“Miss Elizabeth,” said he in greeting. “I wished to extend my apologies to you directly. Given our conversation at Netherfield the night of the ball, I understood Wickham plied you with tales of his injuries at my hand. I should have given a more substantial warning.”
“Thank you for saying that, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “In the end, I have no injuries to resent, for though Mr. Wickham misled me, he attempted nothing further than that.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her, an earnest sort of expression. “I will own that part of my reason for not being more explicit, other than my general antipathy for Wickham, was my firmest belief in your discernment and your morality. Even if you believed Wickham, I knew he could not deceive you for long.”
Flattered at Mr. Darcy’s praise despite herself, Elizabeth replied: “I thank you for that, sir, though I will note that Ididbelieve Mr. Wickham. In this, I have learned a lesson—I should have been more suspicious of a new acquaintance, yet I behaved as a girl of five and allowed him to spin his tales.”
“You could have no suspicion of him,” protested Mr. Darcy.
“I should have suspected,” insisted Elizabeth. “What sort of man betrays such a confidence so early in an acquaintance unless he means mischief? Your defense is appreciated, but I would ask you to please allow me to feel the weight of my error. It has taught me something, so I shall not count it a wasted experience.”
“What is a life lived well but to learn from mistakes and resolve not to repeat them?” was Mr. Darcy’s rhetorical reply. “It is well that you have seen the error in your behavior. I hope that I can do the same.”
A far warmer feeling than she had ever felt for this man entered her heart. “I am certain you shall, Mr. Darcy.”
“Then I hope you will allow me to make a fresh start.” Mr. Darcy smiled, an offer that quite became him. “It would please me if you would allow me to prove myself a better man than I have shown.”
“Of proof, I believe I need little,” said Elizabeth. “However, if you wish to proceed with friendlier relations and mutual respect, I am not at all averse.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. Then, shall we speak of something else? What say you to books?”
Elizabeth laughed, recalling the exchange at the ball, and fell into conversation with Mr. Darcy. It was the most civil discussion they had ever shared.
Chapter VII
Darcy remained immersed in his thoughts all the way back to Netherfield, and from there into the sitting-room. So intent on his thoughts was he that Fitzwilliam’s silence did not even penetrate his consciousness, though later he would reflect that his cousin had watched him throughout.
The visit to Longbourn had been illuminating in more than one way. Mrs. Bennet was still loud and ill-bred, and the youngest girls unfit for little beyond the nursery, but he had seen something he had never anticipated—a family, flawed without a doubt, but a family, nonetheless. What he had expected, he did not even know himself, but to see the Bennets in their home, to witness their relief that the danger in their midst had passed, had told him something. Whereas Darcy had considered no one in this district worth his time and attention, he now knew that he had been mistaken. Their worth was not in their behavior, standing, or wealth, but in the simple ties of affection, bonds that could be found in the meanest hovel in the kingdom.
More troubling to Darcy were the subtle hints he had caught of the Bennets’ dislike for him. If Darcy were honest with himself, he had seen it before—during Mrs. Bennet’s visit to Netherfield, she had made her opinion of him clear. That Miss Elizabeth had not viewed him withfavor, however, was a notion that had never penetrated his thoughts. The exchanges they had engaged in had always been spirited debates to Darcy; to her, they had not been so harmless. Darcy could not quite say why he now understood this, for their conversation at Longbourn that morning had been interesting, genial, and even animated. Yet the way she had looked at him, the skepticism he could see in her eyes, the manner in which the family had regarded him as he apologized, even if they accepted it, told him much.
The opinion of one country miss should not matter to the worldly and wealthy Darcy. Yet somehow it was the most important thing in the world. Darcy had departed from Netherfield, never intending to return, never thinking he would be in Miss Elizabeth’s company again. She had presented a danger to his duty of advancing his family’s position in society by marrying an appropriate woman.
Yet the moment he had stepped back into her presence, he had felt the magnetic lure, the appeal of which Darcy did not think she was even aware herself. It would be prudent for Darcy to leave Netherfield at once and never look back. Now that he had come into her presence again, had seen what real interaction between them could be, he could not but be tempted again. This time, he did not know if he was strong enough to resist.
Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth and his civil exchange with her brought other subjects to mind. Darcy had not been blind while speaking to her, nor had he missed what else was happening in the room. Fitzwilliam had situated himself next to Miss Bennet and had spoken to her the entire time of their visit, and no one in the family had thought it strange. That meant it was a common occurrence. Darcy had seen it before—now he wanted answers.
“I wondered how long you would remain silent.”
Surprised though he was by Fitzwilliam’s sudden statement, Darcy did not wait. “It seems I have several matters to consider.”
Fitzwilliam nodded, a sense of amusement hovering over him. “Then what do you wish to discuss first? I suspect I can list your concerns.”
Darcy peered at his cousin. “You are rather satirical this morning.”
With a sigh, Fitzwilliam nodded. “Yes, you are correct. I apologize, Darcy—I was most put out with you for not dealing with Wickham, but I should moderate my displeasure.”
It was not a subject Darcy wanted to discuss further, so he pushed it to the side. “Since you already understand what concerns me, I shall not scruple to conceal it. This morning you reminded me of Bingleyduring his time in Hertfordshire — I should like to know why you pay so much attention to Miss Bennet.”
“Careful, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, his expression a clear warning. “I have owned my error—do not compound it with demands.”
When Darcy peered at him, saying nothing, Fitzwilliam shrugged. “Yes, Darcy, I am paying attention to Miss Bennet. What of it?”
It was a tense conversation, nothing close to the amity he shared with his cousin. Darcy decided conciliation was his best option.
“Cousin, I do not intend to cast aspersions on your character or accuse you of not knowing your mind. Iamconcerned, however, not only for you, but for Miss Bennet. Have you not spoken at length about your need to marry a woman possessing a handsome fortune to fund your lifestyle?”
Fitzwilliam examined Darcy as if measuring his sincerity. He came to the correct conclusion and shrugged.
