Truth about Mr. Darcy

This never should have been allowed to happen. She would not have left my sight for a moment.”

Bingley shook his head. “Darcy, it was only by chance I caught the exchange between Miss Elizabeth and Wickham. I fail to see how you could have prevented what you may not have noticed yourself.”

It was simply too much. All the frustration he felt from his endless struggle against his overpowering feelings for Elizabeth caused Darcy to explode. “I would have been aware of it, Bingley! I, who am most excruciatingly conscious of her every movement when I am in her company! I see every smile she bestows, every expression of tenderness, every breath that fills her lungs—none of which is ever for me!” He swallowed hard and tried desperately to compose himself.

Bingley’s mouth dropped open. After a moment, he closed it and said, “I must confess I am at a loss. I had no idea you had tender feelings for Miss Elizabeth. Pray, how long have you felt this way?”

Striving to collect himself, Darcy muttered, “Forgive me. It has been so for many weeks now. I am only surprised you failed to notice it, because it was most easily discerned the other day in very little time by George Wickham.” He let his forehead rest against the glass, allowing its coolness to soothe him.

“Does Miss Elizabeth know?”

Darcy sighed. “That I am in love with her? No, and I would be most grateful if it were to remain that way.”

“But surely you mean to tell her?”

“No, Bingley, I assure you I do not.”

“But why, Darcy? Why would you endeavor to keep such extraordinary feelings hidden from her? What could ever be gained by it? Do you not think Miss Elizabeth would welcome your addresses?”

“No,” he said evenly, “she would not. She does not return my regard, and I would be lying to myself if I believed differently. Even if, by some stroke of exquisite good fortune, Miss Elizabeth were to love me, it would in no way change our circumstances. I cannot make a fortuneless country beauty the mistress of Pemberley, no matter how desperately I may desire it. Duty to my family—to my position in society—strictly forbids such a union between us.”

“Duty to your position?” Bingley cried. “Duty to your position be hanged! What about your duty to yourself, Darcy? Would it not bring you incredible joy and comfort to make Miss Elizabeth your wife and to see your children running through the halls of Pemberley? Would you not truly be content to grow old with her by your side? Do you honestly expect me to believe your family and your friends—all those who most desire to see you happy in life—would wish instead for you to spend your days alone and in misery, or worse, married to another in a loveless union, simply because the one woman you happened to fall in love with does not move in the same social circles as they do? I cannot accept it. Elizabeth Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman, and she is in every way a lady. You are equals; no one can deny that.”

Darcy turned away from the window and faced him. “But what of her mother, Bingley? What of her younger sisters, her aunts and uncles? Certainly you must recognize their behavior and low connections must materially lessen the chances of one’s marital felicity. Anyone who chooses to align themselves with such a family would be shunned in London society. Her family would never even be acknowledged, never mind accepted. I would not wish that upon Miss Elizabeth. I would not wish it upon anyone whom I hold dear.”

“And this should be of significant consequence? The insipid opinions of the London ton, whose favor and disfavor, approval and censure, are so easily bought and sold like tradeable goods? No one who conducts themselves in such a manner could ever esteem a man of your impeccable character and intellect in the first place, Darcy! And, surely, your family would not be so insensible and unfeeling as to follow their example. Would you have me act in such an irrational manner? Would you have me make myself unhappy—expect me to give up my Miss Bennet—for no better reason other than Caroline’s and Louisa’s selfish disdain for the connection?”

Darcy did not respond.

“Do you not approve of my relationship with Miss Bennet, Darcy?”

Darcy winced. He had not wanted it to come to this, especially tonight. “I am sorry, Bingley, but I cannot. You clearly do not understand the consequences and the disgrace you will suffer should you continue in your endeavor to align yourself with such a family. It would be your ruin. I cannot speak any plainer than this.”

Bingley was angry; Darcy had never seen him more so. “You are correct, Darcy, I do not understand anything of the sort! I do, however, comprehend the wretchedness Miss Bennet and I would suffer were I to allow myself to be so disgracefully persuaded from following the counsel of my own heart on such a matter! No, Darcy. That is a consequence I am most unwilling to suffer for any person, be they relation or friend, and most especially for any damned, misguided notion of duty!” He turned then and stormed from the room, leaving Darcy alone with much to consider.

Chapter 4

Elizabeth had been disturbed by Wickham’s behavior toward her the previous evening, more particularly so because they had not been alone together, but in public, among her family and friends. What she found even more distressing was his vulgar allusion to a clandestine arrangement between Darcy and herself. She was completely baffled as to where Wickham could have gotten such a notion. Thoughts of it plagued her for hours before she finally succumbed to fatigue and was able to sleep.

Her slumber was fitful at best, filled with disturbing dreams where Darcy sat staring intently at her, much in the same manner he had when she had stayed at Netherfield to nurse Jane. But rather than the usual haughtiness and criticism, his dark eyes held a burning desire that penetrated every fiber of her being and left her body aching in anticipation of she knew not what. The sensation remained with her long after she awoke.

When Elizabeth arrived downstairs for breakfast, she was disconcerted to learn Bingley and Darcy were locked in conference with her father in his library. She could only imagine one reason for it—the events of the night before. She sat heavily, suddenly feeling not at all hungry. She had hoped Bingley would have kept the mortification of such an encounter between her, Bingley, and Jane. She had not wanted him to worry her father unduly, and she certainly had not wanted him to bring Darcy into the fold. She was now thoroughly relieved she had not yielded to Bingley’s demands that she tell him all Wickham had said to her. How would she ever be able to face Darcy today if he had been made aware of it, as well? The recollection of Wickham’s disrespectful behavior, coupled with the distracting tingles from her dreams, brought a deep flush of mortification to her face.

Halfway through breakfast, the gentlemen joined them. Her father’s expression was grave, as was Darcy’s. As they sipped their coffee, both men silently appraised Elizabeth—Mr. Bennet with a father’s concern, Darcy with something much more unnerving. His eyes had been troubled, almost fierce when he had first entered the room, yet there was an immediate softening and a warmth that occurred the moment he settled his gaze upon Elizabeth. The intensity of that gaze aroused sudden stirrings within her and made Elizabeth feel far more vulnerable than she ever had at the mercy of Mr. Wickham. She could not recall seeing that fire in his looks before, yet there was something notably familiar about the way his eyes seemed to penetrate her. Could it always have been there, and she had simply failed to recognize it for what it was? She found the idea most distressing.

As the morning was particularly fine, Mrs. Bennet encouraged the young people to walk out together. Though Mary had proclaimed she would much rather stay at home, as there was a particular passage in a book she wished to meditate upon and would not be swayed, the rest set out directly. The two youngest girls were bent on going into Meryton but, given the likelihood of meeting Wickham there, Jane and Elizabeth were not eager to sanction such a scheme.

“But why can we not go, Lizzy?” demanded Kitty. “We promised Mrs. Forster most faithfully to call on her this morning.”

“Yes, Lizzy, you and Jane cannot tell us we are not to go!” Lydia crowed. “You would not have us disappoint the wife of the colonel of the regiment, would you? Mama would be quite angry with you, for Harriet and I have become such particular friends. Besides, we were hoping to look at some new fabric and ribbon for Mr. Bingley’s ball. It is to be held in three weeks, you know, and we cannot possibly wear the same tired old gowns in front of all the officers. Lord, how would we ever get husbands?”

“Lydia, please!” Jane hissed, blushing.