The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love (20 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY

Darcy sat at his writing desk, his quill in hand, as he stared at the blank page before him. His mind was overflowing with thoughts, yet all of his efforts to put them to paper had thus far proved unsuccessful.

Having given up his useless struggle for sleep, he now desperately tried to account for his conflicted emotions. Was it possible that Elizabeth had been correct in her assertions? Had he simply gotten carried away with his mission?

His opinions on the subject of love had been implacable. Indeed he had always considered himself impervious to such feelings. So why then should he be so devastated by her refusal?

Was it simply a matter of pride?

He almost wished it were. For what better way to easily dismiss these feelings of dejection and remorse, than to blame it on his pride. But he knew better; pride had little to do with it.

In that moment of pure panic, as he had clung to her so desperately, he knew she would be the woman who would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. There would be no forgetting her.

But he feared she wanted far more from him than he was willing to offer; perhaps even more than he was capable of. His heart had been conditioned to disregard any feelings of love through years of indifference.

He took some solace in the fact that even if his proposal had included a declaration of love, it would not have changed her answer, for she was convinced that his attentions to her were due solely to her father’s entreaty. He feared that no matter how compelling his argument, it was her own insecurities that would prohibit her from believing him. What chance then did he have to win her, and would it be fair to her to even try?

Perhaps it is best to simply let her go. Let her find a man who will love her without reservation.

He closed his eyes remembering their last kiss. He had never considered himself a selfish man, but just the thought of her in the arms of someone else was so exceedingly abhorrent to him that it made him determined to change her mind.

The dawn now found him pondering what words might convince her that her father had nothing to do with his desire to be in her company, that these deep feelings he had for her . . . whatever they were . . . were genuine? Would she think it only a ploy to persuade her to accept him?

As he stared at the still blank page before him, it seemed altogether hopeless.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he put down his quill and crumpled the paper into a ball. No matter what words he chose, he knew they would be inadequate. No mere words on a page would ever induce her trust.

********

Elizabeth had found sleep to be elusive. Even when she had finally managed to succumb to her mental exhaustion, the despair in Mr. Darcy’s eyes consumed her dreams. She’d had no choice but to save him from himself and his misguided sense of obligation. Now he would have the opportunity to appraise his situation in a more prudential light.

As her head lay upon her tear-soaked pillow, the enormity of what she had done slowly began to seep into her consciousness. Not only had she turned down a proposal from the richest man in Derbyshire, she also had refused to marry the only man she could ever love. She silently prayed for the arrival of morning, and by the time the sunlight began its welcome infiltration into her room, she was already dressed and eager to make her departure.

It was her intention to leave Kent as soon as she and Maria had broken their fast, thereby avoiding any callers upon the parsonage, for now there were
two
gentlemen whose company she wished to elude.

However, her well planned escape was soon thwarted as Mr. Collins took advantage of their final meal together to impose yet another of Mr. Fordyce’s opinions upon them; this one on the undesirable characteristic of wit in females. The offense seemed to lie not in their ability to recognize humour, but in their self-conceited impertinence to demonstrate it, often at the expense of others, showing their lack of humanity and wisdom.

Knowing her propensity for teasing, Elizabeth merely sighed at yet another of her growing list of objectionable traits.

With their morning meal finally completed, Elizabeth donned her pelisse and rushed out the door. Her destination was Rosing’s stables where she would hurry to retrieve Florio. Just as she crossed the lane which separated the two properties, her eyes alit upon the gentleman walking in her direction.

She noted his obvious attempt to avoid staring at her limp, and the expression on his face as he approached betrayed the look of guilt he also unsuccessfully tried to conceal. He offered a tentative smile as he greeted her.

“I was just on my way to call upon you at the parsonage, Miss Bennet. I . . . I wanted to apologize for any distress I may have caused you. I spoke out of turn, before I had full knowledge of the situation. Had I known . . .”

“My forgiveness is hardly necessary, Colonel. I took no offense at your words. After all, you spoke only the truth, sir. No harm has been done, I assure you.”

“Considering my cousin’s current state of misery, and his evident displeasure with me, I very much doubt Darcy would agree.”

“I am sorry to have been the cause of any breach between the two of you, Colonel. I am sure once back in London society, Mr. Darcy’s mood will again lighten.”

The colonel forced a smile, but his thoughts were less agreeably inclined. He could not imagine his cousin’s mood improving anytime soon. Just exactly what had transpired between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Whatever it was, if Darcy’s ill humour was any indication, he was sure he had not heard the last of it.

The colonel accompanied Elizabeth to the stables and helped her ready Florio for their fifty mile journey home. “I do not mean to intrude on your privacy, Miss Bennet, but if there is anything I can do to help remedy this unfortunate situation, I would be most happy to assist in any way I can.”

That he deeply regretted his faux pas was evident in the pained expression of his countenance. Elizabeth could hear the desperation in his voice to make amends.

“If it is not too much of an imposition, Colonel, you
can
give Mr. Darcy a message for me.”

“I would be most happy to, Miss Bennet,” he answered, grateful for the chance to be of service to her.

“Tell him . . .”

“Yes?”

‘Tell him . . . I thank him most kindly for his noble gesture, and that despite our disagreement, I would wish to leave Rosings believing that we are still friends.”

When she looked up at him, the colonel could see the emotion hidden behind her words. Her eyes were shining with tears, and her expression conveyed the same sadness he had witnessed on Darcy’s face as well. He offered her an understanding smile and left her with his wishes for a safe journey home.

After making their farewells to Charlotte and Mr. Collins, Elizabeth and Maria were finally on the road towards Bromley, where they would change horses and continue on to Hertfordshire. Maria kept busy reflecting upon the entries she had made in her journal over the course of the last few weeks. Every so often she could be heard expressing her pleasure at the number of times they had dined at Rosings Park, describing in great detail every course they had consumed on each occasion.

Elizabeth smiled at each declaration of amazement the young girl uttered, but offered no comment; her mind was on much weightier matters.

She was quite convinced that as soon as Mr. Darcy returned to London and was once again in the company of the perfect young ladies of society to which he was accustomed, he would think back upon her refusal with relief that he had not been trapped into marriage by his own good intentions.

The abandonment of her foolish romantic dreams aside, it was the loss of Mr. Darcy’s friendship that she would miss the most. She had confided in him her most secret longings and had confessed to him things she had never revealed to another living soul.

He knew of all her faults—both her physical failings and her defects of character—and he had not pronounced judgment over her. How she would dearly miss his company. To be deprived of the simple pleasure of bringing a smile to his face as she affectionately teased him, to never again take his arm as they strolled down a garden path, or to be denied the invigorating delight of riding the meadows on horseback beside him were all regrets that she knew she must bear. Her heart was already mourning the loss.

With her steadfast gaze on the scenery outside her carriage window, Elizabeth tried to force his image from her mind. As each mile she travelled brought her closer to Longbourn, she realized that the level of her anxiety did not diminish, for she yet had another unpleasant confrontation ahead of her. In all her life she had never been so disinclined to see her father.

********

“Mr. Darcy proposed? Oh Lizzy, it is just as I had hoped to make my joy complete!”

“Before such a prospect reaches Mama’s ears and produces a case of the vapours, Jane, I should inform you that I have refused his offer.”

“You refused him? But why, Lizzy?”

“I fear his proposal was an impetuous one. I am sure that whatever Mr. Darcy has imagined he feels for me, once examined with a more pragmatic eye, will be of short duration.”

Tears suddenly appeared in her eyes, and Elizabeth silently cursed them. “It is Papa I blame for this entire situation. If he had not acted in such a high-handed manner, none of this would have come about.”

Guilt overtaking her countenance, Jane’s colour deepened, and her eyes looked downward. “Well, before you assign father the entire brunt of the blame, I must make a confession,” said Jane. "I was not completely oblivious to our father’s scheme.”

“You knew he had asked Mr. Darcy to call on me?”

“After the Assembly at Meryton, I was aware that he had some plan in mind and that it had to do with Mr. Darcy. I’m afraid I helped encourage his plan as much as I could.”

“But why, Jane?”

“I remembered how you so often spoke of our meeting him in London, and I thought you would benefit from the association. I believe you care for Mr. Darcy, Lizzy.”

“That’s just the problem, Jane; I
do
care for him. I . . . I’m afraid I have fallen in love with him,” she reluctantly admitted. “A marriage to Mr. Collins, where my emotions were not engaged, might have been tolerable, but to marry Mr. Darcy, knowing that he does not return my affections, that he only sought my friendship at Papa’s request . . . how could I bear it? How could I have endured knowing that one day he would grow to resent the marriage that saddled him so irrevocably to a woman he had only taken pity upon?”

“Mr. Darcy hardly strikes me as a man who would propose marriage without giving it a great deal of thought, Lizzy. Must you always dwell on your one imperfection?”

“Oh Jane, do you not see? A man like Mr. Darcy does not have to settle for a woman with
any
imperfections. I could never have been the perfect match for him that Miss Marston was.”

“If he and Miss Marston were so perfect for each other, why did he not marry her? And why did he again seek your company, long after his promise to father had been fulfilled? Can you not at least entertain the thought that he might truly have feelings for you, that he might . . . love you?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Darcy does not
believe
in love. His proposal lacked any such sentiment.”

“Then that is
his
defect, Lizzy, not yours,” Jane responded as she reached for Elizabeth’s hand.

“Perhaps, but that does not make it any easier to bear.”

Elizabeth’s eyes stayed steady on the joining of their hands. How she wished she could allow Jane’s words to be of comfort to her, but right now she knew nothing could take away this ache in her heart.

“The irony is . . . where I once thought I could be content with a marriage of mere mutual affection, Mr. Darcy’s attentions had me believing that I was deserving of so much more. In my foolishness, I had hoped . . . I had hoped . . . Oh! I don’t know
what
I had hoped.”

“Well, if he managed to convince you that you should not settle for anything less than love, I shall not judge him too severely.”

Elizabeth tried to produce a smile through her tears. “Yes, it is just unfortunate that Mr. Darcy has no love to offer. And I’m afraid, dear sister, that pity is a poor substitute for love.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

George Wickham could not shake this feeling of dissatisfaction. Oh, for a time he had luxuriated in his triumph of the seduction of Miss Marston, but the more he thought upon it, the more his victory had a hollow ring. He had expected a far greater reaction on Darcy’s part upon discovering her betrayal, especially at the hands of his worst enemy, but Darcy was not the devastated suitor he had envisioned.

Wickham acknowledged that part of his discontent was due to the fact that Miss Marston’s submission had less to do with his prowess as a lothario and more to do with her own vanity; she had been ripe for seduction. It had only been a slight matter of
who
would benefit from her inevitable downfall.

He felt it almost a pity that he had used her so ill. For the truth of the matter was that had his pockets been lined as prosperously as Darcy’s, they might have been well suited. Alyssa’s conceit was almost as great as his own. But Wickham consoled himself with the knowledge that she had used him just as mercilessly as he had used her. They’d each owned motives for their deceit.

Wickham adjusted the shako on his head as he determined he was now ready for much more demanding and gratifying feats of accomplishment. He thought upon the last time he had seen Darcy, that night in Alyssa’s parlour, and recalled the man’s curious reaction upon hearing the name
Elizabeth Bennet
. There had been no mistake; she was someone who affected him deeply. His inquiries into the young lady’s identity revealed she was one of five Bennet sisters, four of whom he had previously met. Yes, he remembered them well. How was it that he had not made this particular sister’s acquaintance? It mattered not, for he would quickly remedy that situation. It was now his mission to finally meet the elusive Elizabeth Bennet.

He flashed his practiced smile into the pier glass. Perhaps she would prove more challenging a conquest, and with her fall from grace, provide the crushing defeat of Darcy’s spirit that Miss Marston’s had lacked.

********

The small area, where he had been consigned to remain for the last half hour, allowed him little room to pace. However, that fact did not deter Darcy as his long strides measured out the limited confines of Dr. Graham’s waiting room. He hoped his visit might provide the information needed to fulfill Elizabeth Bennet’s secret dream, the dream she had unwittingly revealed to him that day as she slept in his arms. He owed her at least this much.

It was highly doubtful now that he would be the one with whom she enjoyed sharing the pleasure of her first waltz. But as much as it would pain him should she choose another, he would have no regrets.

As he continued to pace the length of the constricted waiting area, he recalled his confrontation with Richard that night upon his return from the parsonage. When he had angrily informed his cousin that Miss Bennet was the young lady to whom he had referred in his letter, he could see the remorse reflected in Richard’s eyes as he tried to defend himself against his reproof. But he had been in no mood for forgiveness. When Richard had relayed Elizabeth’s message on the following morn, his temper still had not cooled enough to allow for any concessions, and he now felt regret that he had left Rosings without mending their quarrel.

When he was, at last, finally shown into the doctor’s office, his eagerness was apparent.

The elderly Dr. Graham offered him a seat. “How may I be of assistance, Mr. Darcy?”

“I seek information regarding one of your patients,” he stated, anxiously forgoing any preliminary niceties.

“Then I am afraid you may have wasted your time, sir. I am not at liberty to discuss confidential matters. I am sure you understand that my patients rely on my discretion.”

Darcy took a deep, wearisome breath. “I would not wish you to betray any confidences, Doctor, but perhaps it is possible to speak in
general
terms.”

“Perhaps. What information might you require?”

“I . . . I was wondering, hypothetically, of course, what the outcome might be upon someone who had sustained injuries similar to those of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Ah, Miss Bennet, a most remarkable case. But if we are going to speak in general terms, Mr. Darcy, I do not believe I would consider Miss Bennet’s particular situation typical. Her recovery far surpassed all of my expectations, due to the persistence and determination of the young lady.”

From the reflective smile that suddenly appeared upon Darcy’s face, it was evident to Dr. Graham that the gentleman was acquainted with the young lady in question.

Seeing no harm in divulging some basic facts, Dr. Graham proceeded to explain the conventional practices that would be followed. “Well, in general terms, the consequence of such similar injuries would render a decline in the strength and stamina of the injured leg. Before it is permanently set, the damaged muscles would, of course, need to be stretched and manipulated to . . .”

Dr. Graham suddenly stopped short and looked up at Mr. Darcy. He quickly decided he need not reveal
all
of the unpleasant details as he could already discern the man’s distressful unease and the ashen colour his complexion had taken on.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, well . . . where there were breaks and some shattering of the bone, as it knitted together, it would most likely produce a disparity between the lengths of the injured and the uninjured leg, causing an uneven gait.”

Darcy visibly winced as the doctor described the injuries that Elizabeth had most likely suffered. “And there is no recourse?”

“Mr. Darcy, if you are looking for a miraculous cure, I am afraid you will be disappointed; the damage is quite irreversible, sir.”

“I see,” Darcy responded thoughtfully. That some amazing remedy might exist had been but a small hope, and one in which he had not put much faith. But he still had confidence that he could find a way to make Elizabeth’s dream a reality.

“This hypothetical situation to which you refer… Do you find it so objectionable, Mr. Darcy?”

The two men eyed each other for a long moment before Darcy finally answered. “No, not at all. It is not for
my
benefit that I seek such information,” replied Darcy as he noted the doctor’s continued scrutiny of his countenance.

“Tell me, Doctor, how much of a disparity do you believe might exist?”

“Well, and again I speak only in general terms, but of someone of let us say . . . Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, I would guess the disproportion to be approximately one and a half to two inches. It might seem a small variance, but the effect can be quite significant.”

Darcy sat in silence for several moments as he contemplated the doctor’s words. After his many observances of Elizabeth’s walk, his mind had been plagued with his own theories and speculations. The doctor now only confirmed that he had not been far off the mark.

As the silence between them began to grow uncomfortable, Dr. Graham stood. “I’m sorry I could not be of more help, Mr. Darcy.”

“On the contrary,” said Darcy as he, too, stood. “This has been most enlightening. I believe your information will prove quite useful. The two gentlemen then shook hands. “I thank you for your time, Doctor.”

********

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Lizzy.”

“Why should I do that, Papa?” she answered as she took a seat in her father’s library.

Mr. Bennet eyed his daughter for a long moment. She had arrived back at Longbourn more than a sennight ago, and if he was not mistaken, had been purposefully evading him. He felt a sense of relief that she now sought out his company.

“Have you come, at last, to entertain me with some amusing stories of your visit to Rosings Park?”

“No, Papa. I have come to reason with you regarding Lydia’s trip to Brighton. You cannot be serious in allowing her to go. Without a proper chaperone, it is almost certain her conduct will place her reputation, along with that of all her sisters, in jeopardy. And from all of Lydia’s accounts, Mrs. Forster’s manner is just as silly and imprudent as her own! I cannot even imagine what mischief the two of them together will manage to devise.”

“Do not make yourself uneasy, Lizzy. Colonel Forster is a sensible man. I am sure he will see she is properly looked after. And we all know that Lydia will not give us a moment’s peace until she has exposed herself in some public place, and Brighten seems the perfect opportunity.”

“But, Papa . . .”

“Let us try to think on more
positive
thoughts; we still have two months in which to hope that Lydia’s sense of propriety shall increase. I am confident she will do nothing to diminish the good opinions that are associated with you and Jane. You will see, Lizzy, my decision will prove to be a practical one.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree, sir; your decisions of late have brought into question the very soundness of your judgment!”

Mr. Bennet gave his daughter a perplexed look.

“What is it, Lizzy? Lydia’s trip to Brighton cannot be the only reason for such censure. Was your visit to Kent as bad as all that? Did you find nothing at Rosings Park to agreeably occupy your time?”

“On the contrary, sir; I found much to capture my interest.”

“Oh? Will you not share some of your diversions? What great secrets did you manage to uncover?” he asked trying to lighten the mood.

“That you should use the word
secrets
, Papa, is most curious, for it seems you have been harbouring one yourself.”

Mr. Bennet narrowed his eyes as they looked expectantly at his daughter.

“As it happened, Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were at Rosings Park visiting with their aunt. Their presence revealed many things, not the least of which was the true manner in which Mr. Darcy was prevailed upon to call at Longbourn.”

“I am afraid I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Lizzy,” he replied. But a guarded expression accompanied his response.

Elizabeth looked down at her hands in her lap, and when she raised her eyes to look at her father’s concerned countenance, she could not hide her tears. She swallowed hard, hoping to strengthen the quivering timber of her voice.

“How could you, Papa?”

The beating of Thomas Bennet’s heart quickened. He needed no further evidence of what she spoke; her tears were testament enough. She had somehow learned of his officious deed.

“Lizzy . . .”

“I will ask you this but once, sir, and I expect you to be truthful in your reply. Did you . . . did you impose upon Mr. Darcy to . . .” The tightness in her throat prohibited her from speaking further. She waited for her father’s response as her eyes now held his gaze.

The long silence that followed was emphasized by the now conspicuous ticking of the clock on the mantle behind Mr. Bennet’s desk.

“I did what I thought best for you,” he, at last, answered. “And I believe my efforts proved successful. Did I not watch you flourish from the friendship Mr. Darcy offered?”

“Oh yes, your plan was most effective,” she replied with a shaky voice. “Certainly it could rival any of Mama’s schemes.”

“You were never to have learned of my involvement. Had I known Mr. Darcy would betray my confidence, I would never have placed my trust in him.”

“He did not betray you, sir,” she answered, her voice raspy with emotion. “It was quite by accident that I learned of your meddling. In fact, I would say that Mr. Darcy’s attentions far surpassed anything you might have required of him.”

“From your improved spirits, I had gathered you found his companionship agreeable. Was I mistaken?”

The hue of Elizabeth’s cheeks tinted slightly. Would she have preferred never to have experienced the intimate moments they had shared? Would she wish them all away if she could? The answer to that question took little contemplation; no, she would not. But she could not tell her father of her heartbreak; she would suffer that in silence. Only she would ever know that while her time spent with Mr. Darcy was something she would treasure for the rest of her life, it would also serve as a painful reminder of her unrequited love.

“No, sir,” she softly replied as she tried to hide the tears that once again shone in her eyes. “I did enjoy his company, very much, both here and at Rosings. My regret is not his friendship but the means by which he bestowed it. Tell me, Papa, did you not once give thought to my pride?”

“So, it is a matter of
pride
that troubles you. That is surprising to hear, Lizzy, for it was your very
lack
of pride that prompted my actions.”

Elizabeth’s brow knitted as she looked at her father in confusion.

“Were you not proud of the extraordinary progress you made since the accident; that despite all odds, it was only your sheer determination that allowed you to walk again? Instead of accepting praise for your accomplishments, you punished yourself and tried to hide from the world. Where was your pride then, Lizzy?

“I know I overstepped my authority, but I could think of no other way to help you regain the self-assurance that you have been deprived of since the accident.”

Elizabeth made no reply as she thought upon her father’s words.