5. In which Darcy apologizes

The next morning proved very fine, and Mr. Bennet contented himself to only one allusion to the Earl of Rochester when they arrived in St. James’s Park. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and their children walked a little ways apart, and Jane eventually with them, when the children became too interested in approaching the ducks near the edge of the water.

Elizabeth walked with her father, trying once again to convey to him they very real effect Mr. Darcy’s censure and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s revelations had had on her, and on her spirits.

“And so Mr. Wickham is a villain,” said Mr. Bennet. “That is interesting, but I cannot see what bearing that has on us. If I should ban him from the house, it would only make him an object of greater interest to Kitty and Lydia. And was not Mr. Darcy’s main objection to your sisters that were silly? That is evident to any who see them.”

“Not silly, Papa,” said Elizabeth, exasperated. “Imprudent and improper— so much so that Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst were easily convinced that, with such a family, Jane could not possibly be Mr. Bingley’s soulmate.”

“And how can they figure that?”

“Oh it— father, I wish you would be serious a moment; for I am in deadly earnest. Can you name any married couple that are from completely different circles? One reads in the papers, of course, of ladies of fortune traveling to Peru to marry Incan princes, or men of fortune sailing down the Nile to marry great ladies of Ethiopia, but princes and ladies . Outside of Drury Lane no prince marries a shepherdess. Can you give any example of very unequal matches that were not scandals? Especially with common names, like Jane’s, it is assumed that one’s soulmate is one’s match in every particular and even slight improprieties are seized on as proof that someone is not one’s soulmate.”

“Fine, Lizzy, I shall answer you in perfect seriousness. I know many soulmates who are unmarried. We buy our candles from one such couple. And I know more married couples who are not. If anyone is ridiculous enough to judge Jane by her sisters, then he— or she— is not worthy of being married to her.”

Elizabeth was exasperated she could not make her point understood, but soon forgot, as she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam searching the paths for her. With him was a man so near the colonel in looks it was obviously his brother. Elizabeth lead her father over, saying, “I suppose we must abandon this discussion in favor of last night’s; you may observe how Colonel Fitzwilliam acts with his family.”

“It was the only hope getting me through church,” said Mr. Bennet.

Colonel Fitzwilliam brightened when he saw them, and his happiness in seeing them was so real, Elizabeth could not help but be affected by it.

She nudged her father who recalled enough of the properties to say, “Good morning Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Good morning sir,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, striding towards them, his brother bobbing behind in his wake. “I am very glad to see you. May I present to you my elder brother, Lord Stornoway?”

Lord Stornoway bowed. He was a pleasant, not ill-looking man, who dressed well, and whose manner seemed halfway between Mr. Darcy’s unbending reserve and his brother’s well-bred ease.

“Stornoway,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, unable to keep from smiling at Elizabeth, “I have the very great honor of presenting to you Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her father.”

Lord Stornoway looked as if he had been hit between the eyes with a small rock. “Fitzwilliam-- what did you say? I was not attending. Did you say Miss Bennet ?”

Elizabeth curtsied. “Indeed, sir. I am Miss Bennet.”

“As her father I can well assure you of that,” said Mr. Bennet dryly.

Involuntarily his lordship clapped Elizabeth’s hand and exclaimed, “Oh thank God! Miss Bennet ! I am delighted to hear of your existence— and of course to make your acquaintance. And you, Mr. Bennet,” he said, in an afterthought.

“I am happy to cede my share of your delight to my daughter,” said Mr. Bennet.

Lord Stornoway was not paying attention; he waved energetically at a pair of fashionably dressed women and called, “Marjorie! Marjorie, please come meet Miss Bennet !”

The lady in the blue merino walking dress parted quickly from her companion. She was extremely pretty, with brown eyes so large and melting they might have been stolen from a doe, and an air of artless sweetness so actually artful it seemed stolen from an ingenue on Drury Lane. “Miss Bennet!” said she, extending her hand at once. “I have longed to meet you since dear Fitzwilliam arrived in Kent. His letters have so sparked my curiosity.”

“His letters?” asked Lord Stornoway incredulously.

“I do not remind you to read your brother’s letters without reason,” said Lady Stornoway, very sweetly. “And this must be Miss Bennet’s father?” She took in Mr. Bennet with a swift, appraising glance, and seemed very relieved by what she saw. She inquired delicately into his home county and of Longbourn, and by degrees her formal graciousness melted into a more genuine pleasure. Lady Stornoway was apparently the driving force in this segment of the Fitzwilliam family; she dispatched her husband, who could do little more but stare at Elizabeth in profound relief, to find the Earl of Matlock, and begged an introduction to Jane, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

Though Elizabeth was prepared, from both Colonel Fitzwilliam’s account, and Lord Stornoway’s reaction, to be met with some relief, the degree of it so august a person as the Earl of Matlock displayed startled her. With her father’s commentary in her ear, Elizabeth was both amused and mortified by how eager the Fitzwilliams were to know her. She also began to think that Colonel Fitzwilliam had rather lessened the severity of the reaction his family had to his soulmark. She felt relieved, and guilty in her relief, that Colonel Fitzwilliam’s previous pain must pave the way for her present happiness, but was too much a cynic not to think, ‘merely remaining Miss Bennet would please them; I do not know why I was in such a quake.’

She did not think long on this; Lady Stornoway invited them all to dinner, managing to maintain a delicate balance between respecting Lady Catherine’s promises and disavowing Lady Catherine’s command over the Earl of Matlock’s household. Mrs. Gardiner accepted, and Elizabeth spent the rest of the day failing to talk with her father about what chiefly preyed on her mind, hating every single new gown she had purchased, and trying to steal Jane’s attention from the children.

It wasn’t until they were undressing for bed that Jane could at last turn her attention to her sister: “Lizzy, I think we left off with Mr. Darcy visiting you at Huntsford.”

This memory had been preying on her all day. Elizabeth managed to relay what happened in tolerably good order, better, at least, than she had to Colonel Fitzwilliam, excluding the part Mr. Darcy had played in separating Jane and Bingley, but not leaving out how very wrong she, Elizabeth, had been about Mr. Wickham. “And there I must pause, before I continue on to happier memories.”

What a stroke was this for poor Jane, who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here collected in one individual.

“I do not know when I have been more shocked,” said Jane. “Wickham so very bad! It is almost past belief. But Colonel Fitzwilliam would not be mistaken-- though perhaps Mr. Wickham’s character has merely been misrepresented to him?”

“By whom? Mr. Darcy, for all his faults, does not lie.”

Jane conceded this point, but was still unwilling to let Wickham be wholly bad. “There is such an expression of goodness in his countenance! Such an openness and gentleness in his manner!”

“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it.”

“I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it as you used to do.”

“And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one’s genius, such an opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot always be laughing at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty.” She sighed. “It was just my luck I should pick my soulmate’s favorite cousin. Charlotte gave me a proper scold. Will you?”

“No, Lizzy,” said Jane, with stout partiality. “Of course not. How could you have known?”

“I could have behaved more circumspectly, and more kindly to Mr. Darcy. How could be be as bad as I assumed him to be if he numbers within his closest friends both Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Now Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are not speaking. A fine way to enter the family.”

“You do not fear he could stop your engagement? Or that Colonel Fitzwilliam’s family will share his views?”

“No, you saw with what desperate relief they welcomed me. Did you hear father in the carriage? ‘I have never before seen a woman so acclaimed for merely being a Miss Bennet. If I had only known, I would have sent all five of you, and your mother too, to Matlock House.”

“He spoke in jest,” said Jane.

“Yes, and exactly in the way to excite Mr. Darcy’s censure, as well as the world’s.”

“Lizzy, help me to understand. I see this upsets you greatly, but the behavior of the rest of our family will not cost you your soulmate.”

“No, Jane,” said Elizabeth, forcing herself on, “but it did cost you yours.”

Jane had been standing, drying her hair by the fire, and now sat down heavily upon Elizabeth’s trunk.

“I am sorry, I did not know how to tell you this, so I have been putting it off.” She began with Mr. Darcy’s damning praise of Jane to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and then to the part Mr. Darcy played in separating Jane and Bingley, and the reasons he and Colonel Fitzwilliam had attributed to this interference. “And so Jane, you see I must— I must make father see how this must result in change. I cannot bear to think that you, who are all goodness, should be punished for the behavior of your family. You cannot rely on society’s prejudices to smooth your way, as I apparently am.”

Jane looked at her hands and folded them neatly in her lap. She was silent for some moments and said, “I am grateful beyond words, Lizzy, to have you as my sister. I could not ask for a kinder, or a better champion.”

Elizabeth came and sat next to Jane, embracing her. “You ought! Oh Jane, you ought. I cannot make father listen to a word I say, if it means he must put himself out or be in any way inconvenienced.” She kissed Jane’s temple. “My sweet Jane, I ought not to have told you this. I debated whether I should.”

“No, no, I am glad you did,” said Jane, leaning against Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I have been reproaching myself for months now, and it is... it is a relief to know it was not anything I did, or anything I could do differently.”

Jane had the enviable habit of crying beautifully. Tears streaked down her cheeks without redding her eyes or nose. Elizabeth blotted her irritatingly perfect tears with the sleeve of her night-rail and said, “Oh Jane, darling Jane, only you would have blamed yourself for this. But do not! Blame our family for behaving so ill! Blame Mr. Darcy for judging you based on your mother! Blame Mr. Bingley for being persuaded by him!”

“But there is no one to blame in this situation,” said Jane, thickly, “for everyone acted exactly as they thought right.”

Elizabeth would have argued that their mother had not, but then realized this was not true; their mother had acted as she thought right. Elizabeth grimaced at the idea.

“Perhaps,” said Jane presently, “Mr. Darcy was right. Perhaps I am not Mr. Bingley’s soulmate. Perhaps I was only excited to meet a man named ‘Charles’ who was nearer my age than sixty.”

“And perhaps you are right!” Elizabeth cried. “Mr. Darcy was certainly wrong about me .”

“But Mr. Bingley chose to be guided by him,” said Jane, “which may mean that he no longer considers me his soulmate, if he ever did. Oh Lizzy, how could I be so mistaken!”

“You are not! Or at least, it is equally probable you are not. Mr. Darcy got one match wrong and one match right, so the probability of his being right about you and Mr. Bingley is—oh never mind. Here Jane, stand up a minute and I shall get you a handkerchief from my trunk.” Elizabeth did her best to comfort Jane, but could think of no real way to be helpful without having to talk to Mr. Darcy again. For Jane, Elizabeth thought grimly, she was prepared to do even that.

***

She was, however, able to put it off a little, as Mr. Darcy and his sister were not at dinner. Her own party, of herself, her father, her sister, and her aunt and uncle Gardiner, were met in state by the Earl of Matlock, Lord and Lady Stornoway, Lady Catherine and her daughter, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Lord and Lady Stornoway’s own three young children were dutifully paraded in, and, after they were admired, were paraded out again, with as much pomp as a regiment embarking for Spain.

“I regret that the whole family cannot be present,” said the Earl, when this ceremony had finished. “My youngest is in Denmark, with her husband, and my next youngest and her husband are half the year in Tahiti and half the year in England, and my eldest girl is....” Here he hesitated, and Elizabeth remembered Colonel Fitzwilliam’s consolation-- that his next sibling had not met with as bad a reception as he had. “She is presently in, ah. In Aberdeen, with her companion.”

Lady Stornoway corrected him gently, “With her partner.”

Lady Catherine said, “Miss Duncan cannot be her partner.”

Lady Stornoway increased the sweetness of her tone, if anything, in saying: “Aunt Catherine, their soulmarks are a match.”

“I am not convinced of that . I am sure Honoria lives with Miss Duncan merely to disoblige her father. She was always a headstrong, rebellious girl. How does she know her mark came in fully, if she will allow no doctor to see it? It could very well be a last name, as dear Fitzwilliam’s was.”

“Aunt Catherine, no such family exists. Honoria’s mark is her partner’s first name. In point of law--”

“In point of law! They have not signed any papers, or had any ceremony. Though I do not approve of Honoria’s choice, I did at least attempt to cast upon this sad affair what respectability I could. I offered my own parson to them at Christmastime, and they declined. I do not understand why they did so; Mr. Collins was perfectly willing to perform the ceremony and I ensured he spent at least an hour informing them of that fact.”

The Earl looked determinedly at the friezes on the ceiling, and Lord Stornoway, leaning on the mantle, looked as if he had been professionally stuffed and mounted there. Miss DeBough of course had no reaction, but Colonel Fitzwilliam looked resigned and about to speak; it was his ironic lot to keep the peace.

But Mr. Bennet had caught the inferences of this awkward conversation, and could not resist saying, “It is a pity; we should have enjoyed meeting all four young women and the two attendant gentleman. But as my wife and three youngest are in Hertfordshire we are at least symmetrical.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam hid a laugh as a cough. “I regret to say that our cousin and my ward, Miss Darcy, was too ill to attend. Her brother, Mr. Darcy—who I believe is known to you, Mr. Bennet, and to you, Miss Bennet— stays with her.”

“Poor Georgianna,” said Lady Catherine. “Her health is nearly as bad as my daughter’s. Though of course, Anne never enjoyed robust health, as Georgianna once did. Anne has always been plagued with illnesses that confounded nearly every doctor on Harley Street.”

Miss DeBourgh looked modestly proud of this accomplishment.

As Jane and the Gardiners were still struggling to determine if they should be sympathetic about Lady Honoria and Miss Duncan, or should pretend the two ladies did not exist, Mr. Bennet took the opportunity to amuse himself further. He turned to Lady Catherine with a somewhat malicious enjoyment. “I cannot believe my good fortune in finally meeting you, Lady Catherine. We have heard so much about you from our cousin, Mr. Collins.”

“Indeed,” said Lady Catherine regally. “I am glad to hear it. Your cousin is a very respectful, and well-spoken young man.”

“Is he?” asked Mr. Gardiner, who had never met Mr. Collins, and had only the opinions of his brother-in-law and various nieces to go on.

“He preached a very good sermon this past Easter,” said Lady Catherine. “I only had to revise it twice, which is a great deal less work than I have had with other parsons. I am glad to be able to give you such a good report of your relation, Mr. Bennet. I am sure that must relieve your mind considerably.”

Elizabeth met Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eye and they both had to look away for fear of laughing.

Lady Stornoway’s smile became rather fixed. “Is that not nice? It is as if we are family already! Ah here is Stebbins. Shall we to dinner?”

The uneven number of ladies, and Lady Catherine’s own sense of her self-importance, threw off the seating arrangements. She seated herself next to the Earl, and, ignoring Lord Stornoway and the Gardiners, who ought to have been her conversational partners, interrupted any conversation she found interesting. Poor Jane tried her best to have a conversation with Miss De Bourgh, but Jane was not an unstoppable enough force against so immovable an object, and eventually gave up to listen to the conversation on fishing between Mr. Gardiner and the Earl. Elizabeth found herself seated closer to Lady Stornoway, with her father on one side and Colonel Fitzwilliam on the other, in the middle of the table. It became clear that the Colonel sat there to best mediate, when Lady Catherine and Lady Stornoway so outdid themselves in condescending to each other that all other conversation died. Mr. Bennet was delighted to make this discovery, and did his level best to destroy the Colonel’s work without ever being blamed for it, and without anyone but Elizabeth realizing he was doing so.

Elizabeth would have liked it better if she had a chance to talk to any of her future relations, but she enjoyed sharing speaking glances with Colonel Fitzwilliam, and was not displeased to see into what role she would fall at family dinners. It was not far different from the one she had already and it was perhaps this, more than anything else that made Mr. Bennet say to her, as he leaned over to reach a dish, “I am sorry to say, Lizzy, that you are right at home already.”

***

The evening had ended relatively well; freed from the dinner table, Elizabeth talked enough with all the colonel’s relations to realize she would mostly get along with them. She and the Earl had very little in common aside from a fondness for dogs, but he was so relieved to say his second son was engaged to a Miss Bennet of Longbourn , daughter of Mr. Bennet, gentleman , she could murder his greyhound, and still be talked of with affection.

Lady Stornoway Elizabeth liked, or at least found amusing, and as she could not think of Lord Stornoway as anything other than a well-trained accessory to his wife, she was prepared to like him by extension. It somewhat galled her to see, however, why Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy had been such close friends. It made her feel obliged to talk to Mr. Darcy, even moreso than before.

It was with this in mind that she unwillingly accepted Colonel Fitzwilliam’s offer (seconded by Lady Stornoway, and then somehow both thirded and fourthed by Lady Catherine) to avail herself of the Earl’s stable the next morning. She was in no very good mood; her determination to talk to Mr. Darcy frayed her nerves as much as being ahorse.

Colonel Fitzwilliam unfortunately found her antipathy for horses hilarious.

“You are so fearless in everything else,” said he, as Elizabeth sat stiff and uncomfortable in the saddle. “Are you actually afraid of horses?”

“I have a healthy respect for them,” said Elizabeth. “That is different from fear.”

“It looks very much like fear.”

“Appearances, you know, can be deceptive.”

“Cite your sources, Miss Bennet.”

The horse shifted under her, which caused Elizabeth enough alarm to drop the reins.

“Ah yes,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “You are clearly mistress of this situation. You are not afraid at all.”

“If you tell me horses can sense your fear, then I shall throw my hat at you. That information has never once helped me. Everyone repeats it as if it will.”

“Very well, I shall give you more practical advice: don’t drop the reins.”

Elizabeth gathered them up again, but spotted a tall young woman, built on a much larger scale than Elizabeth herself, and yet somehow endeavoring to take up less space, coming across the stableyard. Colonel Fitzwilliam saw her distraction and said, “You cannot escape this entirely, Miss Bennet, but I am not such a tyrant as to give you no respite. Georgianna is come— yes, yes, you may dismount to meet her. Let me help you down. Georgianna! Can Marjorie spare you a moment? I should like to introduce you to Miss Bennet.”

Feeling much more cheerful now that she had only herself to rely upon for locomotion, Elizabeth was able to meet Miss  Darcy with a smile and a polite, “I have heard a great deal about you, Miss Darcy, and am glad to finally meet you.” Miss Darcy, however, met her with the terrified look of a fox that has been cornered by hunting hounds.

“I should revise—I have heard a great deal about your performance on the pianoforte,” said Elizabeth. “You are the favorite performer of two ladies of my acquaintance, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst; and Lady Catherine speaks of your proficiency at length.”

Miss Darcy looked only slightly more at ease.

Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Miss Bennet is fond of music, too.”

This did not much help Miss Darcy.

Colonel Fitzwilliam tried a different approach. “I am teaching Miss Bennet to ride.” He turned to her. “I really cannot believe you never learnt.”

“A gross misrepresentation! I was provided with lessons; I merely chose never to return to them after the first went badly. It did not help that my elder sister, Jane, is perfectly natural in the saddle, and horses love her. But so do all living creatures, really; I have never actually seen it, but I am convinced that when I am not looking, birds fly down and gift her with bread and flowers, like Francis of Assisi.”

“That is because she is calm. That is why she is a good horsewoman, I mean. I cannot comment on the birds.”

“Nor can I. I can only speculate. Are you fond of riding, Miss Darcy?”

Miss Darcy managed a meek, “Yes.”

“How I envy you! But an antipathy for horses brought with it other consolations. My mother told me that if I would not ride, I must walk everywhere and I happily obeyed her.” For some time she and Colonel Fitzwilliam managed a conversation about the best paths for walking in London, occasionally receiving a soft ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from Miss Darcy. They managed to eke out words of two syllables when Elizabeth exaggerated her poor opinion of horses, and Miss Darcy was shocked enough to protest it, and try to prove Elizabeth wrong by shewing how good horses really were if their riders behaved as they ought.

Elizabeth was not surprised to find it a family trait, this determined idea of right, which must always shew itself in action and any deviation from which was a terrible shock. Still, she exerted herself to be a good student, and even rode around the stableyard once without being thrown from the horse and breaking all her limbs as she jokingly (but at the same time quite seriously) claimed would happen.

“You see?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, when he lifted her off the horse again. “It is a simple matter. You must only have patience to calm everyone’s nerves.” This established in Elizabeth’s mind, a strong and unshakable connection between Georgianna Darcy and skittish horses, but the metaphor did not seem to be unjust— bearing in mind that it was highly unlikely Miss Darcy would, or even could, throw her across the stableyard.

“I am very grateful to Miss Darcy for shewing me the proper way to behave,” said Elizabeth, with a warm smile.

Colonel Fitzwilliam added, “She is a better teacher than I am. I dread seeing how badly it will go tomorrow, when I must give the lesson on my own.”

“Perhaps--” said Miss Darcy, before blushing and falling silent.

“Yes?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, encouragingly.

“Perhaps,” said Miss Darcy, haltingly, and very shyly, “you... would... if it is not an imposition. I have no obligations tomorrow.”

“I should be more than glad of your assistance,” said Elizabeth.

The next day proved easier, and the day after that Miss Darcy managed to work up the courage to ask a question without the colonel’s prompting, or even his notice. “Miss Bennet, I—I wonder— are you—are you engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“More-or-less. He has not yet asked my father, but that is mostly because my father finds it amusing to deny Colonel Fitzwilliam the opportunity to speak alone. I rather hope this joke of his will cease by tomorrow week. Fifteen days is, I think, the longest my father can amuse himself with a joke of this kind.”

“Then perhaps....” Miss Darcy glanced worriedly at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was talking to his brother at the opposite end of the stable yard. “Perhaps, since you— since you are nearly engaged to him, you might tell me if he and my brother are quarreling? They seem to be. That is, I only ever see Colonel Fitzwilliam here, and not at our home, and my brother does not care to accompany me here— and usually when they are both in London together, they do not go more than two days without seeing each other, and now it has been almost a week. It seems they are quarreling.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I am afraid they are. If I could only speak to your brother, I think I could smooth it out-- for it is my fault that they are quarreling.”

“I cannot believe that ,” said Miss Darcy, very startled. “You are so nice!”

Elizabeth laughed. “I am glad you think so. I hope you may someday convince my youngest sister Lydia that I am; she protests often enough that I am the cruelest beast alive. But, as it happens, your brother had reservations about my getting engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam, the colonel took offense, I think your brother took offense at the colonel’s offense, and so on and so forth, forever.”

Miss Darcy thought quite seriously about this and ventured a shy and stammered idea that perhaps-- perhaps she might host a dinner “though perhaps a... a smaller party would not—”

“My father, my sister, myself and Colonel Fitzwilliam as the only guests, perhaps?”

Miss Darcy looked relieved. “That would make six. I do not think a small... an informal dinner of that kind— I could manage that I think. Mrs. Annesley has wanted me to practice at ordering a meal. The day after tomorrow, perhaps?”

“That should suit admirably! I am very much indebted to you Miss Darcy; I have been telling myself for days now that I ought to speak with your brother.”

They had been riding sedately about the yard; when they arrived again at the mounting block, Lord Stornoway informed Miss Darcy that Lady Stornoway was waiting within, and whisked her away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam lingered behind. “Why Miss Bennet! You have made it several times about the stableyard and are still alive. I am all astonishment.”

“Yes, a miracle has occurred. I did not once have my brains dashed upon the ground.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Stornoway proposes to give a ball tomorrow week; my sister Sybil and her husband are come back from Tahiti. I hope you and your family have no engagements then.”

“Not in the least.” She feigned some confusion on how to dismount, so that Colonel Fitzwilliam had to put his hands on her waist and lift her off her horse.

His hands lingered at her waist when she was on the ground. “You seem very pleased.”

“Indeed I am,” said she, smiling up at him. “I have quite triumphed with your ward; Saturday she proposes to give a dinner, and to invite my father and sister, as well as myself. And you, of course.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam said, after a moment, “Darcy can hardly fail to be there.”

“We must meet sometime,” said Elizabeth. “And I really cannot bear the idea of being the reason you are estranged from your closest relation. I should wish to make your life more comfortable, not less. Oh, I wish you would not look at me like that; it begs for some answering impropriety, and I am a weak enough creature to give it to you.”

“I was hoping you were.”

Little conversation could be had after that.

***

The dinner itself was not so very bad; indeed, the food was so good it provided conversation when all other subjects failed— which was not nearly as often as Elizabeth had feared. Miss Darcy overcame her shyness enough to venture a sentence whenever it seemed least likely to be heard, but what really surprised Elizabeth was the degree to which Mr. Darcy— quite obviously and painfully— acted against his habits and exerted himself towards her and her family.

To Mr. Bennet he talked of books, to Jane of London, to Elizabeth of music; to all of them he imperfectly but sincerely acted with graciousness instead of condescension. The Bennets at first answered him confusedly, for they had, in their various ways, prepared themselves for incivility. Elizabeth recovered the quickest, or at least had the strongest determination to bridge any awkwardness, and dragged her father along with her. Surprisingly, it was Jane who had the most difficulty overcoming her natural reticence, and she eventually fell to exchanging very awkward smalltalk of few words and fewer syllables with Miss Darcy.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was so astonished, he could not contribute to the conversation until the second remove. At length he became aware that, however long the duration of this effort might be, it was one started in earnest, and began to smile and joke.

They were not exactly a merry party, but it did its work; on Monday morning, Miss Darcy came to Matlock House with her brother. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy talked again with ease, and even stayed to help dismantle the gorgeous pyramids of fresh fruit Lady Stornoway served indoors as her usual mid-morning refreshments. Elizabeth was endeavoring to be better friends with this lady when Mr. Darcy purposefully came up to them and asked if Miss Bennet would care to walk, as the day was fine and he knew her to be fond of the exercise.

“That is just the thing,” said Lady Stornoway encouragingly. There was a consciousness to her manner which made Elizabeth think she had somehow guessed that Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had quarreled, and quarreled especially over Elizabeth; but then again, if it had been obvious to Miss Darcy, it could hardly have been otherwise for Lady Stornoway. “Darcy, why do you not take Miss Bennet to our little wilderness by the hermitage? My father-in-law has had it re-planted recently, and I am eager to hear how you like it, given how much care you take with the grounds of Pemberley.”

Elizabeth accepted with alacrity, hoping there was an olive branch on offer in the wilderness.

Perhaps there were, but she had not the time to search for them. As soon as they were out of earshot, Mr. Darcy took a deep breath and said, “Miss Bennet, when I came across you and my cousin in the lane, the day after I insulted you, I had meant to give you a letter, explaining myself— giving some particulars about what happened to my sister last year, and how it has... altered my perceptions.”

Elizabeth was glad he said so, though she did not wish to get into it again, and said quickly, “Colonel Fitzwilliam has told me all. Sir, you must stop apologizing, I wronged you—”

“The fault is entirely mine, Miss Bennet; I will give you anything you ask but that. And I wish only to answer some of your accusations. The first, that I thought you were not Richard’s soulmate— I must begin by saying that I have never thought you a fortune hunter; there were circumstances that seemed to me impartial evidence that you were... the soulmate of someone else. We know so little of how this system works, and my father always told me that a perfect match must take into account the family into which one marries. His own mark read ‘Fitzwilliam.’ I had no reason to doubt him when I saw such another.”

“Of course not,” agreed Elizabeth, disconcerted.

“I think very highly of you,” said Mr. Darcy, unexpectedly, “so highly that—”

“Ah,” said Elizabeth. “I understand. You did not wish to see me, or see your cousin unhappy. But let me tell you, sir, you went about warning us in the worst possible way.”

“I did,” said Mr. Darcy, wincing. “I can offer no worthwhile justification, except that I was always praised for being honest, and you know well that I am not... apt at the social niceties that make honesty palatable, and even less so when feeling, rather than reason directs my actions. It is my own fault for not practicing those courtesies, as Colonel Fitzwilliam earlier remarked. I am heartily sorry for my manner, Miss Bennet, and for the things I said—”

“You said nothing that was not true about my family,” Elizabeth hastened to assure him.

“But it was not kind,” said Mr. Darcy, “and that I ought to apologize for the most. I do not know at what point I began valuing what is strictly true over what is kind, but that is more serious a flaw than the one I gave you at Netherfield. I have wronged you in ways I am not sure can be corrected— all the worse because they were wrongs made in ignorance. There is, however, one wrong that I can right: the second couple you said I had divided. If your sister is agreeable, I will ask Lady Stornoway to invite Mr. Bingley to her ball.”

Elizabeth looked her amazement.

“I had not realized,” said Mr. Darcy, stiltedly, “until I observed her at dinner that Miss Bennet is... she is more like myself in the expression of her feelings. You must correct me if I have drawn the wrong conclusion, but I believe that your sister feels deeply but cannot easily express it. Merely because it manifests itself differently in her than in myself does not mean it is not there.”

“Your estimation of my sister is correct,” said Elizabeth.

“It was not earlier. With that in mind, I beg you will allow me to explain my reasoning in acting as I did.” This she granted with alacrity. Mr. Darcy said, “I have often seen Bingley in love, and still oftener seen him convinced anyone bearing the very common name on his wrist to be his soulmate. When Sir William Lucas interrupted us at the Netherfield Ball, and alerted me as to the neighborhood’s general expectations that he and your sister would marry, I watched them both carefully and collected what I then believed to be very impartial observations. These I presented to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. They had a more thorough understanding of their brother’s character, and, I believed, could best determine whether or not Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet were soulmates. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, for their part, did not believe your sister and their brother to be a match, and Miss Bingley told me she feared your mother would persuade Miss Bennet to act in a manner untrue to her mark. Bingley was disappointed when we told him this, and remains more disappointed than I have ever seen him before, but I would not have done it had I not really thought I was preventing greater misery thereby.” He glanced askance at her and said, “But, as I said, we were all of us mistaken in your sister’s character, and distracted by her circumstances. I am very ready to make amends.”

“I thank you for that.”

“The third charge you laid against me— what did Richard tell you of what happened at Ramsgate?”

“The whole. Mr. Darcy, I wish you would forget that accusation. It was wrong, very wrong of me to have thrown at you. I had no notion— that is, I ought to have known Mr. Wickham was lying to me—”

“But his air and address seem very sincere,” said Mr. Darcy. “And he shewed you his soulmark.”

Elizabeth wanted to pull down the veil from the brim of her riding hat and hide under it, but managed to instead look Darcy in the eye. “I should have known then that he was deceiving me. What man of good sense and character shews an unmarried woman, entirely unrelated to him, whom he has just met that day his soulmark? But he acted as if this were merely a shew of very great trust, because I and I alone struck him as a woman of superior understanding—”

“I would not have you blame yourself,” said Mr. Darcy gravely. “Georgianna spent all summer and a great deal of the fall doing the same thing. The impropriety was on his side, not yours.”

“Mr. Darcy, you need not say all this.”

Darcy forced a smile. “Of course I must. I have wronged you; I must explain why it was done, though it was done in ignorance, and take steps to address the wrongs and ensure they do not happen again.”

She was all astonishment. Though Elizabeth knew she had not correctly understood Mr. Darcy’s character, this apology was so generous, his good-faith so apparent, his efforts so obvious, she was disappointed in herself again for her lack of judgment.

“Would you like me to ask Lady Stornoway to invite Mr. Bingley?” he prompted.

“Would I— oh! Let me ask Jane first, but she was very convinced last fall that they were soulmates. I do not think that would change.”

“It does not,” said Mr. Darcy. “When one knows, one knows . My chief failing was in thinking I knew everyone’s soulmate, as a result.” She would have asked him what he meant by this, when Mr. Darcy said, “You may wonder why I did not tell you all this that evening in Kent, and then tried a letter--”

“ That I believe I understand, if you are like my sister. You could not have spoken this aloud to me. Especially not when I had just berated you for doing what you thought was right! The problem, Mr. Darcy, is chiefly this: we both of us thought we had acted rightly, in the fullest understanding of the other, and could not believe otherwise. But we misunderstood each other thoroughly; we did not know each other after all. You may not be willing to accept it, but I am willing to admit my fault.”

“As am I.”

She offered him her hand, like one gentleman might to another. “Shall we forgive each other and be friends?”

Mr. Darcy took it, solemnly. “There is nothing I should like more.”