was completely insensitive to the customary manners of society, but did he have to call it a ‘total lack of propriety?’ And how pitiful was his attempt to lessen the sting by saying that she and her eldest sister were different from their mother!
And the saddest memory of that terrible night — he had frightened her! He groaned aloud as that terrible look on her face would not leave his memory. That cursed Wickham! Would he never be free of his evil influence? First his sister and then the woman he loved! Out of the whole, blasted country, how could he surface in Hertfordshire?
As if these doleful thoughts were not enough to depress him, the more he pondered the actions he had taken to separate Bingley and Miss Bennet, the more he was disturbed by what he had done. He had acted in certitude and with no thought that the parties involved would suffer anything more than transitory pain. Yet Miss Elizabeth had informed him that her sister still suffered from thwarted hopes, and he could not doubt her sincerity. Given that opinion — especially after tasting the bitterness of rejection himself — he could not view his interference with any satisfaction whatever. He winced at the thought of the unhappiness he had caused.
Does Jane Bennet feel the same stabbing pain that I do? he wondered miserably. From her point of view, Bingley deserted her just when she had every right to expect that he would formally declare himself. If she feels the same as I, how can I pretend that I am not responsible? And what of Bingley? Does he feel the misery I feel at this moment? Does he still harbour love for a woman who, he believes, does not love him in return? The thought that he could have inflicted such pain struck at his good opinion of himself, and he quailed under a bitter lash of ruthless self-examination such as he had never before endured.
Darcy put his face in his hands. Even though he was relatively satisfied with his explanation of his conduct, he still could not escape the conviction that he had acted wrongly, despite his good intentions. Could he make amends for what he had done? Would Miss Bennet give him the chance? Would she meet him in the morning as she had agreed?
The uncaring fire that danced merrily in the fireplace had no answers, and Fitzwilliam Darcy had no one in whom to confide. He considered his cousin but rejected him. Surely, he had already retired; he was usually up before the sun — the result of years of military life — so Darcy had no one to debate with but himself. He most assuredly did not have the confidence of the one woman in the world with whom he most wished to talk.
Even if Miss Bennet will never see me again , he resolved, I cannot bear the thought of Bingley and Jane Bennet being in the same misery as myself. I must try to repair my fault on their behalf, no matter what else comes.
Chapter 5
Friday, April 10, 1812
Breakfast at Rosings was a dreadful affair for Darcy since he was anxious to be out of the house to the park. His aunt was as strident as always, but this time her attention was focused on him, and she spent half the meal chastising him for his disappearance the previous evening. He ignored her for the most part, restricting himself to a few responses as his cousin Fitzwilliam watched in some enjoyment but added no comment. At last, Darcy was able to excuse himself and leave the table. Fitzwilliam looked as if he might join him, but at Darcy’s slight shake of the head, he settled back in his chair. Shortly afterward, Darcy strode from the house toward the area of the park where he hoped to encounter Miss Bennet. He was anxious in two regards: whether she had already been up and out before breakfast, or even more alarming, whether she had decided against coming at all.
For her part, after a restless night, Elizabeth had awoken dreading the meeting she had agreed to with Mr. Darcy, for she had not yet recovered from the emotional tension of the previous evening. Soon after
And the saddest memory of that terrible night — he had frightened her! He groaned aloud as that terrible look on her face would not leave his memory. That cursed Wickham! Would he never be free of his evil influence? First his sister and then the woman he loved! Out of the whole, blasted country, how could he surface in Hertfordshire?
As if these doleful thoughts were not enough to depress him, the more he pondered the actions he had taken to separate Bingley and Miss Bennet, the more he was disturbed by what he had done. He had acted in certitude and with no thought that the parties involved would suffer anything more than transitory pain. Yet Miss Elizabeth had informed him that her sister still suffered from thwarted hopes, and he could not doubt her sincerity. Given that opinion — especially after tasting the bitterness of rejection himself — he could not view his interference with any satisfaction whatever. He winced at the thought of the unhappiness he had caused.
Does Jane Bennet feel the same stabbing pain that I do? he wondered miserably. From her point of view, Bingley deserted her just when she had every right to expect that he would formally declare himself. If she feels the same as I, how can I pretend that I am not responsible? And what of Bingley? Does he feel the misery I feel at this moment? Does he still harbour love for a woman who, he believes, does not love him in return? The thought that he could have inflicted such pain struck at his good opinion of himself, and he quailed under a bitter lash of ruthless self-examination such as he had never before endured.
Darcy put his face in his hands. Even though he was relatively satisfied with his explanation of his conduct, he still could not escape the conviction that he had acted wrongly, despite his good intentions. Could he make amends for what he had done? Would Miss Bennet give him the chance? Would she meet him in the morning as she had agreed?
The uncaring fire that danced merrily in the fireplace had no answers, and Fitzwilliam Darcy had no one in whom to confide. He considered his cousin but rejected him. Surely, he had already retired; he was usually up before the sun — the result of years of military life — so Darcy had no one to debate with but himself. He most assuredly did not have the confidence of the one woman in the world with whom he most wished to talk.
Even if Miss Bennet will never see me again , he resolved, I cannot bear the thought of Bingley and Jane Bennet being in the same misery as myself. I must try to repair my fault on their behalf, no matter what else comes.
Chapter 5
Friday, April 10, 1812
Breakfast at Rosings was a dreadful affair for Darcy since he was anxious to be out of the house to the park. His aunt was as strident as always, but this time her attention was focused on him, and she spent half the meal chastising him for his disappearance the previous evening. He ignored her for the most part, restricting himself to a few responses as his cousin Fitzwilliam watched in some enjoyment but added no comment. At last, Darcy was able to excuse himself and leave the table. Fitzwilliam looked as if he might join him, but at Darcy’s slight shake of the head, he settled back in his chair. Shortly afterward, Darcy strode from the house toward the area of the park where he hoped to encounter Miss Bennet. He was anxious in two regards: whether she had already been up and out before breakfast, or even more alarming, whether she had decided against coming at all.
For her part, after a restless night, Elizabeth had awoken dreading the meeting she had agreed to with Mr. Darcy, for she had not yet recovered from the emotional tension of the previous evening. Soon after
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