Folly and Forgiveness: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Read online

  “You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns.”

  “Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”

  “His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy contemptuously. “Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”

  “And of your infliction.” She no longer felt wrong for speaking out. Mr. Darcy deserved to be shamed for his actions. “You have reduced him to his present state of poverty. You have withheld the advantages you know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life, of that independence which was his. You have done all this, and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule.” Elizabeth began to pace, unable to contain herself enough to even stand still any longer. “I do not know how you continue to call yourself a gentleman with the sins on your conscience.”

  “I can live with my sins quite well, thank you. I doubt Mr. Wickham could say the same – no, that is untrue. I doubt Wickham even notices his sins any longer, so heinous and great are their number. He cares not whom he may hurt in his reckless pursuit of his own interests. You would do well to beware, Miss Elizabeth. You would be far from the first to fall victim to his deceit.”

  “Such slander! Of what heinous sins can you accuse him?”

  “I will not speak of such things with a lady.”

  “A safe response to be certain. You say he is a blackguard and then fall back upon propriety for your excuse in withholding details.”

  “And I am certain he provided a great number of details, regardless of the impropriety in doing so,” Darcy shot back, his own anger rising to meet hers. “He has the skills to grace any stage and the cunning to know what phrase will best make his case. I speak the truth plainly and am disbelieved. Had I flattered you equally, you might weigh my words with equal care.”

  “You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose the mode of your declaration affected me in any way. From the very beginning of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I was certain you were the most cruel and vindictive person of my acquaintance.”

  “And this is your opinion of me? You have said quite enough madam. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness. I must take my leave of you.”

  Mr. Darcy turned and quickly walked away while Elizabeth watched, still trembling.

  CHAPTER 12

  How had he ever considered Miss Elizabeth intelligent? She was obviously not the woman he had thought her to be. To accuse him in such a way! What had he done or said to her that was so inappropriate it would have led her to such a conclusion?

  Darcy grimaced as he remembered Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst whispering to each other at the funeral luncheon. They were snide and cruel, but he should not be blamed for their statements. Had Miss Elizabeth heard them? No, that was impossible. Had she heard, she would have jumped up and exposed them then and there. She would not have been capable of sitting silently and letting their words go. Perhaps Miss Bennet had relayed their conversation. That must be it. Miss Elizabeth had heard of their statements and he was now guilty by association.

  She was correct on one point he must admit; his thoughts were not so innocent. Much as it shamed him, he had considered how Mrs. Bennet’s death could be socially beneficial for the family. However, he most certainly had never shared such a thought with anyone.

  He should not be surprised that Elizabeth was angry with herself for thinking such a thing. Had he not hated himself for thinking similar thoughts when his own father had died? Darcy had felt crushed under the weight of the responsibilities he was about to assume, but had been grateful that his father would at least not be present to criticize every mistake he made as he was learning.

  His father had insisted upon perfection at all times, making him a hard man from whom to learn anything. He had been most particular when it came to managing Pemberley and made sure his son would do the same. Darcy had come to hate learning the responsibilities that would one day be his own.

  Learning from Mr. Howard, Pemberley’s steward, had been much easier and less painful. Obviously, Mr. Howard could not berate the master of the estate for the expected errors of a student, but he was a warm and friendly man who had helped put Darcy at ease as he gained understanding and confidence. Darcy had finally felt capable of taking on the role of master of Pemberley due to Mr. Howard’s tutelage. He had already been well versed in estate management from what his father had taught him, but Darcy’s held no confidence in his understanding under his father’s lessons. When errors were the only points ever noticed, it was hard to believe himself capable. And so, Darcy had been glad he could finish learning his role from anyone other than his father – and had despised himself for that pleasure.

  Of course, he had not lashed out at others and blamed them for thinking he was glad his father was dead. On that point, Miss Elizabeth was most certainly in the wrong.

  But had he not wanted to do so? When the responsibility and grief and fear had become too much for him, Darcy had been able to ride his stallion, Thunder, across the land. He had ridden recklessly, desperate to burn off the painful emotions churning through him.

  What outlet had Elizabeth? She did not ride, could not run without being censured if observed. He was not surprised she had taken to throwing stones. Walking could not be enough of a physical exertion to rid her of the demons he knew she held inside at this time.

  He had not thought ill of her for doing so. What had Elizabeth called herself? A hoyden? Perhaps she was acting the part of a hoyden, but he would gladly keep her secret. Darcy had instantly known what she was doing and the inner struggle that had led her to do so. He had felt it himself many times.

  He had even attempted to put her at ease, given her obvious embarrassment. He hated to see her so upset and had tried to offer useful advice. Throwing heavier rocks further would have allowed her to feel some accomplishment in her endeavor at least, would have required the exertion that she needed to spend. Darcy had thought she could appreciate practical advice. He had found no comfort from those who had assured him all would be well, and he doubted she would find comfort in empty promises either.

  As he had walked up, he had envisioned teaching her how to throw properly to achieve the greatest distance. Once she had burned away enough of the hurt and anger, perhaps he could talk to her. He understood what she was feeling, he had lost his father only a few years ago. He could have helped her to understand she was not alone or abnormal in her feelings. The sight of Elizabeth suffering made his heart ache and he wished he could take some of her grief upon himself to spare her.

  Darcy snorted. What had that gotten him? She accused him of mockery. Mockery! He had tried to offer comfort and she saw it as an insult. He had been shocked enough at her misinterpretation of his motives, but then to hear her accuse him of being glad her mother was dead was more than he could take. He could recognize now that she was hating herself for having thought such a thing, and perhaps hating him if she thought he had been a party to the cruel conversation her sister had heard.

  Angry as he was, he could understand she was being unreasonable due to her grief. The same could not be said regarding her other charges.

  To throw Wickham at him, he found disgusting. She did not know who Wickham truly was and would not associate with him had she even the slightest inkling of his true nature.

  Darcy took a deep breath and slowed his gait. Miss Elizabeth was not the first to be deceived. Could he truly blame her when his own father had never seen Wickham? His father had the advantage of a greater understanding of the world a man of his years would naturally have over a lady of Miss Elizabeth’s age. His father’s acquaintance with Wickham was of far greater duration as well. Yet his father had never seen, or if he had, he never admitted, what Wickham really was.

&
nbsp; Much as Darcy wished to, he could not expect a sheltered lady to see the evil hiding behind the perfect presentation of such goodness.

  He would blame her for accepting all of Wickham’s assertions as truth and not even allowing for an alternate explanation. Why should she accept the word of a stranger against him? She trusted Bingley. If nothing else, she should have taken Bingley’s acceptance of Darcy as evidence of his value.

  I had not known you a month before I was certain you were the most cruel and vindictive person of my acquaintance.

  Instead she had seen only his supposed arrogance, conceit and selfish disdain for the feelings of others. There had to be more at work than Wickham’s lies forming her opinion, but he could not understand what.

  And she said she had disliked him so from the first moment of their acquaintance. What could he have done or said to spawn such contempt?

  He searched his memories. He had first seen her at that ghastly assembly, but they had not been introduced. He had not wished to be introduced to any of the ladies, given the foul mood he was in.

  He had received a letter from Georgiana that afternoon, but had received none of the pleasure he expected from her correspondence. Her spirits were obviously still low and she had again apologized for having disappointed and failed him. Darcy shook his head, still amazed that his sister could think she had failed him. It was painfully apparent to everyone else that Darcy was the one at fault, and Georgiana’s feelings of guilt only intensified his own feelings of failure.

  In such a mood, he knew he was not fit company, yet Bingley had insisted he accompany them to the assembly. He felt he owed that much to his host, but was determined not to expose his ill humor to Bingley’s new neighbors. Darcy had enough difficulty navigating social situations, he did not need to put himself at additional disadvantage by attempting the navigation when in ill-humor.

  He had been rude enough with Bingley, but knew Bingley would forgive him. What had he said to Bingley? Ah, yes, that it would be a punishment for him to stand up with any of the women there.

  Darcy slowed his steps and then stopped altogether as he remembered the rest of their conversation.

  She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.

  Miss Elizabeth had not heard him, had she? No, she could not have. But he had caught her eye, so she may have inferred the snub from a distance.

  Darcy thought back to Miss Bingley and Louisa whispering to themselves. They had attempted to lower their voices and been unsuccessful. He had not even made any effort to keep his words from travelling further than Bingley’s ears.

  Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. Had those been the first words she heard from him?

  He began to walk again, trying to remember every detail of the night. Had he not begun to admire her playful disposition after having declared her not handsome. He had watched her speaking with her friends with great animation and admired her liveliness. She had even caught his eye as she laughed.

  She was laughing at him. He was certain of it now. She had heard him and laughed at him with her friends.

  Laughter was not a bad response – was it?

  No, she must have felt the insult keenly. Elizabeth would never allow anyone to see she was hurt, she had her pride after all. She would make a joke of the situation. How better to demonstrate her own superiority than to acknowledge his insult and mock him for his abominable behavior while pretending not to care.

  That was Elizabeth’s first impression of him. Little wonder she was disposed to accept Wickham’s accusations at face value.

  But had they not conversed at Netherfield when her sister was ill? Surely, she must have felt more disposed to him at that time. He had certainly found her company quite enchanting.

  What had she actually said to him? He again replayed their interactions. What he had taken as flirtation was obviously a misinterpretation if she had despised him at the time. She had teased him, and he had assumed an intimacy and friendship that did not exist.

  Darcy felt a fool. He had struggled with his feelings, attempting to deny his attraction. He had even tried to justify to himself making her an offer, despite the enormous disadvantages.

  The more time he spent with Elizabeth, the more enamored he became. The more time she spent with him, the more she disliked him

  His only saving grace was that she did not realize his interest in her. She had accused him of cruelty and hateful thoughts, so she must assume he disliked her as intensely as she did him.

  Humiliation, anger, disappointment, pain – all warred within him, each emotion attempting to best the others as they fought for supremacy.

  It had been painful to realize that he cared deeply for Elizabeth, but would be unable to marry her. Far more painful was the realization she had no desire to marry him.

  No, she would far rather listen to Wickham’s charming flattery and flirtation. That Darcy should be rejected by one he cared so deeply about in favor of that snake! He felt ill. Would Wickham forever plague him? What more could he do to be rid of the man?

  Darcy had tried to warn Elizabeth, but she would not listen to him. If her words were to be believed, no one would believe him and all had accepted Wickham’s tale of woe. He could not win her and now he could not even protect her. A darkness flowed through his very soul. He had failed again.

  No – he had not failed yet. He would not fail to protect someone he loved from that villain again. Because he did love Elizabeth. What a time to come to such a realization. He felt himself the unfortunate hero of some Greek tragedy.

  No matter. His own feelings did not matter at this point. Elizabeth’s safety was at stake, and he would do his duty. As much as he wished to ride straight to London and never see this place again, he would stay. He would stay nearby and keep watch over Elizabeth and Wickham. Watching her accept Wickham’s attention would be his penance for driving her away in the first place. He could not be everywhere at all times, but he would do his best to keep watch, and hopefully, step in if necessary.

  He had to hope it would be enough.

  It was all he could do.

  CHAPTER 13

  Elizabeth left her house and walked to see Charlotte. Mr. Bingley was visiting Jane, and Elizabeth thought to give them some privacy. She expected a proposal would be coming as soon as they were out of mourning.

  Elizabeth was happy for Jane. She took a deep breath. She was happy for her sister.

  Perhaps she was a bit jealous, but she should not be. Had not Mr. Wickham been paying her enough attention? Unlike her sister, Elizabeth did not expect a proposal. Mr. Wickham had not the means to support a wife and family. They had Mr. Darcy to thank for that. Although to be fair, had Mr. Darcy honored his father’s wishes, Mr. Wickham would have a comfortable life in Derbyshire and Elizabeth would never have met him. She would gladly sacrifice the acquaintance if it meant Mr. Wickham’s security, but as she had no magic lamp or genie to call upon to grant her wishes, her willingness was irrelevant.

  Elizabeth found Charlotte sitting on a bench in the garden and joined her.

  “Eliza, I am glad to see you. Do you come with a purpose or are you out to enjoy what traces of sunshine can be found at this time of year?”

  “I come to see you.”

  “Is Mr. Bingley visiting again?”

  “He is,” Elizabeth admitted.

  “And you needed an escape from the lovers and their radiant happiness?”

  Elizabeth smiled. Charlotte understood and would not think less of her for it.

  “I am actually come to talk to you. Have you time to take a walk with me?”

  “Of course.” Charlotte rose and joined arms with her friend.

  They walked a familiar trail that provided some privacy, but still had enough visibility that they would not be surprised by anyone who might choose the same path.

  “What is making you uneasy?” Charlotte asked.

  “I am not uneasy,” Elizabeth began to deny, then stopped. “I suppose I am
a bit uneasy.” She paused to collect herself and then began.

  “My father has decided he needs to remarry.”

  “So soon?”

  “It is not what you are thinking. He is not looking to make a love match. He is thinking that he needs an heir.”

  “So he is considering a marriage to secure your future?”

  “He is.”

  “Yet you feel he is betraying your mother.”

  “Of course not,” Elizabeth started, but a look from Charlotte cut her off and Elizabeth looked away. “Perhaps I do. I know it is not reasonable.”

  “Feelings seldom are,” Charlotte replied with a laugh as she patted Elizabeth’s arm. “Would your mother object to your father attempting to provide greater security for you and your sisters?”

  “No, she would encourage any effort that would improve our situation when he dies.”

  “If he is marrying for duty, your mother could hardly be offended. She did everything in her power to secure matches for you and see to your futures. Your father wishes to make preparations should matches not occur. It is a sensible plan, Eliza. Having met Mr. Collins, I would not place my hopes and expectations in his providing for all of you. In your case especially, I should not expect to find a permanent home with a man you once rejected.”

  “But you would not marry for duty, would you?”

  “Oh Eliza, marrying for love is not an expectation I hold as you do. I ask only a comfortable home. Given my age, I fear I would accept much to guarantee my own home.”

  “But Charlotte –”

  “No Eliza, let me speak,” she interrupted. “This is a subject where we do not agree. I know you thought your mother wrong to push you to accept Mr. Collins, but she was not completely unreasonable to do so. A lady must marry or she becomes a burden to her family. You are still young enough that you have time to make a match more of your choosing before you are too old to attract an eligible offer. If your father dies, however, you will be out of time, regardless of your age. The daughter of a gentleman has status. The impoverished daughter of a dead gentleman does not. Your mother’s primary goal in life was to secure husbands for her daughters before their father could die. She had not the luxury of waiting for you to find love in your own time.” Charlotte paused, gauging Elizabeth’s reaction.