Page 22 of Grief and Grievances
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Jane responded with a heartfelt smile, her blue eyes shining with appreciation. “I am glad to be of service to your family in any way I can. Please, will you allow me to present my uncle Mr. Gardiner, who was kind enough to escort me from London?”
“You are most welcome to Rosings, Mr. Gardiner, though I only wish we could welcome you under happier circumstances.” Darcy offered his hand to shake, before recollecting himself and presenting Colonel Fitzwilliam to be introduced.
As they spoke, Darcy could not help but reflect on his past actions concerning Jane and Bingley. He had been blinded by his own arrogance and prejudice, woefully unaware of the pain he had caused them both, two good and kind people who deserved every happiness. He resolved then and there to make amends, not only for the sake of Jane’s happiness but also for Elizabeth’s.
The drawing-room at Rosings was bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight, casting a golden hue on the opulent furnishings and rich tapestries that adorned its walls. Amidst this grandeur, Mr. Gardiner stood with an air of quiet dignity as he conversed with Darcy, who found himself pleasantly surprised by the gentleman’s manners and intelligence.
“Mr. Gardiner,” Darcy began, “I must express my gratitude for escorting your niece to Rosings. It is truly a testament to your generous character, and I am glad to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Gardiner replied, his voice both warm and measured, “Both Jane and Elizabeth are very dear to my wife and myself. It is a small trouble to reunite them, considering Elizabeth’s need of her sister.”
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, his eyes flickering towards Jane, who stood nearby, engaging Colonel Fitzwilliam in soft-spoken conversation. The sight of her filled him with a strange mixture of regret and admiration—qualities he had once overlooked now shone brightly before him.
With a polite nod, Mr. Gardiner excused himself and Jane to join Elizabeth upstairs, leaving Darcy to his thoughts. The click of the door closing behind them seemed to echo loudly in the otherwise hushed room, and Darcy felt the weight of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s gaze upon him.
“Darcy, a word, if you please,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, his voice indicating clearly that he had more than a few words to say. Darcy turned to face his cousin, whose expression held both concern and curiosity.
“Of course, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy replied, steeling himself for the conversation he knew was about to unfold. His feelings for Elizabeth and the realisation of his own shortcomings had brought him to a turning point, and it seemed that fate had conspired to bring them all together at Rosings for this very purpose.
“Tell me, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam demanded, his voice low and insistent as he probed for the reasons behind Darcy’s odd reactions to their unexpected guests, “What do you make of Miss Jane Bennet? She appears to be a most amiable young lady.”
Darcy took a moment to compose his response, his brow furrowing as conflicting emotions warred within him. “Indeed, she is,” he admitted, the words tasting bittersweet upon his lips. “Her kindness and selflessness are truly remarkable, and I find myself... humbled by her presence.”
Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Darcy’s uncharacteristic display of introspection. “Humbled? Now that is not a word I often hear you use, cousin. Pray tell, what has brought about this change in you?”
The question hung heavily in the air as Darcy searched for an answer that would satisfy his cousin’s curiosity without revealing too much of his own inner turmoil. He hesitated, shifting his gaze towards the window where the sun continued to cast its golden light, and finally replied, “I have come to realise, Fitzwilliam, that there are qualities in people which I have previously undervalued—qualities that deserve admiration and respect. In Miss Bennet, I see such qualities, and it has caused me to reevaluate my own judgments.”
“Judgements?” Ftizwilliam pressed, and Darcy sighed heavily.
“Do you recall that I told you of a situation regarding my friend Bingley, this last autumn, when I encouraged him to leave the estate he had rented in Hertfordshire due to his forming an attachment with an unsuitable young lady?”
“Oh, indeed,” Fitzwilliam said with a smile, but the smile vanished as he took in Darcy’s guilty expression. “Wait one moment… you cannot possibly mean one of the Bennet sisters was the lady in question?”
“Miss Jane Bennet,” Darcy admitted heavily.
“Miss Jane Bennet,” Fitzwilliam echoed, looking at the door through which Jane had departed just minutes earlier. “That beautiful, amiable young woman, you thought her unworthy of Bingley? Have you entirely lost your mind?”
Humiliated, Darcy screwed his eyes closed.
Fitzwilliam laughed incredulously, shaking his head. “Well, I am glad I never divulged this piece of information to Elizabeth, as I intended to. Your character would have been irreparably damaged in her eyes.”
“Why would you have divulged it to Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, bemused.
“To make her think more kindly of you, of course.” Fitzwilliam stared at his cousin, before crossing to the sideboard and pouring a generous measure of brandy for each of them. Pushing a glass into Darcy’s hand, he took a sip of his own drink. “You were doing a dreadful job of engaging her interest.”
Darcy stared at his cousin. “Was it so obvious that I wanted to?” he asked in a small voice.
“Darcy!” Fitzwilliam laughed at him again. “I have known you all your life, but I had never until a few weeks ago seen you in love. It has been hilarious, watching you bumble about trying to suppress your pride enough to court Miss Elizabeth, but of course I wished to smooth your path to matrimony! She will make you an admirable wife.”
Darcy’s heart pounded in his chest. He clenched and unclenched his hands, attempting to quell the storm of emotion that threatened to consume him. Fitzwilliam’s words had struck a chord, for they were the scathing truth that he had refused to admit even to himself.
“Very well, Fitzwilliam,” he sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. “I confess that I have been in love with Elizabeth for some time now, though I knew it was imprudent due to the unsuitability of her family and connections. I could not help myself. I have been battling with myself, but I believe it is a battle I have already lost. Against all my best instincts, I should have proposed to her sooner rather than later.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam regarded his cousin with an air of frank disbelief, shaking his head in disapproval. “Darcy, you are an idiot,” he said bluntly, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and mirth. “You were on the verge of proposing to Miss Bennet while simultaneously harbouring nothing but disdain for her family. And, knowing you, you would not have held yourself back from making clear your feelings on her family—probably planned to tell her that you consider it a degradation to ally yourself with them, and thought that she would take it as a compliment to herself, that you could overcome such sentiments to propose to her anyway. Did you truly expect her to accept your hand under such circumstances?”
Darcy winced at the frankness of Fitzwilliam’s words, his cheeks flushing with shame as he recalled the haughty manner in which he had contemplated making his proposal to Elizabeth. The words he had planned to say to her, very much like what his cousin had so brutally guessed. He stared down at the polished wooden floor, unable to meet Fitzwilliam’s disapproving gaze.
“I... I did not consider the full implications of my actions,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire.
