Page 25 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
Her mother had always told her she was not pretty.
And Elizabeth could see that there was something about her features that wasn’t quite right, that her eyes were too big for her face and her chin too sharp. She was not the pretty one in this family, and she knew it.
“…make heads or tails of it, because it doesn’t seem possible!” Jane was saying.
Elizabeth wrenched her gaze away from the mirror, scolding herself. She did want to know what Mr. Wickham had said, and here she was, indulging her vanity instead of listening.
“I can’t understand it,” said Jane. “But Mr. Wickham seemed so sincere, and I can hardly think of his lying. He doesn’t seem like the type to tell a falsehood.”
“Yes, he is so… handsome, isn’t he?” said Elizabeth. “Not that being handsome is a reason that a man wouldn’t lie.”
“I thought you took a dim view of handsome men,” said Jane.
“True,” muttered Elizabeth. “It’s only that Mr. Wickham isn’t like that. He seems so trustworthy and sincere, as you say.”And he also fed your vanity, which Mr. Darcy never did do, did he?Not with that comment of his about her tolerability. But she couldn’t be quite so shallow, could she? “Well, out with it. What has he said?”
“He said that Mr. Darcy has willfully deprived him of an inheritance.”
“What?” Elizabeth sat down on the bed. “How so? Why hasn’t he pursued legal means of rectifying it?”
“It wasn’t set down in writing, apparently,” said Jane.
“Well, then, we have only Mr. Wickham’s word that it was ever meant for him to have it!”
“True, I suppose,” said Jane. “But then we come back to the idea that he is lying, don’t we?”
“Right,” said Elizabeth. “Who was to give him the money?”
“Mr. Darcy’s late father,” said Jane. “And not just money. A position, a living in Derbyshire as the parson there.”
“Well,” said Elizabeth, hand to her chest, “can you imaginehimat a pulpit?”
Jane shrugged a bit. “He is ever so… isn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, staring off dreamily into space.
At once, both women shook themselves.
“Oh, but anyway, Mr. Darcy prevented it, and sent him packing, penniless. He could not even afford to buy his own commission for the regiment. He had to take over for someone else who could not serve, I understand,” said Jane.
“There’s more to it than that,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy’s face when he looked at Mr. Wickham, it told a tale, and it wasn’t one of guilt. Whatever Mr. Darcy has done to this man, he feels quite justified.”
“Well, Mr. Darcy is not a bad man.”
“We don’t know that!” protested Elizabeth. “He might be a bad man. He was rather rude to Miss Bingley, wasn’t he?”
“He is not perhaps gifted with a way with words,” admitted Jane. “But I am quite sure that he means well.”
“You would say that about everyone, however.” Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip.
“And you are determined to hate all sorts of people,” said Jane. “You dislike Mr. Darcy for no reason, you are severe on Mr. Collins, and you seem to be overly harsh on Mr. Bingley and his sisters, even as Mr. Bingley is falling head over heels for you—”
“Oh, I don’t mean it,” said Elizabeth. “It’s difficult, you see. My good opinion, once lost, is really very difficult to get back, it seems. I know I must not be so choosy and so harsh, Iknowit, Jane, but—”
“Your pride,” said Jane.
Elizabeth sighed heavily. “Mr. Bingley is quite a perfectly adequate gentleman. A woman could ask for nothing better than what he offers. I am positively disgusted with myself for being the least bit disappointed, but I can’t seem to change it.”
“Well,” said Jane. “Try.”
