“I should apologise, I interrupted you most ungraciously last evening---”

“Mr Darcy - It seems it is my turn to return the favour and interrupt you - indeed you do not need to apologise for that, the interview was uncomfortable for me and I do not share your feelings, I cannot begin to imagine what you must have felt. I do not blame you for wishing to leave.”

The simple message that this speech conveyed to him, that she was trying to understand his emotions and the reminder of how kind and compassionate a woman she truly was caused a little ray of hope to lighten his heart. They walked a little way together in silence until she turned to him with a mischievous grin.

“Did the Colonel offer any other pearls of wisdom?”

“He did indeed, Miss Bennet.”

“You do not believe that such obvious good sense from such an astute and insightful source should be shared?”

“Astute and insightful?” he asked dryly, “Well, he does excel himself on occasion. You have me at a very great disadvantage Miss Bennet for there is very little I could deny you, should you happen to ask.”

She answered him with an encouraging smile and he barely managed to repress a smirk as he answered, “He compared you to Mr Collins.”

“No!”

“Yes. He is indeed a most insightful and astute sage.”

“And after such a comparison you no doubt congratulated yourself on your happy escape.”

“No madam, my character is not the one compared to Mr Collins, I shall not forget you in one day and offer myself to another the next. My heart is not so inconstant.”

“I dread to think how my character compares to Mr Collins'!”

“I shall end your suffering.” he said with a self-depreciating smile, “After comparing my proposal style to that of Lady Catherine he told me that only a person such as Mr Collins could fail to take offence. Your character compared very favourably and therefore I must again offer my apologies for my poor choice of words and lack of judgement. You are very different from your cousin; you are a remarkable woman Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth looked at him and saw an intense expression in his eyes that held her transfixed. She thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had raised before; she remembered the warmth of his proposal, and softened its impropriety of expression. “He is a very different suitor to Mr Collins”. She thought before recollecting herself, colouring and dropping her gaze to her toes.

Had she been able to look up she would have seen his smile widen as he noticed her reaction and jumped to the logical conclusion: she was not indifferent to him. By a process of elimination he now realised she was either in love with another or hated him or quite possibly both. His face fell.

“Miss Bennet, last night you indicated that I could have no hope in winning you, do you still feel the same?”

She had seen a side of Mr Darcy today that she had never seen before, nor one that she had ever dreamt of seeing. He seemed to have left his reserve behind this morning, and had been completely open and honest with her. While they had started out awkward she had warmed to him a little and while they had never been entirely comfortable this morning, their pain was too fresh, they had discussed difficult topics without resorting to arguing or anger, she had seen his heretofore carefully hidden sense of humour, and there was promise of an amicable relationship in the future, something she had never before felt in his presence. As she looked at him though she felt Jane's pain and recalled his treatment of Wickham and she knew there was only one answer she could give.

“I am afraid I do.”

“It is my heartfelt desire to change your mind, you must know that, I know full well that you are a woman of decided opinions and unless I can give very good arguments in my favour I have not the smallest hope of winning.” She gave him a small smile here and nodded her acknowledgment of this to be the truth, “In the interests of fair play, can I call upon your excellent sense of justice and kind heart to at least tell me what your objections are to my suit, so that I may attempt to defend myself?”

“You have a hidden cunning streak, sir. Fair play? You have cleverly worded your request so that I cannot refuse without appearing prejudiced and cruel.”

Elizabeth became lost in thought, Darcy watched her as a variety of emotions flickered across her face and was left wondering what was going through her mind. She admitted to herself that she felt a strong curiosity as to what he would say to defend himself but she was persuaded that he could have no explanation to give. She glanced up at him and noted that his vulnerable mien had returned, feeling oddly culpable for his present state although it was unconsciously done, she had not knowingly encouraged his advances. She did not wish to pain him further, and she feared what it would do to him to find out that the object of his love, so far from returning his feelings, actually dislikes him intensely. Oh, the power she held over him! Had she been vindictive and spiteful she could make him feel as much pain he had caused Jane.

“Mr Darcy, my reluctance to broach this topic stems from a desire not to cause you unnecessary pain: your objections hurt me, mine may very well hurt you.”

Darcy let out a breath he had not been aware he was holding, “I am willing to risk that. I only hope I can bear it with as much grace as you displayed.”

“Very well, I shall tell you if you truly wish it, but not today. This interview has been taxing enough for both of us I think and I for one ought to return to the Parsonage.”

“Miss Bennet words cannot express my thanks,” He looked into her eyes with an intense expression that she had before mistaken for disapproval. She now knew how very wrong she had been. She reluctantly acknowledged to herself that if Mr Darcy maintained his current level of civility, a week in his company would not be so very bad. Darcy held her gaze for a moment, losing himself in her eyes, then recollecting himself glanced in the direction of Rosings then the Parsonage as if in indecision and on checking his watch continued, “If you will permit me, I will return with you to the parsonage, my cousin should be arriving there shortly to take his leave of you and I would like to walk with him on the way back to Rosings.”

She nodded her assent and they walked back to the parsonage in the closest they had ever come to a companionable silence. They had walked in silence before, on other mornings, but Darcy realised Elizabeth had not been so comfortable previously. They now understood each other better, and despite having no understanding with each other, Darcy realised they had made some progress today. He had not changed her mind, and she had certainly not changed his, but they had somehow managed to agree to a mutually acceptable compromise.

Chapter Four

Posted on 2008-07-28

The Colonel was already stationed in the parlour, engaged in conversation with the residents of Hunsford Parsonage, when Darcy and Elizabeth were shown in. Prior to entering the room Darcy stood taller, squared his shoulders and schooled his features into a mask of reserve. Elizabeth felt some disappointment as she watched all traces of the amiable gentleman she met that morning vanish, he looked as grave as he did in Hertfordshire. “Who is the real Mr Darcy,” thought Elizabeth, “the vulnerable man of this morning to whom I almost felt I could warm, or this uninviting reticent one?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam also noticed Darcy's serious mien and gave Darcy an inquiring look, silently asking whether the morning meeting with Elizabeth was successful, but Darcy offered no hints. Frustrated by unsatisfied curiosity, Fitzwilliam smiled warmly at Elizabeth, and took what he knew would be Darcy's favoured position - sitting next to Elizabeth on the small sofa.

Darcy moved to stand opposite Elizabeth and the Colonel, behind a sofa where Maria and Mrs Collins were seated. Maria, who had been chatting happily with the Colonel prior to Darcy's arrival, now found herself intimidated into silence with his imposing frame standing directly behind her. Perhaps she may have felt differently had she known Darcy was also uncomfortable. He was in no mood for company. The events of this morning and yesterday evening had left him drained. He had come to the parsonage solely because he knew the Colonel would be there. He was envious of Fitzwilliam's ease of address and the effortless camaraderie he and Elizabeth shared. Comparing Elizabeth's genial conversations with Fitzwilliam and the somewhat stilted ones with himself he could understand her difficulty seeing him as an admirer. Darcy found himself glowering at the Colonel. Elizabeth's opinion that Fitzwilliam better fitted the role of suitor irked him. He wished to observe them together and this may be his last chance. He needed to see whether there was any truth to the assertion that Elizabeth was in love with Fitzwilliam.

“Miss Bennet I am very glad to see you. Are you well?” asked the Colonel, as Mrs Collins poured tea for the new arrivals, “We missed your company at Rosings last night.”

“I am much improved Colonel,” said Elizabeth, taking a proffered dish of tea from Charlotte, “I am very sorry to have been unable to attend last night.”

The Colonel, knowing that her penance for remaining at Hunsford was an interview with Darcy, which at best must have been uncomfortable for her, raised his eyebrow and said dryly, “I wager you are.”

“Indeed, my fair cousin feels it keenly I assure you.” said Mr Collins, “To be denied the pleasure of her Ladyship's illustrious company, and of course that of your fine selves, gentlemen, is a profound deprivation indeed and one which I am sure my dear young cousin has no wish to repeat.”

Darcy found himself moving his fierce glare from the Colonel to rest on the Rector. The gall of the man! To have the audacity to speak for Miss Elizabeth! At least there could not be that similarity between them - he would always respect her opinions. He glanced down at Charlotte. He had always thought her to be a sensible sort of woman. How could she tolerate such a man as her husband? Unwelcome thoughts entered his mind, that he could be visiting the parsonage under very different circumstances with Miss Elizabeth as Mrs Collins. He found himself glaring at Collins again and the Rector was looking decidedly uncomfortable, mopping his brow with his handkerchief and glancing up at him nervously. Darcy took a comforting sip of tea, turned his back on the room's occupants and stood near the window. He positioned himself carefully so he was able to view Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam via their reflections in the glass.

Colonel Fitzwilliam noticed Darcy's discomfort but found himself in no mood to ease it, instead he felt it necessary to allude to the previous evenings events, “Was it being denied Lady Catherine's presence or the lack of agreeable company at the parsonage which you felt more, Miss Bennet?”

Darcy did not miss Elizabeth's brief frown reflected on the window pane and her downcast manner. She seemed to feel uncomfortable with the Colonel's barbs and Darcy could not like them himself, however he almost wished that she would join in mocking him, if only so he could have the pleasure of seeing her smile. He was feeling guilty: guilt for causing her subdued mood; guilt for confiding in the Colonel and thus unwittingly bringing about his teasing of them now; and guilt for calling on her last night when she was in ill health.

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, even with only a view of his back, there was something about the way he was standing that told her he was agitated. It would be a simple matter for her to use her wit to increase his discomfort, and two or three retorts sprang easily to mind, but Mr Darcy had apologised, and seemed to feel sincerely remorseful, and she had no real wish to cause him further pain so she decided a neutral answer would be for the best.

“I find solitude when one is indisposed is usually favourable, sir.”

“Indeed it is.” replied the Colonel, “Having to bear with company when one feels the need to be alone is very taxing.”

Elizabeth was taking a sip of tea, while carefully formulating her answer, when Charlotte began to wonder how a conversation discussing the best way to deal with a headache could cause such agitation in Elizabeth, why her husband was casting wary glances at Darcy, and why that gentleman had retreated to the window. There was something about this conversation that was not readily apparent to her which was discomposing her guests. She decided, as a good hostess, she ought to change the subject, “Indeed, Lizzy rarely suffers a headache but some time in solitude usually does the trick, and as you can see she is quite well this morning. Colonel, do you travel to London tomorrow?”

“I do indeed, duty calls me away - I have business with my General. I leave very early in the morning.”

Elizabeth was grateful to Charlotte for her interjection, and while she had deemed Darcy undeserving of teasing this morning, the same could not be said for the Colonel. “That must be a great loss to the family you leave behind.” she replied, indicating Darcy with a furtive glance in his direction then continuing, somewhat dryly “How shall they bear your absence? You who are always ready with a kind word for any one out of sorts.”

Darcy turned away from the window as she spoke and returned to his place behind Maria, and offered Elizabeth a small smile. He was happy to see that her spirits were not as low as he thought, and even happier that his cousin was the subject of her teasing rather than himself.

“What has Darcy said to her this morning?” thought the Colonel. She had never before passed up an opportunity to tease his cousin, and now in contrast she was admonishing him for not being kinder.

“Indeed cousin there could not be any one in low spirits at Rosings,” said Mr Collins, unable to bear any possible slight to the fine residence of his noble patroness, “It could not be possible for anyone to be in poor spirits in so great a house with such distinguished company, indeed they could not.”

“If by some great misfortune there happen to be any such poor souls in residence” replied the Colonel with a fleeting look at Darcy, “they shall have to seek comfort from another source while my services are unavailable.” he looked pointedly at Elizabeth to show which source of comfort he had in mind.

“My cousin, I am sure,” replied Elizabeth, unwilling to offer any false hope to Darcy, “is always ready to offer an ear to any within his parish.”

The thought of Darcy using Mr Collins as his confidant had Colonel Fitzwilliam disguising an unrestrained burst of laughter as a cough, and Elizabeth glancing at Darcy noticed a smirk playing on his lips. Mr Collins was satisfied with the apparent compliment he received from his cousin.

“Indeed I am, cousin Elizabeth, to be sure Lady Catherine has repeatedly impressed upon me the need for a Rector to offer all possible consolation to his parishioners and her Ladyship herself condescends to pay close attention to the needs of all within the parish.”

The conversation continued on such topics as travel and weather and London with no further reference to the events of the previous evening. Darcy said very little, and Elizabeth began to wonder if the affability of the morning was a figment of her imagination. Darcy was occupied watching Elizabeth carefully, seeing if she displayed any symptoms of love for Fitzwilliam. She was friendly and charming but she did not look at him with any significant tenderness and he was satisfied to see no signs of a particular regard.

After half an hour the gentlemen prepared to leave, Mr Collins entered into a lengthy dialogue on how honoured he felt to have such prestigious gentlemen call at his humble abode, how the Colonel's presence would be sorely missed, both at Hunsford and (he was sure) Rosings, indeed Lady Catherine, he told them, had such a kind and compassionate heart, she could not fail to feel his loss keenly.

While Mr Collins dominated the conversation, Mr Darcy approached Elizabeth.

“I hope the weather is fine tomorrow for the Colonel's departure, and also for your own sake Miss Bennet: I am well aware of your fondness for walking. I hope you have an opportunity to do so tomorrow.”

Realising he was attempting to surreptitiously arrange another meeting, she replied, “I thank you sir, I do plan to walk out tomorrow.”

Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam made their way back to Rosings at a leisurely pace. Neither was willing to quickly put an end to this moment of peace by hastening back to Lady Catherine's company.

“I am rather disappointed with your Miss Bennet this morning.” said the Colonel, breaking the silence, and receiving a scowl from his cousin as reward, “I gave her a nice opportunity to tease you but she failed to rise to the challenge. I could see she wanted to - she had that impish sparkle in her eyes - but instead she answered quite blandly and as much as scolded me for not being kind. Whatever did you say to her this morning?”

“I apologised for my behaviour.” replied Darcy, the sound of distant quacking drew his eye to the heavens, to a team of ducks flying in formation overhead, “She is far too gracious to mock me after accepting my apology.”

“Ah - grovelling, works like a charm.” The Colonel seeing the birds that claimed Darcy's attention stopped, raised his walking stick to his shoulder aimed it skyward and eyed the lead bird down its length, following it until the ducks disappeared behind a tree and out of his `rifle's' sights. “Has she accepted your offer of courtship?”

“No.” Darcy replied a little regretfully, then added with more confidence, “But she has agreed to voice her objections to enable me to attempt to persuade her.”

The cousins continued down the path, “And you have no idea as to what she will say?” asked the Colonel.

“None at all.” Darcy replied, then smiling at his cousin with a somewhat triumphant air continued “I do not however, believe her to be in love with you.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, “I did not seriously believe she was! I am not the only other man of her acquaintance however.” At Darcy's somewhat deflated look, the Colonel placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, “You have done good work this morning, soldier. I was almost of the opinion the damage was irreparable.”

“You were not accounting for the goodness of Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy replied almost reverently, “She was rightly angry at my manner of proposal, yet she checked her temper and measured her responses. Why? To lessen my pain - while I was yet hurting her! She does not profess to love me and yet she was more concerned for my feelings than I was for hers. Fitzwilliam, I can draw but one logical conclusion.”

“You do not truly love her?”

“What! No! I am more in love with her today than ever before. I must conclude I am shockingly unworthy of her.”

“If you believe that you may have a chance at winning her.”

They mounted the steps to the entrance of Rosings, each gentlemen lost in silent contemplation. As they reached the front door, Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled and voiced his thoughts: “I would have given a monkey to see her let loose her anger on you.”

“I have sparred with her verbally in jest,” replied Darcy solemnly, “I should hate to do it in earnest, especially after offering for her. I am greatly indebted to her.”

Elizabeth and Charlotte were in the Parsonage's small back parlour later that day, busily stitching, working their way through Charlotte's poor basket. Maria had been assisting them but as the quality of her work had diminished as she had grown increasingly fidgety and restless, Mrs Collins had sent her out into the garden before the smock she was sewing was quite ruined.

Charlotte had been giving Elizabeth's future a great deal of thought these past few weeks, perhaps it was due to a niggling feeling of guilt that she had married the man meant for Elizabeth, that her future security would deprive the Bennet females of a home, or maybe it was simply the wish to see her good friend happy, perhaps a little of each. In any event, Charlotte wanted to see Elizabeth comfortably settled and her future secured. Eligible men were in scant supply in the area and had it not been for the arrival of Lady Catherine's two nephews, Charlotte's quarry would have been poor specimens indeed. Her thoughts of which gentleman Lizzy had the better chance of securing had been alternately swaying between Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam - Elizabeth herself seemed to think neither in danger of falling in love with her. Her chances seemed bleak indeed, Colonel Fitzwilliam was due to leave on the morrow and Mr Darcy in just one week, but Charlotte was not yet ready to give up entirely.

“Lizzy, are you sure you are quite well? You did not seem yourself earlier.”

Elizabeth looked up from her work momentarily, “I am much recovered Charlotte, do not worry.”

“Something the Colonel said seemed to agitate you.” Charlotte replied a little slyly, “Will you miss his company so very much?”

“Oh Charlotte!” said Elizabeth continuing to make her tidy stitches, “Please do not try to match me with him - I shall probably never see him again!”

“When he took his leave of you, he expressed a wish to meet you again.”

“I am sure he was just being polite - you are comparing his happy manners with his taciturn cousin and seeing love where there is only friendliness because of the great contrast between the two.” As the words left her lips, Elizabeth wondered if she had made a similar mistake. Had she failed to see Mr Darcy's admiration for her because his manners were not as easy as his cousin's?

“I had thought one of them might fall in love with you.”

“If only you knew!” thought Elizabeth, but she was not about to confide in Mrs Collins, her opinions on matrimony were far too different from her own. “I thank you for the compliment, but I did not expect it.”

“I thought for a time Mr Darcy was in love with you.” Charlotte said wistfully, as she completed a neat hem, thus finishing a serviceable shirt. She folded it and put it away before reaching across and taking up Maria's pitiful attempt at smocking. She began to unpick the worst of it, then, in a moment of perspicacity worthy of an oracle, she looked up at Elizabeth and said playfully, “He did not happen to declare himself on your walk this morning did he?”

Elizabeth's only visible sign of discomposure was a slight flinch of her hand as she pulled the thread through the fabric, “No,” she replied in perfect honesty, if not perfect openness, “He did not offer for me this morning.”

“Well, he has decided to stay an extra week, I would not discount the possibility.”

“Charlotte I did not visit you to find a husband! I came for the pleasure of your company!”

“It is best to keep one's eyes open Lizzy, and as you will not - I have to do so for you.”

“There is very limited choice here and Colonel Fitzwilliam cannot offer for me because he is a younger son and I have too little a dowry, and the less said about Mr Darcy the better!”

“You should not dismiss him so easily, you may find he is in love with you and will offer for you before the week is out! Stranger things have happened and you would be a very great simpleton if you were to refuse such a man because you have decided to dislike him.”

“No,” thought Elizabeth, “Charlotte will never understand my refusal of him.” She rethreaded her needle as she desperately tried to think of indisputable evidence to negate Charlotte's reasoning. Raising an eyebrow and wearing an impish grin, she replied, “Do not forget Charlotte - I am not handsome enough to tempt him!”

“Well, that may be,” Charlotte said thoughtfully, examining the smock for any further wayward stitches, “but if you set that aside for a moment, since then he has paid you some attention.”

“Has he indeed?” Elizabeth feigned nonchalance but was, in truth, feeling a great deal of curiosity as to Charlotte's observation of Mr Darcy's behaviour, “I have not noticed any great attentions toward myself.”

“He has always looked at you a great deal - that is what set me off thinking he admired you. In Hertfordshire he spoke to you more often than anyone else outside his party. He singled you out at the Netherfield ball - by dancing with you and standing near you all evening. He has called here many times and I am sure he would not if you were not here. And was this morning the only walk where he happened to come across you?”

Elizabeth was not about to answer Charlotte's question and so evaded it by saying laughingly, “Do not tease me anymore Charlotte or I shall repay you by making a worse job of this apron than Maria did of that smock!”

“Indeed, I do not know why I trusted her with it! I should have given her a handkerchief to work on.”

Charlotte had not been Elizabeth's friend for so long without gaining the ability to interpret her tone. She could not always appreciate Lizzy's sarcastic humour, and occasionally missed a witticism, but she knew when to cease speaking on a subject. She also knew when her words had hit home. Looking up from her work and observing Elizabeth's pensiveness she was content to leave her to her thoughts, sure that those thoughts were centering on Mr Darcy.

Charlotte was correct. Her comments had given Elizabeth much to think on. Charlotte's list of Mr Darcy's attentions toward her were worthy of reflection. He had singled her out, not so much as a more gregarious man might, but enough to make Charlotte suspicious. His propensity to stare at her she had presumed was solely to find fault. His eavesdropping she had dismissed as bad-manners and she had failed to notice her conversations were the sole subjects of his attention. He had called at the Parsonage, which she attributed purely to boredom even though he was not a sociable man and found conversation difficult. In what a different light did his actions now appear!

Elizabeth could add to Charlotte's list - Mr Darcy had met her on her morning walks. His meeting her despite knowing it was her favourite walk was not do to with any perversity on his part, not some strange act of penance to be purposefully seeking out someone he disliked, but a natural inclination to be near the woman he admired. It seemed such an obvious conclusion to make she wondered that she did not see it before. She had wanted to believe in his dislike to such an extent that she had given his actions an obscure motive indeed! He could have misconstrued her declaration of it being her favourite walk as an invitation to join her rather than a warning to stay away! She had perhaps unconsciously promoted his attentions! That was a sobering thought indeed. At least she could now be more careful and avoid encouraging him, but then hopefully she would not see him overmuch in the future. He had hinted at seeing her tomorrow in the grove for what promised to be their final conversation. Indeed, how could it be otherwise? Poetry could not kill a love as fast as the object of one's affections confessing their hatred of you.

How could she tell him that she disliked him without giving offence? If only Jane were here to advise and comfort her. Jane was a true proficient in never paining anyone and was sure to know how it could be done. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she pinned on a practical, spacious pocket to the front of the apron. She could imagine Jane's response to such a request, “You wish me to tell you how to confess your not quite liking Mr Darcy without paining him? Are you quite sure of your own feelings dear Lizzy? Are you certain it is not simply a misunderstanding?” Jane would hardly be able to help her prepare for such a conversation.

From thinking of Jane's goodness it was no great step to think of her disappointment at the hands of Mr Darcy. She had thought of this a great deal recently after the Colonel's unwitting disclosure and could now only think of Mr Darcy's expressed wish to defend himself as to her objections. Elizabeth began to sew the pocket to the apron, ferociously pushing the needle through the fabric in her agitation. What possible defence could he have? He had not only separated two young people in love, he had boasted of it to his cousin. He was proud of his success, no doubt congratulating himself on being a step closer to securing Mr Bingley for his own sister. His objections to the match had undoubtedly been the very same as he expressed during his own proposal - inferior connections. She could add `hypocritical' to his list of unappealing character traits - a long list including selfishness, officiousness, misanthropy, arrogance and, of course, not forgetting pride. How could he possibly explain away all his behaviour? What of his treatment of Mr Wickham? He had reduced him to poverty, deprived him of the best years of his life, withholding the living that he had been promised out of jealousy and spite.

She paused in her stitching, thinking for a moment of Mr Darcy's earlier behaviour and wondering whether it would be easier to speak such things to the unpleasant, disagreeable Mr Darcy or if he displayed the same vulnerable side he had that morning. Resuming her work, she decided it would be no easy task either way but it would be more difficult if he did not mirror her attempts at civility. Even Mr Wickham said that he could please where he chooses and hopefully he would choose to please the woman he wanted as his wife, though undoubtedly he would change his mind as she catalogued his offences.

Elizabeth completed the final seam of her apron, folded it and laid it neatly in Charlotte's poor basket. She had thought too long on Mr Darcy and in an effort to redirect her thoughts took up Shakespeare's Sonnets and opening it at random, began to read. Unfortunately for her, the Bard had seemingly loved someone whom he had thought not handsome enough to tempt him, and her thoughts returned to Mr Darcy as she read the lines:

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;

Saturday morning saw the Colonel leave Rosings at an early hour. Mr Collins roused himself to make suitable parting obeisance to him, as befitting one of her ladyship's esteemed nephews and a Colonel in His Majesty's armed forces. Darcy was in some ways mourning the loss of his confidant, but relieved to wave goodbye to the competitor for Elizabeth's attention. Lady Catherine bore the loss tolerably well. Although she was sorry to lose the company of the charming Colonel, her favourite nephew, Mr Darcy, remained behind and she had great hopes for the coming week.

Despite his hints at walking out the day before, when Elizabeth made her way through her favourite walk that morning Mr Darcy did not meet her. Elizabeth did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. They were to have a difficult conversation and as much as she did not wish for it to begin, she wanted it over with as soon as possible.

Mr Darcy and Elizabeth did meet briefly after services on Sunday. Under the watchful eye of his Aunt he could barely say more than a greeting before Lady Catherine practically ordered him to escort Miss de Bourgh to the carriage. He did, however, have time to mention that he enjoyed early morning rides.

The next day Elizabeth walked out, before breakfast, only to once again spend the time in solitude. On returning to Hunsford, she joined Mr Collins, Charlotte and Maria at the table.

“Lizzy,” asked Charlotte teasingly, “Did you meet anyone on your walk today? Mr Darcy perhaps?”

“My dear Mrs Collins,” said her husband before Elizabeth could make a reply, “I do believe that jests of that nature are in poor taste. Indeed, Mr Darcy is all but engaged to his charming cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh. Lady Catherine felt the need to personally speak to me after church yesterday to express her displeasure as to my dear young cousin's apparent over-familiarity with Mr Darcy. I had not thought such a display of disrespect possible from someone staying under my own humble roof, but now my own wife has confirmed it. My dear cousin Elizabeth, had I known that your walks were an attempt to monopolise Mr Darcy's attentions, I should certainly have dissuaded you from such a course and may I advise against it now. It is a credit to you, to be sure, that you wish to secure your family's future and you may think that your charms can enable you to marry far above your station, but perhaps it is not wise for you to aim so high. I should warn you, my poor young cousin, that such a course will inevitably lead to your own bitter disappointment. You should perhaps have been more grateful for the attentions of certain less prestigious men - I mean no disrespect to your good self, cousin Elizabeth, but your charms are unlikely to appeal to so great a man, so intimately connected with the noble houses of de Bough and Fitzwilliam. My dear cousin, you ought not to attempt a connection outside of your esteemed father's sphere.”

Rising pretentiously from the table, Mr Collins quit the breakfast room, leaving behind him one woman seething with anger and indignation, one red-faced and mortified mumbling quiet apologies and one completely bewildered.

An Endeavour At Civility ~ Section II

By Jennifer Ray

Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Five

Posted on 2008-08-07

Tuesday morning dawned cloudless and fresh, Elizabeth woke as the first rays of sunlight stole through a gap in the curtains and fell across her pillow. She rose and dressed quickly before any other residents of Hunsford were awake, and was out of the Parsonage and along the lane towards the grove before anyone had ventured downstairs. She had every reason to believe Mr Collins would object to her walking out today, as he believed that she was attempting to charm Mr Darcy into matrimony and had made it clear that he would endeavour to prevent her. She had been tempted to disabuse him of his wholly misguided view - that the situation was in fact quite the reverse - but she realised that (if he believed her) it would little change his objectives. Whoever he believed to be in pursuit of the other, Mr Collins would do all in his power to quash anything that was in defiance of Lady Catherine's wishes. She thought it incongruous that a week ago she would have supported any scheme to keep her and Mr Darcy apart and now she would not allow anyone to detain her.

After Mr Collins had left the breakfast table following his ill-received speech Maria had exclaimed in some confusion, “But you do not like Mr Darcy, Lizzy!”

Elizabeth had agreed with her statement wholeheartedly. She could not imagine why Lady Catherine thought her `over-familiar' with Mr Darcy. She admitted she had approached him after services on Sunday and asked him whether he was taking advantage of the fine weather, to ascertain whether he was wilfully avoiding her or their failure to meet was due to bad timing or some other intervention. But that was the first time she had ever initiated a conversation with Mr Darcy, at least in Lady Catherine's presence. She could not account for it.

Charlotte had promised to inform Mr Collins that he was very mistaken in his views and would explain why she had mentioned Mr Darcy at all. She expressed remorse for her ill-timed joke, saying that she had said it because Elizabeth looked a little cross on returning from her walk and Charlotte thought the only thing that could darken her mood on such a fine day would be an impromptu meeting with Mr Darcy. How wrong Charlotte had been! If she appeared cross it was because it was the second time Mr Darcy had failed to meet her!

Elizabeth hoped Charlotte had been successful in persuading Mr Collins. If he broached the subject again she could not be held accountable for her response and that would place Charlotte in a difficult position - between her husband and her friend. She knew Charlotte could only choose her husband and her already fragile friendship with Charlotte would be put under further stress.

She had successfully avoided Mr Collins' company the previous day, and had only three days left in Kent to evade Mr Collins and seek out Mr Darcy. She walked purposefully toward the tree where she had found Mr Darcy on the morning after his disastrous proposal. She had resigned herself to speaking with Mr Darcy before she left Kent and was resolved to do so. She could not reconcile his failure to meet her twice with his persistence for such a conversation to take place. He had seemed quite determined to hear her objections but his subsequent behaviour suggested he had changed his mind. Elizabeth knew he was a man used to getting his own way, perhaps at the time he had felt the need to get her to concede to his demand simply because she had opposed him, but now was too conceited and proud to countenance hearing her disapproval of him. Whether he wished to hear her opinion or not, she still wished to meet with him if only to end this feeling of suspense - to hear him say he had decided against it, so she need not think of him any longer.

It was a beautiful morning. A soft golden glow, from the half-risen sun, shone out between the gently swaying branches, and cast its diffused light over the meadows. Wildflowers were unfurling from sleep and their light perfume was caught on the cool breeze. Songbirds were competing to be heard in the pleasing cacophony of the dawn chorus. It was a pity, thought Elizabeth, to spoil a morning such as this but, should Mr Darcy make an appearance today, that was the inevitable result. How could it be otherwise? If he remained determined to hear the reasons behind her refusal of his suit, she could not be anything but truthful. For her to voice her disapproval of his actions, and his very character, did not promise to be an agreeable conversation and it did not bode well that the morning would continue to be a pleasant one.

The sound of hoof beats roused her from her discouraging thoughts and in a moment Mr Darcy was before her, dismounting from his black stallion, and making his bow to her. They exchanged polite greetings and, with Mr Darcy leading his horse, continued along the path winding through the trees and between plantings of crocuses and daffodils.

Darcy's joy in seeing Elizabeth was almost equalled by his gratefulness in being free of his Aunt and cousin. As soon as the Colonel had departed for London, Lady Catherine had announced her plans for the day. “I did not wish to mention it before, as it would not do to make the Colonel resent leaving us any more than is unavoidable, but as it is such a fine day we are to picnic at Crockham Hill.”

Darcy could not politely avoid it and so the majority of the day had been spent thinking of Elizabeth while pretending to listen to Lady Catherine. His Aunt had planned every minor detail of the excursion. A picnic for himself and Georgiana at Pemberley, while not lacking any convenience, was modest in comparison to the pretentious, showy event arranged by her ladyship. All of Rosings footmen were employed in conveying chairs, tables, several baskets of food and cases of wine and, of course, arranging the large shade umbrellas and windbreakers to protect Anne's delicate constitution. Lady Catherine had insisted that Mrs Jenkinson accompany her on a stroll, instructing Darcy to remain and keep his cousin company, neither Anne nor himself failed to understand her intentions, and neither appreciated it.

During services on Sunday Darcy had tried to concentrate on Mr Collins' lengthy sermon and not look at Elizabeth but often found his eye drawn to her, more so when he discovered she was just as often looking at him. He redoubled his efforts however, when his Aunt leaned across and whispered to him, “Yes, I too have noticed her trying to attract your attention. Such impudence!”

When Elizabeth approached him outside the church Lady Catherine had been quick to insist he escort Anne back to the carriage as she was “quite done in after yesterday's activities”. He had been trapped in the bounds of good manners and could do naught but comply. Lady Catherine had firmly suggested he read to Anne that afternoon, and one look at Anne's pleading eyes and pale countenance resigned him to escorting her to the library. Cousin Anne, was so small and frail and if he abandoned her she would suffer the ill effects of Lady Catherine's lectures on familial duty and responsibility, and admonishments for not securing his attention. He was not particularly close to Anne, but he did have sympathy for her. He could not subject her to one of Lady Catherine's harangues, if it was within his power to prevent it.

Yesterday morning he had arrived downstairs to be informed in the hall that his horse was not in the stables. He was about to walk out as he was apparently being prevented from riding, when he heard his Aunt's strident tones:

“Nephew, why are you dressed for riding?”

“I had planned on riding out this morning Aunt, but I find Odysseus had been sent out without me.”

“I cannot like this fashion for giving heathen names to animals. I had my groom ride him out Darcy, you have not ridden him since Thursday and I am excessively attentive to all these things, it does not do to neglect one's horses. If you wish to ride you may take out Myrtle this afternoon, Anne is depending on you for company this morning, Mrs Jenkinson is visiting her niece today and Anne ought not to drive her phaeton alone.”

He had no great opinion of Myrtle as a gentleman's mount, and so did not care to ride her, but had walked out later in the day in a futile attempt at meeting Miss Bennet, and had paid a call at the Parsonage, but the ladies were not at home.

This morning, Mrs Jenkinson had returned, his chastened groom was under explicit orders not to allow his horse out without his express command, and due to Anne's poor health and limited pursuits Lady Catherine seemed to have run out of activities with which to confine Darcy to the house, so he had made his escape. He savoured the feeling of freedom, filled his lungs with the crisp morning air, and turned to Elizabeth and smiled.

She looked up at him and said archly, “It is so good of you to join me, Mr Darcy.”

“I very much wished to meet you before now, to continue our conversation.” Darcy offered by way of apology, “My Aunt, however, had other ideas.” If his frustration of the situation was not apparent in his voice it was made abundantly clear by his lashing out with his riding crop and decapitating an errant daffodil.

So he had not been purposefully avoiding her, he remained set on hearing her objections, Lady Catherine had detained him. Elizabeth called to mind her words to the Colonel last week: `I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes', and, she now added, `how like a petulant child he acts when that power is taken away'. She arched an eyebrow and speculated, “Lady Catherine missed the company of the Colonel and felt the need to see twice as much of you to make up for his absence?”

Darcy raised an eyebrow in return and appeared somewhat diverted, “No, I believe she mistook my reasons for lengthening my stay.”

“Ah, she believes it to be a compliment to her daughter.”

“I would extol your astuteness but I believe my Aunt has done little to conceal her desires. However, let me assure you I feel only for Anne that which a cousin should feel, and no more. I will never marry her.”

“May I ask Miss de Bourgh's feelings on the matter?” Elizabeth asked with no little curiosity.

“Please, feel free to ask me whatever questions you desire.” he replied gallantly, “She feels as I do - we discussed the matter some years ago and decided we would not suit and said as much to Lady Catherine.”

“And yet Lady Catherine persists in her endeavour?”

“She believes that if she throws us together often enough” he replied dryly, “we will `do our duty to the family'.”

Elizabeth responded with equal dryness, “I see. Another similarity between you and your Aunt.”

His brow raised again, “How so?”

“You believe that if we are thrown together often enough I shall accept you, do you not?”

“Ah, but then I believe we would suit;” he said smilingly, “Anne and I do not.”

Elizabeth looked at him speculatively for a moment. “I do not know that we would suit.”

“Is this one of your `objections'?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Well then, let me attempt to defend my position.” Mr Darcy gathered his thoughts for a moment as they rounded a bend in the path and came to a part of the copse agreeably under-planted with countless cheerful bluebells. A perfectly lovely spot, thought Elizabeth sardonically, for the beginning of what promises to be a perfectly dire conversation. Mr Darcy offered her a tense smile, his estimation of the conversation's potential corresponded with hers, and asked, “Which are the members of your family with whom you spend the majority of your time?”

He had sparked her curiosity with his line of reasoning. “My elder sister and my father.”

“And Mrs Collins is a particular friend of yours?”

“She is.”

“Three very different individuals, yet there are some similarities - all are intelligent with their own distinct view of the world. All, I imagine, challenge your opinions, yet respect them and all three are quite reserved. Would you not agree?”

“Yes.”

“And whom do I choose as my closest companions? - You know Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Lively, confident good conversationalists, who are intelligent with well informed minds and are not slow to voice their opinions should they disagree with me.” Darcy raised his eyebrow and cast her an eloquent look.

Elizabeth could not fail to understand his meaning, but her opinion of his imperious, high-handed attitude toward both Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam was not flattering to either gentleman and she was strongly opposed to entering into such a relationship with Mr Darcy. That Mr Darcy was a man who liked to have his own way, and took pleasure in arranging events and people as he chose, she had never doubted. Last week, she had said, only half in jest, that she wondered Mr Darcy did not marry so he could have someone permanently at his disposal, but she had never imagined he might offer her the role. It seemed to prove to her how little he actually knew her. She could never be happy being the wife of such a man. To be subjugated and controlled to such an extent! Every feeling revolted. She could never willingly enter such a marriage and she was appalled and angered that he apparently expected this of her.

“I can understand your view,” She was almost successful in masking her annoyance, “you believe you are similar to my close companions and I to yours, but I do not wish to become what Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam are to you.”

“And what is that?” asked Mr Darcy, his confusion evident.

She replied through gritted teeth, “Someone to have at your disposal.”

Darcy's eyes widened, her words surprised and stung him, she thought him overbearing. “I would not wish you to be! That is not how I view a happy marriage! And that is not how I see my relationship with either my cousin or my friend. May I ask what gave you that impression?”

“A conversation I had with the Colonel.” She met his eyes challengingly; his cousin's own words would prove her point. Darcy gave her a questioning look, his eyes troubled, and she continued: “On Thursday afternoon, we met in the grounds, I asked if he was leaving on Saturday, he replied in the affirmative then added something like `if my cousin doesn't put it off again - I am at his disposal, he arranges it all as he pleases'.”

Darcy considered this a moment, brows knitted, his expression betraying his incredulity, his fingers tightening around the leather reins he was holding, passing his tension to Odysseus and causing the horse to flinch. Elizabeth had a view of his relationship with the Colonel that was very wide of the mark. It would be laughable had it been anyone else, but Elizabeth's opinion of him had important ramifications. She had known the Colonel for just three weeks, and Lady Catherine's drawing rooms were not conducive to anyone displaying their typical behaviour. His Aunt dominated all conversation and did not inspire openness in her guests. Elizabeth had barely seen them interact with each other so she could not know the true nature of their relationship: that the Colonel was one of the few people he approached for advice and if he did not seek him out when troubled his cousin would often almost force his confidence. Darcy began to distractedly finger the reins, passing them through his hands, making his stallion become a little skittish. Fitzwilliam's easy manners gave him the impression of being easily influenced but he was a battle hardened officer who was used to making his own decisions and was firmly resolute. She could not know how Fitzwilliam only took orders from his commanding officers, and would hardly countenance any attempt at interference or high-handedness from his younger cousin. Elizabeth was very mistaken in her assessment of their friendship.

“I can easily understand that from what he implied you might think he is a pawn subject to my whims, but that is not truly the case.” he replied seriously, “I must come to Rosings every year as I take care of some estate matters for my Aunt, but as Lady Catherine insists on Anne and I spending much time together, my cousin volunteers his services to act as a sort of chaperone. I have a very great respect for him, he is like an older brother to me - he is certainly not my puppet.”

“I see,” she replied, her brow furrowed considering this new information for a moment, concluding that perhaps her evaluation of the cousins relationship was amiss, but that with another gentleman was not going to be so easy to explain away, “and Mr Bingley? You do not take a lively concern into his interests and direct him as you deem appropriate?”

Elizabeth's picture of his relationship with Bingley concerned him greatly. It seemed she thought of Bingley as being subject to Darcy's inclinations, apparently as someone to direct simply as the mood took him. This was no compliment to either gentleman. Darcy's handling of the reins was causing Odysseus to become edgy, and he made a conscious effort to still his hands. He was beginning to realise Elizabeth's view of him was more than a little awry, and he felt it keenly. But at least now he understood her reluctance to allow his suit. He could easily understand why such an independent woman would take exception to being courted by someone she held to be a despot. In her estimation, Darcy seemed dictatorial and Bingley weak-willed and pathetic and he did not believe that to be a true likeness in either case. Bingley showed self-assurance in dealing with social situations, he was resilient when it came to dealing with the ton and displayed strength and resolution in his business dealings. However Bingley was of a ductile and impulsive nature and therefore was often in danger of being lead astray by unscrupulous men who did wish to `direct him as they deemed appropriate'. Darcy cared a great deal for Bingley and so was concerned in his interests but he hoped not to a despotic degree. Rather than Bingley being at his disposal, he viewed himself as being of use to Bingley. Bingley often came to him for advice, which he was more than willing to give, and he was not opposed to giving him a protective nudge in the right direction if he felt it necessary. If the Colonel took the role of older brother, Bingley was like a younger brother to him.

“He does come to me for advice on a variety of matters” Darcy's expression was equal parts concern and incredulity, “I would not go so far as to say I am at his disposal but at Netherfield I was there to be of assistance to him with estate matters. I can not see why you believe he is under my control.”

“That leads neatly to my next objection.” Elizabeth responded dryly, she looked through the trees, toward the slowly rising sun, unwilling to look at him.

Darcy realised they had deviated somewhat from her original point and if he was to plead his case with any success, he would do best to be meticulous, “Before we move to the next, let me clarify my position on your first regarding our compatibility and my apparent tendency to be autocratic: If I wished for a biddable wife to be `at my disposal' - quietly docile and compliant - I made a great mistake in offering for you. You clearly have firm opinions of your own and are not afraid to voice them. I respect that - more than that, it is one of your many attributes that attracted me to you. I would not have you be any other way. We may be very different individuals, with different temperaments but our minds are well matched - neither of us want for intelligence or understanding - and we ought to compliment each other rather than clash. I am convinced we would suit very well indeed.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, his hands restlessly picking at the stitches at the edge of the reins. So much depended on his ability to construct and deliver a convincing argument and he was not known for his oratory skills.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Darcy apparently did not want a meek and unassuming wife. He respected and valued her inclination towards being opinionated and viewed her intelligence as an asset! She ought not to have been so surprised, “After his previous comments on my not being tempting, I could scarcely believe he was won over by a pretty face.” she thought. He did not doubt her understanding but she had reservations as to his insight: she could not agree with his estimation that they would compliment rather than clash. They always seemed to be in conflict; that would suggest nothing but a discordant marriage.

“You said when you refused me that I do not know you,” Darcy continued earnestly, “I think it more likely that you do not know me, and I should like to repair that. I do not have your gift of making easy conversation but I have listened to you: we share opinions on many matters, and where we do not I can respect yours. I know that at least when you give opinions that are your own they are well reasoned and you are able to defend them with passion and skill. You are a remarkable woman: sincere, highly intelligent with an uncommon wit, a kind and compassionate heart and loyalty to your friends and family. It would be impossible to find your equal; I am quite resolved to convince you.”

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. It seemed so strange - a few days ago she was convinced Mr Darcy looked at her only to find fault and he was now saying such things about her! Evidently he had taken time to discover her attitude and outlook and had admired what he found. She smiled incredulously and turned to him with an arched brow, “You are equally resolved to feed my vanity, it seems, and I know you deem that a true weakness.”

Darcy smiled broadly giving her the rare sight of his dimples, “Did I mention that you are the handsomest woman of my acquaintance?”

Elizabeth laughed. How could she rise from barely tolerable to an unmatched beauty? “Now you go too far! I had almost believed you until you said that!”

She was shaking her head and looking away from him, when she sensed his eyes on her. Turning and meeting his gaze she was met with such an expression of sincerity and adoration that she was taken aback.

“Indeed, I was in earnest.” he said in a low, quiet voice.

She blushed as his eyes held her transfixed and looked up at him in wonder. For a moment she believed she was beyond compare, at least in his opinion. He smiled warmly at her before his face became more serious, as he realised the difficult part of the conversation was far from over, and he asked, “What is your second objection?”

Elizabeth's face fell and she turned away from Mr Darcy. Jane! It was no good to be so affected by the flattery of a handsome man that you forget how malicious he can be. No motive could excuse the unmerited and heartless part he played in separating her beloved sister from the man to whom she had given her heart, involving them both in acute sorrow. Elizabeth remembered the pain reflected in her dear sister's eyes and could feel righteous indignation rise within her. Taking a deep steadying breath and remembering her resolution to speak with civility, however little deserving he was, she attempted to speak without revealing the resentment in her voice, but her hands were balled in tight fists at her sides, “Even if you do not consider Mr Bingley to be at your disposal, you cannot disagree that you possess a seemingly boundless influence over him. Jane is my dearest sister; I could not accept the man who had done all in his power to break her heart. You persuaded Mr Bingley to stay away from her.”

Darcy's eyes widened, shock and disbelief evident on his face. He did not know which surprised him more, her knowledge of his involvement or her implication as to Miss Bennet's feelings. “Break her heart?”

Elizabeth stopped walking abruptly and swung round to face Darcy. “Can you deny that you separated them?”

“No, I cannot deny it.” Darcy said gently as he stepped a few paces away from her and looped Odysseus' reins around a low branch allowing the horse to graze, and enabling him to give Elizabeth his undivided attention.

Elizabeth eyes flashed with suppressed anger, “And that you wished Mr Bingley to form an attachment to your own sister?”

Her words stabbed him. He was disturbed that she could think him so manipulative and scheming. Elizabeth seemed to have divined his private musings but seemed to have assigned them more influence than they ever had. He narrowed the distance between them, and said carefully, “I cannot deny that had Bingley and Georgiana wished to marry at some point in the future, I would have encouraged the match, but at present Georgiana is just sixteen and is not yet out, and will not be presented for another year. I do, however, deny that which you were implying - that I separated Bingley from your sister in an effort to keep him unattached until such a time as Georgiana may be amenable to his suit. It was a distant possibility I considered, nothing more. I had other reasons to act as I did.”

“Our inferior connections perhaps?” she asked coldly, the words from his proposal still pained her, “Our one uncle in trade and the other a lowly country attorney.”

“Not entirely.” Darcy closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his forehead; this would not be an easy conversation. He did not know that he could remain truthful without deepening the insult he had previously paid her. Calmly, and in an effort to allay her obvious resentment, he said, “Bingley's own fortune was made in trade and the law is a respectable profession.”

“I cannot believe you have objections against Jane herself.” she said incredulously, “She is all that is good and blameless.”

“Did your sister love Bingley?”

The question surprised Elizabeth; she had thought the answer obvious. “I believe she still does.”

“I did not believe that she did.” he responded calmly.

That Elizabeth found it impossible to believe he thought Jane indifferent showed clearly on her face. Darcy's anger bristled. That she could believe he was being less than honest riled and wounded him. Had he not always spoken frankly? Could she really believe he would be so base as to separate two people in love due to lack of connections or mercenary reasons? He took a deep breath. Losing his temper would hardly recommend his suit. He supposed her reaction was simply proof of her own conviction that Miss Bennet was in love with Bingley.

“She welcomed my friend's attentions,” He explained calmly, “and seemed to accept them with pleasure, but did not appear to encourage them. Her countenance was so serene, her air so complacent - I did not think her heart easily touched. Your mother did not hide her…aspirations and I thought Miss Bennet may have been pressured to marry without affection. I could not wish for such an unequal partnership for my friend.”

Mama had voiced her opinions often, and loudly, and Elizabeth could not deny that she would have demanded Jane accept a proposal, even had Jane been unwilling. Mr Darcy could not know that her usually fairly indolent father would exert himself to protect his daughters from an unhappy marriage. Elizabeth thought on Jane's behaviour toward Mr Bingley. She thought it very hard for a woman to `encourage' a man without appearing forward or artful. Did Mr Darcy expect a woman in love to fawn and flatter her intended? Perhaps he had been spending too much time in the company of Miss Bingley.

“She is a lady, sir! How would you expect her to act? She may not wear her heart on her sleeve but I assure you she feels deeply attached to Mr Bingley.”

“It must be that her intimate companions would have a better idea as to her heart than a mere acquaintance.”

No, thought Elizabeth, not all of Jane's companions knew her heart. She could not help but remember Charlotte's advice that Jane did not do enough to encourage Mr Bingley. She admitted that if even a close friend could not discern her feelings Mr Darcy could have been totally unsuspicious of her attachment. It seemed Jane's affections, though fervent, were little displayed.

“It is true her feelings were apparent to me,” Elizabeth said in a quiet voice, “but Charlotte advised me that Jane should show more affection to Mr Bingley. I believed that to be flawed advice.”

“May I ask why?”

“She made the suggestion while their relationship was in its infancy. We did not know Mr Bingley - we were unsure of his character - and could not know whether Jane's attraction would deepen. I did not think it wise. Perhaps I should have remembered the advice later on.”

If Darcy had needed further proof - following his unsuccessful proposal, and knowledge that Elizabeth had also refused Mr Collins - this statement would have convinced him that despite Mrs Bennet's behaviour, her daughters were not mercenary. They were not out to make a marriage of convenience. A gentleman's character held more weight with them than his pocket-book, and a mutual attraction had more import than any fine estate.

Elizabeth sighed, “It is unfair that she should now be subject to such sorrow for behaving within the bounds of decorum!”

Mention of Miss Bennet's decorum immediately called to Darcy's mind the other reasons for his advice to Bingley - the lack of propriety the other members of the family showed. “It is an unfortunate result, indeed. I did not consciously inflict such pain - I truly thought her indifferent, that was not the sole reason behind my advice but was the most weighty.”

“There were other reasons? Beyond your belief of her indifference and our lack of connections?”

“There were,” He replied gently and somewhat warily, “It is a delicate matter and I know not how to broach such a subject without giving offence or paining you. However…for example, when I recall the Netherfield Ball…while you and your elder sister acted above reproach, and always behave with the utmost propriety, the same cannot be said for other members of your family---”

“Please say no more, sir.” Elizabeth said in quiet, mortified tones. Her head was bowed and she had wrapped her arms around herself. At his mention of the ball, unwelcome thoughts long ago evicted from her memory had returned - her youngest sisters flirting shamelessly with the officers, Mr Collins voluble orations and audacity in speaking to Mr Darcy without a proper introduction, her mother's incessant effusions of the merits of the match between Jane and Bingley, Mary's inferior musical performance and her father's ill-judged interruption of it… she shook her head and said in tones of bitter humiliation, “My family seemed determined to expose themselves that evening.”

Indeed had her family set out that evening with the intention of exhibiting their improprieties they could not have done better work. She remembered thinking, at the time, Bingley too distracted with Jane to notice her family's utter lack of decorum but she should have remembered My Darcy's fine view of their exuberance and his subsequent expressions of contempt and Bingley's sisters' insolent looks.

Elizabeth closed her eyes in embarrassment, and bit her lip. The full force of her agonising feelings of that night overtook her with the added acute sting of her now knowing that Jane's disappointment had stemmed not only from Elizabeth's dismissal of Charlotte's advice but, to a greater degree, her own nearest relations' indecorous behaviour. She had accused Mr Darcy of acting with malicious intent whereas it appeared now he was working to protect his friend from a loveless marriage complete with repugnant relations. Who could not consider it a most unhappy connection? Her sense of shame was severe. Her spirits, usually far from giving way to depression, were overwhelmed with an intense feeling of sadness. She turned away from Mr Darcy, drew in a shuddering breath and tried to stay the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

Elizabeth felt a tentative touch on her elbow and allowed Mr Darcy to gently steer her toward a fallen log. She sank onto it, welcoming the support it offered. Darcy pressed his handkerchief into her gloved palm then he stood a little away from her, observing her in compassionate silence. In her distress she began distractedly twisting his handkerchief in her hands and allowing the tears to fall unheeded.

Mr Darcy was consumed with guilt for having pained her anew. He abhorred concealment, but felt, as with his ill chosen words of her family's inferiority during his proposal, perhaps silence on this subject would have been preferable. He was supposed to be encouraging his suit and he had reduced her to tears. He berated himself for once again disregarding her feelings. Empathy and compassion should have prevailed over his need for absolute frankness. He seated himself beside her on the log, removed his hat and scraped a hand through his hair. Apology was difficult. Her family were unseemly and he could not pretend they were not. As he was endeavouring, unproductively, to formulate a truthful yet considerate response, she spoke:

“I do not wonder that you fled Netherfield so soon afterward.” Her tone was quiet and self-depreciating, her manner dejected. Her head was bowed and she crushed his handkerchief in her fingers, “My only surprise is that such events are not so indelibly imprinted on your memory that you allowed yourself to overlook them long enough to forget yourself and attempt a connection with such a family.”

Mr Darcy sighed, and rubbed his forehead contemplatively. “I cannot deny that such a thought terrified me at one time but my love for you grew, and it continues to do so - to such a point where I doubt whether I am worthy of you.” He rescued his handkerchief from her abusive fidgeting, and placing one finger under her chin turned her face toward him and began drying her cheeks, in shock at his actions and due to the depths of her distress, Elizabeth made no protest. She had not had her tears dried by another since being a small child and she found it unexpectedly comforting. Mr Darcy continued, “When love becomes so vigorous there are few other feelings that cannot be overcome. I cannot say that I do not wish they behaved differently but your family are not cruel or vicious. Your mother is attempting to ensure her daughters' happiness and security for their future - I cannot fault those motives. Your sisters are young and with time may mellow and find maturity and your father does little to contribute to any reproach.” Darcy released her chin. “He does little to prevent it however” he thought. Spreading his handkerchief over his lap he began to smooth the creases from the now damp square of linen. “Your and Miss Bennet's behaviour is above reproach and it is to your credit that you have conducted yourselves in such a way as to avoid any share of censure. I believe that if I had not attempted to persuade him that your sister was indifferent, Bingley too would not have so easily given up his suit. My belief of her indifference has caused their present unhappiness. Your understanding of Miss Bennet's feelings must be superior to mine and so your reproach is just.”

Mr Darcy's reassuring words and consoling attentions had alleviated Elizabeth's distress a little. She was able to compose herself tolerably. It humbled her that that was the best he could say about her family and mortified her that she could say little better. The compliment to herself and Jane soothed her somewhat, but she felt the credit of both in the eyes of the world must be materially damaged by the impropriety of the rest of her family. Darcy carefully folded his handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. It would never be laundered.

“Does your sister remain in Town?”

“She does.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Bingley is ignorant of her being there. I have not told him. I did not like keeping it from him - I was thinking only to protect him from further heartache - such disguise went sorely against the grain. Miss Bennet, I assure you that I will speak to Bingley as soon as I return to London and confess all. It will be up to Bingley what happens from there. I can only offer my sincere apologies for injuring your sister, but I cannot say that I would not act the same way again.” Darcy sensed Elizabeth stiffen beside him and a glance at her showed that she strongly disagreed with him. He was quick to defend himself, “I believed I was protecting my friend. What would you do were the situations reversed? If you had a dear friend you believed was making an unequal marriage would you not at least attempt to persuade them?”

Elizabeth thought for a moment. As much as she wished to deny it she could not. “I admit I did try to persuade Charlotte not to marry Mr Collins. I cannot condemn you for wishing to protect your friend, nor for having greater persuasive skills than mine.”

Elizabeth's thoughts began to consider the irony of the situation. Mr Darcy had failed to see the attraction for his friend in one sister and had separated them, and had failed to see the dislike in the other sister and had proposed. She wondered what Mr Darcy would have done if, before his proposal, a good friend had informed him as to her true feelings. Would he have abandoned his suit as Bingley had done? Given his present determination to win her heart she doubted it. Was Mr Bingley's character in some way lacking? He could be considered weak-willed and irresolute. Was he worthy of Jane? Perhaps his attachment to Jane had not reached the same fervour Mr Darcy apparently felt toward her. Mr Darcy had needed this time with her in Kent to consider proposing. Perhaps had someone told him of her true feelings at the time of the Netherfield ball he would not have shown the same commitment. She thought it a great pity someone had not done so. Perhaps Mr Bingley did not lack resolution; maybe he had simply needed more time to strengthen his attachment. She decided to probe Mr Darcy as to Mr Bingley's character.

“You have perhaps hurt your friend more than you know - gossip was rife when the Netherfield party left with no hint of a return. Hertfordshire society, in general, thinks him inconstant and capricious.”

“That is not so. He is impulsive by nature, but his actions here stemmed from his very great natural modesty. It was easy for him to believe himself wrong regarding your sister's affections when I and his sisters were convinced we were correct. Was your sister affected by gossip?”

“It was generally thought she was jilted.” Her sadness at the recollection was apparent in her tone, “That is why I encouraged her to go to London. She would be away from the whispers and pitying looks and it would be easier for her to endeavour to forget about him without constant reminders.”

“I am very sorry to have indirectly subjected her to gossip.” he said kindly, “What would the Netherfield party's reception be should they return to Hertfordshire?”

“Mr Bingley was very well liked,” she replied a little more cheerfully, “despite his apparent inconstancy, and I am sure he will be very welcome, should he return, there would however be some speculation about him and Jane.”

“That is unavoidable, I suppose.” Mr Darcy had by now come to the painful realisation that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been right, Elizabeth did hate him. His heart was heavy inside him but, no matter the further injury it would cause, he felt it necessary to discover the extent of her bad opinion. “I note you do not mention the rest of the Netherfield Party - what is their reputation?”

Elizabeth had enough acuity to realise he was asking for more than Hertfordshire's opinion of the Netherfield party - he was asking for her opinion of him, she did not know how to disclose it without giving pain. She looked at him carefully, could not fail to see his vulnerability and opted for evasiveness. “I do not believe Mr Hurst distinguished himself enough to be subject to gossip, Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley were thought very fashionable and charming but a little proud and vain.”

“Quite unsurprising, but I see you have saved the worst till last. You will not tell me what is thought of me?”

“Hertfordshire's opinion of you,” she said carefully, “was coloured by your opinion of them.”

“And you presume to know my opinion of Hertfordshire society?” he asked, somewhat affronted.

Elizabeth wondered who could have failed to observe his opinion. He had not tried to make himself agreeable: he had hardly made conversation with anyone - once sitting next to Mrs Long for half an hour without opening his lips - and was continually giving offence. “You spent your entire stay in Hertfordshire with one of two expressions on your face:” she replied, unable to completely conceal her exasperation, “aloof indifference or barely concealed derision. You scarcely spoke ten words to anyone outside your own party and directly and indirectly slighted others. Your behaviour spoke quite eloquently, even if you did not.”

Her words struck him where he was most sensitive to attack. He was a quiet man and often felt ill at ease in social situations, often choosing to remain silent rather than exert himself to make conversation. It was easier to think himself above his company than make an effort to socialise. “I am not sure you have interpreted my facial expressions correctly,” He replied defensively, “I spent a great deal of time looking at you and I can state with certainty I felt neither indifference nor derision. As to my propensity for silence, I seldom talk a great deal, I am not a rattle and I dislike inconsequential small talk. Please let me assure you that it is not Hertfordshire alone where I behave so - I act much the same at the most prestigious balls of the London season.”

“So I spoke the truth that day we argued at Netherfield, your fault is a propensity to hate everybody.”

“And yours is still to wilfully misunderstand them. I do not hate everybody - I have mentioned before my discomfiture in the company of strangers. I am reticent and somewhat awkward unless I am in company with close friends and family…but I forget you have never seen me in such company.” Darcy, rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. She truly thought him misanthropic. He had thought his reserved nature would serve him well and expose him to less ridicule than those who were prone to be garrulous; he had not thought that it would leave him open to be so misunderstood. “I shall endeavour to follow your good advice and practice more - I did not realise how poorly such behaviour would serve me. Tell me who did I slight in Hertfordshire? I cannot recall doing so.”

“My mother. You walked away from her while she was yet speaking to you after you had been introduced at the Meryton Assembly.”

“I was in a foul mood that evening, but that is no excuse for bad manners. I apologise and shall do so to your mother, if you think it best. Is that why she is so…cold towards me?”

“In part.” Elizabeth was staring at her hands clasped in her lap.

Mr Darcy looked at her intently, “In part?”

She looked up, across the path and into the woods directly in front of them, “Had you not also slighted one of her daughters that night I believe she would have overlooked it.”

“One of her daughters?”

Elizabeth gave a small laugh, then lowered the pitch of her voice in an effort to emulate his baritone, “She is tolerable I suppose…but not handsome enough to tempt me.”

“Good God, you overheard me?”

“Yes sir.” she said lightly, “I would apologise for eavesdropping but as almost the entirety of your knowledge of my opinions seems to stem from the same bad habit, I shall not.”

“No wonder you had no thoughts of me as a suitor! You are a very beautiful woman, Miss Bennet, and it was very wrong of me to suggest otherwise. Those words were meant to send Bingley away. I was in no mood for dancing. An unfortunate event happened last summer involving my dear sister and I had not yet overcome the shock - I should not have been in society but Bingley optimistically insisted it would cheer me. I beg your forgiveness.”

“Then I cannot withhold it.”

“It seems ironic to me,” he said self-depreciatingly, his air dejected, “that I have fallen in love with a woman who not only is one of the very few who sees more than just `a great estate in Derbyshire and ten thousand a year' but also one to whom I have displayed only my very worst qualities. I can well imagine we have just begun a very long list of your objections.”

“That is indeed very bad luck. But you are wrong. We have not just begun a long list of objections, we are nearing the end: I have but one left.”

“Which is?”

“Mr Wickham told me of your history.” Elizabeth looked him in the eye, wondering what reaction would come from the mention of his name, with astonishment she saw his lips widen into a grin. That he could look on his past behaviour with apparent pleasure was incredible and she asked sharply, “How can you smile!”

“This is the first time in a number of years that I have smiled at the mention of that gentleman's name. I smile because this is your last objection and I am confident I can defend myself - whatever he may have told you - because unlike Wickham I can provide documentary evidence and witnesses should you happen to require them.”

His confidence shocked Elizabeth. That he can offer such proof! Wickham had the air of truth about him, had freely given names, places, all his looks were sincere - but witnesses and documentary evidence! What could he say to defend himself?

“What did he tell you?” Darcy asked.

“That he was your father's favourite and following your father's death you had ignored his specific bequest and denied Mr Wickham a living in the Church, reducing him to his current level of poverty.”

“That is close to the truth.” he admitted. It angered him that once again someone he loved had fallen under Wickham's spell, and it stung that she could believe such things about him, but his heart was ready to defend her. “Close enough to be believed by someone who is kind, compassionate and not suspicious by nature, who had seen me at my very worst and knew nothing of my integrity. He failed to mention, I suppose, that at the time he had no wish to take orders and requested, and was granted, financial compensation in lieu of the living?”

“He did not happen to mention that, no.” She replied in a small voice. She wished to discredit what he said, not entirely to absolve Mr Wickham, but to acquit herself of gross misjudgment, but she could not. Mr Wickham did not have the monopoly on sincere looks, Mr Darcy's manner was open and genuine but with the added ability to substantiate his statements.

“He does tend to leave out those small, yet crucial details.” Darcy's voice had a bitter edge to it, “My father left him a legacy of one thousand pounds and he received a further three thousand after resigning all claims to the church living. I have the documentary evidence at Pemberley and can send for it should you wish to see it.”

The late Mr. Darcy, as Wickham had told her, had been very kind indeed and Wickham being granted such a considerable sum in lieu of the living showed his son was every bit as generous. That Mr Wickham should repay such liberality with vicious rumours was indefensible. If she had not completely lost her ability to evaluate people and situations, there was something more to this story.

“I do believe you, but with four thousand pounds he could live as a gentleman - not extravagantly, of course, but with some comforts - I cannot understand why he is now impoverished, or why he would speak of you so spitefully.”

“That was about five years ago and had Wickham been a different sort of man he could have lived off the interest, but Wickham is Wickham. I know not how he lived but if his life followed the same course it did when we were at Cambridge together, I would say he spent a good deal of money in inns and places of ill repute and lost the majority at the gaming tables. It took about three years for him not only to lose the money but also to run up considerable debt. He then scrupled not to contact me again as his circumstances were very bad indeed, the living had fallen vacant and his opinion of taking orders had quite reversed. I denied him, of course, which I hope you will not blame me for. Wickham would make the worst clergyman - I am afraid he does not come close to meeting the exacting standards I have when appraising candidates.”

Elizabeth was shocked by the charges of extravagance and licentiousness Mr Darcy laid against Mr Wickham - he had always had such a look of goodness about him. She tried to think of any instance that would contradict Mr Darcy's assertions, but she could not. Mr Darcy had known him all his life, she had known Mr Wickham for such a comparatively short time and knew no other who had a longer acquaintance. She knew nothing of Wickham that he had not told himself. She bowed her head in shame. He had appeared to possess every virtue, but she knew no actual good of him. She had been wholly taken in by his charm of air and address. She owned to feeling no little anger toward Mr Wickham for having deceived her so completely, but for the most part she was disgusted with herself.

“I feel very foolish for believing him.” she replied humbly, “I was vain enough to believe myself to be a good study of character - I have prided myself on my abilities - but I have been nothing but a weak-minded, imperceptive dupe.”

“Do not blame yourself.” Darcy said gently, looking at her in concern, “He has very charming manners and knows how to use them to his advantage. A great many have been fooled by him, including my father - else he certainly would not have left him a church living - and my younger sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes, I mentioned earlier an unfortunate event involving her last summer,” he had an edge of venom in his voice, and his posture stiffened, “it involved Wickham too.”

His tone alarmed her and she immediately recalled Colonel Fitzwilliam's concerned look when she had asked him whether Miss Darcy gave much trouble to her guardians. “You need not tell me…”

“But I shall - I would keep nothing from you and I trust you not to repeat it.” Darcy's manner was agitated and tense, “Last summer I allowed my sister to go with her companion, a Mrs Younge, to Ramsgate and Wickham followed them there. Working with Mrs Younge - who proved herself most untrustworthy - he charmed my sister. She believed she was in love with him and consented to an elopement. His target was undoubtedly her dowry of Ł30,000 with a secondary motive of revenging himself on me. She was then but fifteen years old which must be her excuse.”

Elizabeth listened with feelings of profound shock. Darcy looked at her and seeing her distress continued more gently, “They did not elope. Providentially, I travelled to see her but a day or two before they intended to travel and she confessed the whole to me. Wickham left, Mrs Younge was dismissed and I was left to comfort my distraught sister.”

“How is she now?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

“She is much better than she was immediately following but she is like a shadow of her former self - quiet, introverted and very scared of putting a foot wrong.”

In what a different light did this place his attentions to Miss King! He was nothing but the worst sort of fortune hunter. She had missed every sign of his true character, acting blindly and subjectively. She had been flattered by his attentions and had allowed herself to be influenced by him. She ought to have been suspicious of his sharing his tale with her on so short an acquaintance. When Jane had applied to Mr Bingley, he had stressed that Mr Wickham was not a man to be trusted. If Mr Darcy had been as dishonourable and corrupt as Mr Wickham had lead her to believe, his lack of principles could hardly have been concealed from society and Mr Darcy's friendship with Mr Bingley would have been impossible. Elizabeth had blindly ignored everything that should have warned her against Wickham - and ungenerously discarded any evidence to Mr Darcy's merit. How despicably she had acted! She had courted prejudice and ignorance - he imposed on her, he used her to help blacken Mr Darcy's character - but she ought to have known better. She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. -- Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.

Darcy watched as she stood abruptly and began pacing, lost in tormenting thoughts. Her anguish seemed extreme and he began to suspect that she was in love - not with the Colonel - but worse, with Wickham.

“Miss Bennet,” he said gently, as he rose from his seat on the log, “He is not worth your distress…”

She stopped pacing and turned to face him, “No! I am not distressed on his account but my own! It is utterly selfish of me, I know, when your family has suffered so. I thought myself a good judge of character but I have been so very wrong about him. I could not have been so completely blind had I been in love!”

Darcy's relief at her statement was tangible, she was not in love with Wickham - he did not have to fight against that, at least. The litany of real and imagined faults levied against his own character would prove more than enough to battle with, he was sure. He hoped he had made some headway today, but he did have some doubts - her self-recriminations all appeared to be against her lack of judgment toward Wickham, she had said nothing about amending her view of him.

“He is not the only one you have been mistaken about I believe.” he said in a quiet voice.

“Yes, you are correct, my judgment has erred greatly:” she said in a deprecatory tone, “I have been mistaken as to Wickham, misguided as to my own abilities and have grossly misjudged you. I have a great deal to think about.”

They stood for a moment in silence, Elizabeth still furiously reproaching herself, and Darcy's thoughts were swinging between concern for Elizabeth's distressed state, relief that she was reconsidering her opinion of him, and hope that she would improve her opinion enough to allow him to attempt to win her heart. Darcy picked up his hat walked over to Odysseus, still patiently grazing, and untied him. Turning back to Elizabeth he said, “Miss Bennet, this must have been a very taxing conversation, and unless you wish to give voice to any other matter, I think it best if I escort you back to the parsonage, but before I do - the point of this conversation was to allow me the opportunity to overcome your objections to my suit - may I ask---”

“Mr Darcy! Please do not ask if you can court me!”

Chapter Six

Posted on 2008-09-05

After Elizabeth had rounded the corner and was out of sight, with a heavy heart Darcy swung himself up into the saddle and directing Odysseus toward an area of open pastureland urged him into a furious gallop. His mind was overtaken with conflicting and unsettling thoughts. His heart was overwhelmed with tumultuous emotions battling for supremacy. He deeply loved Elizabeth but a part of him was angry with her for misjudging him so completely. He was infuriated that once again Wickham had deceived someone he cared for. He was frustrated with himself for not realising the true state of her feelings toward him. Had it been less than a week ago that he believed she was awaiting his offer with pleasure? That she had been as in love with him as he was with her? What a blind, naďve fool he had been. He spurred Odysseus on, effortlessly clearing a thick hedgerow, and continuing their devilish pace across the verdant fields. The speed was exhilarating and carried with it the feel of leaving all his problems far behind.

Elizabeth had seen him as a despot, officiously, even maliciously, manoeuvring events and directing people to his own ends with no remorse, ignoring any feelings other than his own and disregarding any hearts that may be crushed in the process. In her eyes he had casually directed his friend from the woman he loved to reserve him for Georgiana, not scrupling to break Bingley's heart, and not heeding Miss Bennet's. She had also criticised his behaviour in Hertfordshire and accused him of haughtily surveying his company and remaining detached and unapproachable when he assessed them as wanting. Satisfied with his own prestige and only willing to grace those he found unworthy with his superior presence and withholding his conversation. And those were not his worst offences. No, he had pushed aside honour, integrity and mercy and succumbed to base feelings of jealousy and resentment by the conscious and deliberate impoverishment of his father's favourite. He had intentionally devastated a dependant's prospects and cruelly denied him an expected, nay promised, livelihood.

Elizabeth had been right when she stated her admissions may give him pain. He did not often care what others thought of him - but he loved Elizabeth and craved her good opinion. That she should think so little of him wounded him. He was grieved that he had inspired such feelings. Her initial rejection had hurt but the knowledge of her true opinion pierced his heart. The injustice of it hit him: he was not a bad man - had he not always tried to take the honourable course in life? - and he had maintained a good reputation, but the one woman he longed to have love him, had despised him. Odysseus was becoming increasingly excitable and Darcy realised he was grasping the reigns rigidly, due to his overwhelming emotions, and was making the stallion edgy. He forced himself to relax his grip and slowed Odysseus to a trot. The sun was rising in the sky and the morning mist had now evaporated as Darcy guided Odysseus along the edge of a newly ploughed field, ready for the spring plantings.

Darcy sighed despondently, to Elizabeth he was a black-hearted villain, it was no wonder she rejected his proposal and could not countenance his offer of courtship. And yet, instead of cruelly wounding him with angry words (which he, blackguard that he was, would not hesitate to do), she had couched her refusal in restrained terms and her compassionate nature had been unwilling to reveal her true opinion of him, out of concern that she may cause him more heartache than he already must feel. She had interrupted him earlier, in consideration for his feelings, to prevent him from asking a question which she could not answer favourably.

“Mr Darcy! Please do not ask if you can court me!”

Darcy stared at her, a self-depreciating smile on his lips - she must have seen pain reflected in his eyes as she stepped towards him and said in softer tones, “I would not know what answer to give you.”

“Well, that is…promising.”

“It is?”

“A drowning man will grasp at straws, Miss Bennet. I have risen in your estimation enough for your answer to be indeterminable rather than a categorical `no'.” They began walking together down the trail back toward the Parsonage, “However, in truth, I was not about to ask that of you - I believe I am slowly learning my lesson regarding consideration of your feelings.”

“But it appears I am still too quick to jump to conclusions.” Elizabeth replied contritely “I stopped you ungenerously just now, what was your question sir?”

“Miss Bennet, you accused me on Thursday evening of not giving you time to overcome your objections. I had not then appreciated what you meant when you suggested there was a gulf between us - I thought you were exaggerating. I understand this is a great deal of information to absorb, and I know you now require time. I was about to ask if we could meet here on Friday morning and speak again, I would give you more time but I should like to meet before leaving Kent on Saturday. I would like to know then at least whether you would permit me to call on you. I presume you break your journey in London before travelling on to Longbourn?”

“Yes, Maria and I are to stay with my Aunt and Uncle for a while before returning to Hertfordshire.”

“I should like to call on you during your stay in London. Do not give your answer now, think on it, and tell me on Friday?”

“I shall walk here on Friday,” she replied dryly, “If you can confirm that I shall not be wandering the grove alone waiting for you in vain.”

“I apologise for not meeting you before today. Lady Catherine has been rather… demanding. I am her nephew as well as her guest and as such I have a duty to her as my aunt and hostess - she has a valid claim on my time. However, she has begun to schedule my every move. That is more than obligation demands. I shall not allow my Aunt to keep me from you again. I shall meet you on Friday morning.”

Darcy knew he must now trust Elizabeth's kind heart and good sense and hope that she would be able to wade through all her discordant thoughts and feelings toward him and come to see him in a more estimable light. Had he known the true extent of her misconceptions, the veritable chasm between them, nothing would have prevented him from keeping their previous meetings. Colonel Fitzwilliam had suggested she hated him, but he had not taken that comment seriously. He had thought whatever objections she could have would be minor - that his status, repute and character would give at least a foundation of merit. How very wrong he was! He ought to have met her sooner, to give her more time to sift through her misconceptions; instead, he had succumbed to his sense of obligation and duty as a good nephew and bowed to the wishes of his hostess. Nothing would keep him from meeting with Elizabeth on Friday.

He prayed Elizabeth would improve her opinion of him - it could hardly get any worse, she had been wholly wrong about him. Had she not? Was it wise to completely dismiss her opinion? Had he not always applauded her intelligence and ability to provide sound arguments? Was her judgement here entirely wrong? Did she not profess to be a studier of character - she must have based her opinions on some evidence, she must have got her ideas from somewhere.

Perhaps it all stemmed from his insult at the Meryton Assembly. He had certainly not made a good first impression. `She is tolerable I suppose but not handsome enough to tempt me.' How his opinion had changed! He had somehow managed to persuade himself that she had not heard his disparaging comments. It had been far easier to believe that than the alternative - that she had heard him and he ought to make an apology.

Darcy pushed Odysseus back into a gallop. He cursed his rudeness and stupidity and swore never to insult anyone again in that manner. She had not been more than five yards away! “Did I just presume she was deaf?” The Colonel had pointed out his ungentlemanly manners and lack of fellow-feeling - how right he was! “What was I thinking? I did not, could not, know then what she would eventually mean to me - I was thinking only of myself - not of her feelings at all”.

He thought back to his ill humour at the time of the assembly. Would it have been so very bad to indulge Bingley and dance? Did he have to resort to discourteousness? He had been in a black mood that evening and Bingley had been so enthusiastic, so annoyingly cheerful. Perhaps Elizabeth had compared the two and seen two extremes - Bingley overtly sociable, eager to find everything and everyone pleasing and Darcy in bleak contrast, a misanthrope.

He was not, and could not be, like Bingley. He did not have his ease of making conversation, he could not always catch the tone of a conversation or appear interested in others' concerns. He could not understand Bingley's readiness to be pleased with any society, let alone emulate it. Darcy thought it rather foolish to be so trustful and unguarded. Was he not right to be circumspect? It afforded him some protection. During the London season he was careful with whom he associated. He assiduously avoided certain people and certain sets - the buffoons, the fops, those with less than honourable reputations and of course the matchmaking mamas and their daughters. Was it his fault that all of Hertfordshire society seemed equal parts mercenary and foolish? Well, clearly not all of Hertfordshire society - Elizabeth and, evidently, Jane were the exceptions. Did he really know that they were the only ones of value? This was the society that had produced Elizabeth, that had helped mould her into the exceptional woman he fell in love with, how could he discount it entirely? If Elizabeth had found worthy elements in that neighbourhood then there must be some others of merit there. He had not given anyone else there an opportunity to prove their worth. He had not looked further than Elizabeth.

Darcy was ashamed to acknowledge that Elizabeth's accusations of his `aloof indifference and barely concealed derision' were just. He had evaded admitting it to her, saying he had felt nothing of that for her but in truth he had judged the rest of Hertfordshire society as beneath his notice and had not exerted himself to know them better. He slumped somewhat in the saddle as feelings of guilt washed over him. He ought not to have concealed his true feelings under the guise of awkward social skills. It was true that he was reserved and did not converse easily, but his reticence was due to his haughtiness, not due to a lack of confidence.

Darcy raised his head and surveyed the fields around him. A scripture sprang to his mind: `For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass: For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.' Elizabeth had held up a mirror and shown him his true self - he ought not go on his way and straightaway forget what manner of man he was. These painful feelings ought not to be repelled. Elizabeth had been quick to admit her judgment had been faulty with regard to Wickham. She had not hesitated to openly admit her mistakes. It had been painful for her - she had castigated herself and made herself miserable - but she had admitted to it. He ought not to repress such feelings. He had come to believe he was not worthy of Elizabeth, admission of his mistakes was the first step toward becoming a man she could respect and, hopefully, come to love.

Darcy and Odysseus made their way down a small bank and to the edge of a stream. Darcy dismounted and led the horse to the water's edge allowing him to drink. Sitting upon a large, flat rock, removing his hat and raking his hand through his hair Darcy watched the water flow past, gliding over the rocks and pebbles and cascading down a small fall.

He was proud of his status in society and had viewed Hertfordshire as inconsequential because they lacked wealth, fashion and breeding. Is that not what he despised - being courted for his prominence in society and the condition of his finances? Did he not detest walking into a ballroom and hearing the whispers - `eligible bachelor', `grandson of Earl', `great estate in Derbyshire', `ten thousand a year'. Yet he had been guilty of the same attitude. Those were the very same measures he used to judge others - fortune, breeding, connections and influence. Darcy was struck with his own hypocrisy and felt disgusted with himself. That was why he had struggled against his feelings for Elizabeth - because against those standards she fell short. He had not wanted his status and his good name to be injured by a marriage to an inconsequential country Miss. Elizabeth was so much more than that! Was he any more than the wealthy, landed grandson of an Earl?

How did Elizabeth judge others? Through their own merits - not against any worldly standards but as to their own goodness, principles and the content of their character. Darcy's character had fallen short of Elizabeth's standards. He had judged with superficial standards, Elizabeth looked for substance. Feelings of doubt crept into his heart that she would ever come to feel any respect for him.

How had his view of the world become so skewed? How had he come to judge people by their pocket books and prestige rather than their character and qualities? Did he really think so much of himself that he could sit in judgment of others and deem them unworthy? He could not honestly remember ever being different. Was his upbringing wanting? His father had not been so prejudiced as to birth and wealth - had not the son of his steward been a favourite? However, his father had been rightly proud of Pemberley and all that it stood for. He had taught Darcy to be proud of the estate and fulfil his duties and obligations to it. His mother had been proud of her family: he had been named Fitzwilliam in their honour. Lady Anne had been proud of their lineage, proud of their status. From an early age he had been given everything he could want - nothing that he desired was denied him - everything that could give him pleasure was provided. How could he not have grown into a proud, overbearing adult? He had been given good principles, he had been taught liberality, fairness, honesty, integrity but he had also been encouraged to be arrogant and proud.

It was the day he reached one-and-twenty. His father had taken him to Jackson's Edge. It was the best vantage point to overview the greater part of Pemberley's grounds and tenant farms. They sat astride their mounts, surveying their domain.

“When I came of age,” His father said wistfully, “My father brought me to this very spot and I hope that one day you will bring your own son here. You have been fortunate in your birth, Fitzwilliam, you have the best sort of family connections, you stand to inherit an excellent estate with the finest grounds in the most beautiful county - I am biased, I know, but I think there are few who would not agree.”

“Uncle Matlock may quarrel with you on that score!”

His father smiled broadly, “Indeed he would! But we both know Matlock House cannot hold a candle to Pemberley.” The sound of their laughter echoed across the valley, his father turned to him and smiled warmly before saying seriously: “Do not forget that Providence has provided well for you, but it has also placed a great responsibility on your shoulders. When I pass on, these lands, these farms, these people will be in your care and I know that I can trust you to maintain the good reputation which many generations have striven to build. The Darcys have always been fair landlords, liberal employers and charitable to the poor - you must upkeep those standards. Never hesitate to be generous to those less fortunate than yourself, never be less than courteous with those in your care and never neglect the estate or the tenant farms. This is your livelihood and your heritage, you owe it to yourself and your posterity to preserve and even improve it, and to do nothing that could disgrace the family or lessen the influence of Pemberley House.”

He had ridden back to Pemberley full of his own self-worth and with a great sense of pride for his status in society. His father's words had impressed upon him the influence, respect and power his circumstances carried, a small part of which he had already witnessed in the almost deferential manner shown toward him by his fellow students at Cambridge, and which he would later feel in full as he entered London society, and was instantly valued highly. As he thought back over his father's words Darcy realised they were not meant to be taken in such a light. They were meant to convey his responsibilities, not his superiority, his great duty to his many dependants not his great standing in society.

Elizabeth had been quick to see him for what he was. She had voiced her findings during their verbal spar at Netherfield asking him his opinion of vanity and pride. What had been his reply? “Vanity is a weakness indeed but where there is real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation”. He had failed to recognise his own vanity and had boasted of his pride. He had condemned himself to be undeserving in her eyes.

Darcy mounted Odysseus and began the short ride back to Rosings stables. He was ashamed of what his values had been but was resolved to do better in the future. He was determined to become a man Elizabeth could respect and esteem.

To think that had he not been so convinced of his own superiority he could now have been celebrating his engagement. No - if he had come to this realisation sooner he would never have left Hertfordshire in November - he and Elizabeth could have been married by now. Instead he was reproaching himself and had made Elizabeth uncomfortable and miserable. Instead of bringing her joy he had brought her pain. A wave of sadness washed over him as he thought of his own failures. He sat straighter in the saddle and squared his shoulders. He was not about to give in to depression, he had impaired his chances and had squandered the time he had spent with Elizabeth but the sense of what he had lost would keep him firm to his resolve.

Elizabeth walked out of Rosings gates and into the lane and stood looking at the Parsonage for a moment. Turbulent thoughts were warring inside her head and she could not define her feelings. Everything she thought she knew about Mr Darcy, Mr Wickham and herself had been completely overturned. All at once she was feeling shock, shame, anger, distress and disgust. Returning to the Parsonage at this moment was impossible. She was completely unequal to the task of conversing with her friends and appearing her usual cheerful self and the thought of the possibility of another lecture from Mr Collins had her turning down the lane instead of Parsonage garden path.

She could not think of her recent discussion with Mr Darcy without sharply chastising herself. She had never felt so stupid or felt such a sense of shame in the whole of her life. At least she had remained firm to her resolve and had not lost completely her temper. She had been unable to completely mask her annoyance but had managed to control the unjustifiable anger she had felt. How much more complete would the humiliation have been had she unleashed her misplaced fury.

The small sense of satisfaction she felt at her restraint did little to reduce Elizabeth's crushing sense of shame for having behaved so very badly toward Mr Darcy. She had found fault with him because she had wanted to, attributing malevolent and base motives to his actions and imagining failings where she had not found enough to satisfy her. She had been so very prejudiced. She had thought herself exceptionally clever, thinking that her judgment was impeccable, because she had disliked him so vehemently before the general populace in Meryton had heard of his vicious propensities. Why had she done this? Because he had wounded her pride and vanity with his unkind comments at the Netherfield Assembly. Never had she felt so stupid and such shame in her life, as she felt now. She had been nothing but a blind, naďve fool.

She reached out and snatched a stem of ivy from its home on the low bough of tree as she passed it. He had more than recompensed for those few words. He had paid her such compliments: had praised her, proposed to her, loved her! How disappointed Mr Darcy must now feel! He would be saddened that his plans had come to naught and must be completely disenchanted with her! Nothing could be more sure of driving away regard than him coming to realise that the woman he loves not only despises him but had courted the attentions of his worst enemy and was herself a vain, partial and foolish creature.

She began to shred the ivy leaves in her hands, pulling them apart carefully along their veins. She was now faced with the fact that all her opinions of Mr Darcy had been without foundation - she did not know him - he was little more than a complete stranger. She had ungraciously interrupted him earlier - how could she have answered the question she thought he was going to ask? She was humiliated - she had said such things to him - how could she even face him again let alone welcome his attentions? Her judgment had been so glaringly deficient - how could she make such an important decision? It was not a situation to be entered lightly. If she accepted his offer of courtship, Mr Darcy would be honour-bound to offer for her again and in the eyes of society she would be expected to accept him, or there would be talk. It would be all the more dangerous should any courtship take place in London. The ton would condemn her as a jilt and ridicule Mr Darcy, suggesting he must be deficient in some way to be so publicly rejected. Accepting his offer of courtship was tantamount to saying she would fall in love with him and agree to marry him. How could she agree to that when she barely knew herself anymore, let alone Mr Darcy? She discarded the tattered remnants of the ivy stalk, throwing it into the bushes.

What did she know of him now? Her list of his faults she could abandon and replace with a list of merits. The malice she had charged to him in relation to his interference with Mr Bingley and Jane's relationship could be supplanted with a fierce and active loyalty, that mirrored her own. The scandalous and unprincipled behaviour of which Wickham had accused him was wholly without foundation and instead he was honourable: acting with integrity in dealing with an unscrupulous blackguard and generously giving him more than he deserved.

Instead of being greatly conceited he was ready to admit when he had made mistakes and make amends where he believed he was wrong. Had he not promised to speak to Mr Bingley about his being mistaken in his belief of Jane's indifference and his concealing the fact that Jane was in town? At least some good could come of this situation - Mr Bingley and Jane would have the opportunity for happiness.

Mr Darcy had also offered assistance in dealing with Mr Collins, if she required it.

After his explaining about Lady Catherine's determination to keep him at Rosings, Elizabeth had replied, “I do understand - I too am a guest. I had to slip out this morning before Mr Collins had risen so he would not detain me.”

“Why should he prevent you from walking out?”

“He has made some erroneous assumptions about me.” She said cagily, too embarrassed to repeat Mr Collins' words to him. After thinking for a moment, she continued, “I would not like to give him further fuel. I do not think it wise for us to be seen together by Mr Collins. He is usually in his bookroom and has a clear view of the lane.”

“Why ever not? I have escorted you back several times.”

Elizabeth looked decidedly uncomfortable and Darcy's expression clouded. He touched her elbow gently, halting their progress along the path, “What has he said?”

Elizabeth looked into his concerned eyes and realised she could not evade the truth, “That our relationship is quite the reverse; that I am trying to induce you into matrimony.”

Darcy looked equal parts incredulous and outraged, “He spoke of this to you?” Darcy could only imagine the words the pompous fool, would have seen fit to use.

“Yes.” Elizabeth said flippantly, trying to lighten the situation. “He announced it at breakfast yesterday.”

His look darkened considerably, “He did not have the decency to speak with you in private? That man is a….” He took a deep breath to calm himself, “I apologise, I know he is your cousin, but he is no gentleman.”

“I do not believe he would have thought it if someone else had not put the idea in his head.”

“Lady Catherine?”

Elizabeth nodded, “She spoke to him after services on Sunday.”

Darcy's dark, brooding expression turned almost fierce, but he spoke quietly and evenly, “I do not know how my Aunt has come to that conclusion. I think, perhaps, she has suspicions as to my attraction to you and it is easier for her to believe I have been entrapped rather than my slighting her daughter. Your behaviour has been impeccable - an impartial observer would never suspect you.” He was pensive for some moments and then voiced his thoughts, “May I ask your response?”

“I did not make one - I was so very shocked and he left the table immediately following. Charlotte has informed him that…that I do not have any intentions toward you.”

“You mean to say she has informed him that you would view any such alliance with distaste.”

“I have been very mistaken…distaste is a very strong word ---”

“Do not distress yourself. I gave you little reason to think well of me.” he said contritely, “Do you think he will speak of it again to you?”

“I do not know - I sincerely hope not - I could not answer for what my response would be. I admit I would find it very hard to remain civil, and that would make things difficult between me and Charlotte. Also, whatever I say to Mr Collins will undoubtedly be repeated to your aunt - I should not like to make things uncomfortable for you.”

“Do not concern yourself with my relationship with Lady Catherine - it will undoubtedly become strained at some point in any event - I will never marry Anne and she will eventually feel some animosity toward me. I cannot countenance you being made uncomfortable on my account. If your cousin is in any way disrespectful or makes your stay difficult tell him what you will, or send word to me - not that I think you in any way unable to defend yourself - but he may more readily believe it direct from me.”

“I hope that will not be necessary.”

“As do I, but I do not hesitate to make reparation when I have been in error.”

“Your error?” she said in disbelief, “I do not see how you could have prevented this.”

“You are under Mr Collins care at present, once I had formed intentions toward you I ought to have asked his permission to call on you. He would have known my intentions and could not have suspected you in any way.”

“That would have been a most interesting conversation - I do not blame you for avoiding it. I think you take too much upon yourself.”

Darcy shook his head, “If he causes you any more discomfort, I will do all in my power to ease the situation - even if that means escorting you to London earlier than planned.”

Elizabeth thought Darcy had perhaps overreacted to the situation, but she could only compare his behaviour to how her current protector - her father - would have reacted. Her father would have undoubtedly laughed at Mr Collins' absurdity, finding it diverting, and would have encouraged her to do the same. He would likely have scolded her for being missish at having taken such offence at Mr Collins words. He certainly would not have voluntarily offered to put an end to the situation, unless it had escalated very significantly. She did not know quite how to feel about Darcy's support, never before having had such a willing champion. It was a novel experience. No one had ever been so ready, nay eager, to defend her and he was fully able to carry out his offer and had asked for nothing in return.

It was comforting to know that, should Mr Collins become insufferable, Mr Darcy would use his influence for her benefit to disabuse Mr Collins or, if necessary, spirit her away to London. She doubted it would be necessary to call on him to intervene, but just the knowledge that he would act should she require it enhanced her own strength and increased her toleration.

A few days ago, she admitted to herself, she would have felt no warm feelings toward this offer. She would have assigned different motives to him, attributing his offer to his abominable pride or arrogance or his apparent need to be in control of every situation. Mr Darcy did seem to be very used to getting his own way. She could have been right about that. Following his offer to escort her to London before Saturday, should she require it, he had asked about her current travel plans.

“You and Miss Lucas are travelling alone by Post?” His tone made it plain that he did not think much of this arrangement.

“My uncle is to send a manservant for us.”

“That makes all the difference.” he replied sarcastically.

“I am sure Miss Darcy does not set foot outside her door without twenty armed guards,” she replied dryly, “but we do not all have your resources, sir.” She could have bitten off her tongue as soon as she had said it. How could she mock his arrangements for his sister when he had just that morning told her of Ramsgate?

Darcy looked pained for a moment but whether from her faux pas or his own contrition she could not tell, “My apologies - I did not intend to disparage your uncle's arrangements. I am travelling to London myself on Saturday - you are welcome to join me.”

“That would not be appropriate sir, ladies travelling alone with a bachelor is worse than them travelling post.”

“You would hardly be alone. My valet and groom accompany me and I can arrange for a maid travel with you. You and Miss Lucas - and the maid - can have the carriage to yourselves - Gibson does not mind the box and I planned to ride in any event. It would be safer than the post, infinitely more comfortable and save your uncle the trouble of sending a servant.”

Elizabeth looked at him doubtfully, “I would not wish to inconvenience you.”

“I am to travel in any event; additional passengers will not trouble me. But I would worry about you and would without doubt escort the post to London to ensure your safe arrival. That would be far less convenient, let me assure you. As you are guaranteed my escort whatever you decide - you may as well opt to travel in the comfort of a private carriage. I will not pester you on the journey - you will hardly see me. ”

“You do take delight in getting your own way do you not? Very well, it seems it would be quite contrary for me to choose the post and I am sure Maria would prefer a comfortable ride. I will send word to my uncle.”

“Write him a letter and I will have my man take it to Westerham and have it sent Express.”

She was not sure whether to attribute his determination to accompany her to his high-handedness or his protective loyalty but either way she had a letter to write. She took a deep breath, resolved to repress all thoughts of Mr Darcy until later, and turned back toward the Parsonage.

An Endeavour At Civility ~ Section III

By Jennifer Ray

Beginning, Previous Section, Section III

Chapter Seven

Posted on 2008-09-05

As Charlotte and Elizabeth stepped from Mr Collins' bookroom, Charlotte's curiosity was piqued. Elizabeth, shaking her head in a mixture of amusement and denial, collected the bonnet and pelisse that she had not long discarded, and went to wander the garden. Charlotte, going to join Maria in the parlour and sitting near the window with a good view of the gardens, watched as Elizabeth paced back and forth distractedly. They had left Mr Collins in his bookroom following a most singular and surprising conversation. Very little Mr Collins said interested Charlotte now, and his words then had done little to improve her opinion of his sensibleness, but what had surprised her was Elizabeth's response. Mr Collins had been concerned when Elizabeth had returned to the Parsonage from a very early walk, and had requested she and Charlotte join him in his bookroom for a private conversation.

Charlotte and Elizabeth seated themselves and looked attentively at Mr Collins, albeit with a little trepidation as Mr Collins stood formally before them, one hand resting upon the mantel piece.

“My dear young, innocent Cousin,” he began, “I feel it most prudent and wise to speak with you as your cousin and as a clergyman, on a matter of some delicacy and discretion. I have asked my dear Mrs Collins to be present as I deem it best to have another female present with you to discuss such a delicate matter, and I would not wish to sully the impressionable ears of my dear young sister. I have been giving a great deal of thought to the advice of my noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh which she so condescendingly bestowed upon me this Sunday past. `Mr Collins', she said, `Mr Collins, I hope you have not been remiss in your duties to those two young women you have in your care. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended according to their situation in life.' Lady Catherine shows you great favour, cousin, in her attentiveness to you. It had come to her attention, however, that you were walking out quite alone and she told me that it is better to be cautious…what were her words? `You must be vigilant, Mr Collins,' she said, `you have a duty to the young women in your care'. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that you ought not to walk out alone, Cousin Elizabeth, she cannot like it. I cast no aspersions upon the wisdom of your estimable father in allowing you these liberties at Longbourn, but here at Hunsford I must follow the laudable advice of my benevolent patroness. I must ask, therefore, that in the short time you have left with us here at my humble abode, you do not go farther than the Parsonage gardens as, my innocent young cousin, you cannot know the dangers that may lurk beyond, if you feel the need to wander farther I must insist that you take John with you, or if I have no other commitments I may accompany you.

Elizabeth was not one to silently allow her activities to be curtailed, and as soon as the Rector stopped to draw breath she began to speak, “Mr Collins, I---”

“Please cousin, let me finish.” he interrupted, holding up his hand to silence her, “My motive for this and indeed for requesting this interview, my dear cousin, is that I have been deliberating her ladyship's subsequent words to me and I think that perhaps I was erroneous in my first conclusions, as to your attempting to lure Mr Darcy, although I am not unaware of the arts with which you…” Elizabeth and Charlotte were both feeling the indelicacy of his words and could not look at each other, “…but perhaps it is best to remain silent on that matter. In any event, after my dear Charlotte informed me that you do not look upon Mr Darcy with a friendly eye I began to reconsider her ladyship's advice to me and some of her words have made me very concerned, very concerned indeed. She has become aware that Mr Darcy has met with you on several occasions as you have traversed the charming grounds of Rosings Park and after impressing upon me that Mr Darcy is destined to marry his cousin, Miss de Bourgh, and that he would never marry a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, she said, `I would not injure my nephew so much as to suppose the truth of it is possible but Miss Bennet may draw him in, and he may forget himself in a moment of infatuation.' At the time I had thought she meant that you were endeavouring to better your situation through a most advantageous marriage but I am come to realise, with what my dear Charlotte has informed me, that that cannot be the case. This leads me to only one conclusion, my dear innocent cousin.” Mr Collins looked quite uncomfortable and mopped his brow with his handkerchief, he looked at Elizabeth with a solemn expression and continued, “You cannot know, with your sheltered and genteel upbringing, the wickedness that exists in the world and that some great men are not models of virtue. I hesitate to speak of this to you, but I feel you must be aware to be able to protect yourself - and indeed her ladyship showed a great deal of particular condescension toward you in bringing such a matter to my attention - Mr Darcy may not look on you with an eye toward matrimony but that he may have Other Intentions.”

At the conclusion of his speech, Mr Collins sat himself in his chair with an air of self-importance and was met with shocked silence for a moment, while the ladies digested his information. Elizabeth, whose morning had been spent chastising herself for wrongly accusing Mr Darcy and berating herself for judging him with no little prejudice could not bear that the man should suffer further slights to his character.

With all the civility she could muster she replied, “Mr Collins, I thank you for your kindness in endeavouring to protect me, but I cannot believe it was Lady Catherine's intent to tarnish her nephew's reputation. Mr Darcy is an honourable man - there is no basis for what can only be termed slander!”

Mr Collins smiled at her indulgently, “My dear Cousin Elizabeth, it is to your credit that you wish to defend this young man but you cannot know the loose morals and improper desires of some great men. Assuredly, Lady Catherine was putting me on my guard - there cannot be another explanation.”

“Indeed, Mr Collins, I think Lizzy must be correct.” said Charlotte calmly, “Lady Catherine would hardly defame the character of her own nephew and I cannot believe it wise to damage the reputation of the man Lady Catherine has deemed worthy enough to marry her own daughter - indeed I think it likely that would greatly displease her ladyship.”

Mr Collins' confidence faltered and he paled considerably at the thought of inspiring Lady Catherine's displeasure, “Perhaps you are right, perhaps you are right, my dear Mrs Collins, but what other explanation could there be?”

Charlotte looked toward Elizabeth, she seemed at a loss as to know how to answer and Charlotte knew she would have to think of some excuse for Lady Catherine's behaviour that did not reflect badly on either Elizabeth or Mr Darcy. “Mr Darcy and Lizzy share a mutual fondness for walking,” she replied, “I am sure it is only coincidental that they have happened to meet on a few occasions and they could not in all politeness ignore each other. I think Lady Catherine may be very protective of Mr Darcy as she wishes to secure his attentions to Miss de Bourgh and so she is jealous of any attention he gives elsewhere.”

“That must be the case, Mr Collins,” Elizabeth had said, “Lady Catherine is merely trying to protect her daughter's interests. Mr Darcy has always behaved with proper decorum and has not once overstepped the bounds of propriety. He once told me that he has made it the study of his life to avoid any weaknesses that often expose one to censure. He is a respectable, principled man and I do not believe he would act in such an ungentlemanlike manner.”

Charlotte looked at Elizabeth questioningly with a curious smile on her lips. Elizabeth had defended Mr Darcy rather warmly! Had her opinion of Mr Darcy changed so very much in the past day? Charlotte thought this a very interesting development indeed. Turning back to her husband she said, “And do not forget, Mr Collins, what a great estate Mr Darcy has in Derbyshire, he surely oversees several church livings - it would be wise for you to keep on good terms with him. He undoubtedly has great influence in the church.”

Elizabeth and Charlotte had been able to defend Mr Darcy sufficiently to convince Mr Collins to abandon his arguments against him, but not enough for him to rescind his request that Elizabeth restrict her activities to the Parsonage garden unless accompanied. It was all very well keeping his future options open but it did not do to go against the mandate of his present patroness.

Charlotte looked through the window, into the garden, and watched her friend as she wandered about, deep in thought. Lizzy had not been quite herself since her suffering a headache several days ago. As she had denied still feeling ill, Charlotte was certain there was something else disturbing her and was convinced that something was Mr Darcy. Charlotte knew better than to demand her confidence - if Elizabeth wished to confide in her she would, but she certainly would not if Charlotte tried to force her to reveal her intimate thoughts. Charlotte watched as Elizabeth abruptly stopped her meandering and looking towards the house, began to walk purposefully back to the Parsonage. A moment or two passed and Lizzy entered the parlour.

“Charlotte,” she said, “I happened across Mr Darcy in the grove this morning and as he is travelling then himself, he offered to escort me and Maria to London on Saturday. He offered to arrange for a maid to travel with us and I saw no reason not to accept. What do you think Maria? Shall you prefer to travel in a fine carriage or would you rather we hired a post-chaise?”

After Maria's raptures on the possibility of travelling in a fine equipage, Elizabeth had excused herself to write a letter to her uncle to explain the change in travel arrangements.

“Well Maria!” asked Charlotte, once Elizabeth had left the room “What do you think on that?”

“What a lot I shall have to tell when I get home! Mr Darcy's carriage may be even finer than Lady Catherine's!”

“I wondered before today whether Mr Darcy admired Lizzy, now I am almost certain of it.”

“Do you think he will offer for her? To think Lizzy may always ride in such carriages!”

“You must write to me Maria, from London, and tell me whether Mr Darcy calls there as often as he has at the Parsonage.”

Anne de Bourgh was staring rather vacantly from the library window. To all outward appearances she was politely and thoughtfully considering her cousin's reading - she sat straight-backed, her hands demurely clasped in her lap, a deceptively pensive expression graced her face but she had long since ceased listening to her cousin's words as he read aloud from some historical tome. She simply allowed the sound of his voice to wash over her as she became lost in her own thoughts.

Darcy cleared his throat bringing Anne's attention back into the room and looking around she found that her mother had left the library. This event had apparently evaded both her and Darcy's notice; she was alone with her cousin. Darcy shifted in his seat, a wry smile on his lips, he continued his reading:

“…I therefore require, charge, and command that you make answer, for I have been well informed of your arrogance, Act plainly, without reserve, and you will sooner be able to obtain favour of me…”

Anne once again slipped into covert inattentiveness, blocking out Darcy's voice and becoming lost in thought. Darcy had been acting rather strangely this visit. Anne had noticed that at the start of his visit he had seemed very distracted and now it was as if he had realised his inattentiveness and was now endeavouring to compensate by being overly considerate. Anne could not account for it.

“Anne?” Darcy said rather loudly, disturbing her reverie. He had evidently been trying to gain her attention for some time. “You seemed very far away.”

Anne offered him a half-hearted smile, “I do apologise, pray continue.”

He looked at her curiously and closed the book. “If I am not mistaken,” he said, “you are as indifferent to the Collected Letters of Queen Elizabeth as I.”

Anne smiled faintly and nodded. What had Darcy been thinking choosing that work? He must have chosen it for her mother's benefit - she certainly possessed a lot of books devoted to the subject. Anne could not remember a great deal from her history lessons, Mrs Jenkinson had a circuitous, incoherent style of teaching and Anne had often let her mind wander. They had, though, dwelt a great deal on that Queen and some information was bound to take hold. Anne had been struck with the similarities between Lady Catherine and Queen Elizabeth, perhaps her mother used her as something of a model - both were strong, independent, well-educated women with sharp tongues which they used to their own advantage and who surrounded themselves with obsequious men. Anne smiled as she pictured Mr Collins as Raleigh, ceremoniously placing his cloak over a puddle in a gallant attempt to prevent her mother's feet from being muddied. Darcy too was a favourite in the Court of Lady Catherine, though he was certainly far from sycophantic, despite his current efforts at courtesy. He would not fulfil Lady Catherine's every wish - he had all but promised never to offer for Anne. Which of Queen Elizabeth's favourites had rebelled against her? The Earl of Oxford? Essex? Anne could not remember. But whatever his name was that was Darcy. A one time favourite ready to stage a rebellion.

“Shall I select another book?” Darcy asked, “Poetry perhaps?”

“Yes, poetry.” Anne repeated blandly. It did not matter much what he read - Darcy chose the dreariest books. He needed to marry someone as dull as he - someone who would appreciate tedious histories or incomprehensible poetry or the latest article on sheep breeding.

Darcy rose, returned the book to its sisters, and moved to the shelf containing poetry. He ran his finger along the spines, quickly scanning the titles. He paused at Donne and half pulled the book from the shelf before hesitating, he seemed to change his mind as he slowly pushed it back into its place, turned to Anne and said, “There is Donne and Cowper here or I have a work of Coleridge in my rooms. Which would you prefer?”

Anne frowned. Donne, Cowper or Coleridge? If she could remember any of their works she may have been able to make an informed decision but she was likely to find each as dull as the other and understand none of them. Before she was able to pick one at random Darcy moved closer to her and spoke again.

“I have a new novel upstairs,” he said, “I am reading it to check its suitability for Georgiana. It is by a new authoress - Mary Brunton - and it is not as dull as the title `Self-Control' suggests. Would you prefer me to read that?”

As it was, she had much rather have Self-Control read. Lady Catherine did not approve of novels and Anne rarely got the opportunity to read one. However a thought struck Anne: “Why is Cousin Darcy being so considerate? Perhaps Mama is right.” she thought, “Perhaps he is not as rebellious as I thought. Perhaps he has extended his stay to make me an offer.” Everything seemed to fall into place. His distraction earlier in his stay could now be accounted for as his devoting a great deal of time considering whether or not to enter into an engagement and his current attentiveness was in an effort to win her favour. Anne paled at the thought.

“Would you rather to do something else?” asked Darcy kindly.

Anne rose from her seat with an outward serenity that she did not feel and smoothed her gown. “If you will excuse me, cousin, I have a headache coming.”

Darcy took out his watch and checked the time. Today he would meet with Elizabeth and hopefully she would say whether she was willing to allow him to further their relationship. He hoped he had done enough to persuade her. Darcy was feeling a peculiar mix of confidence and self doubt. He was usually a confident man - it was a natural result of his possessing a certain amount of arrogance. The same part of him that had assumed her acceptance of his initial proposal was now confident that he could win her heart if only he was granted the opportunity. He was equal parts grim doubt that the opportunity would ever be given him, and desperate hope that it would. He had been waiting for her almost an hour. He had left Rosings as dawn was breaking and the sun was steadily making its ascent as he waited in the grove leaning against the blossom tree, what he had come to see as their tree. He had met Elizabeth here so many times: several times before his ill-fated proposal, the morning after her refusal, and Tuesday morning where he learned of her true opinion of him.

He had ridden Odysseus back to Rosings that day, after his enlightening conversation with Elizabeth and his own mortifying reflections, with a strong feeling of purpose and a determination to succeed. Darcy neither gave his heart nor made decisions lightly. Once he had overcome his struggles and realised he did not wish to live without the brightness and joy she would bring to his life nothing could cause him to swerve from his course. He was now driven by his intense love for her, his unyielding determination to succeed and his incredible obstinacy. Her admission of her true feelings towards him did not, for a single moment, cause him to relinquish his goal of winning her hand but only added a further obstacle to overcome. Once he had determined on a course of action he would hold to it unbendingly. Elizabeth had informed him where he was lacking and the only thing he could do was to improve himself and make himself worthy of her. Elizabeth was certainly precious enough in his eyes to merit his attempts at self-improvement. She was a remarkable woman and deserved no less. He had walked into his Aunt's house with a resolute air ready to effect the changes needed. To him who is determined it only remains to act. Unfortunately Rosings offered little scope and his efforts had been frustrated.

Before now, somehow his Aunt's unladylike manner had escaped him. Now, faced with his own faults, his Aunt's were more obvious to him. He recognised that Lady Catherine did not treat those outside her own circle with dignity and courteousness - and to this point, neither had he. That was not the behaviour of a true lady or gentleman. He vowed to act in a more gentlemanlike manner - showing consideration and courtesy to all, regardless of their background, wealth or intellect. Social graces were not optional if he truly wanted respect. He now saw his Aunt's behaviour for what it was - a glaring example of how not to behave.

Elizabeth treated all around her with thoughtfulness and courtesy regardless of their rank, intellect or how they treated her. She treated Mr Collins with dignity despite his foolishness, to Lady Catherine she showed respect regardless of her prying and rudeness, and to Caroline Bingley demonstrated civility in spite of her hostility and insincerity. Darcy's first response in any situation was to ensure his own comfort. He found he had to constantly remind himself to be considerate - to act in a gentlemanlike manner and ensure the comfort of others. He scanned the grove in the direction of Hunsford, but still there was no sign of Elizabeth. He could not think so little of her integrity to believe that she would not honour her promise to meet him and thought that the responsibility for her absence may lie at Mr Collins' door.

It had been a long three days. He had known Elizabeth needed a period to disentangle her thoughts and Darcy had promised himself that he would give her time to do so. He had often wished to, but he had not, called at the Parsonage - determining only to do so if Elizabeth summoned him to save her from any situation arising from Mr Collins' disrespect. He had almost wished for Mr Collins to make a nuisance of himself, to enable him to see Elizabeth that much sooner, but either Mr Collins had conducted himself with more civility or Elizabeth had not wished for Darcy to become involved.

He hoped Elizabeth, had she witnessed them, would have been pleased with his attempts to become the man she wanted him to be. He had been polite to his Aunt, despite his disappointment with her manners. He attempted to involve the mouse-like Mrs Jenkinson in conversation however Lady Catherine had answered all questions he posed to her. And he had tried to converse with Anne.

All Darcy's attempts at conversation with his cousin had been met with brief, bland answers or silence. Darcy admitted he lacked the skill and patience to draw her out (if there was anything to draw out, which he often doubted) but her lack of response irritated him. He was using every courtesy in his power and she was evading and ignoring him. Lady Catherine had greatly deceived herself if she thought Anne's insipidity would ever tempt him to offer for her. She seemed quite content to sit quietly for hours, putting forth no effort at conversation, not using her time in any useful way and making no attempts to occupy her mind. Anne could not compare to Elizabeth.

Darcy pulled out his watch and checked it again. It was now a later hour than any time he had previously met Elizabeth here and on his looking down the grove there was still no sign of her. He had promised Elizabeth that he would not let anything keep him from meeting her - not Lady Catherine, not Elizabeth herself, and certainly not his Aunt's fool of a Rector. If Mr Collins was impeding Elizabeth's freedom his only recourse was to meet her at the Parsonage. Scanning the lane again and still not seeing Elizabeth, Darcy began to walk purposefully towards Hunsford.

Elizabeth returned to the Parsonage following a brief turn about the garden under the ever watchful eye of Mr Collins. He had not made too great a nuisance of himself since his ill conceived attack on Mr Darcy's character - nothing with which she had felt the need to concern Mr Darcy. Mr Collins had not relented in his desire to keep her from walking out alone, however, even going so far as to rouse himself at an exceptionally early hour to prevent her from slipping out unnoticed at dawn. If it had not greatly frustrated her need for solitude she may have admired his tenacity.

She had spent a great deal of time in the Parsonage garden the past few days. Walking out accompanied by John, or heaven forbid Mr Collins, would have denied her the privacy she needed to think deeply on the only subject that currently occupied her mind - Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. It was not as liberating to walk to and fro along the garden path in the view of the residents of Hunsford as it was to meander the grove alone, and she believed Charlotte to be a little suspicious of her current pensive moods, so she took to pretending to read a book on a bench in the garden while she deliberated on the conundrum that was Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth removed her pelisse and bonnet in the hall, and joined the others in the breakfast room. Once she had a cup of tea and a roll, she indicated her intention to oversee the packing of her trunks and the ever sensible Charlotte persuaded a reluctant Maria to do the same, but not before the younger Lucas girl had extracted the promise of help from the elder. Mr Collins, satisfied that the ladies would be well occupied for the foreseeable future, left to pay his daily call at Rosings with no fear that any lady would venture out alone.

Elizabeth directed Molly, the Collins housemaid, to remove her gowns from the closet as she set aside her evening wear and travelling clothes. She had worked through her conflicting emotions, and discordant thoughts as best she could in the time available. She had revisited her past interactions with Mr Darcy, endeavouring to re-evaluate his behaviour and ended up condemning her own. She had spoken to him with the intention to give offence more often that not. She had blindly allowed herself to be led by Mr Wickham. Her insolence to Mr Darcy at the Netherfield Ball she could not look at without shame. In her own past behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret. Often through the course of the past few days she had wondered how Mr Darcy had ever fallen in love with her.

Come Thursday afternoon she believed she had ordered her thoughts as best she was able. Mr Darcy was a good man - she had excellent character references from his friendship with Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was intelligent, generous, honourable and loyal. He was honest, sometimes painfully so, and was ready to make recompense for his errors.

On the other hand, he had not adequately explained away his behaviour in Hertfordshire. Granted he was not a man of many words and was reserved, but as he so accurately said so were Jane, Charlotte and her father and none of them would sit next to anyone for an extended period without speaking. He certainly did not lack confidence and so she could only believe he thought himself superior and that Herefordshire society was not worth his attention. She admitted he had more reason to think well of himself than anyone else in her acquaintance, but she could not like such conceitedness

He also looked down on her family. He did not respect them. She knew their faults full well but she still loved them. Would he not want her to distance herself from them? She found it difficult to imagine his ever staying at Longbourn or him entertaining her mother and younger sisters at his house in town or at Pemberley. What of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner? He had asked to call on her at their home - did he realise that that would require him to travel near Cheapside? Would the proud Mr Darcy countenance his wife calling on her relations in Gracechurch Street? Would her family be lost to her? Marriage must be a difficult thing to become accustomed to. To submit herself to the will of her husband would be difficult enough, but without the support of her family it would be untenable.

She doubted very much that they would find felicity in marriage. He evidently thought them compatible but based on their previous interactions she could not. Granted she had not in the past endeavoured any more than a cold civility interspersed with impertinence but their relationship had consisted of misunderstandings, an inability to communicate and quarrels. That did not bode well for the future. Her father had often expressed his thoughts about the possibility of her future wedded bliss or lack thereof - she would be in danger if she could not respect or esteem her husband; her quick wit and obstinacy would make an unhappy marriage true torture for both spouses. Add to that his arrogance, officiousness and need to have his own way and she doubted whether they would be able to live in the same house. That was not the kind of marriage she aspired to.

There was also the question of his wealth. From a prudent point of view she could not ask for a better union. She would be in a position to provide for her mother and sisters if they survived her father. She would never want for anything and could likely have all that her heart desired. These things were in his favour, but was it enough to commit to an official courtship?

Her feelings had been harder to evaluate than her thoughts. She was certain she no longer hated him, but was unsure whether she actually liked him or not. The truth was he was not the man she thought him to be, and she did not truly know him. She could assign him some merits and faults but she did not trust herself to accurately judge the motives for his actions. She did not know how he thought, his tastes or his plans and wishes for the future and she did not know whether she could ever come to love him. But she knew enough to know which answer she had to give him.

With all the household now accounted for - Charlotte and Maria were in the latter's room, John was fetching the trunks and Mr Collins was visiting Lady Catherine, Elizabeth had only to excuse herself from Molly, go downstairs, put on her bonnet and pelisse and slip from the house.

Charlotte happened to look from Maria's window as Elizabeth went through the Parsonage gate and met Mr Darcy in the lane. After a brief greeting Mr Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm which Charlotte noted she took without hesitation. Darcy was sporting a smile Charlotte had never before seen grace his face. It was almost equalled by the satisfied grin that Charlotte wore on her own.

Chapter Eight

Posted on 2008-09-14

As Darcy approached the parsonage he had a clear view of Elizabeth as she stepped lightly down the garden path, focused on fastening the buttons of her gloves. The smile of success as she fastened the button at her left wrist was soon replaced by a small frown of concentration as she struggled to fasten the right. It was a nigh on impossible task. Her less dexterous left hand, further hindered by the leather of her gloves could not work the tiny button into its hole. Darcy watched, fascinated, as she stubbornly persisted. The tip of her tongue crept out and pressed her upper lip, her frown deepened and her steps slowed. Darcy was captivated. He smiled to himself and shook his head - wondering how even the most mundane of tasks could enthral him, if it were she who was performing them.

Every day Elizabeth was becoming more precious to him. He both dreaded and longed for her promised answer. He doubted whether he could survive a further rejection and even though he believed she deserved far better, he was desperate for her to accept his suit. He just needed a foothold - the opportunity to progress - then he was sure that eventually she would be his.

Darcy opened the gate for her as she approached it. She looked up quickly in surprise and offered him a small smile. It was not the wide, dazzling grin he was hoping for but nor did she seem displeased to see him. As they greeted each other formally he looked at her intently, trying, unsuccessfully, to discern what her answer may be.

Elizabeth stepped through the gate and Darcy placed his walking stick on the garden wall, reached down, took her hand in his and turning it over slowly fastened her glove. He lingered over the task - locking in his memory the sight of her tiny hand, with its long slender fingers, almost completely encased by his and the feel of its slight weight in his palm. He could not resist brushing the bare skin of her wrist with his finger, although his senses were stifled by his gloves and could only imagine its softness. He savoured the intimacy of the action and delighted that she had not drawn away, but at the same time despaired that she would ever again allow him to do such a thing. As he released her hand he met her eyes, felt a sense of satisfaction as he noted her flushed countenance, and again made an attempt to read her expression but admitted to himself that he had before been such a poor judge as to her feelings that he could do this with no real accuracy. She seemed to lack something of her usual vibrancy but he could not discern the cause.

She offered him a tentative smile. “Would you accompany me on a short walk? I cannot be gone long.”

Mr Darcy smiled warmly in response, took up his walking stick and offered her his arm with an air of confidence that he did not feel, “Your servant, madam.”

Elizabeth placed her hand in the crook of his arm without hesitation, which caused his smile to widen and his eyes to close briefly. He led her across the lane and into the grounds of Rosings and directed her to take a short gravel walk through the formal gardens.

“It is so very good to be away from the house.” she breathed out in a slightly exasperated whisper.

Darcy was not sure whether she had intended to say this aloud but her sentiment could only confirm his suspicions and, with a note of concern in his voice, he asked her, “Has Mr Collins made a nuisance of himself?”

She coloured and looked away. “We did not meet today to talk about my cousin.”

“No, we did not,” he replied quietly. A bothersome thought, that she had evaded his question, was quickly pushed away and all thoughts of Mr Collins were forgotten, his attention was now riveted on Elizabeth. He held his breath, waiting, impatient for her to speak, as they continued down the path. He frowned slightly and looked intently at her, willing her to give the answer he ached to hear.

She looked up at him with a curious expression. “I have no wish to torment you. I am quite ready to give you my answer to your question - if you still wish to ask it.”

He released his breath and stopped walking, turning slightly to look at her. “If I still wish to? Do you doubt it?”

“You looked rather solemn.”

Darcy gave a small, nervous laugh, shook his head and then said seriously, “Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of allowing me to call on you?”

“Yes, Mr Darcy, I will.”

“Thank you.” He spoke quietly, barely breathing out the words, and felt an inexpressible relief. He took her hand from his arm and raised it to his lips. Elizabeth's gaze dropped to the ground, her colour rose and a self-conscious half smile played on her lips. Darcy, unwilling to let her go, returned her hand to the crook of his arm and they continued along the path, through a formal knot garden; the regimented, neatly clipped box hedges restraining the colourful plantings within. “I had persuaded myself that you would answer me very differently.”

“I thought you may change your mind and not wish to court such a stupid creature - I thought so very ill of you a week ago - I misjudged you so completely - I have rebuked myself thoroughly I assure you.”

“I will not have you blame yourself,” he said firmly. “Nor are you in any way stupid - your judgment of my character did not err so greatly.”

Elizabeth smiled up at him and arched her brow. “You, sir, are ridiculously biased. I have been very stupid and very mistaken.”

“I will admit to being prone to come to your defence and therefore may not be the most impartial judge, but I have spent the past few days considering my own sizeable errors and have barely thought on your excusable and minor ones.”

“If you can find any excuse for my woeful gullibility and imperceptiveness I should like to hear it - I have been thinking on it for days and cannot defend myself at all.”

“Your trust in Mr Wickham was misplaced but can easily be accounted for - I had done nothing to merit your good opinion and you are not of a suspicious nature. Mr Wickham would say anything to have people think well of him and you are open and genuine and wish to believe the same of everyone you meet.”

Elizabeth laughed, but there was little humour in it. “That is a virtue I cannot venture to claim for myself. It belongs to Jane. She is the one who believes there is no badness in the world and genuinely believes the best of everyone. I may have looked for good in Mr Wickham but I consciously sought out your faults, and created them when I did not find enough to satisfy myself. I am heartily ashamed of myself.”

Mr Darcy could not like her continued self-reproach -especially as he had come to recognise the accuracy of the best part of her sketch of his character. “I have faults enough. I do not believe my character quite as black as you painted it, but will admit to it being a rather dark grey.”

“No sir - I accused you of being malicious and manipulative, when you are simply loyal and protective of your friends, and I believed you capable of acting with dishonour, lack of integrity and without principle in your dealings with Mr Wickham, when in fact you have been more than generous with him.”

They passed through an archway in the tall yew hedges and down some steps into a courtyard with an ornamental pond and fountains, reflecting very much Lady Catherine's taste. Mr Darcy was revelling in the remarkable transformation Elizabeth's opinion of him had seemingly undergone - hearing her defence of him took his breath away. But his smile of satisfaction quickly twisted into one of self-deprecation. “Yet I am arrogant, selfish, too used to having my own way, high-handed and not forgetting excessively proud.”

“You do not sound proud, but rather humble.”

“If I do it is because you have humbled me. You have held up a mirror before me and shown me my true self, and I do not like what I see.”

“I had no idea of my words being taken in such a way,” she said quietly.

“I am sure you thought no such thing as you believed me to be without any honourable traits,” Darcy said wryly and caught an expression of remorse on Elizabeth's face before she looked away in embarrassment, fixing her eyes on the overly ornate, formal pond. He continued in a softer tone, “But I will own to possessing honesty - I could not pretend to be faultless once I had seen the truth. I am indebted to you - if it were not for you I would remain an insufferable man and not even know it. You have given me means to improve myself and try to be worthy of you. I am glad you have given me the chance to do so.”

She looked up at him with an earnest expression approaching wonder. “You are not the man I thought you were. I own that I do not know you at all. I thought it best to give myself a chance to truly get to know you - `Yes' was the only one answer I could give.”

“You could easily have given a different one.”

“No sir, not easily,” she replied firmly. “Most would consider it the height of folly to refuse you. It is undoubtedly prudent to accept your courtship.”

“Ah yes,” he said dryly, “a great estate in Derbyshire and ten thousand a year - some of my better qualities.”

“You must know that if I believed they were your only good points I would have given you a very different answer.”

“I do know it.”

“But it was not what you wished to hear,” she said wistfully. “I would not wish you to think me mercenary but I cannot but tell you the truth.”

“I have ample proof that you are far from mercenary,” he said a little stiffly, looking away from her into the distance, “It is sensible - I cannot fault you for it.”

He felt a gentle pressure on his arm and looked down for a moment to where her hand rested on it before meeting her eyes, and noted her look of contrition.

“It was not my only reason,” she said earnestly. “I do wish to know you better - I am ashamed of what I felt a week ago. I have wronged you and I feel a sense of obligation to avoid injuring you further.”

Darcy looked away again, and his expression tightened. “Obligation,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself.

“I fear I am not explaining myself well,” Elizabeth said quickly. Darcy turned to look at her and saw a wry smile form on her lips before she said archly, “Do you suppose it is contagious?”

He gave her a small, tense smile, remembering his own very real difficulties conversing with her. “I hope not.”

“I…I would not marry for those reasons.” She paused for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts, turned away from him slightly and gave her attention to the flowerbed. “I can give so very little to my husband,” she continued softly, “barely fifty pounds a year - I will not marry if I cannot give him my heart. I do not know if I can give you mine - I hardly know how I feel about myself at this moment, let alone anyone else. Before now, I have not allowed myself to come to know who you really are - you have offered me a chance to know you better and I have very little to lose.” They stopped in front of a small gate which led back onto the lane, Elizabeth turned to him with an expression bordering on guilt and said softly, “You have more to lose than I.”

Mr Darcy opened the gate and held it for her and she released his arm and passed through. Of all the feelings he wished he had inspired in her, prudence, obligation and guilt were the furthest from his desires. He felt the bittersweet ache of having his suit accepted for all the wrong reasons. His feelings could not be termed disappointment. Had he not thought she would reject him outright? Could he truly expect her to warm to him in a few days after months of contempt? No. What he felt could better be described as regret. Had he behaved differently in the past, had he sooner seen her true worth, had he courted her properly, had he been a better man - then perhaps his desire to have Miss Bennet as his wife would be that much closer to realisation. The hill he had to climb to reach his goal now seemed that much steeper, but it was not insurmountable. Darcy stepped into the lane, closed the gate behind him and turning to Elizabeth was enchanted anew, met by a pair of fine eyes, sparkling with mirth.

She smiled up at him and said archly, “I think the only way I could be wounded is if you are of a malicious character - and we have already decided you are not - and wish to exact revenge for my rejecting you and so wholly misjudging you by making me fall in love with you and then abandoning me. But I believe I shall chance it.”

“If I did that,” he replied seriously, “I would break my own heart twice in the process, once for losing you and once for wounding you. If you need further assurance I also plan to write to your father and ask his permission to court you. I would then be honour bound to offer for you.”

“No,” she said sincerely. “It is not necessary.”

“It is the right thing to do.”

“That may be but I wish you would not - you did not do so before.”

“No, I did not. I ought to have done so - perhaps then we would have understood each other better. I shall do it properly this time.” They continued on their way down the lane. “Why do you not wish it?”

“He would be very surprised. I…” Her colour rose, and she said with no little embarrassment, “I was not temperate in expressing my opinions of you to my family.”

“I see,” said Darcy wryly. “You could write a letter to him and enclose it within my own.”

“Explaining my heartfelt feelings of prudence and my overwhelming sense of obligation?” she said sardonically. “He would appreciate that about as much as you. It would be better if I could explain myself in person. Could it not wait until I return home?”

Darcy's lips were pressed together in a thin line and it was a few moments before he asked, rather stiffly, “When do you return?”

“At the beginning of May,” she looked up at him apologetically, pleading with her eyes, “it is not so very long.”

“Very well.”

They walked some way in silence. Darcy's heart was vulnerable to such frank admissions that his feelings were unreciprocated and had fully felt the sting of her words, although he was sure she had not meant to cause such anguish. This had been both the best and worst week of his life. He had felt the release of admitting the extent of his love for Elizabeth but had then been categorically rejected. He had learned that she held him in derision but had succeeded in his struggle to improve her opinion of him and he would be forever in her debt for exposing to him his true nature and enabling him to improve himself. He was now torn between elation that she was now willing to allow his suit and wretchedness that she would do so for the most tenuous of reasons. Elizabeth too, it seemed, was ill at ease. She was unwilling to meet his eye and was restlessly fidgeting with her gloves, wringing her fingers. Darcy submitted to a desperate urge for reassurance.

“So, aside from Pemberley and my income,” he said somewhat flippantly, with a devastating smile, “what are my other good points?”

Elizabeth let out a taut chuckle. “Your vanity competes with mine!”

Darcy gave her a look intended to compel her to answer his appeal.

“Very well,” she responded resignedly. “I have already spoken of your loyalty and generosity and you have proclaimed your honesty - I can add to that integrity, honour, intelligence, a well-informed mind and a compulsion to right whatever wrongs you feel you may have committed. There! Any more and your vanity will grow to truly insufferable proportions!”

Darcy smiled, assured that she was not guided merely by prudence and obligation alone but that she had some foundation of merit, albeit generalised, to build her feelings upon. They approached the parsonage and together entered the house. As Darcy removed his hat, gloves and greatcoat, Molly approached and assisted Elizabeth. Darcy felt a stab of envy as the maid unbuttoned Elizabeth's gloves and he recalled the earlier intimacy he had stolen. He held Elizabeth's gaze and she coloured under his intense scrutiny unable to turn away from his eyes until both were drawn to the door of the back parlour as Mr Collins' lurid tones rang out, “I cannot believe that! What other reason could there be? Mr Darcy cannot know the displeasure, the disappointment, he is inciting!”

Molly bobbed a quick curtsey and hurriedly withdrew. Mr Darcy looked back toward Elizabeth and asked, “Are you aware of what he is speaking?”

Elizabeth answered him only with a look of such mortification that led him to the conclusion that she did indeed know the meaning of Mr Collins' words.

“And would you care to share such knowledge with me?”

She answered in a small but determined voice, “I would not.”

“I see.” Darcy replied. His eyes once again were pulled to the parlour door as Mr Collins' voice was heard.

“Cousin Elizabeth ought not to have acted in so wilful a manner! To walk out without protection - her ladyship will be most displeased.”

“I ought to go inside.”

“As should I.”

“No indeed, it is not necessary,” Elizabeth said in somewhat stricken tones.

Elizabeth's distress pained him and in an attempt to lighten her mood he leaned toward her and said, “Indeed it is - I am for London tomorrow and have not yet taken leave of Mr & Mrs Collins. Between you and me,” he said conspiratorially “I am attempting to impress a young lady who thinks my manners sadly lacking, I cannot afford to ignore proper etiquette.”

Elizabeth's response was still rather strained. “I do believe, in the circumstances, she would forgive you.”

Mr Collins' rantings continued to ring through the hall. “My dear Mrs Collins! That is all well and good but for them to be alone - again! This is precisely the sort of situation Lady Catherine wished to avoid! I cannot impress enough…”

“I believe,” Darcy replied, “if I abandoned my good manners at this moment, I would not forgive myself.”

“Mr Darcy, please---”

“Miss Bennet, I am afraid Mr Collins has been less than circumspect,” Mr Darcy said seriously, “Do you trust the Collins' servants not to gossip?”

“No, sir.” Elizabeth replied quietly.

Mr Darcy gestured toward the parlour, “Shall we?”

Mr Darcy and Miss Bennet's entrance had quieted the indignant clergyman more effectively than his wife's previous efforts and now the group sat uneasily. Mrs Collins endeavoured admirably to speak of the weather but each person's mind was fully occupied with Mr Collins tirade and its possible consequences to allow room for meaningless civilities. Mr Collins sat with a disapproving scowl directed at Elizabeth, Mrs Collins and Elizabeth were looking with some concern at the dark expression Mr Darcy concentrated on Mr Collins, and Miss Lucas' eyes, widened in an expression of bewilderment, were darting about between the occupants of the room. A heavy silence settled on the occupants of the small back parlour of the parsonage, all experiencing a certain degree of discomfiture. The silence was broken, uncharacteristically, by Mr Darcy; his voice was deceptively calm.

“Mr Collins, may I have a moment of your time to speak with you in private?”

Mr Collins frown fell away from his face as he looked towards Mr Darcy, and was replaced by a deferential smile, “Why certainly Mr Darcy, I am, of course, well aware of the great honour you bestow upon me with your request and indeed it is no inconvenience at all, to be sure. In fact, even if it were incommodious I could hardly refuse such a request from such an estimable gentleman who is also the nephew of my noble patroness, and you may be certain should you ever again wish an audience with me, I may safely say, no occasion would be so inopportune for me to deny you.”

Reminded as to Mr Collins' tendency to produce an almost limitless quantity of words, and correctly surmising this necessary interview would be more than the work of a mere moment, Mr Darcy turned to Mrs. Collins and, although politely worded as a request, his tone was more in the way of a direct order, as he said: “Mrs Collins, might I ask that you do not allow any of your servants to leave the house in the immediate future.”

Having received a nod in reply, Mr Darcy returned his steely glare to Mr Collins, “Perhaps we could remove to your library, sir.”

“If you would deign to follow me Mr Darcy, I shall not lead you astray!” said Mr Collins as he solemnly strode from the room, and along the corridor, a displeased Mr Darcy in his wake, “However, the room that houses my many books, sir, is too humble a chamber to merit such a designation, indeed Lady Catherine herself was so gracious as to condescend to advise me on the best placement of furniture to make the most efficient use of the space available however, although now more than a study, it is still somewhat less than a library and now boasts the appellation `bookroom'.”

Having now arrived in said bookroom, Mr Collins paused, faltering between seating himself behind his own desk and allowing Mr Darcy the honour of that position. The decision was made for him as Mr Darcy moved to sit in a wing-backed chair facing the desk and Mr Collins settled himself in his own chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his desk, eagerly awaiting the words about to fall from Mr Darcy's lips.

Mr Darcy was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other and his fingers steepled. His manner would be described as nonchalant were not for the cool glint in his eyes and the manner in which he had set his lips in a tight, rigid line. His voice was quite calm when he spoke, but someone who knew him well (which, it must be said, Mr Collins did not) would have recognised an element of danger in it which would put them on guard. “Mr Collins, I must admit to you, sir, that as Miss Bennet and I arrived at the Parsonage we could not help but overhear some of your remarks. Miss Elizabeth admitted to me that she knew your meaning, but pointedly refused to tell me, I have never before known her at a loss for words, Mr Collins, and it has only led me to wonder at your purport. Perhaps you could oblige me?”

“Indeed sir,” replied Mr Collins earnestly, “I am well aware of my cousin's outspoken and wilful nature and such behaviour does sometimes lead her astray. I am afraid that I have found it necessary, under the gracious advice of Lady Catherine, to expressly instruct Miss Elizabeth not to walk out alone. I had not realised, before now, that the task of hosting single young ladies was so arduous and Lady Catherine was so kind and affable to advise me on that score. I am afraid to say Miss Elizabeth wilfully left the parsonage gardens this morning without protection and without informing anyone of her intentions - on my return to the Parsonage earlier, I found her missing and I could not help but express my dissatisfaction.”

“Miss Bennet did not, however, walk out alone. I met Miss Bennet in the Parsonage garden and was happy to escort her on a short walk.”

“Lady Catherine was very clear in her instructions that I or my manservant should accompany my fair cousin at all times and I expressly stated such to Miss Elizabeth. I am always most particular in complying with every piece of her ladyship's estimable advice.”

“I am sure you are, sir.” said Darcy evenly, “Am I then to conclude that you believe me to be a more inferior escort than your manservant?”

Mr Collins' complexion paled, “I did not mean to imply that so noble a personage as yourself could be inferior in any way. As the nephew of my esteemed patroness I cannot but believe that you would excel in any avenue you cared to extend yourself and as such am sure you are the most attentive of escorts.”

“I am not my Aunt, Mr Collins, and am not won over by gratuitous flattery. Let us keep to the point, sir. I could not avoid hearing you particularly mention my name in the course of venting your dissatisfaction, Mr Collins, what did you mean by it?”

“I…Lady Catherine, I am sure did not wish for you to become inconvenienced should you meet Miss Elizabeth alone in the park and feel obliged to accompany her, as I am certain you would do, as a most courteous gentleman, who is, I am sure...” A cold look of displeasure from Darcy ended his stream of flattery and Mr Collins began again, “Lady Catherine expressly wished that Miss Elizabeth did not make a nuisance of herself, had I known the full extent of her headstrong, wilful nature I would have---”

“Mr Collins, I would advise you to attempt to be succinct. If my memory serves me correctly, you did not state that Miss Elizabeth was provoking Lady Catherine's ire, but that that charge could be laid at my door. How so?”

“Your wish to remain in her ladyship's favour does you credit, sir. Indeed it is hardly surprising given your intimate connection with that household and in particular with your fair cousin Miss de Bourgh, but perhaps it is best to remain silent on this matter until more formal congratulations are in order.”

“By all means, sir, speak frankly. To what do you refer?”

“I flatter myself, that I have inspired her ladyship's confidence to such an extent that I am well aware of the Understanding you have with your cousin and the imminent nature of your engagement.”

“Engagement to my cousin? You are misinformed, sir.”

“No, I think not. Her Ladyship herself informed me of it.”

“Lady Catherine has expressly stated that I am betrothed to my cousin?”

“Her ladyship has not expressly announced the event but has made little comments and indicative remarks that could not be open to conjecture. I have on many occasions been happy to declare to Lady Catherine that you are about to carry away the county's brightest ornament.”

“I am my own man, Mr Collins, and my Aunt's wishes do not necessarily correspond with mine, or my cousin's.” Darcy's voice remained quite quiet, almost serene, but had Mr Collins been less ready to be impressed with every word he uttered he may have been more aware of the trace of hostility in Darcy's tone, “Let me be quite clear, I am not, nor ever will be, betrothed to my cousin and the only understanding we have between us is that we do not wish to wed. Any reports as to our engagement are at best conjecture and at worst blatant falsehoods. I am sure I need not remind you of the Church's stance on gossip and slander. Let me leave my own reputation aside for the moment and speak with you of Miss de Bourgh's. Are you aware, sir, of the damage such reports may do to my cousin's honour? As a marriage between us will never take place, if talk of an `Understanding' between us reached Town there would be speculation as to disappointments and broken engagements which could do nothing but lessen my cousin's good name.”

“Your consideration for your family is admirable, sir, and it is to your credit that you are so concerned with your cousin's reputation. Indeed, now that I am fully aware of the situation I shall do all within my power to preserve the good name of de Bourgh and although your Aunt's disappointment may be great you may be assured that I will do all I can to console her as best I can without mention of the younger generation's setting aside familial expectations.”

“That is very good of you, I am sure,” said Mr Darcy dryly, to which Mr Collins responded with an indulgent nod, Darcy then continued in a deceptively calm manner. “I am not yet satisfied as to why my escort of Miss Elizabeth is less than satisfactory, and why our walking out alone merits such strong objections. Perhaps you could enlighten me? ”

Mr Collins could barely explain the situation to himself, let alone to Mr Darcy. He was sure that either Miss Bennet was unashamedly throwing herself at Mr Darcy, or Mr Darcy was approaching Miss Bennet with less than honourable intentions, or Lady Catherine had some other reason for keeping the two separate which he could not fathom. Clearly someone was at fault but as his own loyalties could not allow him to blame Lady Catherine, his wife would not let him lay the blame at Miss Elizabeth's door and Miss Elizabeth defended Mr Darcy he was in a difficult position. To attach blame to one person meant displeasing another. The only escape he had found in this vicious circle was that Miss Elizabeth may be shielding Mr Darcy to protect her own reputation but how could he broach such a subject with Mr Darcy? He mopped away the beads of sweat forming on his brow with his handkerchief and made a personal vow never again to host single young ladies at his home and prayed he would be blessed with sons, not daughters.

Mr Collins finally found his voice, “It is a delicate matter.”

“A delicate matter?” repeated Mr Darcy, examining his fingernails.

“Indeed it is, sir.”

“I see.” Darcy fixed the Rector with a cold glare, “And yet you voiced your concerns in so voluble a manner I could easily hear you from the hall. Heaven knows what your servants construed from your words. Shall I tell you what I have deduced and you may inform me if I have erred in my conjecture?”

Mr Collins shifted uncomfortably in his seat, dabbed at his clammy face and nodded mutely.

“You, and my Aunt, do not wish for Miss Bennet to be alone in my company.” said Mr Darcy matter-of-factly, “I can easily surmise my Aunt's reasons for this but yours must be different as you believed me to be practically engaged to my cousin. Miss Bennet knew the reason but could not speak of it to me and you have described it as a delicate matter. It must be that either you believe I am likely to compromise Miss Bennet or I have other, dishonourable intentions toward her.”

“Indeed sir, you are to be commended for your intelligence…”

Mr Darcy rose from his chair and placing his hands on the desk leaned forward, his hard, brown eyes boring into the Rector's unnerved, gray ones. Darcy's voice remained quiet but the edge of venom was quite evident, even to Mr Collins, “Could you really believe that even if I were such a dishonourable wretch I would attempt to seduce an innocent gentlewoman on my cousin's own estate? The same cousin you believed me to be my intended bride? Could you believe that your own cousin would welcome such advances? You should be grateful sir that I am an honourable man and that you are a clergyman. It goes against my principles to call out a man of God. It was a most fortuitous choice of living for you, sir.”

Mr Collins, pale-faced and moist-browed, had pressed himself against the back of his chair in an attempt to move as far away from Darcy as possible. When Darcy paused for breath the Rector could only make a small, strangulated sound by way of reply.

“I can only surmise that your servants have leapt to similar disturbing conclusions. I hope you at least have the good sense to advise your servants, immediately upon my departure, as to the dire consequences should they happen to repeat any of your words. You are a Rector, sir, a respected member of the community, and any reports originating from you will likely be treated as gospel. If you allow such reports to spread you will sully the reputations of Miss de Bourgh, Miss Bennet and myself and in the process gain my Aunt's disfavour. I believe she would have you thrown out of the Parsonage within the week.”

Mr Darcy stood tall and with a final dark look of contempt at the Rector, which caused him to further his attempt at disappearing back into his seat cushions, Darcy made a quick, cursory bow and strode toward the door. With one hand on the door handle he turned back to Mr Collins and said in a tone of dry civility, “And Mr Collins, perhaps you would be so kind as to mention to Miss Bennet that should she wish for fresh air and exercise, at any time before her departure, Rosings Park will welcome her and I can attest that she will be quite safe, whether in company or alone.”

On hearing the front door close, Mrs Collins and Miss Bennet stepped into the hall and were met by Mr Collins coming out of his bookroom, with a rather awestruck and bewildered expression. On perceiving the ladies he endeavoured to rally his spirits, mopped his brow and with an affected air said, “A fine young man, so very like his Aunt. I am not displeased, no, not displeased at all. Such an estimable gentleman, a font of good advice! Do you know, my dear Mrs Collins, he told me that the position of clergyman was a fortuitous choice for me, and that my parishioners must look upon my every word as gospel - those were his very words. He went so far as to praise my good sense in managing my household and that reminds me, my dear, could you please have all the servants assemble in my bookroom forthwith.”

Charlotte headed toward the kitchen to carry out her husband's wishes. Mr Collins appeared to Elizabeth to be somewhat dazed and she was left with a burning curiosity as to exactly what had transpired between him and Mr Darcy. She would be the first to admit that she did not know Mr Darcy well, but she was certain he had not asked to speak to her cousin to compliment him.

Mr Collins turned to her “My dear cousin, Mr Darcy expressly wished me to state that you are welcome to explore the grounds at Rosings, whether in company or alone, at any time before your departure and he personally vouchsafed your wellbeing. He is a most affable young man.”

A lesser man may have questioned the necessity of this conversation and indeed Darcy had for a short moment entertained the possibility of avoiding it but, inevitably, he found himself knocking on the door to his Aunt's sitting room, bracing himself for battle.

Mr Darcy had walked back to Rosings briskly, in a rather black mood, following his exchange with the Rector. He was incredulous at the lack of judgment and consideration Mr Collins had shown. Darcy had left the Parsonage without taking leave of the ladies and owned that he was worried about Elizabeth's reaction to his interference. She evidently knew his honour would likely be called into question - perhaps she was protecting him, not wishing for him to be so deeply insulted. He quickly brushed aside this line of reasoning as entirely too optimistic. She more likely did not wish for her cousin's weaknesses to be so exposed and was perhaps worried about his reaction to the Rector's undeniably foolish assumptions. Whatever her reasons, he had involved himself despite her clear wish that he did not confront Mr Collins. She already thought him high-handed and officious - he had now added further proof.

Having been granted admittance to his Aunt's sitting room, Darcy entered. Lady Catherine was seated at her writing desk attending to her correspondence.

“Where have you been, nephew?”

He chose a chair close to her desk and replied in even tones, “I have just called at the Parsonage to take leave of Mr & Mrs Collins. I had a very interesting conversation with your Rector.”

This evidently did not raise Lady Catherine's curiosity as she resumed sorting her letters. “Indeed? Mr Collins has a great deal of conversation. It is, however, not commonly of interest.”

“Usually that may be true, however today I could not help but hear him loudly proclaiming his dissatisfaction as I entered the house.”

Lady Catherine pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing. “I have often mentioned to him the need to modulate his voice with more decorum as befits a man of his station.”

“Indeed. He ought to have listened to you. He mentioned my name, your name, Miss Bennet's and quite possibly Anne's as well before I arrived - at such a volume to have been heard by the whole house. Had I not arrived when I did we could well have had a scandal on our hands.”

“A scandal!” On hearing the horrifying word Lady Catherine had stabbed her pen into the paper, causing an ugly blot to blight her elegant copperplate, and she now flung down the quill with such force it skittered off the desk and onto the floor. “I demand to be told what it is he said!”

Darcy calmly bent to pick up the pen, before the ink stained the carpet, and inspected the nib. “He said that Miss Bennet ought not to walk out alone and that it would displease you greatly if she were unprotected and caught alone with me again.” He raised his head from the quill and looked at Lady Catherine coolly. “Of course it did not help that I escorted Miss Bennet back to the house and we were seen, by one of the maids, to have been walking together, quite alone.”

“That foolish man! Scheming girl! Mr Collins ought to keep her under lock and key! Mark my words she is out to catch you Darcy! I told Mr Collins to keep an eye on her and not let her out alone. It shows only how correct I was - the minute his back is turned she is sauntering out to find you and snare you in her trap.”

Darcy's jaw tightened as he calmly took out his pocketknife to mend the shattered pen, carefully cutting away the old nib. This was not through any desire to be of service to Lady Catherine but instead to give his hands an occupation less violent than the one that immediately sprang to his mind as an effective means to silence his Aunt's defamatory exclamations. “Do not attach the blame to Miss Bennet. I can assure you she is not `out to catch me'. Had you not spoken with Mr Collins he would not have spoken so at all.”

“You dare to blame me for trying to protect you from the advances of such a girl! You do not know what these women are, Darcy. She has you fooled. She has taken you in with her charm and pretty smiles.”

Darcy was not about to acknowledge his attraction to Miss Bennet notwithstanding his views on disguise. He did not wish to give his aunt any reason to storm off to the Parsonage and crush the fragile relationship he had with Elizabeth. “I can assure you madam I have not spent so many seasons in London without gaining the ability to recognise the insincerity of conniving females and becoming adept at deflecting guileful schemes.” He averted his eyes, looking down again at the pen, to avoid betraying his feelings. “Miss Bennet is certainly not of their ilk.”

He carefully made a new split in the quill by cracking the shaft over the back of his blade and skilfully began to carve the nib. Lady Catherine shook her head, but whether through belief of his blindness as to Miss Bennet's character or in critique of his ability to mend pens Darcy was not sure.

She watched him for some moments, before stating, “You are cutting the angle quite wrong Darcy - it will not hold the ink - you need to deepen the curve.” Her voice lowered and took on a more serious note, “Do not underestimate Miss Bennet. She is a clever one. She is aiming high, I can assure you. She refused Mr Collins' proposal and is waiting for a better offer, I know it! I am by no means suggesting that you would willingly form such a disparate alliance, rather that she will do all in her power to draw you in. I refuse to sit idle while the son of my dear sister is trapped by a pretentious upstart! Would that be the way to honour the memory of Lady Anne - to allow such a one as that to take her place as the Mistress of Pemberley?”

Throughout this speech Darcy's grip on his pocketknife tightened and his movements became more stilted. He began to question the wisdom in keeping his hands occupied by wielding a knife.

Lady Catherine continued, “If you are blinded as to her avaricious ambition it falls to me to protect you! If only Mr Collins had acted as I advised him and kept a stricter watch on her, this could not have happened.”

“I was not questioning your motives but your methods ma'am,” he replied rather stiffly, meeting her eyes with a cold glare. “It was badly done. Instead of involving others in our concerns you ought to have consulted me. Mr Collins was a very poor choice of instrument.”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy this is not to be borne! Do not forget who I am. You ought not to question me at all.”

For a moment they each favoured the other with such looks as would make less indomitable beings quake until Darcy broke the silence quietly but firmly. “I do not mean to afford you any less respect than is your due, but when your actions so closely affect me, with possible adverse consequences, I cannot remain silent. Your actions had almost the opposite effect to that you intended. Had the Collins' servants spread the rumour that Miss Bennet and I were alone again, inciting your displeasure because of my supposed engagement to Anne, Miss Bennet and I would have been forced to marry.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Lady Catherine. “You would marry Anne and then any rumours would settle down.”

“No,” Darcy replied emphatically, “Mr Collins practically announced to his household that Miss Bennet needed protection from me - that I am not to be trusted around gentlewomen. Her reputation would have been in tatters. Anne would have had the lesser scandal attached to her name - that I had jilted her - but that cannot compare to what Miss Bennet may have suffered - her father would have us force-marched to the altar.” Darcy drew in a steadying breath and again turned his attention to the quill. `Of course by `us',' he thought wryly, `I meant `Miss Bennet'. Mr Bennet would have found in me a willing victim.' He very much wished to wed her but a forced ceremony on the back of a scandal with an unwilling bride was not exactly what he had in mind. He continued more calmly, “Fortunately, I believe I was able to quell any such rumours by impressing on Mr Collins your likely displeasure should any such scandal attach itself to your daughter and nephew. I can only implore you to use more discretion should you again wish to protect any of your relatives and not draw on Mr Collins to aid you - unless, of course, you wish to see their names in the scandal sheets.”

Lady Catherine's eyes widened slightly and Darcy knew his point had hit home. Her ever present strong sense of familial duty would have her protecting the de Bourgh, Fitzwilliam and Darcy names from any hint of disgrace.

“Not the scandal sheets, of course,” she replied more calmly, “but it is about time your name and Anne's were seen in the announcements.”

“No, Aunt. We have spoken of this before. Neither Anne nor I wish for the match. We are not well suited.”

“Of course you would suit. You have both been raised to take care of great estates, you are both from noble family lines and your alliance would unite two of the finest houses in England and satisfy the wishes of all your family.”

“That is all we have in common - our family and our homes. Our tastes, interests and attitudes could not be more different.” He paused for a moment making the final minute adjustments to the nib, then looked up at her and added, “And even if I were so inclined - offering for one woman while the possibility that a scandal attaching me to another could still arise would hardly be the most honourable course.”

“Really Darcy, it is hardly likely that any rumour will spread! I will not allow it!”

“Let us hope it does not.”

Satisfied that the quill met his usual standards he pocketed his knife and rising placed the pen atop her ladyship's spoiled letter. His Aunt appeared to be about to speak again but he was not inclined to engage her in a lengthy argument regarding his betrothal, or lack thereof, to Anne and so he said firmly, “That is all I will hear on the matter. I will not be moved.” He then bowed and left the room.

To Be Continued . . .

© 2008 Copyright held by the author.

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