Chapter 6

Before he completed his greeting the next morning, Elizabeth interjected, “Please say what you will. I do not believe there is anything left for us to speak of, and I would prefer to have this over as quickly as possible.”

It was not an auspicious beginning, and Darcy wished he had not burnt the notes he had written throughout the night. He had been unable to sleep, and knowing how important this conversation was to their future, he had scribbled his thoughts again and again, thinking of everything it was essential he impart to her.

“Very well. Of course. Yes. First, thank you for coming. I have no wish to cause you discomfort or—” He sighed and pulled his hat from his head for no reason other than to occupy his hands; if he did not, he might be tempted to reach for her. “May we walk? What I have to tell you is not easy, and it might make it slightly less difficult to say and hear.”

She nodded and led the way, choosing the widest lane, whether consciously or unconsciously he did not know. The morning was overcast, and the air felt heavy with moisture; he expected it would rain, but with luck, not until later in the day.

“I cannot recall how I spoke to you last night without shame,” he began. “From the first words I said until the last before I fled Mrs Collins’s parlour, I could not have chosen to approach you in a worse way if I had actively set out to make you despise me. Which, as it transpires, you already did.”

“Mr Darcy.”

Before she could continue, he shook his head. “I apologise. It sounded like I was indulging in self-pity, and truly I was not. You have ample reason to think poorly of me, and yesterday only added to it. I am ashamed, but not only for…recent events. I was halfway to Rosings after leaving you the first time when I recalled what either of us had said, and I soon realised that you were—understandably—mistaken about two important matters. Regardless of whether your opinion of me ever changes, I must ask that you let me explain them from my perspective.”

“If you like, though please allow me to say that I, too, have reflected, and as much as I do not regret the essentials of what I said, I was too strident in how I expressed myself, and I am sorry for it.”

Darcy stopped and stared at her. She also stood still. “You have nothing to apologise for!” Her features were largely hidden by the wide brim of her bonnet, but he saw the curved edge of her jaw, which appeared to be clenched. He wished he had the right to cup it with his hand, to coax her to smile and forget everything that made her unhappy.

She shrugged and resumed her slow steps; he kept to her side.

“You charged me with separating Miss Bennet and Bingley.” At once, he felt her stiffen beside him, but he persisted, explaining how he had seen no symptom of admiration in her sister, how he had worried that his friend would end up in a marriage based on unequal affection. “I did not wish to see him unhappy, to regret the choice he had made. While I gave him my honest opinion of your sister’s sentiments, I also participated in a lie. I knew Miss Bennet had called on his sister, but agreed that Bingley might behave thoughtlessly—not in his best interests—if he knew. It was wrong of me, and I anticipate he will be very angry when I inform him.”

“You intend to tell him what I told you?” She sounded astonished, and again, she ceased walking for a moment.

He nodded, but moved on, not certain how long he had before she decided she had no more interest in listening to him. “The matter of Mr Wickham is much more difficult for me to discuss. I do not know exactly what he told you of our connexion, but I ask that you permit me to tell you of it myself. Colonel Fitzwilliam can confirm everything I say.”

With that, he began a lengthy recitation of their childhood together, how his boyhood friend had changed as they became young men, what had happened after his father’s death, and lastly, how he had deceived Georgiana in Ramsgate. Elizabeth listened attentively, occasionally exclaiming in shock or explaining the contrasting information Wickham had given her. By the time he was speaking of Georgiana, she had sat down on a fallen log, saying she did not care if it was damp and begging him to continue his story when he expressed alarm.

“Oh, how terrible!” she cried once he was finished. “Your poor sister. Mr Wickham has such an appearance of goodness?—”

“Whereas I have forgotten how to comport myself as a gentleman. I am aware how easily he makes friends.”

He stood across from her, leaning against a tree, and the look she gave him was almost admonishing.

“Appearances are all well and good, but what is inside of us is far more important,” she said.

He wanted to ask her what she thought of him at present, but was afraid of her response. It was too soon to expect her opinion to have changed greatly enough to satisfy him.

They were silent for a while, until she said, “May I enquire how your sister is now? Is she still much affected by what happened?”

He gazed at her, and by the way she blushed, the depths of his adoration must have shown, despite him not intending that it would. She was kind and good and compassionate and, to all the reasons he wanted to marry her, knowing she would be the most excellent sister to Georgiana was added. “She is well, thank you. She has always been shy, and I am afraid the events of last summer will make it more difficult for her to overcome it, but Fitzwilliam and my aunt assure me she will naturally become less awkward in society once she is a little older. I refer to his mother, not Lady Catherine, who does not know of Ramsgate.”

She smiled softly. “I am glad. I have seen that you and the colonel are close, and now you have mentioned his mother. Do you spend much time with that part of your family?”

“Georgiana and I would both say that our dearest relations are the colonel, his brother, and their parents, along with my father’s brother and his family. We have other relations—such as Lady Catherine and her daughter—but we are not as close to any of them.”

He asked if she had family beyond those he already knew of, and they spent a minute or two on the subject. She then stood and brushed off her skirt.

“You have given me a great deal to think over, sir. I believe I should return to the house before anyone questions why I have been absent so long. Thank you for confiding all of this to me. I…” He encouraged her to continue and watched as she took a deep breath. “I am heartily ashamed of myself.”

“What? Why?” he exclaimed, taking a step towards her, his hand outstretched.

She laughed, although it was short and feeble. “I was a fool. Could I have misjudged you more if I had deliberately set out to be completely wrong in my estimation of your character? I do not say you are not partly to blame, but I believed Mr Wickham, despite the fact that he was a stranger and shared his lies about you when we hardly knew each other. Lying convincingly might be his true talent. I abused you dreadfully last night?—”

“You said nothing of me I did not deserve.”

Her smile was a touch more genuine this time. “I do not agree, but let us save debating that point for another time.”

He felt an overwhelming urge to touch her to prove he was not dreaming, and his mouth was almost too dry to permit speech. “Will there be another time?”

She observed him for what felt like half an hour before nodding. “I think there will be. I think that, upon reflection, we shall realise we have more to say to each other. If you agree, we might meet again tomorrow morning.”