Page 4 of Roses from Pemberley
Darcy looked thoughtfully at the two people before him and was thankful that he had them in his life. For, in truth, other than Bingley, he had very few people with whom he was close. He had hoped to marry…and start a family. But that would never be.
Nevertheless he said, “I do thank you for your offer, but for now I shall keep my own counsel. However, if anything else should arise that requires your advice, you may be certain that I shall come to you.” He stood up then added, “And with that, I bid you good night.”
“And when precisely shall we leave, Darcy?” asked Richard.
“As early as possible. Eight, perhaps?”
“But should we not at least call at the parsonage? To take out leave?”
Darcy had not even thought about that. But, not wishing to appear rude, he said, “Very well, let us call at half eight then leave immediately afterwards. Mr. and Mrs. Collins will surely be up by then.”
After receiving Richard’s acquiescence, Darcy went upstairs to his room.
Once there, he paced for a few minutes then, after recalling that he paced right before the proposal, immediatelysat down again. For some reason he did not wish to repeat any of his actions from earlier that afternoon, even if it was something so innocuous as pacing.
He sat on the edge of the bed and wondered what he should do. He thought for a moment about writing a letter.Yes, that is what I shall do,he said to himself, moving to the desk and taking out a blank sheet. But when he thought about what he would say, nothing came to mind. For everything she had accused him of was true. He had found her family appalling. And his displeasure must have been obvious…
And what was it she said about him thinking she was only tolerable? He thought back on all their interactions and did not recall anytime when he had told her she was only tolerable. And yet the phrase stuck in his mind.Only tolerable,she had said. He pondered this for quite some time…
And then it came to him. And he was mortified.She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me….
Had he really said it? With a sinking feeling, Darcy knew that he had, and that she had heard him. It was on the night that they met, actually even before they spoke a word to one another. Had that one moment of indiscretion tainted her opinion of him for the entirety of their acquaintance? And is that why she disliked him so? Darcy broke out into a cold sweat when he thought about all of this. But he knew it wasn’t the end of it. They had also argued at the Netherfield ball. She had accused him of treating Wickham notoriously. Wickham had probably told her his usual lie about not receiving the living his father had bequeathed to him. And Elizabeth had probably believed it. And she probably liked Wickham all the more because he was handsome and flattered her and spoke well. Everything that Darcy himself had not done.
And then there was her accusation that she had separated her sister from the man she loved. Had Jane Bennet actuallyloved Bingley? But he had seen no sign of it before separating them. He observed Miss Bennet at length on the night of the ball and could see no sign of particular regard. And yet, if Elizabeth were to be believed, he had been wrong. And Elizabeth would not lie about that, would she? Therefore hehadbeen wrong. But how had she even found out about it?
What does it matter anyway?he said to himself.Elizabeth has found out about my interference and hates me for it.In truth he did not blame her, for he would have been mightily displeased if anyone had caused such heartache to Georgiana.
After having reviewed all of Elizabeth's complaints against him (or at least what he could piece together from his recollections) he realised that she had ample reason to dislike him. And certainly ample reason to turn down his offer of marriage.
Darcy went back to the bed and lay on top of the covers, thinking about the mistakes he had made - one after the other - which led to his current heartbreak. Of course, there was no way he could ever correct them. They were too numerous to count and her dislike was fixed.
He suddenly felt a few more tears running down the side of his face. He would leave Rosings tomorrow and never see Elizabeth Bennet again.
He slept fitfully that night, alternately thinking about Elizabeth’s anger and the mistakes he had made over the past months. A part of him kept wishing he could do those months over again, kept imagining that it was possible. But, in the harsh light of day, he accepted that what was done was done. And he could not undo it.
His valet came to shave him and by seven he was already in the breakfast parlour drinking coffee. Richard came in not long after that looking bleary-eyed and bedraggled.
“I am not used to waking up so early,” he complained. “Why the rush?”
“It is close to fifty miles to London, as you well know. And, with the stops, we may not even get there before nightfall.”
“Still,” said Richard, “we did not even have to leave today.”
Darcy looked at his cousin with resignation, simply relieved that Richard was not asking too many questions about his abrupt departure. “Never mind, Richard. Just eat your food then we shall leave.”
“But what about the parsonage? You have not forgotten that, have you?”
“No, I have not but…”
“Yes, Darcy? What is it now? You are not thinking of simply departing without taking our leave, are you?”
“No…not precisely…”
“Then, what is it?”
“Well perhaps you should go by yourself.”
“By myself! But are you not the one who knows Miss Bennet and Mrs. Collins from before? How would it look if you did not go?”
