Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner (33 page)

Elizabeth gasped. “Tell me you did not tell that story to Mr. Darcy!”

“I do not say I did, but do not say I did not. Again, you must ask him.”

“He cannot want to talk to me. He must despise me.”

Mr. Bennet threw up his hands dramatically. “Then he will leave and lose his leg, all because you are embarrassed.”

She frowned. “That was a cruel thing to say!”

Mr. Bennet grew serious. “Lizzy, my love, go to him — but only if you really want his good opinion and want him to stay. If he truly means little to you, then remain, and I will say no more about this.”

Elizabeth rose slowly from the bed and walked to the door, only stopping as her hand touched the knob. “Are you saying only
I
can prevent his leaving?”

A very serious Mr. Bennet replied, “It seems you have been granted great power, Elizabeth. Use it kindly and wisely.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Father.” And she was gone.

* * *

Bartholomew returned to the room and resumed packing, observing his employer as he did so. His master still sat quietly in the wheel-chair, but his demeanor had changed. When once he was angry and dejected, he was now calm, but it was obvious that he was waiting for something — something he was not sure was coming, but hopeful all the same. Bartholomew certainly did not expect Miss Elizabeth to knock on the door.

“Mr. Darcy,” said she as she entered, eyes downcast. “I must speak to you. I must apologize. Will you grant me an interview?”

Mr. Darcy looked at her, outwardly expressionless, but projecting a nervous energy. “I am at your disposal, Miss Elizabeth.”

Miss Elizabeth looked up, gratefulness apparent on her face. “I thank you, sir.” The girl had a blush to her cheek, Bartholomew saw. He was certain it was from her shame for her offenses against his master.

She glanced meaningfully in the valet’s direction, and Mr. Darcy noticed it. Bartholomew was certain he was about to be dismissed, and his sensibilities rebelled against it. He did not want Mr. Darcy alone with this harridan again no matter
how
pretty she was.

Instead, Mr. Darcy did something surprising. “The weather is sunny and calm, Miss Elizabeth. I own I would like to enjoy the fresh air of your mother’s garden while we have our conversation. Would that suit you, or do you think it too cool for your comfort?”

Miss Elizabeth blinked. “No, it was perfectly comfortable earlier, and I am sure it has warmed since then. I would be happy to accompany you outside.” She smiled a little. “You should know I seldom refuse an opportunity to ramble about the countryside, Mr. Darcy.”

His master’s look had warmed. “I have noted your preference very well, particularly as it coincides with mine.”

Miss Elizabeth blushed anew, and even Bartholomew knew that this time it was not from shame. How the valet kept from rolling his eyes he would never know.

“Give me a moment, sir, to fetch my coat.”

“I shall await you at the front door, madam.” Mr. Darcy returned Miss Elizabeth’s smile, and it remained as the young lady left.

Bartholomew groaned as he prepared Mr. Darcy for his interview. He was certain that his master had decided to forgive the young lady, and he was coming to the conclusion that he had other plans for Miss Elizabeth, as well — permanent plans.

Bartholomew always knew Mr. Darcy had to marry, and he supposed Miss Elizabeth would do, as long as she received more polish.
He
would not have the mistress of Pemberley be an uncultured country miss! As for the lady’s other charms, they were quite lost on the valet.

He had no intention of marrying — that was certain! It was too much trouble!

Chapter 19

E
LIZABETH WAS SURPRISED WHEN
Mr. Darcy requested their conversation be held outside. She was anxious to end their disagreement and prevent his removal from Longbourn, so she did as she was asked and met the gentleman in the front hall. He, too, was dressed for the cold weather, sitting in the wheel-chair, his valet Bartholomew standing beside him. Mr. Darcy explained that the garden might offer them some privacy without violating propriety, and he hoped she was of a mind to agree to his scheme. Elizabeth nodded in understanding, and the party was soon off, stopping only to transfer Mr. Darcy from the wheel-chair, which was quite useless for the rough ground of the garden, to the Bath chair.

The two were soon at the desired spot — a stone bench some small distance from the house but within clear sight of the west-facing windows. The air was cold, but sunny skies and the lack of wind assured comfortable conditions for the two, and once Mr. Darcy made sure that the blanket he insisted Bartholomew bring was offered and accepted by Elizabeth, he dismissed his servant and turned to Elizabeth. He said nothing, however; his countenance indicated that he expected Elizabeth to begin the conversation. Meanwhile, the valet returned to the house with reluctant steps.

This was a sad state of affairs, for Elizabeth had grown shy in the meantime. Her desire to explain herself, so imperative ten minutes earlier, was overthrown by his steady stare. Elizabeth could not look at him for all the world.

Finally Darcy’s rich, deep voice broke the silence. “Miss Elizabeth, I believe you wished to speak to me.”

Elizabeth took refuge in her wit. “I believe my tongue has caused you great trouble. I am astonished you wish to hear anything I might say.”

“I am always happy to hear your voice.”

“Even my unkind words of this morning?”

Darcy looked down. “Our conversation was painful, that is true. But even when you suffered from a misapprehension, you always spoke truth to me. That is a rare commodity, one I do not have the pleasure of enjoying as much as I might wish. It is refreshing.” He turned to her. “I would rather hear truth from you, madam, even if it pains me, than all the flattering nonsense I experience in London.”

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. “This is too much.”

“Nay, not nearly enough.” Darcy seemed to catch himself, and his face lost some of the earnest expression he displayed. “Pray, tell me what you wished to speak of inside.”

“I have come to learn that there is more to this disagreement over Sally’s treatment than I originally considered. Will you answer some questions for me?”

“Of course.”

“Sally and her family have left Meryton. Do you know where they have gone?”

“Yes, they traveled to London, to the townhouse of the Fitzwilliams of Matlock.”

“And why did they go there?”

“My cousin, the viscount, has taken Sally and her family into his service.”

They were to work for Darcy’s family? Astonishing!
“Why would your cousin take them all in? He does not know Sally.”

“My cousin’s reasons are known only to him. He is an honorable man, and they will be well-treated.”

Elizabeth could not yet voice the question she most wanted to ask, so she tried something else. “I saw men moving their belongings out of their house into a wagon. One of the men said they were working for a gentleman he would not name. Did you hire men to move her family’s things, as well?”

Darcy looked away. “If you are asking whether men in my service helped Sally’s family relocate, then yes, that is so.”

“Someone must have informed the viscount about Sally and her situation. You said this morning that positions had been secured for everyone in her family. It is reasonable to assume that you were the person who brought them to your cousin’s attention. Did you do that?”

Darcy did not immediately answer. “I made some small inquiries.”

Finally, Elizabeth could bear it no more. “Why? Why would you do that?”

He glanced at her. “It was not because she spilled wine on me.”

Elizabeth flushed in humiliation. “Oh! Please do not repeat what I said! I am so ashamed of myself!”

Darcy frowned. “You should not be. It was not an unreasonable conjecture.” He forestalled her startled objections. “Miss Elizabeth, I am a man of the world. I know gentlemen — more than I should — who would indeed demand the immediate dismissal of another man’s servant for doing far less. It is certainly not in my character to do such a thing, but you would have no cause to know that.”

“I should, I should!” Elizabeth returned with some heat. “You have treated the staff here at Longbourn with nothing but generosity and respect, in some cases, better than my family does. I had no reason to doubt you. And now it appears you are the saving of Sally’s family. But you have not answered my question. Why did you find a new position for Sally?”

Darcy seemed to struggle for an answer. Finally, he shrugged. “Because it was within my power to do so.”

Elizabeth took a moment to absorb the immensity of his short statement. “Then you are a great man. You have my gratitude, and I pray you accept my deepest apology for my unjust accusations.”

To Elizabeth’s astonishment, pain flashed across Mr. Darcy’s face. “Pray, do not say such a thing. If I have been of service to Sally and her family, I was happy to do it. But do not thank me for it.”

“Why not? You deserve all the thanks in the world!”

“I did not do it to earn accolades. I do not want anyone’s gratitude.”

Elizabeth thought about that for a moment. “That is perhaps the silliest thing I have ever heard.”

“I — I beg your pardon?”

Elizabeth frowned. “No, I was wrong. That
is
the silliest thing I have ever heard! You do not want anyone’s gratitude? That is preposterous! Gratitude is given, not earned. You cannot say whether someone ought to feel thankful or not. It is not in your station or anyone else’s to determine what a person
should
feel. I shall be grateful as I choose, and if I think you the most wonderful man in the world, you can have nothing to say about it! You will just have to accept it!”

Elizabeth caught herself. Mortified, she turned to Mr. Darcy, eyes cast down. “Oh, I have done it again! I am ashamed of myself! Mr. Darcy, please excuse me. I should not have put it that way. It was ungracious of me.” She glanced at him and, instead of censure, saw what could only be a look of indulgence that sprang from the deepest love.

“That is quite all right, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said with a smile.

His smile brought on hers. “But I must insist that you accept my thanks for everything you have done.”

“It seems I must accept your gratitude if I wish to keep your good opinion. Very well, I thank you.”

Elizabeth continued. “I also should not have spoken as I did to you this morning. Will you accept my apology?”

“If you will accept my apology for my words.”

“I was more in the wrong.”

Darcy shook his head. “I disagree. I coldly dismissed you when I should have shown more forbearance. As I said, your assumption, while wrong, was not unreasonable. I allowed my temper to get the better of me. I should have acted differently, and I will hold to that, Miss Elizabeth. I shall not be moved.”

Elizabeth frowned at his obstinacy. “How can that be? I made such terrible accusations!”

“What did you say I did not deserve? You called me selfish and unfeeling, and I cannot deny it. I have been a selfish being all my life — in practice though not in principle. As a child, I was taught what was
right
, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves — my father particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable — allowed, encouraged, almost
taught
me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world. Otherwise, I should have been open about my plans and dealings and not thought you were undeserving to know my mind.

“Your father and I spoke, and it was only then that I saw the justice of your words. You were a lady I hoped to please, and yet I would not be honest with you! How should you know me if I did not allow it? Foolish, foolish pride!”

Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide.
A lady I hoped to please?

“But I will be forthright now. I must thank you for all you and your family have done for Georgiana. You have brought her back to the girl she once was.”

Elizabeth shook her head at the change of subject. “You . . . you thank me for Georgiana? Whatever for?”

Darcy colored. “I shall tell you, but I ask you keep this to yourself. I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam has told you something of my family’s misfortune at the hand of Mr. Wickham.” At Elizabeth’s nod, he continued. “Well, we have suffered more mistreatment than you know. Actually, Georgiana has.”

“Oh, my goodness! You do not mean — ”

“It is not the worst, Miss Elizabeth, but it was bad enough.” He quickly told her of a plot between Wickham and Georgiana’s former companion, a Mrs. Younge, to facilitate an elopement for Wickham and Georgiana and seize the girl’s dowry of thirty thousand pounds. Fortunately, Darcy learned of the scheme before his sister could be taken from her rented house in Ramsgate, and he was able to stop the two malefactors. Elizabeth was horrified.