Darcy's Diary (6 page)

‘Oh, shocking!' exclaimed Caroline. ‘How shall we punish him for such a speech?'

‘Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,' said Elizabeth with a gleam in her eye. ‘Tease him – laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.'

‘Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr Darcy may hug himself.'

‘Mr Darcy is not to be laughed at!' cried Elizabeth. ‘That is an uncommon advantage. I dearly love a laugh.'

And so do I. But I do not like to be laughed at. I could not say so, however.

‘Miss Bingley has given me credit for more than can be,' I said. ‘The wisest of men may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.'

‘I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good,' she returned. ‘Follies and nonsense do divert me, but these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.'

‘Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.'

‘Such as vanity and pride.'

‘Vanity, yes. But where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation,' I said.

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.

I did not know why it should be, but her smile hurt me. I believe it made me short-tempered, for when she said: ‘Mr Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise,' I was stung to reply: ‘I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.'

As I spoke, I thought of George Wickham.

‘
That
is a failing indeed,' said Elizabeth. ‘Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot
laugh
at it. You are safe from me.'

But I am
not
safe from you, I thought.

‘Do let us have a little music,' said Caroline, tired of having no part in the conversation.

The pianoforte was opened, and she begged Elizabeth to play.

I was annoyed with her at the time, but after a few minutes I began to be glad of it.

I am paying Elizabeth far too much attention. She beguiles me. And yet it would be folly to find myself falling in love with her. I mean to marry
quite a different sort of woman, one whose fortune and ancestry match my own. I will pay Elizabeth no more attention.

Bingley and I rode to the east this morning and examined more of the estate. He was pleased with everything he saw and pronounced it all capital. I pointed out that the fences were broken and the land needed draining, but he said only: ‘Yes, I suppose it does.' I know he has an easy nature, but there was something more than his usual compliance in his manner. I suspected he was not really paying attention, but was worried about Miss Bennet. It is unfortunate that she should have been taken ill whilst visiting his sisters. It has set the household by the ears. It has also brought me too much into contact with Elizabeth.

True to my resolve, I paid Elizabeth no notice when she walked into the drawing-room with her sister later this morning, when Bingley and I had returned from our ride. After greetings had been exchanged, Miss Bennet begged the loan of Bingley's carriage.

‘My mother cannot spare our carriage until Tuesday, but I am much recovered and we cannot trespass on your hospitality any longer,' she said.

I felt a mixture of emotions: relief that Elizabeth would soon be removing from Netherfield, and regret that I would not be able to talk to her any longer.

Bingley did not share Miss Bennet's view.

‘It is too soon!' he cried. ‘You might seem better when you are sitting by the fire, but you are not yet well enough to withstand the journey. Caroline, tell Miss Bennet that she must stay.'

‘Dear Jane, of course you must stay,' said Caroline. I detected a coolness in her voice, and was not surprised when she added: ‘We cannot think of letting you leave before tomorrow.'

A stay of more than one extra day did not please her.

Bingley looked surprised, but Miss Bennet agreed to this suggestion.

‘Even tomorrow is far too soon,' protested Bingley.

‘It is very kind of you, but we really must leave then,' said Miss Bennet.

She is a sweet girl but she can also be firm, and nothing Bingley could say would shake her resolve.

I was conscious of a need to be on my guard during this last day. I had paid Elizabeth too much attention during her stay, and I was belatedly aware that it could have given rise to expectations. I resolved to crush them, if any such expectations had been formed. I scarcely spoke ten words to her throughout the course of the day, and when I was unfortunately
left alone with her for half an hour, I applied myself to my book and did not look up once.

We all attended morning service, and then the Miss Bennets took their leave.

‘Dear Jane, the only thing that can resign me to your leaving is the knowledge that you are well at last,' said Caroline, taking an affectionate leave of her friend.

‘I am a selfish man. If it were not for the fact that you had suffered, I would almost have been glad that you had a cold,' said Bingley warmly, clasping Jane's hand. ‘It has allowed me to be with you every day for almost a week.'

He, at least, has made her stay agreeable, and has taken the trouble to entertain her whenever she was downstairs. It is easy to see why Bingley has made her his flirt. She has a sweetness and openness of manner that makes her agreeable, whilst her feelings are not the sort to be deeply touched. No matter how charming or lively Bingley is, he need have no fear of his intentions being misunderstood.

‘And Miss Eliza Bennet,' said Caroline, with a wide smile. ‘It has been so … charming to have you here.'

Elizabeth noticed the hesitation and her eyes sparkled with mirth. She replied politely enough, however.

‘Miss Bingley. It has been good of you to have me here.'

To Bingley, she gave a warmer farewell.

‘Thank you for all you have done for Jane,' she said. ‘It made a great difference to me to see that she was so well cared for. Nothing could have been kinder than your banking up of the fires, or your moving of screens to prevent draughts, or your instructing your housekeeper to make some tasty dishes to tempt Jane to eat.'

‘I was only sorry I could not do more,' he said. ‘I hope we will soon see you at Netherfield again.'

‘I hope so, too.'

She turned to me.

‘Miss Bennet,' I said, making her a cold bow.

She looked surprised for a moment, then a smile appeared in her eyes, and she dropped me a curtsy, replying in stately tones: ‘Mr Darcy.'

She almost tempted me to smile. But I schooled my countenance into an expression of severity and turned away.

The party then broke up. Bingley escorted the two young ladies to the
carriage and helped them inside. My coldness had not damped Elizabeth's spitits for one minute. I was glad of it – before reminding myself that Elizabeth's spirits were not my concern.

We returned to the drawing-room.

‘Well!' said Caroline. ‘They have gone.'

I made no reply.

She turned to Louisa and immediately began talking of household matters, forgetting all about her supposed friend.

As I write this, I find I am glad that Elizabeth has gone. Now, perhaps I can think of her as Miss Elizabeth Bennet again. I mean to indulge in more rational thoughts, and I will not have to suffer any more of Caroline's teasing.

At last, a rational day. Bingley and I examined the south corner of his land. He seems interested in purchasing the estate, and says he is ready to settle. However, he has not been here very long and I shall not believe his intentions are fixed until he has spent a winter here. If he likes it after that, I believe it might be the place for him.

Caroline was charming this evening. Without Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the house she did not tease me, and we passed a pleasant evening playing at cards. I did not miss Elizabeth at all. I believe I scarcely thought of her half a dozen times all day.

‘I think we should ride round the rest of the estate today,' I said to Bingley this morning.

‘Later, perhaps,' he said. ‘I mean to ride over to Longbourn this morning to ask after Miss Bennet's health.'

‘You saw her only the day before yesterday,' I remarked with a smile; Bingley in the grip of one of his flirtations is most amusing.

‘Which means I did not see her yesterday. It is time I made up for my neglect!' he replied, matching my tone. ‘Will you come with me?'

‘Very well,' I said.

A moment later I regretted it, but I was then annoyed with myself for my cowardice. I can surely sit with Miss Elizabeth Bennet for ten minutes without falling prey to a certain attraction, and besides, there is no certainty that I will see her. She might very well be from home.

We rode out after breakfast. Our way took us through Meryton, and we saw the object of our ride in the main street. Miss Bennet was taking the air with her sisters. On hearing our horses' hoofs she looked up.

‘I was riding over to see how you did, but I can see you are much better. I am glad of it,' said Bingley, touching his hat.

‘Thank you,' she said, with a charming, easy smile.

‘You have lost your paleness, and have some colour in your cheeks.'

‘The fresh air has done me good,' she said.

‘You walked into Meryton?' he asked.

‘Yes.'

‘You have not tired yourself, I hope?' he added with a frown.

‘No, thank you, the exercise was beneficial. I have spent so much time indoors that I am glad to be outside again.'

‘My feelings are exactly the same. If ever I am ill, I cannot wait to be out of doors as soon as I am well enough.'

Whilst they went on in this manner, with Bingley looking as happy as though Miss Bennet had escaped the clutches of typhus rather than a trifling cold, I studiously avoided looking at Elizabeth. I let my eyes drift over the rest of the group instead. I saw the three younger Bennet girls, one of them carrying a book of sermons and the other two giggling together, and a heavy young man whom I had not seen before. By his dress he was a clergyman, and he appeared to be in attendance on the ladies. I was just reflecting that perhaps his presence explained why Miss Mary Bennet was clutching a book of sermons when I received an unwelcome surprise, nay a terrible shock. At the edge of the group there were two further gentlemen. One was Mr Denny, an officer whom Bingley and I had already met. The other was George Wickham.

George Wickham! That odious man, who betrayed my father's belief in him and almost ruined my sister! To be forced to meet him again, at such a time and in such a place…. It was abominable.

I thought I had done with him. I thought I would never have to see him again. But there he was, talking to Denny as though he had not a care in the world. And I suppose he had not, for he has never cared about anything in his life, unless it is himself.

He turned his head towards me. I felt myself grow white, and saw him grow red. Our eyes met. Anger, disgust and contempt shot from mine. But, recovering himself quickly, a damnable impertinence shot from his. He had the audacity to touch his hat. To touch his hat! To me! I would have turned away, but I had too much pride to create a scene, and I forced myself to return his salute.

My courtesy was for nothing, however. Catching a glimpse of Miss Elizabeth Bennet out of the corner of my eye, I saw that she had noticed
our meeting, and she was not deceived for an instant. She knew that something was badly wrong between us.

‘But we must not keep you,' I heard Bingley saying.

I felt, rather than saw, him turn towards me.

‘Come, Darcy, we must be getting on.'

I was only too willing to fall in with his suggestion. We bade the ladies goodbye and rode on.

‘She is feeling much better, and believes herself to be quite well again,' said Bingley.

I did not reply.

‘She looked well, I thought,' said Bingley.

Again, I did not reply.

‘Is something wrong?' asked Bingley, at last catching my mood.

‘No, nothing,' I said shortly.

‘Nay, Darcy, this will not do. Something has troubled you.'

But I would not be drawn. Bingley knows nothing of the trouble I had with Wickham over the summer, and I do not want to enlighten him. Georgiana's foolishness would cast a shadow over her reputation if it was known, and I am determined Bingley shall never hear of it.

I rode out early this morning, without asking Bingley if he chose to go with me, for I wanted to be on my own.

George Wickham, in Meryton!

It has robbed my visit of its pleasure. Even worse, I am haunted by a glimpse of memory, something so slight I can hardly be sure if it is real. But it will not leave me, and fills my dreams. It is this: when I rode up to the ladies yesterday, I thought I saw an expression of admiration on Elizabeth's face as she looked at Wickham.

Surely she cannot prefer him to me!

What am I saying? Her feelings for me are unimportant. As are her feelings for George Wickham. If she wishes to admire him, it is her concern.

I cannot believe she will still admire him when she finds him out, and find him out she will. He has not changed. He is still the wastrel he has always been, and she is too intelligent to be deceived for long.

And yet he has a handsome face. The ladies have always admired it. And he has an ease of manner and style of address which make him well liked amongst those who do not know him, whereas I …