Six Inches Deep in Mud

Chapter 20

A fter the bustle of the ball and the torment of the disagreement with Elizabeth, the silence of my room is a blessing. I feel suddenly cold and put more wood on the fire before finally climbing into bed. I have slept poorly for more than two months now, but the last two nights provided me with no rest at all. I am exhausted and have drunk enough brandy to send me into a deep sleep. If only. The sound of the wind rattling the windows and the crackling of the fire are disturbingly loud to my anxious mind. I shall clearly not be able to sleep until I can speak to Elizabeth. Again, I try to guess the reason for her distress. It must be something that Mr Collins or Wickham said. What could both idiots know and have revealed to her to make her so upset?

I struggle with my cloudy mind for a while, until the revelation strikes my spinning head. It must be my supposed engagement to Anne! That is the only reasonable explanation. Lady Catherine must have mentioned it to her protégée, and certainly Wickham had the opportunity to hear about it years ago. This was the kind of information that the scoundrel did not forget but kept in a drawer of his mind, ready to use when needed. How can Wickham have spoken to Elizabeth about my supposed engagement? I need to find out. But that is the most reasonable explanation.

My heart is now wild with joy as I realise it was Elizabeth’s jealousy that caused her anger; I know it is selfish, but I cannot help it.

With a slight feeling of relief, I lie in bed and feel a large smile spread across my face. My poor dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! After our encounter filled with tenderness, after my promise to visit her father that very day, I ran away to London, and Bingley told them I had gone to resolve a matter with my aunt and my cousin. And then, those two fools arrived in Meryton and passed on the news that I was engaged to be married soon!

My initial joy turns into distress thinking about what she has been through. If her feelings are half as intense as mine, she must have suffered deeply for what looked like my betrayal. I am jealous and hurt only imagining that the clergyman intends to court her. He is a young man, handsome enough and with a decent situation in life. If he were less ridiculous, I would be tormented with worry to have a rival.

I am sorry that I did not work it out sooner. What a stupid fool I am! If I had guessed earlier, I might have insinuated something during our dance to assuage her worry, to let her know she has nothing to fear. I shall find a way to talk to her privately in the morning, at Oakham Mount, here in the house, or anywhere else, but I shall not prolong this torment.

I wish to sleep, but I cannot, and lying in bed is uncomfortable. I turn over and change the position of the pillow then my own position several times. Eventually, I give up and leave the bed in a more tangled state than if I had slept for a whole night. I stand up and pace from the window to the fireplace and back. There are already glimpses of the dawn on the horizon, but the entire house is in deep silence. I wonder whether Elizabeth is asleep. What luck Lydia Bennet’s accident was!

Instead of dizzy and sleepy, my head becomes clearer by the minute. My reasoning, however, is still wanting, and this is why I put on my robe and step out into the hall, walking to the door behind which I know Elizabeth is sleeping. It is the same room as last time. I stop, listening at the door. I must be out of my mind to act so foolishly. I press my ear to the door trying to detect a sound, a breath, a movement. There is no sound from inside, so I step away and then return. I briefly consider placing a note under her door — another silly and scandalous idea that I quickly dismiss, pushing myself to return to my chamber. A few steps later, I hear a sound that freezes my feet and my heart. I hardly manage to turn and see Elizabeth, staring at me. She looks very much like earlier when she stood opposite me in the dance, still dressed in the same gown, but her hair, loose on her shoulders, makes me think of our nighttime encounter in the library. Her eyes widen in wonder.

She says nothing, staring at me, and I move closer, searching for something to say, then whisper, “I beg your forgiveness. Did I wake you? I did not mean to. I could not sleep, and I thought… Forgive me…I shall be in the library, reading.” I am mumbling like an idiot, and I depart in a hurry, allowing her no time to reply. It would not do to be seen by anyone at her door, at that hour, in my nightclothes.

Indeed, I walk to the library via the kitchens. There are already two maids awake, stoking the fire and heating water, so I ask them for a pot of coffee in the library.

“Please knock when you bring it up. The door might be locked.”

“Of course, Mr Darcy. I shall bring it shortly,” one of them answers, and I nod my thanks.

I do not even know why I said that they should knock. Do I really assume Elizabeth will come? It is presumptuous, wishful thinking, and equally dangerous. If she does not come, it will prove she possesses more wisdom than I.

I have been alone in the library for a while, waiting. It was cold when I arrived, and I have stirred the fire back into life. There is still no sign of either Elizabeth or the coffee, and I desperately need both. My agitation increases, and irritating thoughts are spinning in my head again.

If I am right and the reports Elizabeth received were those I presume, it is vexing — alarming even! — that she gave them credit without asking me. Could she consider me so dishonourable as to be engaged to my cousin yet express my admiration for her and promise to go to her father? What intentions does she accuse me of? I am pained for her distress but also for my own. I do not doubt her feelings for me — she would not have kissed me otherwise, even if the kiss was so soft that it did seem unreal. A gossamer touch of something magical… Should I be more pleased with her affection or concerned about her lack of trust in my sense of honour? It was a bitter discussion that needs immediate attention. I wonder how she might feel if I pretend to be upset that I have heard of her future engagement to her cousin. Based on the rumours and on her own mother’s statements, I could have easily assumed that she had trifled with me too.

So entranced am I with my conjecture that I do not hear the door, only my racing heart indicates that Elizabeth has arrived.

She is still wearing her gown from last night, only her hair has been woven into a simple plait and tied with a ribbon, without any pins. She looks tired and hesitant, her hands clasped in front of her, her shoulders lowered.

“Miss Elizabeth! Please come in. You should sit on this armchair, near the fire. I just added a log, but it is still rather cold.”

I am torn between the desire to embrace and comfort her and a wish to confront her about her behaviour towards me.

“Thank you…I should not be here, but since neither of us could sleep, I believe it is better to talk about the present situation as soon as possible. I have been torturing myself long enough.”

She seems so dejected, and my first impulse is to comfort her when I notice she spoke only of her torment.

“And may I enquire about the nature of your torment? It is certainly related to me, but I am still at a loss as to what I am accused of.”

“I accuse you of nothing, sir. In fact, I blame my naivety. It pains me to know that you did not explain to me the true circumstances before we spoke of feelings that should not have been mentioned.”

Now I am sure I am right in my assumption.

“I am still confused about your meaning, Miss Bennet, and I beg you to be more specific.”

“Come now, sir, let us not feign ignorance. I am obviously talking about your engagement to Miss de Bourgh, for which you must allow me to congratulate you. Or perhaps I should congratulate you on a forthcoming wedding? I assume that was the reason for your hasty journey to London.”

I gaze at her; she is on the verge of tears. I am willing to put an end to this charade immediately, but she continues.

“I do not doubt the truth of your confession, sir. I know your claimed admiration and affection for me are probably true. And I imagine that you, like all other men of the world, believe you may enter into a marriage of convenience while making other arrangements based on affection. As hurt and offended as I am, I cannot put the entire blame on you. I should have known better than to assume more than a man like you could offer.”

Her statement brings me from the edge of tenderness to rage. What is she saying? Surely she cannot mean something so abominable!

“Pardon?” I almost shout. “Am I correct that you are accusing me of lack of honour and deception of the worst kind? Should I be content that you at least put some endeavour of civility into your outrageous accusation?”

She stands up, staring back at me with bewilderment.

“Perhaps you believe that since you are being insincere, I am too? Perhaps you speak of arranged marriages since you yourself are considering one.” I know I am being unfair, but I am too angry and tired to mind my words.

“Excuse me?” she replies. “You make no sense, Mr Darcy!”

“And you do, Miss Bennet? I may well congratulate you on your forthcoming marriage to your cousin Mr Collins! I received the report the day I returned, and I could see with my own eyes his partiality towards you.”

“But…this is absurd…” she whispers.

“Is it? Why would the rumours about my supposed engagement to my cousin be less absurd than the rumours about your engagement to your cousin? Why would my aunt’s desire to see my marriage to my cousin settled be more ridiculous than your mother’s desire to see you married to your cousin?”

She keeps staring at me, her countenance flitting between a succession of troubling expressions, from anger to disbelief and bewilderment. She is breathing irregularly, frowning; her lips are parted and her eyes narrowed.

A knock on the door allows me a little time to cool my anger induced by my hurt feelings and offended heart, of which I have lost control.

I ask Elizabeth to remain silent, and I slowly open the door to the maid bearing a tray of coffee and biscuits.

“Thank you, I shall take it,” I say. “That will be all.”

The maid leaves, and I lock the door. Elizabeth watches me silently as I place the tray on the table then return to her.

“Mr Darcy, there must be a huge misunderstanding,” she whispers.

“Of course there is, Miss Bennet. It took me a while before I guessed the reason for your sudden disapproval of me. You were told that I am engaged to my cousin, and you readily gave full credit to the report. Even worse, you assumed that I had intentionally deceived you with the purpose of drawing you into some sort of sordid arrangement. Can you deny that this was your estimation?”

“I do not wish to deny it. Indeed, I believed that…” she admits in a low voice.

“And this is your opinion of me! That I am a rake who seduced and deceived you while I was preparing for my marriage to another woman. This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed, and yet I foolishly believed you returned my affection and admiration! I cannot but wonder whether I was not the one deceived into believing more than there was!”

“Mr Darcy, you cannot truly believe that…”

“Why not, Miss Bennet, since you did?”

“Sir, I am sorry you feel like this. Truly sorry. I certainly did not wish to provoke your pain, but I cannot deny that I myself was deeply pained and hurt.”

She retakes her seat on the armchair, but I am still too disquieted, so I remain on my feet. The smell of the coffee is intoxicating, and my head aches, probably because of the brandy I drank during the ball and the accumulated tiredness.

“Perhaps I was wrong to come here at this hour,” she whispers after a brief pause. “We are obviously too tired and too agitated to carry on a reasonable conversation. There has been too much distress and too little sleep.”

Her voice is weak, and I can see how she is fighting tears. Her lower lip is quivering, and from time to time she is worrying it with her teeth. Her hands are clasped in her lap, and she rubs them, staring at them. My anger slowly dissipates in front of her dejection, so I pull up a chair in front of her and sit.

“Miss Bennet, I am sorry for walking to your room and disturbing you…I apologise. I should have known that my hurt feelings would overcome my good judgment. But I could not believe…I cannot understand still…what I have done, what I have said to induce you to think so poorly of me.”

“You are mistaken, Mr Darcy, if you believe that your words or your actions caused my doubts and suspicions. If you are not engaged to Miss de Bourgh and I allowed myself to be set against you on the basis of falsehoods, it is not your character at fault but mine.”

“I am not engaged, nor bound to anyone either by honour or affection. If I were, I could have never expressed my admiration for you aloud, even if I felt it.”

She nods, then averts her eyes.

I continue, “I do feel offended that your trust in me was so lacking and you were ready to assume the worst. Since the rumours came from two people of whom you cannot have a high opinion, the only conclusion can be that your opinion of me is poor. But if I am reasonable enough to examine the situation fully, I would admit that the error was understandable. I cannot even blame the two sources of your misinformation.”

“What do you mean? You said you are not engaged.” She finally turns her eyes to me with more curiosity than distress.

“Lady Catherine has claimed for years that there was a secret arrangement between her and my mother that Anne and I would marry when we were of age. I am not sure whether there truly was or under what circumstances. It was often mentioned, but my mother and father never spoke to me seriously about it. I assumed it must have been a discussion between sisters when Anne was born, three years after me.”

“I see…”

“My aunt took it in earnest and carried it with her over the years. When I turned eighteen, I specifically spoke to my father about it, and he told me there was no promise and no bond in regard to my choice of a wife. In truth, even if there had been, I doubt I would accept being captive to others’ arrangements for my future. We even had a discussion at that time — a rather sharp one — with Lady Catherine too.”

“So, why…?”

“Why? Because my aunt does not listen to reason. I have had too many discussions with her to remember, but she will not accept reality, especially since I have never shown any particular interest in a woman before.”

“Oh…she still insists, then…”

“Yes. It is highly possible that Wickham heard it mentioned over the years, and she has very likely told this fabricated story to Collins too. Miss Bennet, in regard to Wickham—”

“No, please no,” she interrupts me, placing her hand on my arm. “I do not wish to waste time talking about Mr Wickham now. I was wondering… Besides the expectations of her mother, Miss de Bourgh…does she not await…anticipate…expect, maybe even hope for this engagement? She must be suffering from a disappointment…”

“Anne has known my opinion since she was fifteen years of age. She has no particular regard for me either, except as a cousin and as the man who manages her estate. She inherited Rosings from her father and is the mistress of the entire de Bourgh estate. She could easily do whatever she pleases and marry whomever she wants.”

“I see… And may I ask what happened that required your return to town so suddenly?” she asks timidly. She looks at me and attempts a smile — one that I recognise.

“When I returned to Netherfield that day, muddied, bloodied, but blissfully happy, I found two letters, one from Georgiana and one from my aunt, who was — for a reason nobody knew — in London, in my own house. She claimed Anne was ill and my presence was needed. The main reason for my departure was my worry for my sister. She has always been intimidated by Lady Catherine’s presence, and I knew my aunt would claim control over the entire household.”

“And is Miss de Bourgh well now?”

“She is, I hope. She did not wish to stay and recover under our doctor’s supervision, despite my insistence, and chose to return to Rosings along with her mother. The main reason for my aunt’s journey to town was another attempt to discuss my marriage to Anne. She even…” I pause before I say too much.

“What is it? Please tell me. It concerns me.”

“It does not. My aunt suggested that I should marry Anne and then live a life of pleasure outside the marriage. My patience was quickly worn out, and we had a terrible quarrel that will not be easily forgotten. That is why I responded so strongly when I heard that you too thought me capable of duplicity. I beg your forgiveness for raising my voice in such an ungentlemanlike manner.”

“Oh…” she says, blushing and not daring to look me in the eye. “I deserve not an apology but a rebuke. My foolishness made me think the same as Lady Catherine. I am such a simpleton. I do not know what happened to me. I was so happy that day, and then the next one I heard from Mr Collins the whole narrative of your forthcoming nuptials. And I tried to dismiss it, but then Mr Wickham arrived. And he said the same… I doubted you, and I do not know why…”

Some tears finally escape from her eyes, and she wipes them with her free hand.

“I think I was frightened by so much happiness,” she says. “Everything I felt that day and the hopes for what would come seemed too good to be true. I feared I was assuming too much, that I had allowed my dreams to create what was not explicitly said. Since there was no agreement between us, I was scared that…”

Without much consideration, I bring her hand to my lips, and I kiss the back of it, my eyes locked with hers. Then I caress her fingers with my other hand. It might be too soon, too hasty, too unprepared. But waiting only brought us distress, so why wait longer?

“Now that we both agree the reason for the misunderstanding is elucidated, let us remedy it quickly, as we might be interrupted soon. If there was no agreement between us before, I beg you to settle it now. If I have not said enough, please let me do so.”

I pause for an instant before finding the words to offer my soul to her.

“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you. Since almost the beginning of our acquaintance, I was charmed, enchanted, and captured by you, as I never imagined might happen. My feelings for you are beyond what I believed love to be. I am holding your hand, and I hope you will allow me to hold it from now on, for the rest of our lives together and beyond.”

She stares at me, disbelief and adoration both apparent on her countenance. The smile blooming on her lips makes her eyes sparkle, and her free hand raises to touch my face too.

“In case there is still some misunderstanding, I am asking you to marry me, Miss Bennet. My beloved Elizabeth,” I add, and she begins to laugh tearfully.

I kiss her hand again, and — to my shock and happiness — she brings our joined hands to her lips and places a soft kiss on the back of mine, just as I did to hers a moment earlier. My heart melts with bliss, and I hastily move us both to her armchair and sit with her in my arms.

The space is too narrow for both of us, allowing, nay compelling, our bodies to embrace breathlessly. She lifts her head to look at me, and her lips part. I lean closer, inch by inch, in anticipation of what I shall feel when the kiss finally occurs. The waves of pleasure spread throughout my entire being as our lips join, proving how poor my imagination truly is.

I am lost to everything but the reality of having Elizabeth in my arms, her body brushing over mine, my thirst for her less quelled with every kiss and every caress that follows, one after another.

Eventually, I am not sure after how long, she puts a bit of distance between our mouths and, with her face only inches away, says, “In case there is still some misunderstanding, I happily agree to marry you, my beloved…?” She stops with an impish expression and a raised eyebrow, asking me to confirm my given name, which she has heard from Mr Collins.

When I hear it whispered by her lips, I can do nothing else but claim them again.

A while later, we realise that daylight has broken through the curtains, and we finally separate to hurry back to our respective rooms. Elizabeth leaves the library first, and, before I follow her, I notice the pot of coffee abandoned on the table. Apparently we did not need coffee to clear our minds and speak our hearts, but it will certainly be welcome later on, at breakfast.