Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

W hen they repaired to the Hursts' dining room, Elizabeth watched to see whether Bingley would sit by her sister. On entering, he seemed to hesitate; but Jane looked round and smiled directly at him. Elizabeth caught her aunt's eye, and they both hid their smiles. Jane could never act by design—she was not Miss Bingley, after all—but perhaps Bingley would be persuaded of Jane's feelings before the night was out.

As the rest of the men entered, Mr Darcy took the seat across from her. She had not had one favourable impression of him since they met, but as his gaze steadily held hers, it was impossible not to note that he was extremely handsome.

F had described himself as "A young gentleman, tall and slender, dark hair and eyes." He had not called himself handsome, but Mr Darcy still fit that description. How could she be intrigued by one and loathe the other if they were the same?

Mr Darcy tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. Elizabeth started and realised he caught her staring. She shook her head, gave a little smile, and did her best to pretend she was only suffering from absence of mind.

"I was sorry not to see your sister in Hyde Park yesterday," Miss Bingley said to Mr Darcy after the meal began. "I was hopeful of asking her more about the talents we heard at Lady Haden's musical evening last week. Miss Darcy is so talented herself I wonder if she struggled to keep her countenance."

"My cousin and I joined my sister for a walk in The Green Park instead."

Elizabeth had once found Miss Bingley's desperate attentions amusing, but tonight it made her sad for both of them. She was throwing away her pride for a man who did not want her. F had said he resented such notice from women, and Elizabeth had to suppose that Mr Darcy, or any man of sense, felt the same.

"I have not seen Colonel Fitzwilliam in a few weeks," said Mrs Hurst, when it was clear Mr Darcy had nothing to add. "That is surprising, since you are often together."

"Yes," Miss Bingley agreed. "Your cousin leaves one with the impression that he is the one who encourages you to attend evening entertainments."

Elizabeth swallowed a bite that had no taste. Mr Darcy had a cousin he was close to, someone who had some influence over him, just like F.

"If you know one thing about Colonel Fitzwilliam," Bingley called from his end of the table, "it is that he often says what he does not mean if it will get a laugh or make Darcy look bad."

She watched Mr Darcy give a dry smile.

"Mrs Gardiner, do you know Lady Haden?" Miss Bingley asked, with an emphasis on the title. "Louisa and I rode with her and her daughter in her ladyship's phaeton yesterday."

"I believe our connexions are very different," her aunt said calmly. "Had you a pleasant time?"

"Oh, yes, we saw many of our acquaintances." She turned to her sister. "Can you believe that handbill is still a topic of conversation? That business cannot remain open for long. Their cousin dared to ask her mother if she could subscribe to find a husband," she said to the rest of the table.

Elizabeth took a calming breath. Maybe in this conversation, she would learn Mr Darcy's thoughts on the matchmaking business enough to determine if he was her friend.

"It was all Lady Haden and Miss Novak could talk of," Miss Bingley went on. "This matrimony plan is still in circulation, and now people of rank are considering it. Louisa and I agreed with them that advertising for a spouse is shameful."

"I hate to disagree with such fine people," Elizabeth said with as much solemnity as she could, "but I think it could transform courtship as we know it for the better."

Miss Bingley scoffed. "It is a disreputable way to find a spouse, especially for women. I could not trust the morality of a woman who would initiate such indelicate contact."

"Why?" asked Mr Darcy in a low voice. When Miss Bingley only stared, he added, "I mean, why is it worse for women than men? Both sexes subscribe in search of a spouse, so why is only the morality of the ladies in question?"

Elizabeth thought this was a fair inquiry, and Miss Bingley had no answer. Mrs Hurst finally said, "Surely you agree that, for a lady, merely communicating with an unknown man is risky. She must be desperate to engage in such a scheme, and one must wonder why she is in a desperate state."

"It is reckless," Miss Bingley quickly agreed. "Why, it would be unseemly for me, as a respectable single lady, to write to you"—she looked to Mr Darcy—"a bachelor, even though we are friends. And the sole reason a man would write a single lady is to propose to her. For any other reason, he would be laughed at for being so forward."

"So a man would be mocked, but a woman pitied or reviled? Whatever our societal rules say about how a woman ought to act, women do try to engage men's notice, and sometimes use cunning to do it. Is this subscription any different?"

Miss Bingley turned pink, clearly conflicted between what she felt was true and agreeing with Mr Darcy.

"The ladies who subscribe are doing what all ladies are told to do," Jane said, with a quick look to her that Elizabeth hoped no one noticed. "We are told to find an eligible man and marry, and preferably with little time wasted and little expense to those who maintain us."

Bingley spun his head to face Jane. "You are not considering the matchmaking business, are you?"

"I am not," she breathed. Elizabeth noticed how her sister kept her eyes on Bingley, and she hoped he could see how much Jane still cared for him.

The table fell silent as the two of them lingered in mutual gazes and smiles.

Mr Gardiner then said to Miss Bingley, "There is nothing clandestine in it, madam, from what I understand. This is for a mutually agreed upon purpose. Both parties are open to the possibility of marriage, and presumably the ladies have permission of their guardians."

"And it is a way for women to articulate what they want," said Elizabeth. "I could not directly say that I admire a man and would value a marriage of affection, but this subscription allows a lady to hint she wants a affectionate marriage. Or, whatever that lady seeks," she added when she noted the curious expressions she received.

"It is still an economic decision," Mr Darcy said, "even if one is not allying families and incomes. A man must have an income to support a wife and family, and a home to bring her to."

"True, but giving young people more control is a good thing, especially for a woman who needs to marry for her maintenance. They are more likely to find a partner who suits them as well as be able to afford to marry if they know all the particulars before they become too attached." Was Mr Darcy a subscriber, or just a progressive thinker? "And a man who subscribes ought to know the lady will expect settlement papers and her family to ensure he can provide that home and income."

"Miss Eliza, I am shocked that you see anything blameless in a scheme that allows women to promote themselves," cried Miss Bingley. "Mr Darcy, you would not approve of your sister subscribing."

"My sister is only fifteen," he said. Elizabeth's heart rate picked up. F said his sister was much younger than him, too. "However, women market themselves as potential wives in how they dress, how they act, how they display their accomplishments."

"But that conduct," said Mrs Hurst, "is done within the bounds of acceptable behaviour."

"I disagree that there is any difference," said Elizabeth. "One is dancing a dozen times a week, and the other is writing a dozen letters. Both are with the goal of learning if two people could suit."

"Ladies sometimes employ arts for captivation," Mr Darcy said, keeping his gaze on his wineglass. "Who wants to be schemed against or bargained for like a commodity on an exchange? A correspondence where both parties know the income, interests, and intentions of the other would cast aside all need for such arts."

Miss Bingley did not look satisfied enough to continue the subject.

For the rest of the meal, Elizabeth hoped Mr Darcy approved of matchmaking by subscription because the debate was a means to end Miss Bingley's attempts to captivate him. She took a long drink and let the dinner conversation hum around her. She was no closer to confirming that F was not Mr Darcy. All she had were coincidences that proved nothing.

In the drawing room, the conversation between the ladies was polite and strained, and, thankfully, the gentlemen did not linger at the table. Bingley entered and sat by Jane, Mr Hurst ambled to the sofa and sprawled across it, and Mr Darcy entered amid a conversation with her uncle. Mr Gardiner was a good-natured man and only a few years older than Mr Darcy, but it surprised her to see them together, especially since Mr Darcy's expression showed none of the hauteur she expected to see from him while talking to someone lower than him in consequence.

When Mr Gardiner left him to go to the tea table, Elizabeth followed her uncle.

"What do you think of Mr Darcy?" she whispered.

"He seems a little stately for a young man, but he has an amiable temper."

Elizabeth blinked. "He was civil?"

Her uncle gave her a look as though she had said something peculiar. "More than civil; I would say attentive. We talked of your aunt's wish to visit Derbyshire, he asked after my sisters in Meryton, and then we talked of the panorama."

"But was Mr Darcy not very disagreeable? Or make you feel as though speaking to him was a great imposition?"

"He was perfectly well-behaved, polite, and unassuming." Her uncle took his cup and left her alone at the table, her mind a whirl.

She looked across the room and saw that Mr Darcy had joined Jane and Bingley. But rather than monopolise his friend, he talked to Jane, listened to her responses, and, heaven forbid, he smiled once. While Elizabeth pretended to listen to Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst play a duet, she watched Mr Darcy move on to talk to Mrs Gardiner, who actually was attending to the performance.

Elizabeth was near enough to hear some of their conversation over the music. It centred on Derbyshire, what she knew of the character of his late parents, and then, to her surprise, Mr Darcy asked about her children. He then listened as her aunt answered with all the pride a good mother should have.

Who would have thought that the people whose connexions were not good enough for his friend were now people worth Mr Darcy's notice? Was he acting better because she had called him selfish? It was an admirable quality to recognise a fault and want to change it. F had done that, and rather than criticise him for his mistake or wonder at his honesty in admitting it, she admired his frankness and his willingness to change.

Liking her correspondent meant liking Mr Darcy for the same traits, and she dearly did not want to like Mr Darcy. He was a man who had treated Wickham horridly.

Elizabeth huffed and crossed the room to sit apart from everyone else. Why was he even soliciting the good opinion of her friends, of people he would hardly deign to touch his hat to in the street? He was insufferably rude and had hurt his friend, her sister, and Wickham. She wanted to like F, not Mr Darcy, and she still had no confirmation that they were not the same man.

"Do you regret there are not enough numbers for dancing?"

She looked up to see that Mr Darcy had followed her to this side of the room. While the sisters played, the others had formed for themselves a whist table. There must have been no other option but for him to pass a half an hour with her until the game finished.

"I know your opinion on dancing," she said as lightly as she could, "especially with ladies who are only tolerably pretty, so perhaps it is best that we are too small a number tonight."

"What an odd thing to say," he said, sitting down. "You could not mean yourself, I am sure, because you are a handsome woman—and I have asked you three times to dance with me."

He clearly had no memory of his comment at the Meryton assembly. He had no right to be gallant to her, either. It made her senselessly angry to remember how dismissive he had been of her then, and she was just as angry that he was courteous to her now.

"I think it best we listen to the performance in silence," she said. "Or, even better, you can attend the whist game." She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill humour.

Let him waste his newfound politeness on the Gardiners and Jane. His current kind behaviour to her friends fuelled her anger about Jane's lost time with Bingley, about Mr Darcy's previous rudeness, and about how he ruined Wickham's future.

"Have I offended you, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr Darcy asked in a tone of confusion.

The expected answer for a lady to give would be to say "Of course not," smile, and apologise for causing his misunderstanding. But the desire to vent her feelings rose in her heart. Besides, any attention or tolerance with Mr Darcy was an injury to Wickham.

"Since you asked," she said quietly while looking at the pianoforte, "no, you have not offended me ."

"If you mean your sister," he said just as faintly, "I am aware of how my interference injured her, but I think my friend's renewed attentions show the hope of Miss Bennet being in the fairest way for happiness."

They glanced across the room to the whist table. Jane had a joyful expression that not even Mr Darcy could deny, and Bingley looked equally entranced. But what about Wickham? Even if Mr Darcy regretted what he did to Jane and Bingley, he showed no regrets about what he had done to that kind and charming man who now had nothing to his name.

"I meant another friend," she said heatedly, "one who wished to enter the church but found that the living promised to him was given to another and that all pledged support was denied. What prejudice one must have to harm someone who grew up expecting that friend's patronage."

Mr Darcy slowly turned from the whist party to look at her, astonishment diffusing across his face. "I recommend, madam," he said gravely, "that you refrain from speaking about things of which you know nothing."

"I know all about the misfortune you caused him with your deplorable behaviour," she whispered angrily. "From the first moment of my acquaintance with you when you said I was not handsome enough to be seen dancing with you, your manners showed me your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. No politeness to Jane and no notice of people from Cheapside can mend your selfish heart. You reduced Mr Wickham to his present state of poverty. You withheld the advantages designed for him. You are no gentleman."

Mr Darcy's face was red in anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. Elizabeth realised she was breathing quickly and instantly regretted every word she said. Not that she regretted feeling them, but speaking them aloud was unjustifiable.

Women could not advertise for a husband, and they could not confront an ill-mannered man. She was supposed to be pleasant and attentive, and instead she had lashed out in the most horrid way possible. She felt the heat of shame warming her cheeks. No matter his manner, Mr Darcy was still a man of consequence, and she had no right to provoke him in Mrs Hurst's drawing room.

He was struggling for the appearance of composure and seemed unwilling to open his lips until he attained it. She did not want to be seated next to him whenever that happened.

Elizabeth tugged off a glove and crumpled it as small as she could, hiding it in her hand and behind her skirt. "I seem to have dropped a glove between here and the dining room," she announced to the room. "I will just run downstairs to find it," she said with a nod to Mrs Hurst before fleeing as calmly as she could.

Darcy's heart raced away. As the whist game continued and the ladies played, he sat in bewilderment. He was absolutely astonished that Elizabeth had such a low opinion of him and that she had voiced it so publicly, so unfeelingly. The ill-natured attack of a woman who apparently held his judgment and talents in the greatest contempt tormented him.

He tried to appear calm as he pretended to listen to the music, but his mind turned over everything Elizabeth had said.

She had neither fortune, nor rank, nor connexion to recommend her, but Elizabeth was his equal in all ways that mattered—and she found him wanting. He knew he had acted meanly in the past, and he could not suppose that a few moments of conversation with her family would be enough to atone for his previous rudeness.

Darcy could not remember what he had said at the Meryton assembly when Bingley pressed him to dance. He never wanted to dance with anyone, and he recalled not being impressed by Elizabeth until about a week or so later, so he could imagine saying something to the effect of him not wanting to give notice to a woman sitting down.

What sort of gentleman acted like that?

I admire her, and she absolutely hates me.

This was a blow. He had not expected her to be as bewitched by him as he was by her, but he had no notion that she held him in such contempt.

He had known at the Netherfield ball that Wickham had spread falsehoods about him, but he had thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to her. His behaviour had been grounded in selfishness and mistaken pride, and now Elizabeth believed him capable of truly deplorable conduct.

Darcy rose and pretended to listen to Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley, glad that no one could hear how his heart still pounded away in anger and confusion. Elizabeth would return home at the end of the season and continue her friendship with Wickham. She might even admire Wickham more , believing him to be a victim of great misfortune at the hands of a villain.

When the ladies finished, he bowed to Mrs Hurst and, after complimenting a performance he had not been attending to, said, "By your leave, I will fetch a book from the library while the others finish their game."

It was not an odd request from him, but it was nevertheless contrived. Still, he had to speak with Elizabeth while she hid in anger in the dining room. He had to tell her what Wickham was capable of, so she, or her sisters, could not be hurt. He would be a better friend than he had been before; a friend more like L.

Darcy looked into the dining room but found it empty. He walked into the adjoining library at the front of the house. "Bookshelf room" would be a more accurate description, for there were few books at all. Elizabeth was sitting by the unlit fireplace, but she leapt to her feet when she saw him.

"I am sorry for losing my temper," she said, walking toward the other door into the hall. "It was badly done. I acknowledge you regret your error with Jane and Mr Bingley, but I think it is best if we do not speak."

"For a moment, I entreat you to stay."

Something in his tone or his look stopped her progress. She pressed her lips together, nodding, and avoided his eye. He supposed this was better than her storming past him, and he hurried to speak in case she changed her mind.

"You have called me selfish, not a gentleman," he added, his voice shaking a little. "My parents gave me good principles, but left me to follow them in pride and conceit, encouraged to care for none beyond my circle. Your criticism was humbling, as much as was being caught in this deception with Bingley and your sister."

"They will probably be engaged before the season is out," she said in confrontation.

"And if that happens, I will wish them every happiness," he said. Elizabeth looked as though she could not believe that he knew he acted wrongly. "Whenever that joyful event occurs, our paths will cross often. I must let my future behaviour be the proof you need to see of the changes I am making. There is nothing more I can say, but I will let my actions going forward speak for themselves."

To her credit, the challenge fell from her eyes. She no longer looked like she was about to dispute every word he said. "I look forward to your future civility, and I can assure you of my own. There will be no further outbursts from me," she added with a faint smile of apology.

She curtseyed to leave, but Darcy held out a hand and she stopped, although she looked longingly at the door.

"But regarding that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Mr Wickham," he said heavily, "I have much more to say that you need to hear. When you return home, I beg you not to give implicit acceptance to a word that man utters."

"Why would I do that?" The furore returned to her voice. "And why are you so hateful toward a man who has suffered so much, and at your infliction?"

"Well, as to the former, I would not be surprised if Mr Wickham had an intrigue with every tradesman's daughter and owes debts to their shopkeeper fathers."

Her jaw dropped open, and Darcy regretted his impulsive retort.

"That is a baseless accusation," she cried.

"In Meryton, perhaps, but I have dealt with similar repercussions in Derbyshire. And while I hope that acknowledging a defect can lead to its correction in my case, Mr Wickham is not principled enough to be capable of reformation."

"You denied him a living. You simply hate?—"

"Mr Wickham himself resigned all claim to assistance in the church," he interrupted, trying to keep his temper in check. "My father desired that a family living might be Mr Wickham's as soon as it became vacant. But for years I saw his vicious propensities and his want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of my father. When the time came, Mr Wickham wrote that he was resolved against taking orders, and expected some pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment."

Elizabeth's face went white as she stared at him.

"He accepted in return three thousand pounds and wrote that he would enter the law, and I heard little of him, other than that he lived in idleness and dissipation. Three years later, he applied again for the presentation after he had learnt the living was then available. His circumstances were dreadful. He had spent the money I gave him, as well as the thousand pounds my father had left him, and was no closer to taking the bar than you are."

"It cannot be true," she whispered, falling into a chair.

"Do you think I would say all of this to you if I could not summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity?" he said, following to stand near her. "Or show you the letters we exchanged on the subject?"

"But why? Why would he claim you had refused to grant it to him?"

Darcy could give her no explanation she could understand, for how could an unsuspicious person comprehend the motives of a wicked man? "All I can say for certain is that his resentment of me was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances. He was as violent in his abuse of me to others," he said pointedly, looking at her, "as in his reproaches to myself."

Elizabeth covered her face with her hands, and he thought he heard her mutter, "I have been blind."

Darcy swallowed thickly as he took the seat across from her. He wished he could leave matters as they were, but Elizabeth had to know the true depths of what Wickham was capable of.

He carefully laid plain his sister's history with Wickham, how she was removed from school and put under the care of a woman who had actually been in collusion with Wickham, how Wickham had followed his sister to the seaside, and he and her companion convinced her to consent to an elopement.

"I joined them unexpectedly just before, and Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending me, acknowledged the whole of it. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr Wickham, who left the place immediately. His chief object was my sister's fortune."

He sat back in his chair, feeling weary after telling the tale of one of the worst experiences of his life.

Elizabeth was sniffling into her handkerchief when she said, "I suppose he had also the hope of revenging himself on you."

Darcy exhaled a long breath. She believed him. "Yes, his revenge would have been complete indeed." She wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. "Are you well?" he asked.

"You are asking about me?" she said through a strained laugh. "My feelings are acutely painful and rather difficult of definition. Your relation of events must overthrow my every cherished opinion of Wickham's worth." She looked thoughtful. "And I now see that his behaviour toward me had no acceptable motive."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to marry for money and he knew I had no fortune, and so he must have been gratifying his vanity by encouraging my preference for him, one I see now that I incautiously showed."

"That is why I told you about Georgiana," he murmured. "The rest of our history might have been enough to dissuade you of wrongdoing on my part, but you must be cautious around him while the militia remains in Meryton."

She finished drying her eyes and wiping her nose, nodding to herself as she put away her handkerchief and tugged on her glove. It was time for them to return before anyone grew suspicious. He rose, adding, "I feel no doubt of your secrecy. Only myself and my sister's other guardian, my mother's nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam, know how close my sister came to losing everything."

"Of course, although I will make it clear amongst my acquaintance that Mr Wickham is not to be trusted."

He bowed; there was nothing more to say. Darcy picked up the first book he saw and left to return to the others.

To think he had considered encouraging Elizabeth when all of this time she had hated him, had not even thought of him as a gentleman. He had written to L as a means of distraction from yearning for Elizabeth, and all along she never admired him. And now that he had overcome his ridiculous scruples in considering a woman beneath him in connexions and consequence, she hated him. She believed his narrative of events, but knowing the truth would not make Elizabeth love him.

He would write to L as soon as he returned home.