The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

D arcy went from watching Miss Elizabeth walk away to staring at the man next to him. He had been introduced to Mr Edward Best earlier that evening and had thought him the usual sort of young man who spent his life in a small rural community—simple but inoffensive. Not long after the Bennets had arrived, it had been evident that he was infatuated with Miss Elizabeth, which Darcy found oddly irritating. Or perhaps what he meant was baffling. To be sure, Edward Best was not a bad looking fellow, but he was a bit soft. As soon as Darcy had the thought, he stopped himself. It was not especially kind, and if Bingley knew of it, he would be disappointed. What would he say? Likely that we do not know young Mr Best’s circumstances. He might be recovering from a broken limb that has kept him from his usual exercise.

Currently, Darcy decided he preferred his explanation for the man’s full cheeks and the slight roundness of his belly, which were sure to get worse with age; he spent more time at the table than at sport. He must also be stupid to have said what he had regarding Miss Elizabeth’s dance partners. Darcy recognised that it was hypocritical of him to question another person’s ill-chosen words, but he had not known Miss Elizabeth when he insulted her; Mr Best liked her, might even think he was in love with her!

“It appears she does not wish to speak of that evening, so I expect you will not mention it again. I hope—for Miss Elizabeth’s sake—everyone ceases to remind her of it,” Darcy said, satisfied with the other man’s chagrined expression. Because he believed it was the right thing to do, Darcy then engaged him in conversation for several minutes, asking him the sorts of questions one is supposed to ask of people they have just met. Thus, he discovered Mr Best was indeed not fond of sport or walking for pleasure, but he enjoyed cards and other parlour games. He also was not much of a reader, and once Darcy discovered that, he could think of nothing else to say to the man.

All evening, Darcy had noticed Bingley glancing his way as though seeking reassurance that his friend’s behaviour was what he wanted it to be. It was another source of vexation for Darcy, and it was almost enough to make him vow to arrange his hasty departure from the neighbourhood. But he did not want to lose Bingley’s friendship, and while he believed Bingley’s concerns about his reputation being damaged amongst the local population were unfounded, he was not prepared to risk it. Not yet, at least.

And, funnily enough, he was beginning to want to apologise to Miss Elizabeth. Was it seeing how annoyed she was at Mr Best’s comment about the assembly? It would be too much to say she was distressed by it, and if she had laughed about it—as he was sure she had done that night—he would forget about it, but she had not. Instead, she looked like she wanted to upbraid him or maybe even deliver a swift kick to his shin. The flash of something in her eyes before she had walked away was almost captivating.

Not almost, Darcy was forced to admit, just as he was certain that Miss Elizabeth had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen; they radiated her emotions.

Leaving Mr Best, Darcy joined Bingley, who was standing with Miss Bennet and several other people whose names he could not recall but felt he should. Bingley pulled him aside so they could speak privately.

“Why were you scowling at Mr Best?” Bingley asked. Bingley looked more concerned than reproving, which was just as well. As much as Darcy wanted to maintain their friendship, there was only so much scolding he would accept—and he had tolerated more than enough the other night.

“Was I? I did not mean to.”

“I saw you and Miss Elizabeth speaking to him, and she did not look pleased when she walked away. I asked her whether she was well, and she said she was.”

Darcy told him what had happened. “I hoped for an opportunity to show her I can be polite. She is with Miss Lucas now and appears to have suffered no harm from my company—or that of Mr Best.”

“Darcy…” Bingley said, his tone conciliatory .

He waved away whatever his friend meant to say next. “Think nothing of it. Come, let us return to Miss Bennet and her friends.”

For the rest of the party, Darcy remained with Bingley, and after an elaborate if not toothsome supper, they returned to Netherfield. He did not speak to Miss Elizabeth again, but he was keenly aware of where she was—and that she was avoiding him.

As she did whenever possible, Elizabeth went for a walk early on the morning after the Bests’ soirée. In her opinion, the day was perfect for such an excursion, the autumn weather being neither too hot nor too cold, the sun appearing between the clouds often enough to provide a lovely warmth to her skin and added brightness to the countryside, and the breeze light. She reflected on the previous evening and determined she must ask her father to tell Mr Best—senior or junior, as he liked—that she was not interested in more than a friendship, really an acquaintanceship, with Mr Edward Best, and this time, he needed to be more direct about it.

Perhaps then he will cease to hover whenever we are together!

In thinking of the party, she could not help remembering Mr Darcy. “Yet another irritating gentleman,” she muttered. “Really, no decent person should be expected to keep company with more than one at a time!”

She was satisfied that she had managed to avoid his company for the most part, but he had looked at her so often! It seemed that whenever she happened to catch a glimpse of him, his gaze was on her. She made a noise of frustration and shook her hands in an effort to dispel her simmering frustration; it was much more agreeable to appreciate the quietude of the country and remember what made her happy.

Some while after setting out from Longbourn, she heard the unmistakeable sounds of a horse approaching. Elizabeth wondered who was riding the creature and hoped she would not be obliged to do more than say good morning—if even that—before they parted and she took advantage of her remaining solitude; she would have to return home for breakfast soon.

She was already smiling politely in anticipation of the expected greeting, but when she saw who it was, she fought not to scowl instead. Mr Darcy. Why did it have to be him? Swallowing the unpleasant emotions that had reappeared as soon as she recognised him, Elizabeth nodded and turned to follow the path back to Longbourn.

“Miss Bennet, please, a moment of your time,” he said.

Elizabeth’s steps halted, but she did not face him. By way of dismissal, she said, “Good morning, sir,” and resumed walking.

“Will you not speak to me for a few minutes?” His voice was too firm to make her believe he actually wanted to talk to her. “I had hoped we might yesterday, but obviously, we did not have the opportunity. I consider it fortunate that we met.”

She stopped again and kept her back to him. “ Whereas I do not. My father has insisted that I not talk to you. You can hardly wonder why.”

“I am only asking for a few minutes?—”

She spun round to look at him. “Which I cannot give you. My father has forbidden it. Even my sisters have been told to spend as little time with you as possible. You know why and cannot blame him!”

Mr Darcy’s cheeks were flushed, and his jaw appeared clenched. She was surprised he did not simply decide to forget about apologising to her again—assuming that was his purpose—and depart. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke, his posture rigid and voice just as stiff.

“I am willing to admit I made a mistake. A few moments of your time are all I require.”

If he had looked at all contrite—even if he had sounded contrite—she might have listened to him. Instead, she said, “I have told you, my father has forbidden?—”

“He is not here.”

“I commend you on your powers of observation. You must also have noticed that we are on a public path. Anyone might come by. Have you not learnt that people here talk to each other? I doubt there is a single man, woman, or child in the vicinity who has not heard of your insult to me and dismissive deportment to everyone at the assembly. If we are seen speaking, it will be gossiped about. My family— my father —will know. Are you asking me to disobey him? To risk his disappointment and anxiety? ”

“Anxiety?” he interjected, his brow furrowed as though puzzled or taken aback by the implication.

“That you might injure my feelings and make me doubt myself, my worth as a person. I assure you, I would never allow you or anyone else to make me believe I am less important than they are, especially not for something so trivial as my looks or because I was unable to dance a set at a public assembly where there were not enough gentlemen present and some of those that were are too arrogant to even permit themselves to be introduced to the other participants. Frankly, Mr Darcy, regardless of what my father has told me, I have no wish to see you, let alone speak to you. You told me everything I need to know about you that night. Good morning, sir.”

With that, she pointed her toes in the direction of Longbourn and stamped away. It took her almost the entire walk home to resume her previous good mood. How that man vexed her!

Darcy watched Elizabeth Bennet’s retreat—which was becoming a habit—and only returned to his horse once he could no longer see her. Never— never— had he met such an obstinate girl. And he had met scores of young ladies, many of them giving every sign that they were prepared to do whatever necessary to distinguish themselves from others, even if their behaviour would only earn them censure. He could well imagine what his aunts—either Lady Romsley or Lady Catherine—would have to say about Miss Elizabeth’s conduct. Speaking to a gentleman of his quality in such a fashion? It was not to be borne.

“The entire Bennet family is unreasonable!” he grumbled, belatedly looking about him. The last thing he wanted was for such words to reach Bingley’s ears; it would make his friend even more displeased with him.

But really, what was he thinking? Was he truly going to allow Bingley—friend or not—to force him to humble himself to such people as the Bennets or anyone else in this insignificant neighbourhood? No, he was not. Especially not her.

Avoiding the direction she had gone, Darcy encouraged his horse to take the path as quickly as it would go for as long as possible, using the rush of wind across his skin to cool his temper. Only then was he able to recall the interview with Miss Elizabeth with anything like rational thought. As unwilling as he was to admit it, he came to several important conclusions. First, he ought not to have attempted to convince the lady to hear him when she was reluctant to, especially once she informed him that her father had forbidden her to speak to him. Second, it was possible that Mr Edward Best had hurt her with his ill-advised comment suggesting people were gossiping about her, which had added to her reluctance to do anything that might result in yet more talk. On the whole, Darcy thought it unlikely; rather, he imagined she had found it irritating. There was something about her that suggested strength—possibly that she did not shy away from telling him how disagreeable she found him. Third, while he would seek to apologise and improve his standing with the Bennets and wider local society, it would not be for Bingley’s sake alone. It was an important reason, but it was that combined with knowing it was the right thing to do that would make the effort worth the while. He should have behaved with greater decorum at the assembly and when he went to Longbourn for dinner, whatever his feelings and discomfort. He would have to try again to apologise to Miss Elizabeth and do so in a manner she found acceptable.

The thought occurred to Darcy that the even greater reason was to have an excuse to speak to her again. It was not that he liked her all of a sudden, but having her attention on him meant he would have the opportunity to closely observe her fine eyes and delicate features, to insist she give all of her conversation to him alone, and that, he decided, would not be so terribly unpleasant as he had imagined at the assembly.