Folly and Forgiveness Read online

  “I do not scowl.”

  “As I am the one capable of witnessing your expressions, we will accept my opinion as more valid than yours. By and by, you are scowling now.”

  Darcy relaxed his face, certain he had not been scowling.

  “Have you ever spoken with Miss Elizabeth in a manner where she would be sure to interpret that you enjoyed her company?” his cousin asked, stepping back to consider Darcy.

  “Of course I have!” Certainly, he must have conveyed to her that he enjoyed her conversation. Had he not?

  Darcy knew his manners were not the open and welcoming ones that Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam possessed. He greatly envied their ability to converse so easily with any and all they met and put others at ease. However, he could not be so obtuse as to have led Elizabeth to believe he disliked her. If anything, he had feared raising her hopes when he knew he could not offer for her.

  He could not offer for her.

  Darcy leaned his head back against the tree and shut his eyes. Duty and family. He could not set aside duty to his family to offer for Elizabeth, no matter how much he loved her.

  He could believe that his duty was most important. Knowing she did not love him in return rendered the validity of the belief irrelevant, so he could cling to his sense of duty. Duty was a more palatable reason to accept her loss than the knowledge she would not want him anyway.

  He should be pleased she was not expecting his addresses, given that he had no intention of offering them. He certainly had no desire to hurt her, so really, they were both far better off if she disliked him and believed he disliked her.

  He opened his eyes, ready to return to the world, and saw Fitzwilliam watching him. Darcy was almost surprised to see he was still there. How long had he been sitting here, pondering what could not be and pitying himself?

  “What do you intend to do to rectify the situation?”

  “Nothing,” Darcy responded. “I cannot marry her, so changing her opinion of me serves no purpose.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam walked over and kicked the tree Darcy leaned against. “You are a fool,” he snapped, “but not the kind driven by love. Why can you not marry her? You – who have freedom like none other – why can you not choose to be happy?”

  Darcy was shocked by this outburst and could not remember the last time his cousin had spoken to him in such a way. “I have a duty –”

  “Oh, fie on your duty,” the colonel spat out as he stormed away. “I have little choice who I marry,” he said, turning back to Darcy. “I cannot choose to marry a girl without fortune unless I wish to subject her to a life of poverty. You,” here he pointed at Darcy as he walked back. “You have wealth enough that a dowry does not matter. I cannot choose a girl not of my family’s preference or I risk being disowned by both father and brother, and again, risk subjecting my wife to a life of poverty and social stigma.” The colonel angrily paced as he continued.

  “I could stand hardship for my own sake, but I could not inflict that kind of life upon a woman I love, nor upon any children we may have. But you,” here he turned and marched back to Darcy and again kicked the tree with force. “You have freedom unlike any other man I know. You can be indifferent to fortune without risk. You can be indifferent to connections and the preferences of your family without risk. You have the ability to choose whomever you want for any reason that you want. Yet you would throw away such a gift? You disgust me.”

  The colonel stopped and brushed the dust from his sleeves. Darcy could not help but feel the man was washing his hands of him as well.

  “Act, or do not,” Fitzwilliam replied, once again the colonel in attitude and posture. “The choice, as it always has been, is yours alone. You may wallow in your self-imposed misery, but do not complain to me for you will find no sympathy.”

  Without another word, the colonel turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Darcy to deal with his own troubles.

  CHAPTER 23

  Over the following days Darcy considered Colonel Fitzwilliam’s words and his own behavior towards Elizabeth. Mortifying as it was, he must admit to the truth of his cousin’s conclusions.

  Would his sense of duty outweigh his feelings for Elizabeth if he knew she cared for him? He was not certain, but felt it probable. Could Elizabeth possibly care for him if he could convince her that he did not dislike her? Again, he was not certain. Would a life with Elizabeth and her love be worth incurring the costs such a connection would involve? Such was the only thing he could be certain of.

  How he could accomplish such a feat, he did not know, but he would make the effort. If he had to follow her to Hertfordshire when she left Kent, he would do so.

  Darcy was delighted when Lady Catherine invited the residents of the parsonage to dinner as they left the church. He had spent most of the service contemplating how he could demonstrate to Elizabeth that he admired her.

  Darcy turned to catch Colonel Fitzwilliam watching him.

  “You appear to be planning, cousin.”

  “Indeed, I am.”

  “Good man,” the colonel replied as he slapped Darcy on the shoulder and walked on.

  Darcy would make more of an effort to be pleasant. He could not assume that Elizabeth would understand his feelings or motives, so he must be more overt than he was accustomed to behaving. He could not help but think of Miss Bennet and her social mask. Bingley may not have been able to discern the level of Miss Bennet’s feelings, but she had at least been able to convey that she liked him. Darcy had been so intent upon disguising his admiration that he had pushed Elizabeth further away. To counteract his past behavior, he would have to be much more open with Elizabeth.

  The women of London did everything in their power to catch his attention and were delighted with his company no matter how he behaved. He knew much of their delight in his presence was due to the size and prosperity of his estate rather than his personality, which was likely the reason he had never found any of them worth adjusting his behavior. He had never needed to exert himself much socially given how much his company was sought after. When his company was not sought by those attempting to gain from the acquaintance, Darcy was happy to be left to himself. He had few friends, but he valued and trusted those few intensely. He saw no need to accumulate further shallow acquaintances.

  But for Elizabeth, he would make the effort, painful as he knew it would be. Losing her forever would be far more painful than the temporary discomfort of socializing. Once he could make her understand how much he admired her, conversing with her would become easier. She would begin to understand him better and he would no longer need to act so out of character, for she would understand that he was not scowling at her from across a room.

  Yes, once she understood him better all would be well and he could be himself again. In the meantime, he would need to change his behavior, but he could pay that price for a short time.

  Darcy rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He had a plan and could see a path to his goal.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dinner that evening was somewhat uncomfortable, as he had expected. Elizabeth did her best to avoid looking at him and embarrassed color tinted her cheeks when she was unsuccessful. At least he hoped her color was still due to embarrassment and not anger at his behavior on their walk.

  She had only recently begun to resemble her old self and Darcy hated that he was the cause for any reversion back to subdued silence. He kept an eye on her across the table. She had been seated next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was doing his best to put her at ease. While he appreciated any efforts to make her comfortable, Darcy wished he were the one capable of calming her anxiety.

  Darcy sat next to his cousin Anne, a frequent placement at his aunt’s table, and did his best not to neglect her while still watching Elizabeth.

  “Ah, the colonel was correct. I could not see it, but I should know better than to doubt him.”

  Darcy turned back to Anne. “Pardon me?”

  “You are besotted,” she repli
ed with a knowing smile, a wider one than he typically saw from her during his visits.

  “I am no such thing.”

  Anne quirked an eyebrow at him, much the way Elizabeth did.

  “I will admit that I admire the lady.”

  “Besotted,” Anne repeated, nearly laughing at him. He had not seen Anne this animated in some time. “You have stopped glowering at her, so I must assume you are no longer angry at yourself for admiring her. I told Fitzwilliam he was wrong, that while you may like her, you were not in love. I will admit, I did not know how you would look in love, never having seen that expression upon you except when you speak of Georgianna. However, I knew you liked Miss Elizabeth by the way you always appear cross when she is near.”

  “I am not cross.” He wanted to throw his hands in the air in frustration. How could everyone, including those who knew him well, misinterpret his feelings in this way?

  “I said you appear cross, I did not say you felt that way. You so rarely show any emotion – save annoyance, but that may only be while you are at Rosings – that any change stands out. Given that you did not sneer at her, I assumed you were cross with yourself rather than with her.”

  “I do not sneer!” Good God, how was he to appear pleasant and friendly if his normal mien was so antagonistic? He knew Anne was teasing him, but did not believe she would describe his behavior falsely. He had listened to Fitzwilliam, but thought his cousin to be grossly exaggerating his descriptions of Darcy’s unfriendly demeanor. Anne’s offhand description of his unpleasant countenance concerned him.

  Darcy had long striven to hide any responses people could have interpreted as approving so as not to raise hopes of ladies and mothers desirous of a connection to Pemberley. Much as he enjoyed Bingley’s company, the constant attendance of the man’s sisters forced him to behave the same. Only at Pemberley could he feel truly at ease.

  While he knew he hid anything that could be construed as approval, he had not realized his only expressions left unrestrained were disapproving. He had thought he needed to be more open in displaying his approval to gain Elizabeth’s favor. Darcy had not considered that he would need to do more to check the expressions of displeasure that others were assuring him were his habit.

  Darcy had a much greater battle ahead than he had assumed.

  Anne bit her lip to hold back a laugh at his frustrated response, but she had caught her mother’s attention already. Lady Catherine looked quite pleased to see her daughter conversing with her assumed intended. Darcy groaned.

  “I am sorry,” Anne told him, her face returning to its normal mask of indifference. “I should have been more circumspect. I expect you will hear more talk of announcing a date now and I am sorry for my part in it.”

  “Do not concern yourself. I am accustomed to her harassment. I will say that I enjoyed seeing a bit of the real Anne surface, if only momentarily.”

  “She gets tired of hiding away all of the time, but she should know better than to make an appearance in front of her mother, especially when talking to you of all people.” Anne sipped her wine and glanced around the table in feigned boredom. “I will not look in your direction again. I doubt that will be enough to stop my mother, but it is all I can do for you at this time.”

  “I appreciate your discretion. I only wish it was unnecessary.”

  “It would be if you would get around to marrying someone else.”

  Darcy smiled into his wine glass.

  CHAPTER 24

  When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Darcy planned to speak to Elizabeth, but he was hindered in this goal by his aunt.

  “I say, Darcy, does Anne not look exceptionally well tonight?”

  “She does, Lady Catherine.”

  “The two of you appeared to quite enjoy each other’s company during dinner. I am glad to see you both finally making an effort with one another.”

  “I always enjoy my cousin’s company, just as I enjoy yours.”

  Lady Catherine paused. Apparently that was not the answer she had hoped to hear, so she launched into a long discussion of Anne’s virtues. Darcy made the appropriate noises at the appropriate times, but kept his attention on Elizabeth. Colonel Fitzwilliam had joined her and they spoke as they sat together.

  Elizabeth appeared to have regained her composure and was more herself now as she laughed at something the colonel said.

  “What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.”

  “We are speaking of music, Aunt Catherine.”

  “Of music! Then pray speak aloud. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.”

  Darcy watched Elizabeth bite her lip in amusement and smiled.

  “I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well unless she practices more. She is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room, much as her sister does. She would be in nobody’s way, you know, in that part of the house.”

  Darcy held back his groan at his aunt’s ill-breeding to speak in such a way. He looked to Elizabeth, anxious she had not taken too much offense, but discovered her eyes sparkling with silent laughter before she lowered them.

  “You are too kind, Lady Catherine,” she replied. She and Fitzwilliam exchanged words and then he led her to the pianoforte to play.

  As soon as Darcy was able to extricate himself from his aunt’s clutches, he escaped and made his way to the instrument to watch her. He must free himself to express his pleasure in her company and work to keep any less agreeable expressions from taking over. He felt he was learning the steps of a new dance and certain to trip.

  He approached and Elizabeth glanced up with an arch smile for him.

  “You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? I will not be alarmed. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

  Was he glowering again? He had tried to smile throughout his approach, truly he had. Elizabeth looked up at him briefly with bright eyes, and he realized with relief that she was teasing him.

  “I shall not say you are mistaken,” he replied, “because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you. I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.” Elizabeth laughed heartily in response, more so than she had in his presence for quite some time. He made sure he was smiling at her as she looked up at him.

  “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me,” Elizabeth said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, “and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit.” She returned her attention to the music for a moment.

  “Indeed, Mr. Darcy,” she continued with a mischievous smile, “It is very ungenerous of you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire—and very impolitic too—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your relations to hear.”

  Ah, this was the Elizabeth he had missed. He had longed for the sight of her arch smiles and cocked eyebrows as she engaged him in verbal fencing. He could parry as well.

  “I am not afraid of you.”

  “Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.”

  “You shall hear then, but prepare yourself for somethi
ng very dreadful. The first time of my seeing him in Hertfordshire, was at a ball. And at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances,” Elizabeth looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, “Though gentlemen were scarce, and more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner.”

  If she could tease him about the event in such a way, then she must no longer hold it against him. Hope surged and Darcy replied, “I had not at that time the honor of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.”

  “True, and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room.”

  She was no longer looking to Fitzwilliam at all, giving Darcy her full attention. Perhaps he could begin to explain himself, to help her understand his behavior. So far, their conversation was going better than any he could remember.

  “Perhaps,” said Darcy, “I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction. But I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”

  “Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam without looking in his direction. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”

  “I can answer your question without applying to him,” said Fitzwilliam, leaning back as he sent Darcy a wicked grin. “It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”

  Darcy sent a warning glare to his cousin as Elizabeth glanced at her music sheet.

  “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

  “My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do,” she replied absently as she read the music in front of her. “They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault,” she looked up and pinned him with her eyes, “because I will not take the trouble of practicing.” She held his gaze a moment longer as she played. “It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.”