His Uncle's Favorite (22 page)

“You are too kind, Mrs. Gardiner, but I cannot help blaming myself. Nothing should be more important than seeing you,” he replied, looking pointedly at Elizabeth.

She smiled, but her heart beat as regularly as ever. Inexplicably, the image of both Darcy siblings—pale and rigid the moment they saw Mr. Wickham—vividly invaded her mind.

“Well, we did have the pleasure of seeing you yesterday, Mr. Wickham, though for a brief moment. You must have had something important to attend to, I imagine…”

Mr. Wickham looked at Elizabeth, uncertain of the meaning of her words. “I…well, I noticed you were in larger company, and I did not want to intrude.”

“Very thoughtful of you, but I imagine you are well enough acquainted with Lady Selina and Miss Darcy to feel at ease in their presence. Old friends are always a joy to see as soon as possible, and you would have been pleased to see that Miss Darcy has changed since you last saw her; she is not at all proud but affectionate, pleasant and kind—as you said she used to be as a child.”

“Well, I…”

Mrs. Gardiner excused herself for a moment as she was needed by the children; Jane took the opportunity to ask for refreshments, so for a few moments, Elizabeth remained alone with their guest. He took the opportunity to sit close to her.

“Miss Elizabeth, I have to say I was looking forward to meeting you again. I was disappointed you could not join Lord Matlock a couple of weeks ago; I have been anxious for some time to speak to you undisturbed.”

“I am sorry for the disappointment you had to bear, but I hope your suffering was not too intense,” she teased him, and he smiled back. “However, if you were anxious to see me, you must have known that you were always welcome in my aunt’s house.”

“Yes, perhaps but… I came to the neighbourhood a few times, but I was shocked to discover Mr. Darcy visiting you too, and I could not take the risk of meeting him. I wanted to avoid an unpleasant situation for you or Mrs. Gardiner.”

“So thoughtful of you, sir! Will you be in London long? You are having a pleasant time, I imagine. Please have some refreshments; I hope you are not in a hurry. We expect Lord Matlock and Colonel Fitzwilliam to visit; I am sure they would be delighted to see you.”

Mr. Wickham unfortunately had urgent business, and he was in quite a hurry, so he departed less than half an hour later, long before the earl, the colonel and the viscount arrived.

Without any special agreement among them, none of the ladies though it necessary to mention Mr. Wickham’s morning call to their newly arrived guests.

That night, Elizabeth had one more reason to lose sleep and pose questions without answers. She dare not speculate about the events between Mr. Wickham and the Darcys or about the contradiction between the earl’s favourable inclination towards Mr. Wickham and the strong dislike of the rest of his family.

She remembered her past conversations with Mr. Wickham and began to wonder about the veracity of his words.

Mr. Wickham had said many things, but on closer scrutiny, many of them proved to be untrue. He declared Miss Darcy to be a proud, disagreeable young lady, and that was untrue. He said he would come to the Netherfield ball, but he did not appear. He declared he would never say any unfavourable words about Mr. Darcy, but as soon as the gentleman left Hertfordshire, Mr. Wickham’s secret dealings with him became public knowledge.

Yet, until the day she witnessed the strong reaction of Lady Selina and Miss Darcy, Elizabeth never questioned his motives or his character, and she could not understand why. Could it be that he was handsome and charming and always showed a preference for her?
He
never called her “tolerable.”

Was it possible that, for the same shallow reason, she misjudged Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham equally wrongly, but in different ways?

***

Three more days passed, and their return to Hertfordshire was three days closer.

Elizabeth took long walks in the park across the street as often as she could, including just after dusk and just before dawn. Her aunt and the housekeeper worried and completely disapproved of her habits. A young lady ought not to spend time alone outside in the dark—regardless of whether the dark was late at night or early in the morning—so a servant was summoned each time to watch her from afar. Elizabeth could not but be amused, considering the streetlight was lit until late in the evening, and even in the morning, she usually saw one or two others walking silently along the frozen lane.

That night she managed to sleep for more than two hours, and she knew she had no reason to stay in bed longer. She roused and dressed herself, put on her bonnet without even catching her hair in pins—who would see her at that hour?—and silently left the house. She stopped, overwhelmed by the fresh breeze and the new snow falling.

She took a few careful steps—it would not do to fall in the middle of the street—and, walking slowly, she reached the park. There were only a few silhouettes at that hour—no doubt as sleepless as she—and she remained in the lane from where she could see her aunt’s house.

After some time, cold and wet, she decided to return home; the snow was falling heavier, and the visibility was poor.

She felt another person’s presence near her long before she noticed it was a man; she stopped and allowed him to approach and step by her, hoping it was not an acquaintance as her appearance was quite improper.

However, he seemed unwilling to pass by, pausing a few steps away, so she lifted her eyes.

Her body was cold, but it suddenly froze completely; even if she had wished to depart, her feet seemed trapped in stone. He took one more step forward and bowed to her.

“Miss Bennet, forgive me if I frightened you.”

“Mr. Darcy! I… I did not expect to see you, sir. I was told you were out of town and—”

“I returned two days ago, but I asked my sister to keep it private for the time being as I am not certain for how long I will remain. I am sorry to disturb you. I have been walking for some time with the hope of seeing you alone for a moment. Would you do me the honour of reading this letter?” His voice was as uncertain and gentle as his gaze.

He handed her a letter, and the snow covered it instantly, so without thinking, she tucked the letter under her cloak. She raised her eyes briefly, he thanked her and apologised once more, and then she watched him depart through a curtain of snow.

Chapter 10

Darcy had appeared a day earlier as unexpectedly as he left, and his sister was not certain whether she was happy to see him or frightened by his strange behaviour.

If someone asked, he would not have been able to explain why he returned, nor would he dare tell anyone that he returned because Pemberley was cold and lonely in the winter.

He had been angry for many days and nights—so angry and hurt that he could do nothing, not even sleep. He spent considerable time on horseback, and some days he exercised three mounts and was still not satisfied or tired from riding across the snowy grounds.

Then he received the first letter from Georgiana, and she spoke of her concern regarding Miss Elizabeth, who had not left her room for almost a week. He could not help worrying and wondering about her illness. He felt deeply for her—the sharp pang in his chest was clear proof—and he was furious with himself for caring about a woman who cared so little for him.

During the next few days, worry surpassed his anger. In fact, he was still infuriated with her, but he would rather know she was well and healthy. He replied to Georgiana, asking for more details, and she finally informed him that Miss Elizabeth was better. It appeared she was more tired and exhausted than truly ill, but she improved satisfactorily.

So, she had been unwell for a week. Could it be that their argument had affected her so? Certainly, she could not remain untouched after such a quarrel; nobody could.

When he received another letter from the colonel, inquiring about his plans and mentioning that the Bennet sisters would soon return to Hertfordshire, Darcy became restless. He knew he should have been happy that she was leaving town. Briefly, it crossed his mind that it would not be long before Bingley likely proposed to Miss Bennet, so future events and situations would probably throw them into each other’s company. For the time being, he should be happy that she was leaving Town.

But he was not.

His anger towards her was equally as strong as the anger towards his own weakness, so in order to discover new reasons to feed this anger, he spent an entire day and night reviewing every moment he spent in her company since they first met.

In the end, he was spent, deeply ashamed, and appalled at his own behaviour, shocked by the revelation that, indeed, she had every reason in the world to think ill of him and to accuse him of arrogance, conceit, and selfish disdain for the feelings of others.

He had offended her on the first evening of their acquaintance, refusing to dance with her and describing her as only tolerable. And she heard him; he had proof of that. In a short time, his opinion of her changed, and he found her to be considerably more than tolerable—but she never knew that. How could she? She had only the evidence of his rude behaviour in Hertfordshire.

He was aware that, since they met again in London, things had changed slightly between him and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It might have been the positive influence of his family—perhaps the earl, perhaps Georgiana’s sweet manners—but he sensed that Elizabeth was more favourable towards him. The day of the sleigh ride, he felt her strong reaction as he brushed the snow from her clothes.

At the ball, he was certain she was not displeased to be in his company and to dance with him. She had smiled at him, and when they danced, she flirted with him. That was precisely what drove him to the conclusion that she would welcome his proposal.

Consequently, he had presented himself before her with a proposal expressed in the worst possible manner; Darcy could acknowledge it once he regained control of himself. With disbelief and severe reproach, he recollected the entire discussion and understood that her criticisms were less than he deserved. He had been insensitive to her feelings, and he severely offended her family. His choice of words could easily mislead any woman into believing his proposal was not an honourable one, especially if she was induced to believe he was already engaged. From what quarter that information had reached her was not even worth considering—perhaps from Wickham, perhaps from others. He was aware of the rumour and did nothing to contradict it—until the damage was impossible to repair.

She had been unfair in her accusations, certainly, but he was no gentleman in his manners—not at all! He had no hope that she would ever speak to him again, nor could he hope she would ever forgive him.

The revelation that Elizabeth still held Wickham in high esteem was especially disturbing, and while he admitted to himself that he was jealous, he also worried that she might discover Wickham’s true character when it was too late. He decided then that, if there were no possible way for him to make amends and win her forgiveness, there was one thing he could do. It was his duty to share his side of the story of his past dealings with Wickham.

It was highly unlikely that she would agree to speak to him privately and listen to his arguments; in fact, it was unlikely that she would agree to speak with him at all, ever again. Finally, he understood there was only one solution, so he spent the entire evening and night putting together the most detailed and difficult letter he had written in his entire life. When morning came, he began the lengthy journey back to London.

When he arrived in Grosvenor Square, the expression on Georgiana’s face melted his heart. He had abandoned her without any explanation. She had every reason to feel the same degree of anger as he felt of guilt, but she smiled and cuddled to his chest, happy and relieved.

At dawn the next day, he decided to call on Mrs. Gardiner and ask her permission to give Elizabeth a letter. He could have asked Georgiana to deliver the letter privately, of course, but he could not expose either his sister or Elizabeth to such a delicate situation.

Once he made the decision, he could not bear to wait for a proper visiting hour, so he fetched the carriage and drove to the park where he walked around to clear his thoughts. Fortunately, the park was empty, barren and frozen. No reasonable person would venture outside at that hour and in such weather—almost no reasonable person.

A few steps ahead of him, stepping carefully along the frozen path, lost in her thoughts, her hair down and covered with snow, was Elizabeth. The moment he had desired for so many days was upon him. She was alone, and he meant to use that chance to speak to her, to apologise for his outrageous behaviour, to explain to her that—Her eyes met his, and he could see she was frightened, shocked, frozen, disturbed and…she had no desire to speak to him at all.

“Would you do me the honour of reading this letter?” She was still silent, staring at the letter, and then she took it—and he left. It was done.

***

Unable to understand the happenstance of such an unexpected meeting and struggling to comprehend what compelled Mr. Darcy to write her a letter, Elizabeth stared at the two pieces of paper—written quite through in a very close hand—now lying open on her bed, drying.