His Uncle's Favorite (18 page)

She felt her own anger matching his and tried to interrupt his speech, but she could not; he continued to walk back and forth, his voice growing in volume and bitterness.

“Those, Madam, are the reasons I have tried to hide my preference for you—and God knows I should not have changed my mind. But I did, though with every passing moment, I wonder why. And this, Madam, is the motive of my visit today: to explain my past behaviour and to offer you my hand in marriage. I cannot understand why my words hurt you so deeply or by what mysterious means you came to the conclusion that I came to make you a dishonourable proposal. God knows I am shocked that you could even have such a preposterous notion. I am deeply pained by your complete distrust of my character, but I am even more pained by your distrust of your own worthiness. No man who had the pleasure of knowing you would ever dare to make you such a proposal. Yet, your misjudgement must be the result of your feelings, which I now perfectly comprehend, and I have only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

And with these words, he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.

***

The tumult of her mind threw her into a hole of dark coldness; she could see nothing around her, and she lay on the settee, closed her eyes, and ceased fighting her tears. She did not want to let her mind reflect on what had passed, as she was certain she would not be able to bear the pain, but her thoughts returned unbidden to each moment of his extraordinary visit. What had happened, and how was such an event possible? 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 he was anxious to declare, was incredible. That she could utterly misinterpret his proposal was even more difficult to fathom.

He had insulted her and her family; that was beyond any doubt. But she had offended herself much worse. What was she thinking? What evil force drove her to think the worst from the moment he began to speak? She vividly remembered his countenance when he said,
‘God knows I am shocked that you could even have such a preposterous notion.’

She was a complete fool! Everything she had believed about herself proved to be wrong. Elizabeth Bennet was nothing but a simpleton who allowed gossip to defeat her judgement. She must surely possess paltry judgement, after all.

As she reflected on each word she said, unbearable shame overwhelmed her. How dared she even mention to a gentleman the possibility of a dishonourable proposal? She was a young, unmarried lady; propriety demanded that she not even know of such things!

The extraordinary fact that she received an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy repeatedly burst upon her mind, but she fought against those thoughts. All she could think of was how she ever would be able to speak to him again or even meet his eyes. Yet, it might be easier than she feared; surely, he would not want to see her or speak to her— nor meet her eyes ever again.

She ceased fighting her tears, closed her eyes and covered them with her hands. The light of the sun, warming the frozen day, was too much for her eyes and her heart.

She cried until the sound of voices in the main hall brought her back from the darkness. She tried to escape to her room but had no time as the main door opened and a whole party burst into the room, starting with her little cousins and Lady Selina’s children. She forced a smile, looking from one to another, until the shock of a familiar face left her breathless.

***

The cold breeze blew furiously against his face, but he barely felt it, as his entire body seemed trapped in a hole of ice. He had to fight to move his feet, to demand that they take him as far as possible, as soon as possible. He must run from her—far, far away—farther than a month before when he had run from Hertfordshire to London in an effort to escape. His carriage was waiting for him in front of the house, but he hurried along the street instead; to enter the small space of the carriage was unthinkable. The entire town—the entire world—was not large enough to bear the torment of his mind.

This must be some nightmare; he must have fallen asleep since he had not slept for many nights before. He had just proposed marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and she refused him in the worst way a man could be refused.

Every glance, every word, every gesture had been signs of her inclination towards him—he was certain of that. He was not at all inexperienced in the matter of ladies’ feelings; he had no doubt that he was correct in his judgement. But she pretended the opposite with such determination that all his certainties vanished.

He suddenly crossed the street, so unexpectedly that his carriage, which was following closely, almost hit him. He did not even notice, only entered a small park and sat on the bench. It was full of fresh snow, but he did not bother to clean it. He stroked his forehead with his hands to erase the pain and then looked towards the house he had just left.

One month before he never would consider calling on someone who lived in Cheapside. He remembered Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst laughing about Elizabeth’s relatives in London, and he never thought to contradict them. How could he imagine that her infamous relatives were such close friends of his uncle and cousin? How could he have predicted that all the reasons for leaving Hertfordshire—and taking Bingley with him—all her family’s faults that persuaded him she was completely unsuitable and determined him to put aside any intention regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet would disappear only days after their reunion?

He had proposed, and she had refused him.

A day earlier, he would not dream that such a thing could happen. He admitted that she possessed all the qualities he desired in a wife, and he did not deny that his house seemed warmer since her visit; his sister Georgiana was happier since they became friends, and he himself was different since they spent more time together…and since he knelt in front of her to clean the snow from her shoes.

That day in the sleigh, he did not miss the emotion in her eyes or her reaction when he warmed her hands. He still could feel the gentle movement of her frozen fingers in his palms and the regret he felt when he was forced to release her. No, he did not misjudge all these things…

Despite all her accomplishments, despite the fact that her image never left his mind nor allowed him to sleep for weeks, despite the feelings she aroused in him, he never considered proposing to her—until that morning.

The previous night at the ball had been torturous. The moment she appeared, he could look at and think of little else. She had danced almost every dance, and jealousy, a feeling he never thought to experience, took control of him. Each smile she directed at other men—and each time Robert took her hand—were too much to bear. He was aware of his own foolishness, but it overwhelmed him. Their eyes met, and he was certain she smiled at him and held his gaze. Every time it happened, it was as if they silently spoke to each other. Then they danced; he held her hand, and they spoke—and she teased him again. For the second time in his life since the Netherfield ball, he wondered how a set could end so quickly.

With surprise and worry, he discovered she had left the ball with her aunt and sister, and he departed soon after, but home was even worse. He had no hope of sleeping and spent the rest of the night in front of the fire with successive glasses of brandy, waiting for daybreak. With each passing moment, his mind desperately searched for a way to end its torment.

He almost dragged Georgiana with him to visit Selina, hoping he might receive some news of Elizabeth, but he saw only her aunt and sister; Elizabeth remained at home as she was not feeling well. Could she be as miserable as he was? Georgiana was worried and declared that she missed Elizabeth, and then everybody spoke only of her, again and again.

Finally, Fitzwilliam Darcy, a man who always prided himself on his wise restraint, made a decision that was meant to change his life—and hers!

He excused himself, and shortly found himself in Gracechurch Street. He planned first to ask after her and be sure she was not seriously ill. If so, he would not disturb her rest. But the servant directed him to the living room where Elizabeth was reading. He could see that she was surprised and somewhat embarrassed; she tried to smile, though unconvincingly, but she was not displeased to see him; he was certain of that. He also was certain that his proposal would astonish her, so he thought to explain his decision and his previous struggles and hesitation in great detail. His tumult and weariness did not allow him to think very clearly, and his words seemed to tumble out with their own will.

“In vain I have struggled…”
He had proposed, and she refused him.

Even worse, for some unfathomable reason, she presumed that he was proposing that she… Dear God, how could she think such a thing? Which of his words drove her to such a conclusion? What had he said? And her strange comment about his being engaged to Anne… How was it possible that she imagined he would come in her house and…

‘…your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others… Your insolence equals your arrogance… I have all the reason in the world to think ill of you…’
It
was
possible. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had been completely, deeply, painfully wrong about Elizabeth Bennet’s feelings.

He could not find the strength to move from the icy bench. With a sideward glance, he saw his carriage waiting. He should leave, but go where? He could not return home, not for a while. He needed time to decide what to do next. He must depart immediately to avoid seeing her again. He would never be able to speak to her or meet her eyes—never again. He looked up and cold drops fell on his face. It was snowing again.

He gradually became aware of the cold, and tried to wrap his coat more tightly. Only then did he notice he was not wearing it. He looked around, stroked his hair with his bare hands, and found it wet and half frozen. He likely had left his coat in the house. A sharp sense of panic made him rise to his feet; he must recover his coat immediately. If Mrs. Gardiner discovered his coat there and demanded answers, how would Elizabeth explain its presence? He decided to send his coachman but abandoned the idea. He would return himself to fetch the coat and then depart instantly. The doorman would not dare to ask any questions, and surely,
nobody
would notice his return.

He crossed the street again, and a moment later ,he was at the door. His coachman had already turned the carriage and was slowly following him. He knocked. The doorman appeared, and his surprise was impossible to conceal. Darcy briefly wondered what the servant must think of his appearance, but one word was enough, and the man returned in a moment, handing him the coat.

His carriage was only steps away, and he was prepared to enter when two other carriages stopped impetuously in front of the house.

“Darcy, what on earth are you doing here? And what happened to you? You look horrible!”

“Brother, what a lovely coincidence to meet you here! I left you a note to come and fetch me later, but this is even better. How did you know we would come to see Elizabeth? Oh, but what happened to you? You look so wet and cold. Are you well? You do not look well at all!”

“Darcy, why in hell do you walk in this horrible weather? Have you lost your mind, Nephew? You are all wet and dirty like a lunatic! Surely, you do not intend to call on Miss Elizabeth in such a state! She is ill enough; she does not need to be frightened to death.”

“Mr. Darcy, such a pleasure so see you, sir!” Mrs. Gardiner’s gentle voice and her hand clasping his arm startled Darcy, as he was completely lost in his thoughts. “A dry, warm towel and a glass of brandy will do miracles. I am glad you finished your business so soon.”

He froze next to his carriage as his mind desperately searched for a way to escape.

“I am afraid I cannot stay. I must leave immediately; some urgent business is waiting and…” he insisted in a lost voice but the earl and the colonel pushed him towards the house with little chivalry.

“Come, Darcy, shall we not enter immediately? I am freezing. And surely you jest if you plan to attend to business in such a state!”

He felt helplessly ridiculous; he should protest, but he refused to make the situation worse by arguing in the street. He would enter and then leave immediately. Under no circumstances would he see her again—not for a single moment.

The main hall was too small for such a gathering. Darcy freed himself from Mrs. Gardiner and his sister and instantly stepped back to hide his presence behind the door.

She
was there in the middle of the drawing room. Some of her hair had escaped its pins, and it fell on her neck and around her temples. All the sparkle had vanished from her eyes, now dark and lifeless. Her face was pale and her lips dry; she tried to form a proper greeting, but he could not hear her voice. He stepped back further.

Her eyes finally met his, and he feared she would faint. She supported herself on a chair but did not avert her eyes from him. He felt the melted snow falling along his neck and instinctively brushed his fingers through his hair. He surely looked horrible—everybody said so—but he was not concerned about that; her opinion of him was already so ill that his appearance could not make it worse. Everything was already as bad as it could possibly be.