Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

D arcy awoke early the morning after the lecture to his man telling him that Fitzwilliam was in his dressing room and impatient to see him. Rubbing his eyes and only bothering to get half dressed, Darcy made a vague drinking gesture in the hopes of getting coffee and joined his cousin.

"It is seven; why are you here at this awful hour?" Darcy asked when he finally had a cup of coffee. "We are not meeting your parents for hours." He was to spend the afternoon with his aunt and uncle to sing the praises of Fitzwilliam's chosen bride.

"What happened last night?" Fitzwilliam said, his arms crossed over his chest. "Clara is furious with you."

"Did she say why?" He took another long drink, hoping his mind would clear. It was a late night at the Surrey Institution, and then he spent half the night tossing and turning, thinking about Elizabeth. He had impulsively kissed her and then had not the time to declare himself before they were interrupted.

"No. She seems to think it would lessen my opinion of my favourite cousin and my only family member who will champion her, but she won't say why. So here I am to demand an answer before you and I have a very uncomfortable afternoon with my parents."

Now that he had some coffee and a moment to think, Darcy knew why Mrs Sullivan thought ill of him. He must have looked like he was importuning Elizabeth last night, leaning her against a bookcase and forcing his attentions on her. Fitzwilliam had noticed nothing amiss, but another woman had. Now he would have to admit to the whole of it and suffer his cousin's teasing.

"I kissed Elizabeth last night," he said in a low voice, staring into his coffee cup, "before you and Mrs Sullivan entered the library. She caught us, or caught us in each other's arms."

Fitzwilliam's face turned quizzical, and then he laughed. "Oh, she thinks you are a scoundrel!" He laughed again and sat at the table to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Yes, how amusing," Darcy said drily. "Let us hope Elizabeth does not think I am one. She said nothing to me after we kissed." Mrs Sullivan had been with her the entire time, though. The widow must have been afraid to leave them alone again.

"And Miss Elizabeth may have felt humiliated in front of her new friend to be put in such a position." Darcy grew embarrassed at opening them both to criticism, and felt wretched for kissing her and leaving unsaid everything he felt for her.

"What is that downcast look for?" Fitzwilliam barked. "You should be thrilled the lady does not hate you after how you behaved early in your acquaintance. You don't regret kissing her, do you?"

"No," he cried. "Well, yes, and no. She made her feelings for me clear. She encouraged Mrs Sullivan in the invitation because she knew I would be there and Elizabeth told me she liked me, and I kissed her." It had felt like the most sensible, most necessary thing to do. "But I should have confessed my own feelings in return and asked her to marry me first."

"Then go see her this evening after we meet my parents and throw yourself at her feet before she changes her mind. I am not even sure why she likes you. You are not amiable, you have an unyielding temper, you hate dancing, and you would rather go to a lecture than a party. You might not even be a good kisser."

Fitzwilliam was teasing, but what if she regretted it? They had settled nothing between them, after all. The fear gripped him that she regretted it because their kiss meant everything to him.

"When I stopped kissing her, I apologised for taking such a liberty?—"

"If she kissed you back, I doubt she minded."

"—and she asked me if there was someone else. Before I could answer, you and Mrs Sullivan came in." His mind was a whirl with reasons Elizabeth might think less of him and refuse him.

"Is there someone else? Are you still hopeful about L?"

"No. In fact, I am going to write to L to formally end our communication." He would wish her well, but tell her his affections were engaged elsewhere and that it would be inappropriate to continue writing. "And then tomorrow I am calling in Gracechurch Street."

"You look rather miserable for a man expecting to be engaged."

Any man who had so many reasons to be refused would look as distressed as Darcy felt. "She might suspect there is someone else and not trust me. I kissed her without making a declaration. I thought her sister was not good enough for my friend." He rested his head in his hands. "I called her ‘tolerable', Fitzwilliam."

"This is why I thought you would find a woman to love you through letters. There was less of a chance of you saying something stupid. Break it off with L. Help me convince his lordship that the widowed daughter of a banker could make me a good wife, and then tell Miss Elizabeth you want to marry her before you kiss her again."

He felt mortified. "A gentleman would have settled everything rather than kiss her senseless."

"And a proper lady would not have put words to her feelings before you did," Fitzwilliam quipped. "I guess you are both reprehensible and deserve one another."

Fitzwilliam laughed heartily, and Darcy gave a wan smile and hoped that Elizabeth loved him.

Sunday, February 16

My dear friend,

I open with this sincere salutation knowing full well this will be my last letter. I have met a woman with whom I hope to share the rest of my life, and it would be disrespectful to her to continue writing to a single woman. Although we did not meet in person, we exchanged enough letters in friendship that could distress another woman. I do not demand the letters' return—there was nothing shameful in our correspondence—but out of respect for a woman who I hope will be my bride, I would appreciate it if you burned them.

I cannot write to you again, but I hope you know I will always think of you with fondness and friendship.

I wish you health and happiness and remain your humble servant,

F

Elizabeth read Darcy's letter in the drawing room while Bingley and his sisters visited with Jane. His letter arrived in Monday's first post just as they had called this morning to express their joy in their brother's engagement. Elizabeth suspected the connexion mortified them, but they would learn to be gracious for the sake of appearances.

Since she was in company, it forced Elizabeth to stay calm while her heart beat out of control. She wanted to believe that she was the woman Darcy had fixed on, but everything felt unsettled since the lecture. After her thoughts ran wild and she tried to keep a calm affect, she felt about to burst if she did not speak to Jane.

Begging to borrow her sister for a moment, she pulled Jane from her guests and made her join her in her room. After a few false starts, Elizabeth admitted what had been on her mind since Saturday night: that she had admitted to her fond feelings for Darcy, Darcy had ardently kissed her, but they were interrupted before he could make any promises.

"You let him kiss you?" Jane cried. "I am astonished, but I am happy for you. He must love you."

The memory of the kiss made her blush, and it made her yearn for a quick marriage that she had no assurances would happen.

"There is more," she said, holding out the letter. "This is from Darcy—to L," she added. "He wants his letters destroyed because his affections are with another."

Jane handed the letter back and gave her a curious look. "What has you so distressed to learn he cares for you and won't write to L again? And whenever Mr Darcy calls to request an audience with you, then you can tell him you were L all along."

The uncertainty she felt about Darcy's feelings was nothing compared to the guilt at keeping the truth about their correspondence from him. Her integrity would be called into question, and Darcy would never love her. "Oh, Jane, how could I tell him? He is so principled. As soon as he knows I realised who he was and said nothing, he will be angry."

"His affection for you will do away with any resentment about you keeping this from him for so long. You must tell him the truth," Jane said firmly, but Elizabeth shook her head. "You mean to say that if you secure Mr Darcy, you will never tell him you were his correspondent? How else will you explain how you grew to like him so quickly?"

She remembered how desperately he looked for L in The Green Park. "He would be disappointed in me. He admires honesty in a partner above nearly all else. And Darcy might care in some small way for Mrs Sullivan. What if he despises me for lying, for not telling him I was L immediately, and turns to her instead?"

"That is your fear talking. It is not rational." Jane smiled and led her by the hand to sit on the bed. "He kissed you in the library, not her."

Elizabeth felt that fear now rise out of control. "Maybe he felt guilty for kissing me and actually prefers Mrs Sullivan? He never said there was no one else when he stopped kissing me." She let go of Jane's hand to cover her eyes and hold back tears. The only thing she could be absolutely certain of was her own feelings. "He did not speak to me for the rest of the night."

"If he was going to propose, he would prefer to do it alone. You were in a crowded lecture hall, and if he is as principled as I believe he is—as you believe he is—then he is not as fond of Mrs Sullivan as you fear, not if he was so pleased by your admission that he kissed you."

"I have made myself so unhappy with worry." Elizabeth sighed and put her arms around Jane. "How wretched would I be with no one to speak to of what I felt, no Jane to comfort me. I was supposed to come to town to be a comfort to you, and now here you are telling me how silly I am." She could almost allow herself to believe that she had not ruined everything with Darcy.

"Lizzy, why are you so unsettled?" Jane asked, pulling back to look into her face. "Is it really out of fear that he admires Mrs Sullivan more than you?"

"No," she whispered. She knew the truth behind their correspondence—and Darcy did not. He did not know how his letters improved her opinion of him. "Because there is a lie between us, and I love him."

"And can you begin a marriage with Mr Darcy with this lie between you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. She had to be honest, and she tried not to give in to despair that it was too late and he would feel ill-used once she confessed. How much would his respect for her fall once he learnt what she kept from him? Whatever affection Darcy had found for her this past week might be too new for him to overcome her deceit.

But he valued honesty, and she could not live with this lie hanging between them.

"Would you tell Bingley and his sisters that you want to go somewhere this afternoon? I promise this shall be the last time," she added, with a wan smile. "I will ask Darcy to meet me as L and tell him everything."

Monday, February 17

My dear friend,

I beg to prevail on your kindness one final time and ask you to meet me in person today. I do not want to dissuade you from your chosen lady, but to deliver your letters myself and offer an explanation why I did not meet you at The Green Park. It would ease my mind to be candid and apologise in person, and have us part in friendship and honesty.

For worlds I would not have a letter of mine seen by your future bride. I will bring your letters, but will burn them if you do not appear.

I will be in the Whispering Gallery at St Paul's this afternoon at half past two, in the place you described in your earlier letter, wearing the blue hat and posy of pansies as I ought to have worn last week. I hope you will be gracious enough to hear my explanations in person. Even if you do not, I remain,

Your dear friend,

L

It had been simple to get everyone to spend the afternoon looking at the curiosities at St Paul's. Jane had only to tell Bingley that she wanted to go, and Bingley immediately agreed and pressed Mrs Hurst to chaperone his intended and Elizabeth. Bingley's sisters exchanged long-suffering looks and complained the entire carriage ride, but they all descended from a tightly packed carriage by two o'clock.

After pretending to share everyone's interest in the clockwork and the Great Bell, Elizabeth said she had to rest while the others viewed the library. As soon as they were out of sight, she asked the person conducting visitors where the stairs were to the galleries in the dome.

She stopped counting steps at around two hundred, and it was soon after that when she reached the Whispering Gallery. Above her, it looked to be about a hundred more steps each to get to the Stone and the Golden galleries. She entered and went halfway round the circular walkway at the base of the dome above the nave to sit on the stone bench. It was silent all around her, and there was no service until quarter after three. If someone stood opposite her on the other side of the gallery, she could hear the ticking of their watch or any word they whispered.

She had nothing to do but fret while she waited to see if Darcy would appear.

Would he be angry when he realised she was L and leave? Would he let her explain or be too distressed at being deceived for this long? Would she always be a woman with no integrity whom he could never respect?

Elizabeth fiddled with the pansies on her pelisse. It had not been necessary—Darcy would make sense of it all quickly enough—but she thought it a penance due because of the way she abandoned him in The Green Park.

Elizabeth heard footsteps climbing the stairs and then stop just outside the small door. After a long moment of hesitation where she felt overpowered by restlessness and tension, Darcy entered the gallery.

Even though they were separated by one hundred feet, his feelings were expressive enough that she could discern them from the other side of the gallery. Darcy's face went from impassive to surprise upon recognising her. He then looked pleased, and he took a step toward going round the gallery toward her before halting. She saw the realisation in his face, watched him reason, think, and his mind pass over every word exchanged on paper and in person.

He had a severe countenance that drove away most of her hope.

He bowed his head, tapping lightly on the brim of his hat that he held in his hand. The sound travelled round the gallery and the steady beat hit her ears. Was he lost in thought or furious? The seconds passed, and Elizabeth felt a wretched suspense.

Darcy turned his head to the wall, and she was afraid of what he would say.

"L is for Lizzy?"

He had spoken in a low whisper, but she heard it as clearly as though he had spoken directly into her ear.

Her throat was completely dry, and she nodded.

"When did you realise?"

His voice travelled around the gallery and sounded as though he was right next to her, rather than one hundred feet away. She could not tell if he was angry, or disappointed, or surprised.

She could not whisper the entire explanation, and gave Darcy a pleading look and gestured that he should come nearer. Her heart stopped beating while Darcy hesitated. He then came round the gallery slowly until he stood directly in front of her by the rail. He looked grave and stared at her.

"Did you realise at The Green Park and tear off your flowers?" he asked, pointing to the pansies.

"I suspected before," she said hoarsely. "You wrote about disliking being assiduously courted. Certainly a man of sense and honour must dislike being pursued for his position and fortune and not for himself. But F's complaint about a woman admiring his handwriting and offering to mend his pen was so precise to what happened at Netherfield with Miss Bingley that I began to wonder."

"Fear, or wonder?"

She gave a nervous laugh and felt tears building behind her eyes. "Well, I did not know at that point that I had horribly misjudged you, so there was some distress at the possibility of F being Mr Darcy, the man I thought wronged Mr Wickham and was selfish and arrogant."

"And so you arranged a private meeting in the park to assure yourself that your correspondent was not me?"

He looked so solemn. It must offend him to know she was disappointed to learn that her new friend was him .

"I did," she admitted, "and I was still stunned to see you. Even though I thought better of you after what happened at the Hursts' home, I knew our correspondence and all it meant to me was over. You wanted to meet L, not me. But after, I thought, why could we not like one another as ourselves?"

She searched his eyes to see if he was open to the idea, but he only stared. Deciding he deserved more of an explanation, she went on. "I realised I was entirely wrong about you. I have never been more wrong about anyone in all my life. I hoped you might forgive my awful assumptions and prejudices because I wanted to know you better."

"But why?" he pressed. "You made it clear that night at the Hursts' that you held me in very little regard, even if you were wrong about Wickham. Why did you care about my good opinion?"

"My correspondent F realised he had acted wrongly and wanted to be a better man. I find that commendable. He wanted to act less selfishly, and I realised so must you. You were the same man!" How could she make him understand her feelings for him were sincere? "Everything I admired about F's intelligence and humour and character and honesty…it was you all along. The person I thought was my dear friend, my anonymous friend, was already known to me. I thought of F—of you—so often this past month. I liked him, and…and so, naturally, I like you. So, so I thought, why not persuade you that you could like me in return?"

Darcy blinked. "Persuade me to like you?"

He repeated the words as though she had not spoken English. "Yes, I realised what a task was before me. You had admired L, and never looked at me but to find a blemish." She could not bear to look at him and addressed his shoes instead. "All the things that you said to Bingley to keep him from Jane must also be true in your own case. You withstood my beauty from the moment of our acquaintance. But I thought if you had been attracted to L enough to meet her, you might be capable of preferring me."

"Capable of preferring you?"

Was he going to repeat everything she said? If he was so stunned by the thought of preferring her, she had no chance with Darcy after all. His kiss must have been an impulsive mistake, brought on only by hearing of her preference for him. "Yes, forgive me, but I felt that if you admired L, then I could convince you to prefer me over L or any other woman."

"I prefer you to every soul breathing."

She tossed up her head to stare at him in shock. He had whispered it. Because he was in front of her, the effect of the gallery was lost, but she still heard him clearly, although she could not believe it.

"How is that possible? You never considered me in that way until the lecture when I threw all propriety aside and told you I care for you."

Darcy set down his hat and joined her on the stone bench. He smiled for the first time since entering the gallery, but Elizabeth was too dumbstricken to smile back.

"Do you believe I did not admire you until this week?" he asked, taking her hand in his. "Until the night of the lecture? That is extraordinary," he murmured.

She had to swallow twice to find her voice. Her heart beat fast and she was trembling. "You cared for me before this week?"

"I never thought that L might stand for Lizzy, but the reason I wanted to meet her was because L reminded me of you. L was someone I thought I could fall in love with, but I was already in love with you ."

She was struck with amazement. "In love with me?"

Darcy laughed. "Yes, in love with you."

Those were words she would never tire of hearing, but how could he not be angry with her? "Even if that is true, what about now?" Her voice shook. "When I kept the truth from you for a week? When I just left you in The Green Park? I knew the truth and just left you there and never told you I was L." She remembered how disappointed he had looked. "You want someone who will always tell you the truth; you deserve someone who will be honest with you."

"Then I hope you do not make a habit of keeping things from me."

He was still smiling. "Darcy, you are the most principled man I have ever met. How are you not furious with me?"

"Because I am too happy to learn that you think you could love me," he said with another laugh. He looked absolutely delighted. "I do not even care that you first admired me through our anonymous correspondence."

She felt lost in amazement. Darcy was truly already in love with her? "But you have only noticed me this week. Until then, I was only tolerable."

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. "I thought you were pretty, but your character gave charm to your beauty, and I was captivated before I left Hertfordshire. I was foolishly afraid of my feelings for you and tried to forget you, but I was entirely bewitched. Bewitched by your liveliness, your cleverness, your generosity."

Darcy had trailed off and leant forward with an intent look in his eyes.

"But what about Mrs Sullivan?" she cried when he was nearly at her lips.

He drew back with a look of complete astonishment. "What about her?"

"You have hardly been apart. I have never seen you give so much notice to any woman, including me—and you claim to admire me."

"Love you," he corrected.

She felt her cheeks heat, and a smile threatened to burst her lips wide open. "I value my friendship with Mrs Sullivan, so if you have any feelings for her, you must tell me now, and then you must choose. I know I was not honest with you about the letters, and I should have been, but I deserve the truth now, just as you deserved the truth then."

He was quiet for a moment as he studied her face. The suspense was intolerable.

"I must break a confidence to answer that, but I cannot have you believe I am attached to another woman. Mrs Sullivan and Colonel Fitzwilliam found one another through the matchmaking subscription. His parents are against the union, and I have been trying to know her better and be seen as though I approve of her for my cousin's sake. I do approve of her," he insisted. "She is a worthy woman, and I ought to be a better friend than I have been in the past. Mrs Sullivan makes Fitzwilliam happy; they can talk about horses all day long, and she is conversant enough to keep up with him, and has enough money for them to live on."

A few tears of relief fell from her eyes. Mrs Sullivan was attached to Darcy's cousin, not him. He was trying to be a better friend to his cousin than he had been to Bingley.

"They are secretly engaged," he added, as though he thought her silence was from confusion and not at the realisation that nothing stood in the way of her being with Darcy.

She gave him a look she hoped he understood. She wanted to show him all the love and esteem she felt for him. "You cannot know how happy I am to hear that."

"I want to be the man you see when you look at me," he murmured, stroking her cheek. "I want to be worthy of having you look at me like that. I am exceedingly sorry for the selfish way I acted, for separating Bingley from your sister."

"It is all in the past," she whispered, now grinning. "And I am so sorry for abandoning you at The Green Park. I should have admitted sooner that you were writing to me all along." She gave a relieved sigh. "I never thought you cared for me at all before the lecture."

"There is only one woman I want, and it is not L or Mrs Sullivan. Will you comfort me and counsel me, lighten my cares, strengthen my principles?" He moved his hand to hold her cheek. "Love me always?"

"Yes." There was surely nothing that felt so gladdening as the certainty of reciprocal affections. "Nothing would make me happier than to return your love."

Darcy bent his head for a kiss, and her pulse quickened. His warm lips sent a shiver through her. She gave way beneath him, breathing him in while Darcy took his time, gently kissing her. One hand crept up his chest until it reached his shoulder, and her other hand tucked around his waist.

Darcy brought a hand to cup the base of her neck. His mouth moved over hers, delicately at first, and then she allowed his tongue to slip between her lips. Her breath hitched, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were closed. He must have been waiting for the unsteadiness of his own breathing to pass.

Opening his eyes, he gently cupped her face in both of his hands. "I should have told you at the lecture that I love you and want to marry you." He gave another smile, an expression of heartfelt delight diffusing over his face. "I did not even realise you cared for me until the lecture."

"That is because I stupidly did not tell you I was L and that I had begun to love you through our letters," she said, smiling.

"I cannot believe you even liked me after the selfish way I acted."

Elizabeth laughed and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. "And I cannot believe you liked me all along!"

Footsteps crossed the nave below them, and they reluctantly drew apart. By unspoken agreement, they made their way to the steps. About halfway down, Elizabeth felt Darcy's silence.

"Are you pensive?" she asked. "Are you worried about how we will explain ourselves to the others? Jane knows all of my trials and heartache, which I fully admit are of my own making."

"No, that shall all be explained after I speak to your aunt and uncle," Darcy said, grazing the side of his knuckle up and down her arm as he spoke, sending a thrill straight to her heart. "I am wondering what I shall tell Fitzwilliam."

"Will he not approve of me?"

Darcy shook his head. "He knows I love you, but I believed I had no hope. Last month, I told him I would never find someone to love me through the matchmaking service. Although we met in person, you got to know me through the letters, and now I will never hear the end of his saying ‘I told you so.'"