Work Text:
"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?" She smiled but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.
"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You had made it abundantly clear to all and sundry, after all, that you deemed me not handsome enough to dance with. As not only I, but half the assembly room overheard your little speech, you have made me the subject of a fair amount of gossip hereabouts. People freely comment on any possible previous acquaintance between us, and some have even suggested a lovers’ spat as the cause of your fit of pique at the assembly. There has been much supposing why you should arrive here, already certain of me in such a manner.”
Miss Elizabeth took a deep breath, but before Mr. Darcy could speak, she continued: “You chose to endanger my reputation the very first night you were in company here, then you continue the same by constantly glaring at me, for reasons I am sure I cannot fathom, and by listening in on my conversations, yet rarely, if ever, contributing to them. Do you think nobody noticed you? What do you suppose the good people of Meryton may have been thinking or saying? Does it even matter to you?”
Miss Elizabeth looked down and continued in a pained voice: “You have not once initiated a conversation with me, we have not even been formally introduced because at the Assembly, you turned away before Sir William could do so, and later rudely refused when your friend made the same suggestion. Yet you gossip freely about me, my relations and our general lack of desirability with our hostess and Heaven knows who else. What have I ever done to deserve such treatment from you?”
Miss Elizabeth looked back up at Mr. Darcy, who had turned rather alarmingly pale. She noticed this, but it did not stop her from speaking the truth as she knew it.
“So, all in all, Mr. Darcy,’ she blithely continued, “I truly cannot credit the idea that you wish to dance with me. I cannot make out your purpose in asking me, but I will deny you your sport and decline to dance, thank you very much.”
She curtsied and turned away, when Mr. Darcy uttered a strangled sounding “Wait!”
Miss Elizabeth looked at him and he continued: “I realise I have grievously injured you. Please allow me to beg your forgiveness and to explain myself. I could not bear it if you were to continue thinking so ill of me.”
As Miss Bingley hit the keys of the pianoforte with increasing violence – not wholly unlike Mary, thought Miss Elizabeth – Mr. Darcy seemed so unlike the haughty, cold and taciturn man she had come to expect, that Miss Elizabeth gasped.
“I will hear you,” she finally replied. “But not here. If we are to have any meaningful conversation, it had better be away from the spiteful harpy you seem to count among your friends. For the sake of my own reputation, I will insist on a proper chaperone. Someone I trust, not someone you suggest. Follow me.”
As Miss Elizabeth, followed by Mr. Darcy, left the room, the music in the room behind them ended with a jarring slam on the keys.
In the main corridor, Miss Elizabeth stepped up to the nearest footman and addressed him thusly: “Gregory, is Mrs. Nicholls free? Will you escort Mr. Darcy and myself to her please?”
Gregory, his face lit up with a smile for Miss Elizabeth, complied immediately. “Follow me, Miss Lizzy,” he said as he briskly stepped ahead. Near the kitchen, he went off in a different corridor and finally rapped on a door. “Enter!” sounded from within.
Gregory opened the door and said: “Mrs. Nicholls, Miss Lizzy requested to be presented to you.” As he stepped back, allowing Miss Elizabeth to step forward. Gregory placed himself behind her, thus blocking Mr. Darcy’s entrance.
“My dearest girl,” the housekeeper said as she stood and hugged Miss Elizabeth. “I had hoped your sister would have improved by now. I have assigned Molly to care for her tonight, you need to make sure you rest yourself too. Now what can I do for you, my dear?”
“Mrs. Nicholls,” Miss Elizabeth said, “Mr. Darcy has requested to speak to me. I am unsure I should have allowed it, but since I have, I would request your presence. As a chaperone at the very least, although I may come to depend upon your sound judgment as well.”
“Very well,” replied Mrs. Nicholls, “you know I would deny you nothing it is in my power to give. I would ask you to keep an open mind. While the stories of Mr. Darcy’s disdain and disgust of the local gentry are rife and most likely at least partially true, I must say of the inmates of this house, prior to your sister’s and your own arrival that is, he is the best of the lot. Just bear that in mind whenever your temper threatens to overcome you, my dear.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded and asked: “May Mr. Darcy enter?”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Nicholls replied as she nodded to Gregory. Gregory in turn stepped aside and Mr. Darcy stepped into a very pleasant, albeit small sitting room.
“This is my private sitting room,” said Mrs. Nicholls. “Please do be seated. Would you care for a drink?”
Upon their agreement, she poured a tumbler of brandy for Mr. Darcy and two glasses of sherry for Miss Elizabeth and herself.
Both ladies turned expectantly to Mr. Darcy, who fidgeted in his chair.
“First of all, Miss Elizabeth, I wish to apologise to you for speaking such a terrible untruth out loud. My sole intent was to discourage Bingley from pushing me to dance. I am afraid I lashed out at you for no reason at all, other than that you were there. I was and am in a foul mood because of something that happened prior to my visit, when someone I know well and someone I trusted, colluded to do harm to someone very dear to me.”
As he looked at Miss Elizabeth, he noticed her raised eyebrows. “I will explain, but I must have your word, from both of you, that my story will not leave this room. If Bingley’s sisters would hear, an innocent’s reputation could be severely damaged.”
Miss Elizabeth huffed and muttered: “As if you had any care about my reputation before you spoke.”
Mr. Darcy blushed and replied: “I truly had no notion that anybody, least of all yourself, had overheard my intemperate speech. I do apologise for the damage to your reputation, and I will make restorations as is needed.”
“You had no notion?” cried Miss Elizabeth. “You looked me in the eyes, I was seated not three feet away and you spoke in a very loud and carrying voice. I do not believe for a moment you had no notion anybody would hear. No sir, you intended for me and others to hear!”
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and imagined the Assembly, Bingley coming up and trying to cajole him into dancing and being jolly. He remembered his dark thoughts as he overheard the whispers of “ten thousand a year and very likely more” and suddenly he became aware of the rage he had felt at the very idea that here were more people waiting to take advantage, just like that blackguard Wickham. In likening the people at the Assembly to George Wickham, he had somehow divested all of them of their humanity in his own mind, and while he could do nothing to Wickham for fear of the repercussions, he most certainly could do something about the grasping people of Meryton! And so, he had proceeded to put them in their place, or so he felt at the time. He was appalled at himself as he had never been before. What had he become?
He hung his head as he acknowledged: “You are right, Miss Elizabeth. While I told myself otherwise, I did intentionally strike out at the world by insulting you and I was uncaring of the consequences. The very painful part is that I should have been doubly aware of the consequences because of what happened prior to my coming here. Instead, I allowed my anger to cloud my judgment to such a degree that I ended up deliberately hurting innocents, much like that cad did. Never have I been so ashamed.”
As he raised his eyes to hers, he asked: “Will you let me tell you all at least? I understand you may not forgive me, as it is not only you, whom I have failed, but would you please hear me out?”
Miss Elizabeth nodded as Mrs. Nicholls refilled their glasses.
Mr. Darcy thought for a moment about how to start his story, then spoke: “I grew up at a very large estate but was an only child for the first eleven years of my life. I played with the tenants’ children and more especially with my father’s godson, the son of our steward. His name was George, he was 2 years older than myself and from my earliest memories until after finishing Eton, I have seen him as one of my best friends and almost a brother. While I did see, looking back, that he had a cruel streak even as a child, I never admitted as much to myself. Or to my father, as a matter of fact. It wasn’t until he abused my name for running up debts while I was still at Eton in my last year, and he had commenced at Cambridge, paid for by my father, that I fully realized my friend was not who I had made him up to be. Once I started at Cambridge myself, I had to make myself known to shopkeepers, gambling dens and even whorehouses to avoid being confronted with debts George Wickham made while using my identity.”
Mr. Darcy noticed the expression on Miss Elizabeth’s face changing from surprise, to disbelief, to hurt, to shock and finally to anger as he spoke.
“Still, this is all in the past and I am only telling you this, so you understand the background of the events that have played out only very recently,” Mr. Darcy continued.
“This same man was my father’s godson, and my father never chose to believe the worst of him, no matter how many stories were repeated or who the witness to said events was. My father was so attached to his godson to the very end, that he recommended that a valuable living I have in my gift, would be set aside for George Wickham, provided he took orders and served honourably as a curate prior to the living being made available to him. Well, at last that condition shows some foresight on his part,” he scoffed as he spoke the last sentence.
“I take it this man is not suited to life as a clergyman,” Miss Elizabeth tentatively opined.
“George Wickham is the very last man you should want to guard people’s souls!” exclaimed Mr. Darcy. “I am sorry, this is hardly suitable for a maiden’s hearing, but I have learnt my lesson and ignorance of the evils in this world do not keep our maidens safe or protected. Therefore, I must share the worst of it with you.”
Mr. Darcy was silent and swirled the brandy in his glass, before gulping it down and crashing the glass on the table. He stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace.
“When my father passed away five years ago and the will was read,” he continued, “George was quick to tell me he had no taste for making sermons and he would prefer a cash settlement over the living, which may not become available for many years. I paid him three thousand pounds as he signed away his rights to any preferment for it or any other future in the church, I might assist him with. My father had also bequeathed him one thousand pounds outright, so Mr. Wickham left Pemberley that day a very rich man.”
“Four thousand pounds!” gasped Miss Elizabeth. “That is twice the revenue Longbourn generates and our family of seven lives on only a portion of the revenues. Such a sum could tide a man over indefinitely, if invested wisely.”
“Sadly, wise is not an adjective anybody would think to apply to George Wickham,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“Instead of investing his funds wisely, or sing them to study the law, as he had told me he would, he chose to use it for gambling, whoring, defrauding others and God only knows what else. Whatever it was, when the living became available less than two years ago, George was quick to find me and demand it be given to him. When I reminded him, he signed away all his rights and had been paid handsomely for the living, he told me his circumstances were very bad indeed and that he needed the living more than any other. As he had never taken orders or served as a curate, I felt justified in refusing him. I had not needed to pay him any money, as he never met the conditions to begin with, but I had felt that my father would have wanted something more for him. Still, not as much as Wickham himself wanted.”
Mr. Darcy picked up his glass, noticed it had been refilled and drank it all.
“When I refused him, he became rather violent in his expressions of hatred for myself and all I stood for, and he promised retribution. Shortly after, a fire was started in our stables, a maid was dragged into the woods and violated, crops and tools all over Pemberley have been destroyed. There was never any conclusive evidence to tie any of this to George Wickham, but I have always believed him to be responsible, even if others did what he ordered them to.”
Mr. Darcy turned towards the window, looking away from his audience, his visage writhed in pain.
At last he spoke again: “After the attacks, if I may call them that, at Pemberley ceased, I dared to believe I may have seen the last of him. Alas, it was not to be, for just this summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. 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, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed.”
When Mr. Darcy turned, he saw Miss Elizabeth crying and Mrs. Nicholls dabbing away some tears of her own. He was quick to offer Miss Elizabeth his handkerchief, all the while wishing he might comfort her himself. Having bared his soul to her tonight, he now felt as if she were an essential part of it, needed to make him whole again. Putting this startling observation aside, he asked Miss Elizabeth: “Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one?”
“No, no thank you,” she replied. “Your sister, how is she recovering? Is she well?”
Mr. Darcy felt a surge of warmth and gratitude towards this young lady, who cared for his sister even after his own mistreatment of herself. She was a much better person then he was, he admitted to himself.
“She has not quite recovered her joy in life and blames herself for all that’s happened,” he replied. “My aunt and uncle, who are taking care of her, send me away to visit with Bingley because they believed my ‘hovering about, sulking, and being gloomy’ did nothing to raise Georgiana’s spirits.”
The look on his face elicited an unexpected giggle from Mis Elizabeth and he looked at her in unrestrained astonishment. “This amuses you?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“I do apologise sir,” replied Miss Elizabeth as she tried to get herself under good regulation. “If your appearance at the Assembly was any indicator of that state of being ‘sulking and gloomy’ I might forgive your sister for not wishing to confide in you. You, sir, can look truly frightening and I declare you were appearing most inhospitable when you arrived. A young girl needs a shoulder to cry on and to speak through her fears, her feelings and her regrets, before she can obtain closure and move forward. I have sisters, sir, I do know something about young ladies’ woes.”
“You would be the most wonderful sister Georgiana could ever ask for!” Mr. Darcy blurted out.
Silence descended on the room. Nobody dared move. Darcy stared at Miss Elizabeth, wide eyed.
Finally, Miss Elizabeth cleared her throat and faintly asked: “Excuse me?”
Mr. Darcy sat down again, deflated.
“In spite of outward appearances,” he tentatively began, “I have been admiring you greatly. I admire the clever way you deflect all Miss Bingley’s insults, without ever being cruel or vindictive. I admire the care you have for your sister, your fortitude in coming here to assist her. I admire your gentleness to servants, children, animals. I admire your quick mind and intelligent arguments. And I much admire your beautiful eyes, your light and pleasing figure, your graceful movements….”
He trailed off as he saw Miss Elizabeth blushing bright red.
“I am sorry to say sir, that I noticed none of this admiration,” she replied. “I thought you went out of your way to not have to mingle with any of my friends or family.”
Miss Elizabeth observed when Mr. Darcy winced.
“You also seemed rather supportive of Miss Bingley and her many insults. Although the duty of reining her in, falls to her brother, you certainly did nothing to change the topic of conversation at any time she spoke to belittle me, hurt me or insult me or mine. I should hope a gentleman ofyour caliber, who chooses to admire me, would have the fortitude and strength of character to defend me to his friends at the very least.”
Mr. Darcy winced again but said nothing.
“I see,” Miss Elizabeth finally said. “You had no intention of this so-called admiration of me becoming something more. You were stand-offish because you do not in fact admire me anywhere near enough to respect me, my family or the people who helped make me what I am today.”
She frowned and looked away, then returned her piercing gaze to Mr. Darcy and continued: “When you entered that Assembly room, I felt an attraction to you I had never felt before. You were the handsomest man I had ever laid eyes on. Then you insulted me, and I took your words to heart because at one point, I had wished for your good opinion. Now, I admit I am not so certain. Your good opinion certainly seemed laced with caveats. You look down on my family, but choose to reside with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who are no more genteel than my mother or my youngest sister. You came here to help your friend become a gentleman, but by all appearances you make most of the decisions for the estate and not him, and you display the most ungentlemanly behaviour of all of your party, and that is including Mr. Hurst. You say you admire me, but you clearly admire nothing about me other than my person. I wonder how many of your relations, neighbours or good friends do meet such a high standard as you seem to be applying to mine. Are you certain you have no drunk uncles, matchmaking aunts, mercenary cousins? We already know you had a gullible father who created his very own monster and actively endangered more than one innocent. For all his indolence, my own father has no such regrets to bear. How much superior do you suppose your relations really are, when applied to the things that really matter? They are wealthy, but are they honourable? They may be titled, but are they kind? You say you admire me, but you do not know anything of importance about me. And before tonight, I did not know anything at all about you. Not even your full name.”
Mr. Darcy had visibly slumped as she spoke, her words hitting him where they hurt the most. Even after sharing all that he had, he still felt superior to Miss Elizabeth based on his lineage, family name and connections and his wealth. How had he still missed the material point that these things were just that, things? What of his character? Was he the sort of man any young lady could admire? That Miss Elizabeth could admire?
“With your permission, Miss Elizabeth, I would like to begin anew. I would like to get to know you, and for you to know me. Would you allow me that?” he finally asked.
Miss Elizabeth looked at him a very long time, before she nodded and said: “I will.”
With a smile, that caused Miss Elizabeth to gasp, Mr. Darcy stood up and turned towards Mrs. Nicholls.
“Mrs. Nicholls,” he spoke, “will you please introduce me to this fetching young lady?”