Promise

By Lewis W.

Chapter 1

Posted on Friday, 25 June 2004

"The tumult of [Elizabeth's] mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. 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. But his pride, his abominable pride - his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane - his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited."

"She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room."

Pride and Prejudice, Vol. II, Ch. XI

Charlotte Collins was awakened by the sound of creaking stairs. It was late, and the whole house should have been quiet, so she went down to investigate. Peering around the door into the drawing room, she was astonished to see Elizabeth Bennet pacing in evident agitation of mind.

"My dear Eliza," cried Charlotte, "whatever are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

Elizabeth started at the sound of Charlottes' voice. She had been expecting no one, but recovering herself, tried to excuse her behavior.

"I cannot sleep, Charlotte, but please forgive me for disturbing you." Elizabeth moved towards the staircase. "I will return to bed."

As she was walking past, Charlotte noticed the streak from a tear that had fallen down her cheek. Taking Elizabeth's hand, she said, "Eliza, you have been crying. Please tell me what is wrong. Are you missing home?"

Charlotte led Elizabeth to the sofa and sat with her arm around her shoulder. Elizabeth started to cry in response to her friend's kindness.

"Something terrible has happened, Charlotte," said Elizabeth through her tears, "and I am quite distressed."

"Will you tell me?"

"I do not want to burden you ... Oh, Charlotte ... but I must tell someone, and you have always been so good to me." Elizabeth stifled a sob and began her tale.

"This afternoon, while you were at Rosings, Mr. Darcy came here."

"He came here?!" exclaimed Charlotte in astonishment. "What did he want?"

"What did he want?" repeated Elizabeth. "Charlotte, he made me an offer of marriage."

"Well, that is wonderful news, Eliza! I am so happy for you. Do you not remember me telling you how I always thought him to be in love with you? When shall you marry?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "There will be no wedding, Charlotte. I refused him."

"Refused him. But, why?"

"He said some very cruel and insulting things about my family. Charlotte, he admitted to being behind the reason that Mr. Bingley left Jane and he made no effort to defend his despicable conduct towards Mr. Wickham. How could I accept such a man?"

Saddened by her friend's refusal of so eligible a suitor, Charlotte pressed for an explanation.

"Elizabeth, what did Mr. Darcy say about your family?"

"He was very resentful of what he calls my low connections," replied Elizabeth. "I suppose he was referring to my Uncle Gardiner who is in trade, and Uncle Philips, who is a solicitor."

"Is it unreasonable for Mr. Darcy to feel that way? He is from a great family, you know."

"Perhaps not, Charlotte. I suppose my pride was hurt when he said it so plainly. I felt conscious of my own inferior position to his in society. Mr. Darcy told me there were many family and social objections he had had to overcome in order to consider asking for my hand."

"Elizabeth, you should be flattered at having obtained the regard of such a man as Mr. Darcy."

"He is proud, Charlotte, and I am nothing to him."

"What did he say about Jane and Mr. Bingley?" asked Charlotte.

"He said that he could see no sign of affection in Jane," answered Elizabeth. "That, of course, must be a lie. Mr. Bingley, he told me, holds Jane in the deepest regard, but Mr. Darcy felt he must interfere. He believes that Jane did not return Mr. Bingley's love."

"Do you remember, Eliza, what I told you at the party my father hosted at Lucas Lodge?"

"That is the evening Mr. Darcy asked me to dance and I refused him."

"That is also the evening that I told you it was my opinion that Jane was hiding her feelings too well, and that unless she showed more outward appearance of interest in Mr. Bingley, maybe even more than she felt, she would have no opportunity of securing him."

"I remember that, Charlotte, and I can see now that you were right."

"Eliza, do you suppose that if Mr. Darcy knew of your sister's love for Mr. Bingley that he might change his mind and advance their relationship?"

"How could I possibly face him again to ask?"

"You could do it for Jane."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Charlotte, I will confess that perhaps he is right about my family, though the way he said it certainly hurt..."

"Could he have said it in anyway that would not have been painful?" interrupted Charlotte, "yet it needed to be said. You needed to know his motivations and sacrifices so that you could be assured of his affection for you and not suppose that he was merely trifling with you."

Elizabeth shook her head in a way that spoke both of agreement and of defeat.

"Lizzy, what about Mr. Wickham?"

"I accused Mr. Darcy of reducing Mr. Wickham to his comparative state of poverty by ignoring the wishes of his late father and withholding the living designed for him."

"And how did he answer?" asked Charlotte.

"He said nothing, but looked at me with an expression of horror and mortification. I never felt worse than I did in that moment when he was staring me. It was as if he did not even see me, that he was looking right through me."

"That must have been very uncomfortable for both of you. I am very sorry, Eliza. Tell me, did you know Mr. Wickham before he came to Meryton with the corps?

"No. You know that none of us had any acquaintance with him."

"Did you seek out opportunities to learn about how he behaved and what he was like before he came?"

"Why would I even consider such a thing?"

"Very well. What about Mr. Darcy? Did you know him before he came to Hertfordshire?"

"No."

"But what do you know about him now?" asked Charlotte.

"Despite everything," replied Elizabeth, "I understand that he is a good brother to his sister. He has many people who depend on him for his good judgement at Pemberley and I imagine elsewhere. He is respected everywhere he goes and has earned Mr. Bingley's approbation. Jane likes Mr. Darcy very much"

"So," Charlotte concluded, "it would not be entirely wrong to say that perhaps Mr. Wickham's story should not be believed and that Mr. Darcy should be given credit for behaving like a gentleman throughout whatever disagreement they had?"

"Oh, Charlotte, you do not think that..."

"Let me confide in you, Lizzy, and I will tell you something that was related to me by Miss Anne De Bourgh during one of her visits to the Parsonage."

"Very well."

"Miss De Bourgh said that George Wickham is nothing if not duplicitous and deceitful. His entire life has been spent trying to supplant the present Mr. Darcy in the goodwill of his father. Anything that Wickham could think of to discredit Mr. Darcy was done, and Mr. Darcy, not wanting to damage his father's feelings for Mr. Wickham, suffered quietly through it all."

"Mr. Wickham did that?" cried Elizabeth. "Why did Miss De Bourgh tell you this?"

"The subject of Mr. Darcy often arises between us when she visits. You see, she is destined by her mother to marry Mr. Darcy, and while she is filled with admiration for him, her heart lies in another place."

Elizabeth laughed. "May I ask where her heart lies?"

"With Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"I see," smiled Elizabeth. "I do wish her well. Colonel Fitzwilliam is a good man."

"Yes, he is, Elizabeth, and he is also a close friend and relation of Mr. Darcy."

"I see." Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. "So," she began, "you would believe that everything Mr. Wickham has told us about Mr. Darcy is a lie and that it has been his sole design to discredit Mr. Darcy in the eyes of everyone he meets?"

"Yes, Eliza. That is my opinion."

The friends were silent while Elizabeth struggled to comprehend the import of this revelation about Mr. Wickham. She had never known a man who appeared more honest and respectful. Elizabeth had always felt he was the model of how a gentleman should behave, and to learn this about him, and from a source as reliable as Charlotte, was not only alarming, but humiliating.

"Oh, Charlotte," began Elizabeth, "if this is true, and it must be, I have behaved very badly towards Mr. Darcy. I, who prided myself on being a good judge of character, believed everything Mr. Wickham said while knowing almost nothing about him. I have been very offensive towards Mr. Darcy, Charlotte. Last night when he was here, I never gave him the opportunity to explain himself. I should have listened. I regret that I did not listen."

Elizabeth rose from her seat and began to pace the room again, the conviction of her errors making it impossible for her to sit quietly

"Why he would even ask me to marry him after the manner in which I have treated him, is beyond me."

"Elizabeth, will you not consider the possibility that he truly loves you?"

Elizabeth shook her head and continued to walk.

Charlotte went on. "Eliza, if you had known about these things earlier today would you have refused him?"

"I do not love him and I will never marry without love, but I do feel a growing respect for him now that I understand him better. Charlotte, I have been greatly in error and have treated Mr. Darcy cruelly. Is he not to leave Kent the day after tomorrow?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yes, he goes to town with Colonel Fitzwilliam," replied Charlotte.

"I want to talk with him. I do not want him to leave Kent believing that I think so very ill of him.

Chapter 2

Posted on Friday, 25 June 2004

"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 anything else and totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise."

Pride and Prejudice, Vol II, Ch XII

Charlotte was sitting down to breakfast when Elizabeth joined her in the dining room. She rose from her seat at the table and met Elizabeth in the middle of the room.

"Eliza," she whispered as she embraced her, "you do not look well. Why do you not go up to your room and I will have breakfast brought up to you. You hardly slept at all last night."

"I am well, Charlotte," smiled Elizabeth, "but thank you. I think I have been inside too long." Then for Mr. Collins' sake, she said in louder voice, "The Park is so beautiful at this time of year, I know I shall very much enjoy a walk in the lane."

Mr. Collins grunted his approval through a mouthful of food.

Charlotte kissed her cheek. "Very well, Eliza."

Elizabeth's pretence of well-being lasted no longer than she was out of sight of the parsonage. As soon as she felt protected by the solitude of the park, she indulged in all the painful memories and self-reproach that had been building inside her since her conversation with Charlotte the previous night.

Up to this moment, Elizabeth had considered herself to be a patient woman, able to endure and respond to much provocation while retaining her honor and dignity. This was no longer the case. Yesterday she had turned on Mr. Darcy with a venom she never suspected resided within her. There had been no reserve in the manner with which she had refused him.

Charlotte's observations and a fitful night's rest had taught her that Mr. Darcy's reservations about her family were valid. While she was inured - mostly inured - to their noise and impropriety, to a gentleman like Mr. Darcy, accustomed to the elegance and good breeding of London drawing rooms, their behavior must have been shocking. How could she fault him at all for having such opinions? In her own defense, she felt justified in being angered by the callous manner in which he spoke of them, but she had never observed that Mr. Darcy was a man given to many words.

This confession forced Elizabeth to reconsider Mr. Darcy's actions in regard to Jane and Mr. Bingley. Charlotte had told her that Jane had been too guarded in her feelings towards Mr. Bingley. With only a casual acquaintance with Jane, Mr. Darcy could hardly be expected to know what she felt for Mr. Bingley. After acknowledging the weaknesses of her family, Mr. Darcy would not have to look far for a reason to separate his friend from her sister.

Now that the passion of her anger had subsided, the only difference she could see between her opinion of her family and Mr. Darcy's was one of perception. She perceived them as silly, ignorant and foolish, although innocent, and was willing to forget what she could not overlook. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, because he did not love them as a brother, did not perceive innocence and thought only of their behavior. If she were not related to them, her opinion may very well be that of Mr. Darcy.

There was much to be considered in the matter of Mr. Wickham. He was her favorite of all the young men she knew in Hertfordshire, and other than her father, he was the man most likely to enter her mind when she thought of home. But surely Charlotte's disclosure of Miss De Bourgh's account of his behavior must be believed. Miss De Bourgh knew nothing of Mr. Wickham's presence in Hertfordshire, but was relating events that occurred long before the arrival of either gentleman to the neighborhood. If Miss De Bourgh was correct, Mr. Wickham's claims concerning Mr. Darcy should not be believed. Indeed, should anything he said be believed?

Elizabeth had been walking for some time when she stepped through a stand of trees and into a shaded clearing. At the edge of it, not twenty feet away, stood Mr. Darcy.

She was shocked! She had been certain that she never would see him again, yet he was there. He was still unaware of her presence and she stood quite still.

Elizabeth's mind began to turn. Dare she speak to him? He must hate her! She knew she owed him an apology, however, and she would not be easy until she had cleared her heart of it. Think of her what he may, she would apologize to him.

"Mr. Darcy," she said quietly.

She saw his back stiffen and his body tense as she spoke his name. She walked the distance between them and was quickly at his side.

As he looked at her, Elizabeth was unable to detect any feeling of emotion. Of course, he must hate and despise her. How could he not? She felt very exposed and self-conscious.

"Mr. Darcy," began Elizabeth, when she was able to speak, "I am pleased that I have come upon you this morning for there is something I must do, and that is seek your forgiveness. I beg that you will forgive me for all the horrible things I said to you last night, and for my language and manner of speaking. I was very wrong. Charlotte Collins, who has obtained knowledge of Mr. Wickham's past behavior, opened my eyes to the lifetime of cruelty you have suffered at his hands. I am ashamed, sir. I just assumed the worst about you. I never gave you a chance. Please, sir, please forgive me."

Darcy had left Rosings Park that morning with the intent of encountering Elizabeth on her daily walk. He had spent the night preparing a letter for her, one that would explain the reasons and motivations for his behavior. It was also a farewell letter, for he knew he would never see her again.

But now she was here speaking to him and seeking his forgiveness when he knew his only desire was to obtain hers.

While he listened to her speak, he pressed the letter deeper in his pocket. It would only hurt her further if she were able to see it now, and in his mind, giving her the letter represented a permanent parting. Elizabeth had come to him. He had reason to hope.

"Eliz..." He paused. "Forgive me. Miss Bennet, please believe me when I say that I deserved every harsh word you spoke against me. I behaved very poorly. The things I said about your family were unconscionable, and to suppose those declarations would endear you to me is absurd. I did not know what to say. I was so nervous, and my heart was full."

He continued. "Miss Bennet, all I wanted to do was love you. All I have done is cause you pain and I beg that you will forgive me."

They stood in silence, watching each other from the corners of their eyes as they were unable to endure looking directly at each other.

At last, the lady spoke.

"I believe that regardless of how you delivered your message, I would have been offended. No one likes to hear the deficiencies of their family repeated to them by someone they have considered an acquaintance. But I agree, sir, with your estimation of my family. I only hope your opinion will not include Jane. She is goodness itself and nothing can be said against her. You know her. You must agree with me."

For the first time, Mr. Darcy smiled as a sliver of hope entered his heart. She was asking something of him. In some small way, she needed him. He would supply that need and pray that she would seek for more.

"Your sister, Miss Bennet, is the model of female comportment that makes her a worthy example for any young woman. I will also add, Miss Elizabeth, that your manners are equally pleasing, while having a certain honesty that I find to be..." he paused, and finished in a hushed voice. "...to be very attractive."

Elizabeth's heart caught in her throat. Not once in their whole acquaintance in Hertfordshire or in Kent had he ever expressed to her any feelings of affection, regard or particular warmth.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said with a smile.

"Eliz ... another slip of the tongue. I am sorry, Miss Bennet. I ... no ... no, I will tell you. I have for so long known you in my mind as only Elizabeth, that I find myself unable to think of you in any other manner. In my arrogance, I had assumed you would accept me and then it would always be my privilege and honor to address you by your Christian name."

"Mr. Darcy," she replied with sparkling eyes, "you may call me anything you would like, and if you chose to call me by my given name, then I am very happy that you would. Perhaps it is not proper, but then who are we to follow convention?"

Darcy wondered if she knew she had just found something in common between them, something that could be a foundation for more.

"Thank you, Miss Bennet," he laughed. "I shall spend the rest of the day thinking of imaginative names to call you."

Elizabeth suddenly realized that she was walking with Mr. Darcy with her hand on his arm. Her first thought was to pull back from him, but she forestalled herself. Any movement of that sort could easily give offense to the young and fragile relationship she was building with Mr. Darcy. Besides, she enjoyed being near him and in his protection.

"Mr. Darcy, would you explain the reasons that made you separate Mr. Bingley from my sister?" Elizabeth spoke as gently as she could. She knew this would bring up memories of their argument, which was not something she wanted him to dwell on when he thought of her, but for Jane's sake, she had to know.

Darcy turned his back on her and took two paces away while Elizabeth waited quietly for his answer.

"You have been very kind to me, Miss Bennet," he began, "on a topic that should bring your bitterest condemnation. I felt that your sister never showed any particular regard for my friend, and that while she accepted his attentions, she did not return them. For that reason, if my friend were to make her his bride, he would find himself unhappy."

Elizabeth recalled what Charlotte had said about Jane.

"Mr. Darcy, I believe that Mr. Bingley is indeed fortunate to have your friendship and caring concern. I will tell you, sir, that Jane loves Mr. Bingley with all her heart and despite his absence, that love has not diminished."

He turned to her when he found he was not facing a rebuke. When she expressed gratitude for what seemed to him a great error, he took three steps and stood very near to her.

Elizabeth was pleased that he had understood her so well. He had known that she meant and felt no ill will towards him. That he returned to be near her was pleasing. The new understanding they were reaching was allowing her to see him with new eyes. Those eyes saw a man of great strength and ability, yet one who was willing to humble himself when he knew he was wrong. She could see the flame of desire burning in his eyes when he looked at her. Her heart betrayed her for just a moment when she wondered, while gazing into those eyes, what it would be like to trace his face and lips with her fingertips.

"I do not believe I have been that kind of a friend to Mr. Bingley," said Darcy in a pained voice. "A true friend would not have separated him from such a woman as Miss Bennet. In order to show that I truly meant no malice in separating him from your sister, I will write to him this very day and explain my motives and apologize. With your permission, I will assure him of Miss Bennet's regard and encourage him with every power of persuasion that I possess to return to Netherfield and to your sister."

"I thank you, sir," she whispered, "and you have my consent."

For a moment, Elizabeth's gratitude welled up in her eyes. Mr. Darcy was taking it upon himself to do just what she had hoped. Elizabeth knew that Jane would accept Mr. Bingley's assurances of love and she delighted in the happiness that would soon be hers.

Darcy was close enough to Elizabeth that she could see the flecks of gold that sparkled in his dark eyes. She had never had an opportunity to examine them closely. She had never desired it, but she found herself drawn to them and the look of tenderness they bestowed on her. Mr. Darcy had spoken of his feelings for her, and in that moment she was convinced of his surety. It was not just his eyes, but his whole expression, from the set of his jaw to the pleasing shape of his mouth - all of these spoke of tenderness and regard. She regretted anew the painful look his face had assumed when assaulted by her angry words. Oh, how she regretted what she said and the contempt in which she had held him!

Throughout the whole course of their acquaintance, she had not understood him, and being afraid of the unknown, had quickly become prejudiced and angry. Now she was beginning to feel that she did understand him.

"Elizabeth, may I comment on your third accusation against me?" he asked in a soft voice.

Elizabeth looked at him with a face pleading for an answer that would prove that the good opinion she was forming of him was not another error in judgement. In her heart she was begging for an explanation that would allow her to continue to nurture the warmth she felt for him that was growing inside her and she nodded her reply.

"Mr. Wickham was raised by my father after the death of his own. He provided him a gentleman's education and intended him for the church, and even kept a valuable living ready for him to assume once he was able to take orders. My father loved him, and for this reason I could not expose Mr. Wickham's licentious behavior while we were at school."

"After my father died, Mr. Wickham wrote to me and said he had no intention of taking orders and hoped I would be willing to make some other financial arrangement whereby he would receive immediate satisfaction in exchange for giving up all pretensions to the living. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman, so I readily agreed."

"It had not been six months after I had paid him Ł3,000 when Mr. Wickham wrote again, applying for the living that had been intended for him. He had squandered the whole sum on a profligate lifestyle and games of chance. I refused to give him the living, which had been given by that time to a very worthy man. Mr. Wickham was quite angry and has abused me in his conversations with others. I dare not repeat what he has said to me."

"How could he use you so? Oh, Mr. Darcy," cried Elizabeth, "please forgive me for believing him! I never gave you a chance to explain. I never sought the truth. You must forgive me for having misjudged you. I knew nothing of what Charlotte told me. I never knew any of this. I am so ashamed."

Elizabeth was embarrassed and could no longer endure his presence. He had justified her newfound good opinion of him, but the knowledge of what she had said and done to such a good man was mortifying.

"Mr. Darcy, you must excuse me. I should return to the parsonage."

Darcy was cut to the heart by the pain he heard in her voice. He watched her for a moment as she took a fleeting glance at him and began to move towards the parsonage. He had lost her once, but he would not lose her again.

"Elizabeth."

She turned and looked at Darcy and saw such an expression of love and desire as made her shiver.

"Elizabeth, I cannot help myself. Please do not be angry. Please do not be offended when I tell you that I love you."

She shook her head.

"How can you possibly say that you still love me?" she said weakly. "Since the assembly I have spent every occasion we've been in company together searching for ways to offend and insult you."

Elizabeth hung her head and began to cry out of self-reproach and frustration.

Darcy slowly approached her, delicately touched her shoulders and then gently pulled her towards him until she was cradled in his arms. He had acted on instinct, ignoring propriety and perhaps even Elizabeth's wishes. For a moment they stood in this manner, until Elizabeth's cries subsided.

Elizabeth was shocked at the comfort she felt at being in his arms, her face pressed against his broad shoulder. She had never known such peace before, and if this was what it was like to be loved by Mr. Darcy, then she knew she could not live without him.

Hesitantly she moved one arm around his waist and raised the other to rest on his shoulder. She felt him begin to stroke her hair. It seemed as if every movement he made was to comfort her, please her and profess a love that she had not imagined existed.

Darcy knew he could stand in this manner with her for the rest of his life, and fearful to break the spell, determined he would just silently hold her.

At last, Elizabeth moved, though without making any effort to pull away from him. She looked up at him with a tear-stained smile, and raising her hand to his face, delicately traced a path across his cheek and then slowly outlined his lips with her fingers. Their eyes locked and Elizabeth could not have moved had she wished.

When his lips touched hers, she leaned herself gently against him and felt the strength and power of his love course through her body. In a brief instant, every memory she had of Darcy passed in view of her mind's eye, and as she considered every image, she realized she could not recollect a time when she did not love him.

"Fitzwilliam," she said, rolling the sound of his name across her tongue, "must you leave tomorrow?"

"Yes, for Georgiana's sake, but I believe you will return to Longbourn the following week?"

"That is true."

"You must know by now, Elizabeth, that the day you return to Longbourn I will have arrived at Netherfield. May I call on you that evening?"

"Promise me that you will, Fitzwilliam," she replied.

"I promise." And he sealed it with a kiss.

The End

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