Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (134 page)

Fitzwilliam Darcy.

It was done.

I glanced at the clock. It was half past two. I had to copy the letter into a fair hand, one she could read, but I was tired. I decided to rest.

I undressed slowly and went to bed.

Wednesday 23rd April

This morning I woke with the dawn. I slept again, until my valet wakened me. I rose quickly, then made a fair copy of my letter. I made my way to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s room. He was in his dressing-gown when I arrived, about to have his valet shave him.

‘I need to speak to you,’ I said.

‘At this hour?’ he asked, laughing.

‘I need your help.’

His look changed. He dismissed his valet.

‘You have it,’ he said.

‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘Name it.’

‘I need you to bear witness to the events related in this letter.’

He looked at me in surprise.

‘They contain particulars of Wickham’s relations with my sister.’

He frowned. ‘I do not think you should divulge them to anyone.’

‘Events have made it imperative that I do so.’

In the briefest of terms I told him of what had passed; that I had proposed to Elizabeth and been refused.

‘Refused?’ He broke in at that. ‘Good God, what can you have said to her to make her refuse you?’

‘Nothing. I said only what any sensible man would have said,’ I replied. ‘I told her of the struggle I had had in overlooking the inferiority of her connections, the objectionable behaviour of her family, the lowness of her situation in life – ’

‘Only what any sensible man would have said?’ he asked in surprise. ‘Darcy, this is not like you. You cannot have so mismanaged it. To insult a woman and then to expect her to marry you?’

I was surprised at his reaction.

‘I spoke nothing but the truth.’

‘If we all spoke the truth there would be a great deal of unhappiness in the world, and particularly at such a time. Some things are better left unsaid.’

‘I abhor deception,’ I said.

‘And I abhor a blockhead!’ he returned, half-smiling, half-exasperated. Then he became serious. ‘But to offer
for Miss Bennet…I confess you have taken me by surprise. I had no idea your affections were engaged.’

‘I took care you should not know. I did not want anyone to know. I thought I could vanquish them.’

‘But they were too strong for you?’

I nodded, and though I would not have admitted it to anyone but myself, they still were. No matter. I would conquer them. I had no choice.

‘Will you stand witness for me? Will you make yourself available to her, should she wish it?’ I asked him.

‘You are sure she will say nothing of it to anyone?’

‘I am sure.’

‘Very well. Then yes, I will.’

‘Thank you. And now I must leave you. I hope to put this letter into her hand this morning. She walks in the park after breakfast. I hope to find her there.’

I left him to his valet and went out into the park. I had not long to wait. I saw Elizabeth and walked towards her. She hesitated, and I believe she would have turned away if she could, but she knew that I had seen her. I walked towards her purposefully.

‘I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?’

I put it into her hand. And then, before she could hand it back to me, I made her a slight bow and walked away.

Of my feelings as I returned to Rosings I will say nothing. I scarcely know what they were. I imagined her
reading the letter. Would she believe me? Would she think better of me? Or would she dismiss it as a fabrication?

I had no way of knowing.

My visit to my aunt is drawing to an end. I leave tomorrow with my cousin. I could not go without taking my leave of those at the parsonage, but I was apprehensive about the visit. How would Elizabeth look? What would she say? What would I say?

As chance should have it, Elizabeth was not there. I said all that was proper to Mr and Mrs Collins and then took my leave.

Colonel Fitzwilliam went later, remaining an hour so that Elizabeth might have a chance of speaking to him if she wished it, but she did not return. I can only hope she has accepted that I have told her the truth, and that her feelings towards me are now less hostile. But any other kind of feelings…such hopes are over.

Thursday 24th April

I am in London again. After all the unforeseeable events at Rosings I find that here, at least, things are still the same. Georgiana has learnt a new sonata and netted a purse. She has also made a very good sketch of Mrs Annesley. But although London has not changed, I find that I have. I am no longer happy here. My house seems lonely. I had never realized how large it is, or how empty. If things had gone otherwise…but they did not.

I have much to do, and I will soon be too busy to think of the past. During the days, I have business which
must be attended to, and at night I mean to attend every party and ball to which I have been invited. I will not allow the events of the last few weeks to discompose me. I have been a fool, but I will be a fool no more. I am determined to forget Elizabeth.

Friday 25th April

‘Mr Darcy! How good of you to attend our little gathering!’ said Lady Susan Wigham as I entered her house this evening.

It was comfortable to be back in a world of elegance and taste, with not one vulgar person to mortify me. The ballroom was full of refined people, many of whom I had known all my life.

‘Do let me introduce you to my niece, Cordelia. She is visiting me from the country. She is a charming girl, and a graceful dancer.’

She presented Miss Farnham, a blonde beauty of some nineteen or twenty years of age.

‘Would you care to dance, Miss Farnham?’ I asked.

She blushed prettily and whispered: ‘Thank you, yes.’

As I led her out on to the floor, I found my thoughts straying to the Netherfield ball, but I quickly controlled them and made myself think of Miss Farnham.

‘Have you been in town long?’ I asked her.

‘No, not very long,’ she said.

At least, I believe that is what she said. She has a habit of whispering which makes it difficult to hear her.

‘Are you enjoying your stay?’

‘Yes, I thank you.’

She relapsed into silence.

‘Have you been doing anything of interest?’ I asked.

‘No, not really,’ she said.

‘You have been to the theatre, perhaps?’

‘Yes.’

She said nothing more.

‘What play did you see?’ I coaxed her.

‘I cannot recall.’

‘You have been to one of the museums, perhaps?’ I asked, thinking the change of subject might stimulate her.

‘I do not know. Is the museum the large building with the columns outside? If so, I have been there. I did not like it. It was very cold and draughty.’

‘Perhaps you prefer reading books to visiting museums?’ I asked her.

‘Not especially,’ she whispered. ‘Books are very difficult, are they not? They have so many words in them.’

‘It is one of their undeniable failings.’

Elizabeth would have smiled at this, but there was no humour in Miss Farnham’s voice when she whispered: ‘That is exactly what I think.’

We lapsed into silence, but realizing that my thoughts were beginning to turn to Elizabeth, I determined to persevere.

‘Perhaps you like to sketch?’ I asked her.

‘Not especially,’ she said.

‘Is there anything you like to do?’ I asked, hearing a note of exasperation in my voice.

She looked up at me with more animation.

‘Oh, yes, indeed there is. I like playing with my kittens. I have three of them, Spot, Patch and Stripe. Spot has a black spot, but otherwise he is entirely white. Patch has a white patch on his back, and Stripe – ’

‘Allow me to guess. He has a stripe?’

‘Why, have you seen him?’ she asked in amazement.

‘No.’

‘You must have done, else how could you know?’ she said, round-eyed. ‘I think my aunt must have showed him to you when I was out.’

She continued to talk of her kittens until the dance was over.

I did not let my lack of success with my first partner shake my resolve to enjoy myself, and I danced every dance. I came home pleased that I had not thought of Elizabeth above two or three times all evening.

Does she think of me ever? Does she, perhaps, think of my letter? I am satisfied that she believed me when I spoke of Wickham, for she has not asked my cousin about it, but does she understand why I spoke to her as I did when I offered her my hand? She must. She cannot be unaware of her low position in life, and on reflection she has undoubtedly decided that it was not ungentleman-like of me to speak to her in such a manner. She must have realized I was right to do so.

And what of her feelings on the way I dealt with her sister’s affections? She sees now, I hope, that I acted for the best. She cannot fail to understand, or to acknowledge
that what I did was right.

As for George Wickham, she knows him now for the scoundrel he is. But does she still have feelings for him? Does she still prefer his company to mine? Is she laughing with him at this moment, in her aunt’s house? Does she think it better to speak to a man who has all the appearance of gentility, than one who has true worth?

If she should marry him…

I will not think of it. If I do, I will go mad.

Wednesday 7th May

I met Bingley at Lady Jessop’s ball this evening. He has been in the north, visiting his family, and he has now returned to town.

‘Darcy! I did not expect to find you here.’

‘Nor I you.’

‘How did you enjoy your stay with your aunt?’

‘It was well enough,’ I replied. ‘Did you enjoy yourself in the north?’

‘Yes,’ he said, but there was a lack of spirit in his voice.

Have I done wrong in separating him from Miss Bennet? I wonder. He has found no new flirt since her, and though he danced all evening, he never asked any young lady to dance more than once.

My own evening was no more enjoyable. I was claimed by Mrs Pargeter almost as soon as I arrived.

‘Darcy! Where have you been hiding yourself? You must come out to the country to see us. See the stud. Margaret will show it to you. Margaret!’ she called.

Margaret joined us. I remembered Caroline Bingley’s comment of the year before, that Miss Pargeter spent so much time with horses that she had come to resemble one.

‘Should be thinking of putting yourself out to stud before long, Darcy,’ said Mrs Pargeter. ‘Margaret has clean lines. Excellent pedigree. Good breeding-stock.’

Margaret looked at me with interest.

‘Any madness in the family?’ she asked me.

‘None that I am aware of.’

‘Any sickness?’

‘My cousin has a weak chest,’ I replied.

‘So she has. Anne de Bourgh. Forgotten that,’ said her mother. ‘Better keep looking, Margaret.’

It seemed superfluous after that to ask Margaret to dance. I partnered several other young ladies who were amusing enough, but like Bingley, I did not ask anyone twice.

Thursday 15th May

Bingley dined with Georgiana and me this evening. I have abandoned all thoughts of encouraging a match between them. She grows more lovely every day, but I am persuaded their temperaments would not suit. There are other impediments to the match, too. Bingley was distracted for most of the evening. Can it be that he still has not forgotten Miss Bennet?

What did I say to Elizabeth, regarding her sister? I cannot remember. I struggle to recall the words. Was I arrogant? Rude? Ungentleman-like? No, surely not that. And yet to claim that her sister was not a fit wife for Bingley…I am beginning to think I was wrong. There is nothing against her. She has a goodness of character and sweetness of disposition that match his own. But her relatives…no, it would not have done. Yet I was prepared to overlook them in my own case. I had admitted as much to Elizabeth. Yes, and she had roundly abused me for it.

I roused myself from my thoughts.

‘Georgiana and I are holding a picnic next month, Bingley,’ I said.

‘That sounds very pleasant.’

‘Will you still be in town?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you must come.’

‘Yes, Mr Bingley, that would be very pleasant,’ said my sister shyly.

‘I would be delighted. Caroline and Louisa will be in town then, too, and Mr Hurst.’

I tried to hide my lack of enthusiasm, and said: ‘You must bring them with you.’