Posted on Thursday, 11 September 2003
She was trembling. She was cold. This autumn was unusually mild but she could not get warm. There was no escape from this cold for it was within her, in her heart, in her soul, in her thoughts. Only yesterday she was the happiest creature in the world, full of dreams and hopes, overwhelmed with joy and delight. Only yesterday everything seemed perfect to her, life promised such a happy and cloudless future devoid of troubles and sufferings. With what delight did she anticipate every new meeting with him – the man whom she loved and trusted. And now she was miserable. She did not want to see him any more. She wanted to fall asleep, to forget all she had heard. And still she knew it to be impossible.
She did not cry. She was too exhausted to cry. Her happiness turned to be so fragile. She believed him and he deceived her.
The previous day did not promise any extraordinary events. Mr Bingley and Jane were as ever engaged in quiet and peaceful conversation, Mary was upstairs working hard for accomplishments, Kitty gaped from time to time searching in vain for some amusement. Mr Bennet withdrew to the library tired of his wife’s talkativeness and Mrs Bennet was to entertain the party as she could. Though Elizabeth had already been used to her mother’s lack of propriety she still could not remain calm and indifferent witnessing her unnecessary obsequious attention towards Mr Bingley and her fiancé
Elizabeth had to leave the drawing-room for some time but on her return she did not find the gentlemen there. Jane explained to her that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were in the garden and before she could add that they needed to talk privately Elizabeth thanked her and went in search of Mr Darcy. She had been walking in the grove some time, at last tired and sat down on the bench near as mall wood on one side of the paddock. She already decided to stop searching when she heard familiar voice say –
“No, Bingley, you can not persuade me. Do not tell me what I am to do. I know perfectly well how I should act. I will not be able to bear her company, especially at Pemberley. She is the last person I wish to see there.”
Bingley replied in a confused tone –
“Darcy, do not forget that she is your relation.”
“Relation!” exclaimed Darcy contemptuously. “Yes, she is my relation but I owe nothing to her. She can not expect to receive respect and attention from me, especially considering her shameful and unpardonable behaviour. I will do everything in my power to protect my wife from what I will call a most undesirable company.”
Elizabeth could not listen to him any more. She was roused from her seat searching desperately for a quiet place where she could be alone. She felt relief at being unnoticed by the gentlemen for had they seen her she would have died from shame and confusion. She went upstairs and only in her room burst into tears. Half an hour was insufficient for her to regain her composure, but she had to return to the guests.
The next two hours spent in Darcy’s company seemed an eternity to her. Grave and uneasy, she scarcely said a word to him surprising him by her silence. At last he was gone but only late in the evening when she was alone she could think over what she had heard. Again and again she dwelt upon every harsh word, every cruel expression of his. She could not believe. She did not want to believe. Her faith in him had been overthrown, all her world had been destroyed. He had told her so many times that he could tolerate her family, that all the whims and nerves of her mother, al the follies of her younger sisters were nothing o him, he had even apologized for his former rude comments on her relations. During last weeks she saw him act in a most gentlemanlike manner towards al her family. So his conduct was pretence, a falsehood? He obtained her hand and affection and was determined to seclude her from all her relations who would become a most undesirable company for Mrs Darcy. She could understand his abhorrence to be an object of her mother’s attentions, before she had been grateful to him for his patience. But now, when she had learnt the real reason of his forbearance, she could not forgive him and, moreover, she could not forgive herself for being so blind as to forget his pride and hauteur. His affection for her must be strong enough to marry her, but still he could not reconcile himself with her low-born and ill-bred relations.
Elizabeth went to the window and saw Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley ride towards the house. She sighed heavily. Another day of pretence. How would she talk to him, smile at him knowing that awful truth? He was to be her husband, her friend, her partner in life, she ought to believe him, she ought to believe in him.
She knew this could not continue long. She knew she must talk to him and dreaded his probable reaction. Would he be angry? Would he wish to break off their engagement? Or, perhaps, she should remain silent, do not risk her future with him? Would she be able to live without him? She loved him so much despite all her pain and misery, she still loved him.
They were alone. Darcy looked at her expectantly. He understood that she had something to tell him.
“I overheard your conversation with Mr Bingley in the park,” she said quietly.
Darcy frowned.
“I am sorry that you have heard what could give you uneasiness.”
“Uneasiness?” cried Elizabeth with energy. “Not uneasiness, Mr Darcy, but pain! How could you say such words? How could you expect me to forgive such a cruelty?”
“I do not understand you, Elizabeth,” said Darcy in a less tranquil tone. “Do you dare to talk to me in such a manner? What do you mean?”
Elizabeth bit her lips.
“Perhaps, Mr Darcy, my family is not so rich and noble as yours but it did not give you any right to think my mother a most undesirable company for me.”
“Your mother?” exclaimed he, extremely astonished. “But I did not mean Mrs Bennet, I referred to my aunt.”
Elizabeth started in horror. She closed her eyes trying to escape his gaze. Again she mistook his words and character; again she had trusted appearance instead of inner contents. She grew ashamed of herself.
She had never been so miserable in her life before.
At length the restrained voice of her companion broke off the unbearable silence –
“I thought you knew me better Elizabeth. I thought you learnt to trust me. I thought you would not let your former prejudice lead you any more. I was mistaken, wasn’t I?” he laughed bitterly. “Is your faith in me so weak that you thought me capable of such an impropriety? I can not understand, Elizabeth. I thought I gave you enough proofs of my love for you and still you doubt me.”
What could she say? That she was sorry, heartily sorry? She knew that all her words would not be enough to make him forgive her.
It was so painful to se anguish in his eyes, to hear bitter notes in is voice. It was she who made him suffer. This thought was unendurable. What could she do to lessen his pain, to console him? Nothing could help. She could find no words.
A sarcastic smile distorted Darcy’s face.
“You are silent, Elizabeth, absolutely silent! Can you justify yourself? Why are you so ready to believe in the worst where I am concerned? How can you explain that to me, to a man whom you intended to marry?”
He paused, looked at her as if expected some explanations, then added –
“I must leave you know. I must think. I just need to be alone.”
And he left. She stood immovable from shame and mortification. Her eyes were full of tears. What had she done? How could she destroy all her hopes for happiness? It was unbelievable and still it was all her doing, her own work.
Elizabeth felt much more desperate when on her return home she did not find there Darcy who left several minutes earlier. She knew how to interpret his departure. She knew she had lost him.
The night was spent in serious and bitter meditations. It became clear to her that she had never been worthy of him, that his understanding and character had been ever so superior to her own. She realized that since their engagement she was afraid of something what she could not explain. This fear was hidden deep in her soul and the conversation she had overheard by chance had awakened all her former fears and scruples. She could not justify herself, but she still could not completely believe that he was hers, that he loved her as well as she loved him.
And at times this torture became unbearable and she was not able to refrain from a heavy sigh. She walked about her room, desperately trying to collect all her remaining courage for conversation with him.
Only early in the morning she could fall asleep, at last knowing what she should do.
She sent him a message with a request to meet her in the park. When she reached the spot where they were to meet he had already been there. She did not wait for his greetings and simply said –
“I will not apologize for my conduct yesterday for it was unpardonable. I know I have no excuse. If you want to break off our engagement I will not object. You need not disturb yourself, for I will take all the guilt on myself.”
“Why are you doing this, Elizabeth?”
“Because it is all my fault. Because I will regret every word I said yesterday for the rest of my life. Because I was thoughtless, ignorant, indifferent to your feelings. Because this is the least I can do for you.”
“Do you love me, Elizabeth? You have never said these words to me.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. She did not want to tell him she loved him in such a way, under such circumstances, when he was so distant and cold. But she ought. She owed to him at least this confession.
“I do. I do love you, more than I could imagine.”
A very faint smile touched is lips.
“Then you have my forgiveness. And my love.”
She looked at him, unable to believe that she was forgiven.
“I know I do not deserve such a kindness from you. And yet, thank you. I can not tell express how grateful I feel. I will never doubt you in my life any more.”
Perhaps, I have forgiven you with a certain purpose, Elizabeth, for I need your forgiveness too.”
“My forgiveness? I do not understand.”
“My behaviour to you yesterday was very rude. Perhaps, my anger was justifiable and yet I must have restrained myself from such a display of my sentiments. I, who promised to love and cherish you all my life, acted as a fool. Will you forgive me, Elizabeth?”
“I will,”” whispered she. “ If you promise me to forget all what happened yesterday.”
“I will make no promise of the kind. We must remember. We should not repel painful recollections, which will intrude. My disastrous proposal to you at Hunsford, our distrust and lack of faith in me must not be forgotten. Life is neither ideal nor cloudless, and we can not expect our future to be perfect. But I hope we will become more acquainted with ourselves and will not let such misunderstandings to darken our lives.”
“And still I will do everything in my power to make you forget.”
“You may try. You have a whole life for it.”
And he smiled at her.