Tact Page 6

  “I beg your pardon, madam?” he spoke with barely restrained anger in clipped, hard tones. “What can possibly have prompted such a question so soon after discussing my ward, I wonder. I am afraid that I must demand a full answer.”

  Made decidedly uncomfortable by the sudden transformation, Lizzy glanced about her. They had not yet reached a populated part of their walk; the lane was yet some distance further down the hill. She could just see the gate that would lead them to it.

  “I am afraid I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, sir. I cannot comprehend what it is I have said that has led to such offence. I asked, simply because it occurred to me that your description of Miss Darcy was not at all in keeping with the way in which Mr. Wickham spoke of her. I am attempting to reconcile the two.” There was now a measure of reserve in her tone, a defensive note that had crept in at the accusatory way in which he had spoken to her.

  If anything, he seemed to be made angrier at her words. “Given my knowledge of Wickham’s character, Miss Bennet, I do not suppose that they can be reconciled. Do enlighten me as to what that man has said about Miss Darcy.”

  It was not a request and Elizabeth stiffened yet further, intending to remind the man that she was not accustomed to being addressed in such a manner, nor would she tolerate it – but before she could do so her companion huffed out a breath of air and stalked off a little distance from her. She did not approach him, being so annoyed herself and understanding the wisdom in a little distance to collect one's thoughts. She found herself a conveniently fallen tree and sat, composing her response as he stared off into the distance, his back to her.

  He turned back in a short while and seeing her seated, occupying herself with a small bunch of daisies, approached her log.

  She spoke before he could, as neutrally as she was able. “Mr. Wickham has spoken but two sentences to me regarding Miss Darcy – firstly, that she is, or was, but sixteen. Secondly, that although he devoted many hours to her amusement, she has grown very like her brother in terms of pride. Mr. Wickham has said much against Mr. Darcy’s character but little against the lady. Does that satisfy your demand for information, Colonel Fitzwilliam? I should like to return to the parsonage very soon if it does.”

  He looked chagrined. “I apologise, Miss Bennet. I am, I believe, a reasonable man but regarding Mr. Wickham, I have little command over my temper. I ought not to have spoken to you thus – I am sure you are blameless. You are not the first young woman, nor will you be the last, whose ears he has courteously filled with falsehood. I beg your pardon. I will, of course, take you back immediately.”

  Elizabeth remained sitting on her log. “I suppose there is some great mystery afoot here that I am to know nothing about. How vexatious.” She held up her chain of white flowers and thoughtfully straightened the odd stem to her satisfaction. “I suppose, then, that Mr. Wickham’s words concerning Mr. Darcy disregarding his father's will were slander – no, you need not answer that. It becomes clearer to me now – why else would he have only told the odd acquaintance, not spreading it abroad until Mr. Bingley and his party had left Netherfield? I shall not pry, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I should like to demand an answer of my own now since I answered your demand.”

  He raised his eyebrows, promising nothing.

  “Is Mr. Wickham a dangerous man?”

  He kicked a clump of dirt with his boot and toyed with it. “He is not a violent man, Miss Bennet, but neither is he at all trustworthy. He is not at all well received in Derbyshire on account of his dishonesty and poor character.”

  “Very well then. We shall speak of pleasanter things.”

  “Will you first accept my apology for frightening you? Darcy will have my head if I have seriously upset your peace.”

  “Mr. Darcy! I shouldn’t imagine it would bother him a whit, Colonel! I am well able to cope with the occasional lapse of manners in your relatives, sir – I daresay it was too much to hope that you would be exempt from the more obvious family traits. You may, since you have begged my pardon so nicely, consider yourself forgiven and the incident shall be cast into the furthest recesses of my mind, only to be resurrected whenever you put me out of humour.” With that, she hopped off her log and started down the hill toward the lane.

  He laughed again and followed her, as she had intended him to, but said, “You are quite out about Darcy, you know – he takes very good care of his friends and I believe you are counted to be one of them from what I gather in his conversation. In fact,” he said, hoping apparently to raise Mr. Darcy in her opinions, “he takes such care of his friends that he was recently forced to intervene in Mr. Bingley’s affairs. The poor man was quite in love with an unsuitable lady. My cousin had to say quite plainly that she was after his fortune, for Bingley was quite blinded by his own feelings. Darcy told me weeks ago that he congratulates himself on having saved Mr. Bingley from such an imprudent match.”

  They had by this point, reached the lane that led to the parsonage and Elizabeth could see the gate that led to her sister’s house. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in her ears when she asked the colonel, in a trembling voice, what right Mr. Darcy had to be the judge of any lady’s feelings.

  He looked at her curiously, wrinkling his brow. “I would imagine he observed her carefully, Miss Bennet. He is a fair man. I do not suppose the case makes any difference to you or me. Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it – all this occurred last year when he was rusticating with Bingley in one of the southern counties. I do not even recollect that he told me which one. You are inclined to think his interference officious?”

  Elizabeth raised a hand to dash away the angry tear that had spilt onto her cheek – heat suffused her face and her heart was beating very fast. Righteous fury was infusing her every bone and she laid her other stiff-fingered hand on the parsonage gate to open it.

  The Colonel saw the tear and his eyes widened.

  “I say, Miss Bennet – I do not think....”

  “Hertfordshire,” she said, succinctly. “The mercenary, unsuitable, heartless young lady was from Hertfordshire.”

  With that, she fled indoors.

  Chapter Nine

  Mr. Collins attributed the low spirits of his favourite sister-in-law to the sad passing of Mrs. Garron. Clearly, Elizabeth was a young lady of such delicate sensibility that she could not help but be quite cast down by the cruel reality of death. He attempted in his awkward but kind way to condole with her, and congratulated himself that within a quarter of an hour her sweet smile had returned and she bravely attempted to be cheerful again. She said that she was very weary that night and retired early. The Collinses were confident that a night’s repose would soon mend her.

  Yet Elizabeth was decidedly not herself the by the time morning had come, and even after they had partaken of their luncheon it was apparent that she was still decidedly out of spirits. Mary began to worry when her sister had rejected the possibility of a walk that afternoon – Mr. Collins, thinking to offer up Dawkins to the cause of Cheering Elizabeth Up, had said that she might go with his blessing. Instead Lizzy asked if she might sit in the parlour and reread a few of her letters from Jane in the quiet. Her head, she said, was plaguing her although she would not hear of the apothecary being sent for – Lizzy was certain that quiet and solitude would soon mend her.

  The solitude was quite easily arranged, for Mrs. Garron’s affairs must be taken care of, and as she had no remaining family, that task naturally fell to the Collinses. They walked off down the lane together, arm in arm, with the assurance that should Elizabeth require them, she should send the maid to fetch them immediately.

  Elizabeth soon realised, after spending some time dwelling on Jane, her misery, and Mr. Darcy’s culpability, that her headache was not at all diminished by such morose thoughts and as her character was not one that naturally embraced ill humour, she made an effort to lift her own spirits by beginning to pen a letter to her father.

  She had not written much more than the preliminary greetings when the door opened and the maid announced the man Elizabeth least wanted to see.

  Mr. Darcy entered the room, bowed, and waited as she stood to curtsey. Once she had done so, grudgingly, he put his hat and gloves down on a little table and sat down at her civil invitation.

  He did not look quite so calm and cool as he ordinarily did, and Elizabeth wondered if the colonel had told him of his blunder. Clearly, Mr. Darcy did not relish her knowing of his interference, perhaps thinking she would call him to account for it. He was incorrect on this score, for although she would not avoid the subject should he raise it, she could do no good by flinging his abominable conduct in his face.

  Unable to resist needling him, though, with ponderous courtesy Elizabeth enquired after the health of his aunt, Miss de Bourgh, Mrs. Jenkinson, and lastly his cousin the colonel.

  Never particularly forthcoming in his civilities at the best of times, Mr. Darcy’s impatience with the polite necessities of civilised behaviour was readily apparent by the time she had gently led the conversation to the health and whereabouts of the last in the list of his tactless relatives.

  “Fitzwilliam? I’ve not seen him since yesterday, Miss Elizabeth. Lady Catherine desired him to head over to Mrs. Garron’s cottage today in order to assist with the necessities.”

  They then fell into the familiar awkward silence that so often existed between them. Elizabeth thought of at least three different avenues of conversation that she could rescue him with but was disinclined to aid him in the matter. If he wished to annoy young women by visiting them only to waste their time with silence, she would not discourage him. It must be borne for Mary’s sake, apparently. However little she desired his company, she would not do as she wished she could and rail against him for his despi
cable behaviour toward the sweetest sister in all the world.

  He stood abruptly in another minute and strode toward the door, only to return in quick paces once he had reached it.

  “In vain I have struggled. It will not do; my feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” Elizabeth, having half risen from her chair to see him, as she supposed, out of the house, sat back down with a gasp of astonishment.

  Mr. Darcy appeared to think this sufficient encouragement to continue. “I know that I must have surprised you, forgive me – I was not even certain until this last week that I would ask you. I have tried to shield you from false hopes. You are not an unintelligent creature; you know – surely you must know of the struggles I have had to overcome in order to ally myself with your family. I thought in Hertfordshire that I should forget all about you once I was away, but seeing you here again in Kent has made my efforts to remember my duty to my name entirely futile. Were it only my inclination I had to answer to I should have spoken to you sooner, but I have a younger sister, whom I trust that you will love as dearly as I do, whose future may be affected by the circumstances of your upbringing and the behaviour of most of your family. It cannot be helped.”

  He stopped speaking for a moment and looked at her pale astounded face and sighed. “I do not mean to embarrass you, Miss Bennet. I have every intention of caring for you to the very best of my ability – you need not fear to be made to blush by my relatives nor by my lineage, and materially speaking at least, you will be very well situated. My ancestors have been landowners in Derbyshire for more than three hundred years.” He paused and glanced down at his fingers, considering his next words. “Should you, as I hope you will, accept my hand in marriage, there are conditions that must be required of you. I do not think you will struggle at all to make new friends, nor do I think you will find it hard to care for your new relations but – it will be necessary at first to minimise communication with Hertfordshire and then to end it completely once Miss Darcy makes her come out. I believe that I have now said all that I must on the subject and wait only for your answer.”

  From the time that Mr. Darcy had begun to speak to the time he eventually ceased, Elizabeth’s countenance had changed colour several times. Pallor to redness, and then finally back to white again. Her amazement was boundless. She did not believe that excessive modesty was an affliction with which she suffered, but that this man, of all men, should express a desire to wed her was beyond anything she could have imagined. Given that her ire was increasing with every ill-judged word he spoke, she tried to compose herself to refuse him with great patience, not merely due to a desire to avoid his anger but also because she could not help but feel compassion for him, even above that which she had felt for poor silly Mr. Collins. Mr. Darcy at least believed he loved her – how else could he have lowered himself so very far (as though she were a scullery maid!) to speak to her thus. Thinking of Mr. Collins made her consider briefly if a similar answer to the one she had given him might assist her. Could she reasonably convince Mr. Darcy that one of her sisters was pining for him and thus she could not in all good conscience accept him? She quickly sifted through, and as swiftly dismissed, the possible suitability of Lydia or Kitty.

  It would not do. Whatever his many faults, this was not a stupid man – nor was he an easily led one. It was decidedly inconvenient. Tact in its most delicate form would be necessary for every word she spoke if she was to conclude this unpleasant interview on civil terms with him. To do so without incurring his resentment was possibly even beyond her skills but the effort must be made.

  “You have honoured me, Mr. Darcy – I...I confess that I did not expect this. I, as you have pointed out, had not considered that one such as you would have even looked at me twice, let alone wished for my hand in marriage.” Elizabeth kept her eyes on her fingernails, her hands clenched tightly together – both wishing and dreading to see his face change as she uttered her next words. She tried for humble tones. “I am not worthy to be your wife, Mr. Darcy. I am flattered, beyond anything, that you should have considered me and I truly thank you for the compliment of your affection, but I am not so low in rank, sir, that I cannot comprehend what is owed to a family name. The Bennets have been in Hertfordshire for only a hundred years, but I should not disgrace them by wedding a stable boy, or a carpenter and that is as much a degradation as a wedding between us would be to you. I am sorry, sir, that I was not better born and I sincerely wish you every happiness. I do trust,” she added with a tremulous smile, “that the next young lady so fortunate to receive your addresses will be of sufficient rank, wealth, and dignity that you might speak to her without any struggle or self-reproach that might mar your future happiness.”

  He was not a slow man. The import of her words sunk in very swiftly and a curious mixture of agitated disbelief was apparent in his features. He had been successfully caught in the noose of his own pride. Merely by agreeing with him, she had refused his hand with his own reasoning. There could be no fault found in her logic; it was his own argument after all – how could a reasonable man be angry in the face of such kindly spoken words?

  Mr. Darcy ran his hand through his hair, sending it into disorder. He appeared to be thinking very seriously, for he was frowning prodigiously as he loomed over her, still on his feet. It took him some three or four minutes to speak, Elizabeth in the interim wishing that she were anywhere else but there and marshalling her defences if he should press his suit, but praying that he would not.

  When he did reply, he sounded very grave and very serious. “I have misspoken, Miss Bennet, and I have done so disastrously, it would seem. I had not thought that your response would take this form.”

  To her dismay he approached her and sat beside her. She edged away, ready to stand but he gestured that she should remain. “No, please remain seated, Miss Bennet – this conversation is not likely to be a short one – I do not mean to alarm you. Forgive me; I fear that I am making very little sense.” He smiled a little when she nodded in affirmation. “I have been thinking of recent that I should prefer it if you would agree with me a little more often. I have discovered that I am quite wrong; it is far less agonising when you do not.” His mouth returned to severe lines. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet, for having in my declaration, made you feel in any way unworthy of anything. I think you deserving of every good thing that life can give you.”

  Elizabeth, unexpectedly feeling very sorry for him, steeled herself and pressed home her advantage. “No no, do not reproach yourself, sir. You are entirely correct – I am not your equal. Let us simply forget this all happened and part with all charity and no ill feelings. I promise that I shan’t tell anyone.”

  Mr. Darcy’s displeasure was very evident. His mouth twisted downwards in a grimace and his eyebrows drew down low on his forehead. She could not tell whither his displeasure was directed.

  “I have done a great deal of damage, I think,” he said, sounding guilty. “Miss Bennet, I ought not to have addressed you in such terms. I cannot think what possessed me.”

  “You did not stray from the truth, sir,” she said, stiffly.

  “It does not excuse me.” He checked himself and spoke again. “If I am able to convince you that you need not refuse me so for my own sake, will you reconsider your answer.”

  Elizabeth swallowed, averted her eyes, and shook her head.

  Very gently he spoke again, “I am in earnest, Miss Bennet.”

  Nervously she glanced at the closed door and tried to put a little distance between them.

  He frowned and inwardly she quailed – perhaps she wasn’t so accomplished an actress as she had thought.

  “I cannot fathom why you would not withdraw your refusal, nor can I quite comprehend why you are looking as though I am a thing to be feared. I have been clumsy, yes, and I ought not have made you think you are my inferior but that does not explain either fact.”

  “I have no wish to anger you, Mr. Darcy. I am well aware that your influence could make the lives of my dear brother and sister difficult. Do let us cease this talk – it does not do either of us any good. You have said my family is objectionable, I have agreed, let us part.”