The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

E lizabeth Bennet briefly caught the eye of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy as she took a seat on the edge of the assembly room. She did not have a partner for the set, and this was the only empty chair. As the dance began, she glanced at him several times and was certain he looked her way too. As soon as he had entered the room, Elizabeth had been drawn to his tall, elegantly clad figure; she had hardly noticed his companions: Mr Bingley, the Bennets’ new neighbour, and his family. But whatever attraction she had felt had quickly vanished in light of his comportment. All night, he had impressed her with his disdain for everything and everyone he saw.

Her dislike became fixed when Mr Bingley came to encourage his friend to ask a lady to dance, proposing Elizabeth. Turning towards the gentlemen, she saw Mr Darcy studying her as he said, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me .”

Elizabeth felt her eyes widen, and, as he went on to claim she had been slighted by other gentlemen, she swallowed a laugh. Mr Bingley returned to the lines of dancers where Elizabeth’s sister Jane awaited him. Feeling as though someone was watching her, she looked about, only to realise it was Mr Darcy. Yet again, their eyes briefly met before he turned away, his haughty expression unwavering. That he had insulted her, and evidently did not care that she had heard him, almost made her feel as though she were living in a farce, and he was the chief actor. Why had he come if all he intended to do was show how little he thought of everyone present apart from his friends? Did he take pleasure in sneering at people he considered his inferiors?

It is a pity. There is no denying he is handsome, and I would not have objected to speaking to him, perhaps even dancing with him. Now all I wish is to avoid him forever.

Catching sight of her dearest friend, Charlotte Lucas, across the room, Elizabeth went to her.

“Are you enjoying yourself, despite your lack of partners, Eliza?” Charlotte asked. “It is a pity that Mr Bingley did not bring more gentlemen with him and that the two he did bring are not inclined to dance.”

“Mr Darcy might be—if only there was a lady worthy of his attention.” Elizabeth fluttered her eyelashes in imitation of a coquette.

In a whisper, she told Charlotte what she had overheard. They laughed about it, but soon, Elizabeth’s good mood diminished. It began when Mrs Long sought her out to say, “Do not mind what that man said of you. You are a very pretty girl, and no matter how rich he is supposed to be, he is ill-mannered. Why, he sat beside me for half an hour and said not a word!” She patted Elizabeth’s cheek and walked on.

In the period that followed, multiple people spoke to her about Mr Darcy’s slight, some with humour, some with pity, and one or two people with thinly disguised delight. Amongst the latter was one lady who had a daughter she was desperate to see married, and she was only too happy to ensure everyone she met thought highly of her girl and poorly of all others. When Elizabeth saw her whispering to various people, occasionally glancing or pointing in her direction, she was sure the hateful woman was discussing the incident and exaggerating what Mr Darcy had said, even though she had not witnessed it herself. Likely, she was also comparing Elizabeth to her daughter—who, naturally, was prettier, more accomplished, and in every way better than she.

With each passing minute, her embarrassment and anger became more acute, causing clashing sensations of icy cold and burning heat throughout her body. She spied Mr Darcy—the hateful man—still calmly walking about the room, his lips curled in dislike as he regarded the people and activities. Immediately, the blood vessels in her head began to throb.

When she and her family were at last preparing to leave, she whispered to Jane, “You cannot imagine how glad I am to be going. What a wretched night!”

All she wanted was the solitude of her bedchamber and the promise of not having to see any of her neighbours for as long as she could manage it. And she fervently hoped Mr Darcy would return to London and she would never have to see him again .

“Mr Bingley is charming and everything a young man ought to be!” Mrs Bennet clutched her hands to her chest and grinned. But then her expression darkened, and she huffed. “But his friend! You would not believe what he said of our Lizzy. How I wish you had been there, my dear, to give him one of your set-downs.”

Elizabeth wanted to sigh and sink further into the soft chair; she had attempted to escape the drawing room and go to her chamber, but she had yet to find a reason that would not draw unwanted attention. If she did not find a way to leave soon, she would have to endure listening to her mother recount every moment of the assembly to Mr Bennet, which she suspected would take above an hour.

As her mother mentioned that the detestable Mr Darcy had insulted Elizabeth, she felt heat spread up her neck and into her cheeks. The way her father examined her, his brow arched high, suggested he had noticed.

“What was his complaint?” Mr Bennet asked. “Lizzy does not look excessively upset. A bit hot perhaps, unless her colour comes from embarrassment. Surely this Mr Darcy could not have said anything that bad in a public setting.”

Hoping to end the conversation quickly, Elizabeth said, “He behaved abominably, and not only towards me, so I care nothing for his opinion. Charlotte and I laughed at how ridiculous the whole thing was and?—”

“He refused to stand up with her,” Lydia, her youngest and most impatient sister, interjected. “Mr Bingley wanted him to ask her, but he refused ! He said she was not handsome and deserved to be slighted. ”

“He did not say I deserved to be slighted,” Elizabeth said, giving in to the desire to roll her eyes as a sign of her frustration. She also made a noise of dismissal that was louder than she had intended and almost worthy of the farce she had felt she was in earlier that evening.

“Lydia, I am sure he said no such thing and that there is more to the story than what we know. Mr Bingley speaks very highly of Mr Darcy,” Jane said.

Elizabeth scoffed, but before she could respond, Mrs Bennet said, “No doubt Mr Bingley believes the best of his friend, and it does him credit to have such a generous view. In this instance, he is mistaken. Mr Darcy is a horrible, rude?—”

“Mama,” Elizabeth said, hoping to change the subject. She failed, however, and her mother continued.

“ Everyone was speaking of it. I do not know who first overheard him, but they were quick to spread it to the whole room. Mrs Howe is jealous because that daughter of hers is not nearly as pretty as any of my girls, and you can be sure she repeated it again and again. The entire town will be talking of nothing else for weeks!”

Disregarding his wife, Mr Bennet looked at Elizabeth and asked, “What exactly did Mr Darcy say? No, Lydia.” Without turning his head towards his youngest child, he held up an admonishing finger. “Your sister will tell me.”

Elizabeth wiggled her toes, which were sore after so long in dancing slippers, and told her father what had happened, being as concise as possible.

Mr Bennet’s face hardened, and he kept a steady, firm gaze on her. Around them, her sisters and mother resumed their chatter about the assembly. Fortunately, Lydia and Kitty were more interested in discussing what other ladies had worn—especially the elegant and heretofore unknown Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley—than Mr Darcy, and Mrs Bennet was never one to forgo the opportunity to speak of fashion.

Unfortunately, when the other ladies began to leave the drawing room, her father requested that Elizabeth stay behind. Once they were alone, he asked that she again describe exactly what had happened with Mr Darcy and what other people had said to her afterwards.

She did her best to satisfy him, then concluded, “Truly it was nothing. Why should I be discomposed by the ill opinion of such a man? I advise you to forget it. That is exactly what I shall do!” She laughed to show the entire affair was amusing rather than distressing, although, admittedly, it had stung—both Mr Darcy’s insult and the way people had spoken of it afterwards.

There were some thoughts she would keep to herself, such as the initial attraction she had felt for Mr Darcy. She had not much liked Mr Bingley’s family; his sisters evidently thought they were superior to those they had met, and Mr Hurst had looked as if he smelt something foul. Elizabeth had heard Mrs Hurst boasting of Mr Darcy’s grand estate in Derbyshire, and it had left her with the impression that there was an understanding between the gentleman and Miss Bingley. On the one hand, she thought two such disagreeable people deserved each other, yet on the other, it disappointed her, for reasons she did not comprehend.

Her father soon dismissed her, having hardly spoken himself. Elizabeth gratefully kissed his cheek and fled to her chamber.

Rupert Bennet watched as Elizabeth left the room. How could Mr Darcy look at her, the most admirable of his girls, and dismiss her? As much as he often called his daughters silly, especially the three youngest, and thought girls should be left to their mother’s care, he truly believed that Jane and Elizabeth were estimable and that Mary, Catherine, and Lydia would naturally become more like them as they matured. It might be another few years, but one day, he would be able to contemplate what fine, sensible, well-behaved young women all his daughters were.

If Mr Darcy could insult Elizabeth, what did that mean for her sisters? Might other gentlemen have a low opinion of them? It seemed impossible, yet…

Bennet sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was tired and should have sought his bed long ago. He found it amusing to hear his wife and daughters speak of their evening entertainments, if only so he could tease them, but he had never liked keeping late hours. The best thing he could do for himself was to forget the entire business of Mr Darcy and his ill-conceived words. After all, what could he do about it; he had not even been present when the sorry episode happened. Accordingly, he pushed himself out of the armchair and made his way to his chamber.

At breakfast the next morning, Bennet found he could not rid himself of the irritation of knowing a man he had never met—which for some reason made his vexation worse—had spoken so harshly about his dearest girl. He observed his daughters as they chatted and steadily ate their meal. Unconsciously, he was looking for fault, some reason Mr Darcy had felt it reasonable to act as he had. There could be none, of course; even if Elizabeth and her sisters were the most tiresome creatures in the kingdom, it would not justify him or any other person speaking poorly of them, especially in public.

In as much as he could be glad about anything to do with this disgusting business, he was relieved Mr Darcy had not taken it into his head to insult Jane. She was too tender-hearted to laugh it off as Elizabeth had. None of the younger three would have cried over it, but there was a little something—almost like an itch at the back of his consciousness—telling him that overhearing such a dismissive statement would have injured Mary and Kitty. As for Lydia, he could not say why, but instinct suggested it would have been terrible for her too.

Instead, that wretched man chose my Lizzy! How could he have seen her—Bennet’s most worthy girl—and refused to dance with her? How could he call her not handsome? It was preposterous! Any man would be fortunate to earn her regard. Slighted by other gentlemen? Was this Mr Darcy blind or merely stupid? There were hardly ever enough partners for all the women at the assemblies. It was a frequent topic of conversation in drawing rooms across the area. If Mr Darcy was any sort of gentleman, he would have participated more, ensuring the single young ladies went home with fond memories of the evening.

What kind of father would let an insult to one of his daughters stand unchallenged? The thought surprised him, but in an instant, he knew it was true. He was far from being a young and foolish man and had no intention of calling out Mr Darcy, but the man must be told that what he had done was unacceptable.

Elizabeth might laugh about what happened and soon forget it, but Bennet would not.