apology would be absurd.
Again Darcy stopped the flow of his pen, and stabbed it into the ink with such force that he broke the end of the quill. By the time he was ready to continue with another, he had had too much time to recollect his unhappiness, and the pain he felt about what Miss Bennet had said last night.
How, for instance, had she known that he had influenced Bingley against returning to Hertfordshire and to Netherfield? He had confided in no-one about his part in that as far as he could recall, unless . . . He remembered suddenly his conversation with Fitzwilliam on the journey down to Rosings. It was just possible that his cousin had recounted Darcy’s care for his friend, and that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had realised that the lady concerned must have been her elder sister.
In any case, his reasons for separating Bingley from Miss Jane Bennet had been sound and well founded. So he continued writing.
I had not been long in Hertfordshire before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment.
I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you . . . ,
Darcy paused at this point, with happier memories of that evening, when at last Elizabeth Bennet had agreed to dance with him, the touch of her hand, the way she had turned across the dance until... He shook himself, and continued,
...I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas’s accidental information, that Bingley’s attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided.
From that moment I observed my friend’s behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him.
Your sister I also watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening’s scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment.
If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable.
Darcy at this point rested his head on his hand, and was deep in thought for several minutes. If Fitzwilliam had told Miss Elizabeth of Darcy’s part in the matter, he could not risk discussing her with his cousin, since they knew each other too well for Darcy to be able fully to conceal his feelings from Fitzwilliam. As it was, his cousin had been curious as to why Darcy had been so keen to prolong his stay at Rosings, when he was normally only too glad to get away.
And if Miss Elizabeth Bennet was correct about her sister’s feelings, were there other occasions when his own judgement might have been at fault?
For a moment he hesitated. But Darcy was not accustomed to thinking himself in error, and his indignation and confidence reasserted themselves,
But I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity of your sister’s countenance and air was such, as might have given the most acute observer, a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched.
That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain, but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it, I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason.
My objections to the marriage were not merely those, which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me.
But there were other causes of repugnance, causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly.
Here Darcy stopped again, for what he must now say was certainly most unlikely to commend his cause to Elizabeth Bennet. However, surely she must realise that such matters could not be overlooked?
The situation of your mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father.
Darcy stopped writing, and looked unseeingly out of the window. Her words came back to him
“had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner . . .”
He shook his head as he continued—
Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both.
I will only say farther, that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before, to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.
The part which I acted, is now to be explained. His sisters’ uneasiness had been equally excited with my own, our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London.
We accordingly went and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend, the certain evils of such a choice. I describe, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance which I hesitated not in giving, of your sister’s indifference.
He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much.
There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction, it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister’s being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence, is perhaps probable, but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger.
Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done, and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them.
