been at all forthcoming about his discussion with him, and she could only imagine what a man of such pride would feel about the situation in which they had been caught. So she was glad to have employment to keep her thoughts at bay.
Darcy, meanwhile, awaited his opportunity to bid farewell to Elizabeth with some trepidation. He felt unsure of his reception at a time when he most needed reassurance of her affection. He tried to remind himself he had the assurance of Mr. Gardiner that Elizabeth would be prevailed upon to marry him even if he could not win her, but the taste of that possibility was bitter.
When Elizabeth finally entered, he wanted nothing so much as to fling himself on his knees before her and beg her to marry him. Her loveliness took his breath away.
“Sir, you wished to speak with me?” she said after a moment, her eyes downcast.
He cursed himself. Here was his opportunity to make amends, and all he could think of was what her lips had felt like under his. “Yes, Miss Bennet,” he said with a bow, “please accept my deepest apologies for my most inappropriate behavior earlier.”
She looked up, fearing to see displeasure in his eyes, but finding none. “Your apology is accepted, Mr. Darcy, although, as I told my aunt, I believe you may have had some provocation.” Was there just a hint of impudence in her voice? “I shall endeavor to remember in the future that your warnings should be taken with the utmost seriousness.”
Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was not so hopeless after all. “I hope I have not caused you undue difficulty with your family.”
“Nothing that will not pass. I am trying to appreciate the novelty of being in trouble for misbehavior of this sort,” she said in an attempt at lightness. Then, seeing the concerned look on his face, she clarified, “Truly, my aunt was quite gentle with me. And I hope my uncle was not overly harsh with you?”
Darcy gave a slight, ironic smile. “There were a few rough moments, but we eventually came to an understanding of sorts. The subject arose of my proposal in Kent, which helped to establish my bona fides, but I apologize to you, as it was something you clearly preferred to keep private.”
“I… actually, it is probably just as well that they know, and I certainly would not want them to have… the wrong impression of you. The Gardiners’ good opinion is important to me,” she said, struggling for the right words.
“And
“Sir, I…” Elizabeth stopped. Why could she not complete a thought in a coherent manner when he looked at her like that? “Please understand that this is not a situation I have found myself in before, but… you need have no regrets.”
Darcy’s eyes kindled, and Elizabeth forgot to breathe. Just then they heard Mr. Gardiner’s voice calling Elizabeth to the carriage. “It appears it is time for our adieus, Miss Bennet. Had we more time, there is much more I would wish to say. But, as it is”—he glanced out the door, and seeing no one there, he added softly—“be warned I made no promises to your uncle that it would never happen again.”
“I shall keep that in mind, sir,” said Elizabeth demurely. “However, as you know, I am not easy to intimidate.”
Darcy’s slow smile seemed to melt her bones. “I suppose that if you do not appear at the carriage very soon, they will probably come looking for you.”
“I would imagine so, sir,” she said, feeling breathless.
“But perhaps it is worth taking the chance.”
“Perhaps so,” murmured Elizabeth, shocked at her own daring. Closing her eyes, she felt the touch of his hand on her cheek, then his lips brushed hers just long enough for her to realize that she never wanted him to stop.
“Your carriage awaits, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy huskily. Elizabeth, unable to trust her voice, turned and headed for the door. Darcy followed her to the street, then handed her into the carriage. After a glance at Mr. Gardiner, he raised her hand to his lips for a moment before releasing it.
“Good day, Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner,” he said. “Good day, Miss Bennet.”
“I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth,” said her uncle as they drove from the town, “and really, upon serious consideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge this matter of Lydia as your eldest sister does. It appears to me so very unlikely, that any young man should form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel’s family, that I am strongly inclined to hope for the best. Could he expect that her friends would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the risk.”
“I wish I could believe it,” said Elizabeth. “But I do believe him capable of every form of neglect. He has been profligate in every sense of the word. He is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.”
“Upon my word,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “I am of your uncle’s opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honor, and interest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill of Wickham. Can you, yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?”
“I wish I could pretend that I do not believe him capable of it, but I know too much of him!”
“I do believe it is time, Lizzy, for you to tell everything you do know about this situation,” her uncle said gravely. “It is clear there is a great deal you have kept from us, and it seems that we now need to know it.”
Elizabeth flushed. “I know, and now it is obvious that I should have told the world, but at the time it seemed otherwise. Till I was in Kent, and saw so much of both Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the regiment was to leave Meryton in a week’s time. As that was the case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I thought it necessary to make the knowledge public; for what use could it apparently be to anyone? That such a consequence as this should ensue, you may easily believe was far enough from my thoughts. And, to my shame, I knew it would not be to my advantage to reveal all that I knew, for then I should have had to say more than I liked about my sources of information, and I considered it unwise to apprise my family of my interactions with Mr. Darcy.”
“And that is another piece that I need to ask you to relate,” said her uncle. “I think you had better tell us the whole story of your Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth would, in fact, much rather not have told this part, but she acknowledged her uncle’s right to question her about it after the events of the day. “He is not
“I think he might disagree with you there,” her uncle replied mildly. “But pray continue.”
Elizabeth blushed furiously. Slowly, and not very fluently, she attempted to relate the events that had happened in Kent, skimming only over the worst of her verbal interchange with Mr. Darcy after his proposal. She did not want them to think ill of her for her bitter words, nor did she wish to alter their perception of Mr. Darcy from the pleasant gentleman he had been at Pemberley. She explained how she had gradually given up her former prejudices after reading his letter, and of her shock at seeing him in Derbyshire, as well as her present doubts about the wisdom of her continuing any acquaintance with him after Lydia’s shame and the involvement of Wickham.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged glances. The distress in their niece’s voice clearly spoke of the struggle between her heart and her head on this subject. “Time will tell,” said Mr. Gardiner. “But I would ask you to keep in mind that Mr. Darcy is a young man in a good deal of pain over his feelings about you.”
“What did he say to you?” Elizabeth cried.
“I believe that should remain between him and me, Elizabeth. I only urge you to consider that, whether or not you return his affections, I believe that a certain degree of gentleness on your part would be in order.”
Elizabeth made no reply to this, and in fact did not speak again for some time, and then only on a different subject. That she had injured Mr. Darcy with her harsh words she could easily believe, but to think about him in pain because of her hurt more than she cared to admit. And if the Gardiners noticed an occasional tear in her eye, they were wise enough to say nothing of it, but had they seen the handkerchief she clutched so tightly in her hand, they would have seen that the initials on it were not her own.
