Consequences (26 page)

She was not, however, able to concentrate on her reading as much as she wished since she could not help thinking of Mr. Darcy. When she thought of his shameful boast to Colonel Fitzwilliam of what he accomplished in separating Mr. Bingley and Jane, it gave her a keener sense of her sister’s suffering. It was some consolation to think Mr. Darcy’s visit to Rosings was to end in just two days. It was even greater consolation to know she would be reunited with Jane in little more than a week, able to aid in the recovery of her spirits by the balm of sisterly affection.

She could not think of Mr. Darcy’s leaving Kent without remembering his cousin was to go with him, but Colonel Fitzwilliam made it clear he had no intentions for her at all, and as agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him. As for Charlotte’s pointed suggestions regarding Mr. Darcy’s inclination toward herself, she still found them hard to take seriously.

So it came as no little surprise when she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door-bell. Her spirits were fluttered by the idea the caller might be Colonel Fitzwilliam, who once before called late in the evening and might now have come to inquire particularly after her. Then she remembered Charlotte’s suggestions, and she was still considering whether there was any possibility of her friend being right when Mr. Darcy walked into the room.

Elizabeth had to close her mouth, which dropped open in amazement, and she felt a heightening of her pulse at this indication her friend might be correct. In a hurried manner, Mr. Darcy immediately said, “Miss Bennet, Mrs. Collins said at tea that you were in ill health. I hope your indisposition was of short duration and you are feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, lowering her gaze in embarrassment. “I had a headache, but it was relieved by quiet and solitude.” She hoped her voice sounded more controlled than it seemed to her hearing.

It was clear that Mr. Darcy was in an agitated state as he sat down for a few moments and then got up and walked about the room.

Could
Charlotte possibly be right?
thought Elizabeth in mingled amazement and dread.
How did I not see it before? I remember jesting with Aunt Gardiner that general incivility was evidence of the violence of Mr. Bingley’s love, and now his friend is showing every indication of just such emotions!

After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in a nervous manner and forced himself to come to a stop. “In vain have I struggled,” he burst out. “It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

And there it was. His simple words formed both a complete confirmation of Charlotte’s assessment and a complete rejection of Elizabeth’s countervailing opinion! Her astonishment was beyond expression, and she felt her cheeks flush in both embarrassment and consternation. Mr. Darcy must have considered her reaction as sufficient encouragement, and he continued. Elizabeth’s amazement increased at his avowal of all he felt and had long felt for her. He spoke well, but he spoke not only of the feelings of the heart but also of other subjects. He dwelled on the objections he was overcoming by this avowal of his affection—of his sense of her inferiority and of the family obstacles opposing his inclination. His statements on these subjects, while perhaps intended to show how he was able to overcome these obstacles due to the depth of his feelings, were phrased in such an objectionable manner that they were not likely to recommend his suit.

In spite of her deeply rooted dislike, Elizabeth could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man’s affection, but she was roused to resentment by his language. Only her promise to Charlotte restrained her from immediately giving vent to her emotions in the clearest language possible. Mr. Darcy concluded with representing to her the strength of an attachment that, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer and expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only infuriate her further, and when he ceased, she struggled again to control her anger.

Elizabeth made herself sit still as she considered what he had said. She was amazed, she was discomfited, and she was angered, but above all, she was confused and conflicted about how to answer such a speech and still keep her promise to Charlotte. The words he spoke were such as to confirm her previous opinion of him as conceited, selfish, prideful, and arrogant. And yet, the passion behind his statements confirmed all of what Charlotte had said of how he was so overwhelmed by his emotions that he was unable to find the right words to express himself.

As she sat, she looked up to see that her silence was affecting Mr. Darcy. If he had been confident of her response after he finished his declaration, that confidence was now being undermined by her silence. She knew she must say something, but the conflict in her own mind was such that she was unable to do so. She dearly desired to fling his words back in his face—to find the cold, cruel words to hurt him as he had hurt Jane—but the mere thought of Jane was enough to freeze her angry words in her throat, for she now knew Charlotte was right beyond any doubt. If she gave in to her resentment, it would ruin, perhaps forever, any hope of reconciliation between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Yet, while she could not accept his proposal, she must say
something
, and eventually she fixed on a topic that did not demand a direct answer.

“I am sorry to be so slow to respond, sir,” Elizabeth said seriously, her eyes downcast, “but I was caught completely by surprise by what you have just said.”

“Surprise?” said Darcy in response, his amazement plain in his voice.

She could not look up at him now, for she had to consider her words carefully, and she was afraid that, if she saw his reaction to what she had to say, it might, in turn, affect her and prevent her from saying what she desired. Even so, it took several moments of composing her thoughts before she was able to answer.

“Yes, surprise, Mr. Darcy,” she said softly, her eyes still focused on her lap. “I was caught completely unawares, and I have been attempting to reconcile what you have said tonight with what I previously believed your opinion to be. I had no intimation that you had any feelings in that direction.”

“But surely you must have noticed my interest! I thought you understood . . . that you had surmised my intent and were . . . well . . .”

“Expecting your proposal, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth said, and she was amazed to find a slight smile graced her lips, though her head was still lowered and he could not see it. She would not have thought to find any humour in this conversation, and her expression became serious as she concentrated on her words. “I assure you, sir, I had not an inkling of it. My friend Mrs. Collins did suspect something, and she tried to convince me of your interest, but I am rather embarrassed to say I dismissed her observations as absurd.”

“But,” Darcy began. “That is . . . well . . . well, what
did
you think I intended, Miss Bennet? My meeting you on your walks, my . . . the way I could not stop myself from looking at you, the fact that you were the only lady from the country that I even attempted to dance with in Hertfordshire. You
must
have seen how I tend to . . . avoid so many people, yet I continued to approach you. Surely, with your intelligence, you must have divined my intentions!”

Elizabeth shook her head. She did not know any other way to explain how badly she misinterpreted his intent than to tell him the bald truth. “I
did
see all those things, Mr. Darcy, but the humbling truth is that I completely misinterpreted them. I fancy myself a shrewd judge of character, you see, but I am rather embarrassed to admit that I apprehended your actions quite differently. I thought that you looked at me only to criticize, that you held me and my family in contempt, and that you despised me.”

On hearing this, Darcy started in dismay. “Despise? I could never—have never—held that opinion!” He began to pace rapidly about the room, running his hand through his hair repeatedly. “You must believe me, Miss Bennet. The actual situation is the complete reverse; in addition to your beauty, I have the greatest admiration for your manners, intelligence, wit, and liveliness. In almost every setting in which I have found myself since leaving Hertfordshire, whether at my estate in Derbyshire or at a dinner party in town, I have felt incomplete. I could not keep myself from visualizing every situation with you at my side.”

He stopped suddenly and fixed the blazing intensity of his gaze on Elizabeth as he spoke slowly but earnestly, “I have come to realize there is an emptiness in my life, Miss Bennet, and it is one that can only be filled by you. My realization of that fact is, of course, the impetus behind my declaration today, and I am greatly distressed that my behaviour was such that you could arrive at such a contrary belief. I shall, you may be certain, address whatever part of my actions and inactions could have led you to such a conclusion.”

The intensity of Darcy’s look captured Elizabeth’s breath in her throat, and she might have been better able to appreciate this ringing declaration had her headache not returned with abrupt suddenness and force. Darcy must have seen a change in her expression, for he instantly seated himself in a chair beside her. “Miss Bennet, you look pale. Are you ill?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I am sorry, sir, but my headache has suddenly returned. You have given me much to think on, and I am finding the strain beyond my strength. Please, sir, I beg leave to return to my room and lie down. I must have some time for reflection, and I ask that you allow me to defer my answer until tomorrow.”

“Certainly, certainly,” Darcy quickly answered. “I should have thought of that myself. Take as much time as you need, even if it takes you a month or more.” He smiled, suddenly, in remembrance. “My mother, in fact, kept my father waiting for almost a full year before answering him.”

Elizabeth tried to force a smile, but it more resembled a wince. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy, but I do not believe that I shall need that long. Hopefully, should my headache abate so that I can think without pain, I will be able to answer you tomorrow morning.”

There, Elizabeth thought. That will be enough to satisfy Charlotte, and then I can quickly get this ordeal behind me!

“Of course, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, rising to his feet. “You must take whatever measures are needed to relieve your distress. Possibly, if you are able to take your usual morning walk, we could meet in the Park around nine o’clock. If you still feel unwell, I will visit the Parsonage later in the afternoon. But, as I said earlier, take whatever time is necessary.”

As Elizabeth stood to retire to her room, she looked up at Mr. Darcy for only the second time since he started his proposal. At first, the expression of worry she saw on his face made her believe he was upset that she had not immediately addressed his offer, but her better nature made her take a closer look. It then became clear his worry was not for himself but for her; he was concerned for
her
welfare. The realization that this man might be anxious for her well-being did not fit at all with her ill opinion of him and her still smouldering anger. But her whole head was throbbing now, and she forced herself not to think on this further until she could send him on his way and then retire to her room.

Darcy looked at her intently before he bowed over her hand, and though she was not really surprised, she was further irritated by his presumption when he brought her hand to his lips and softly brushed them over the back of her fingers.

I may have listened to Charlotte’s suggestions and agreed not to dismiss him out of hand,
Elizabeth thought,
but if this man thinks that he will be able to take liberties with me, then I will
—

Elizabeth’s other thoughts were brought to a sudden halt as an unexpected moment of insight made her realize the true motivation for the intent look on his face.

It is not a look of disdain at all!
she thought in shock.
That is a look of absolute fascination! And, well, yes, there is no other word for it but love! Those times I thought he was looking at me in disapproval were not that at all but the reverse! He could not help himself—could not make himself look away from me!

She felt a sudden, savage glee as she realized the power she held over this man—this selfish, odious man. She could wound him, she knew. She could make him hurt as he hurt Jane, and the sensation of power was intoxicating!

As Darcy turned to leave, he took one last, quick glance over his shoulder, and she again recognized the depth of feeling behind his gaze. It was that second insight into Mr. Darcy’s inner being that caused Elizabeth’s sudden anger to dissipate. She knew Jane never would want harm done to another person just because she herself was heartbroken. Even if Jane were present at that moment and knew Mr. Darcy had been wholly responsible for separating her and Mr. Bingley, still she would not want to see him hurt. Still less would Jane want her dear sister to be the inflictor of that misery. No, power such as she held over Mr. Darcy should not be carelessly wielded. He made himself vulnerable to her, and she knew she would be failing herself and everything she believed if she used that power to exact revenge.