Pride Prejudice and Perjury

A Walk in the Snow

Chapter 17 ~ A Walk in the Snow

By the following morning, the snow had stopped falling. The sky was blue and the ground was covered in several inches of pristine snow, almost blindingly white in the sunshine. Bingley advised Jane and Elizabeth against attempting the drive to Pemberley to wait upon the ladies; although he reassured them that unless there was further heavy snow, which seemed unlikely in November, the journey to Pemberley should be possible by the time of the ball, in three days time.

As they sat by the blazing fire in the morning room, drinking tea, Jane began to speculate upon who would partner whom for the first set. “Do you think that having withdrawn his invitation to you, Lord Netherby will ask Georgiana?”

“Yes, almost certainly, it being the fond wish of his mother, and also doubtless that of his host, Mr. Darcy – and quite probably, Georgiana, herself,” reflected Elizabeth.

“And perhaps, himself, also?” suggested Jane. “While Victoria's deception required that he be excessively attentive to you, I noticed Lord Netherby stealing glances at Georgiana on several occasions at both dinners.”

“Yes… you may be correct. Last night in the drawing room, after I had revealed that I was aware of his sister's game, he paid a good deal of attention to Georgiana. Perhaps he does favour her, after all – for he is not the young man who would pretend to favour a lady, simply to please others – unless, of course, he is acting a part!”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, we know, will dance with Victoria Netherby, and you with Mr. Darcy,” continued Jane.

“I dance with Mr. Darcy? Who told you that, Jane?”

“Why, you did, only yesterday. You said that Lord Netherby had given way to Mr. Darcy, who had again asked you to dance the first two with him.”

“Yes, it is true that he asked me – but I did not accept his offer; although neither did I decline it.”

Jane gasped. “Good gracious, Lizzy, how could you not accept him when his purpose is to redeem your reputation and restore your good name in society?”

“I told him that while I was most appreciative of his worthy intentions in that regard, they were, nevertheless, insufficient inducement for me to agree to dance with him; and that if he wished to be accepted, he must convince me of his sincere desire to dance with me for the pleasure of my company alone – and not merely out of a sense of duty or guilt.”

“Lizzy, sometimes you surprise me with your frankness. How did Mr. Darcy respond?”

“I did not give him the opportunity, for I was vexed with him. I immediately walked across the room and sat beside you, and I was careful to deny him any further opportunity to pursue the matter. I was tired of hearing of his noble intentions!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

“For you were wishing rather to hear of his regard?” suggested Jane.

Elizabeth said nothing, and rose to admire the silent beauty of the white world beyond the window. “What beauty, what pristine, uncomplicated simplicity is the world of Nature. Oh, that our lives could be equally uncomplicated.”

Jane smiled, and joined her sister at the French windows that afforded a panoramic view down to the river where the willow trees stood silently, coated in snow.

“Let us put on our pelisses and boots, and walk outside; it looks so inviting,” said Elizabeth.

“You may go out if you wish,” replied Jane, “but I shall remain by the fire; it looks far too cold.”

“It is only that the snow makes it appear so; but it will be no colder than any other clear winter's morning.”

“Look, Lizzy, there is someone approaching on horseback. I wonder who can be out on such a day.”

“Really, Jane, it cannot be all that cold; and as you can observe, the horseman has no great difficulty in traversing the driveway. But who can it be? A messenger from Buxton, for Charles, perhaps?”

“Or Colonel Fitzwilliam?” suggested Jane. “He is fond of riding, as you well know. Nevertheless, it must be a long, cold, difficult journey to ride all the way from Pemberley in this snow. He is a most adventurous man.”

“It is not the colonel,” replied Elizabeth, “for that is not his horse. My goodness! Can it be…?”

The horseman had, by this time, arrived at the house and the stable hand took his mount to the stables to attend to it.

“Mr. Darcy,” said Jane, seating herself and taking up her sewing. “If he has ridden all this way to receive an answer to his request for the two first dances, you can hardly refuse him now, Lizzy.”

“Indeed I can,” said Elizabeth, seating herself beside her sister and taking up her book. “It depends entirely upon how he asks,” she said decidedly. “And please, Jane, do not make an excuse and leave me alone with him.”

“Lizzy, you are cruel. You know that he must wish to speak with you privately.”

“Perhaps. But I may not wish to speak with him. If I do, I shall give you a glance.”

The servant entered and showed Mr. Darcy into the room. The ladies rose again and exchanged greetings.

“You must be frozen, Mr. Darcy. Pray sit here, by the fire. Dixon, please bring more tea,” said Jane, attempting to set her guest at his ease; for his discomfort and embarrassment were manifest.

Fortunately, Bingley had seen his friend arrive from his upstairs library, and he now joined them. “Good lord, Darcy, whatever can have induced you to ride such a distance through all this snow? Are you determined to kill yourself – or your horse, perhaps?” he asked, pulling up a chair beside their visitor.

Darcy relaxed somewhat. “Not at all, Bingley; the ride was hardly more difficult than usual.” Then, after taking out his watch and consulting it, he added, “It took around thirty minutes longer than it normally would – that is all. There were snow drifts on the other side of Buxton, which forced me to slow to a walk for some time, but other than that, I rode mostly at a canter. I believe that the snow actually assisted the horse by cushioning his step.”

The servant brought tea and served them all. There was further conversation between the gentlemen concerning the roads and the weather, and the possibility that it might prevent some of Darcy's guests from attending the ball.

“Old Rowlands, the coachman, predicts that the weather will remain settled for some days to come; and he is seldom wrong,” said Darcy. “He is confident that we are in for at least several sunny days, and cold frosty nights. Unless he is mistaken, in three days time, when you drive to Pemberley, the snow should have melted from the roads, giving you a nice clear run.”

Though Darcy and Bingley continued speaking in a similar vein, it was evident to Elizabeth, from the furtive glances that Mr. Darcy directed towards her from time to time, that he was eager to speak with her privately. When he had finished his tea, Elizabeth confessed that she was impatient to be outside, walking in the pristine splendour of the snowy landscape. Darcy immediately rose to join her, and when Bingley proposed to be of the party, his wife informed him that he was needed within for some unspecified purpose. The private look she gave him convinced him to inquire no further.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, as they walked, side by side, across the snow-covered lawn towards the river, “I beg your indulgence to allow me to speak on a matter which has been weighing most heavily upon my mind for many months now.”

Without looking up at her companion, Elizabeth nodded her ascent, as she walked through the snow, her gaze fixed upon the ground before her, hands clasped together inside her fur muff.

“I wish to tell you how heartily ashamed I am of being taken in by Lady Catherine's heinous deception. Nothing can excuse me for having allowed myself to think ill of you and to lose faith in your virtue and honour. Please understand how unthinkable it was to me that my aunt, whom I have, since my earliest years, believed to be a paragon of righteousness and integrity, could perjure herself, let alone construct so unimaginable an edifice of unprincipled deceit. You may ask my sister, or my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I am certain they will concur – that it was as impossible for any of us to believe that our aunt – who was one of life's verities – could behave in so immoral and dishonourable a way, as it was to believe that the sun would rise in the west.”

Elizabeth said nothing, and continued walking with eyes fixed firmly on the snow-covered ground.

“Please do not believe that I offer this by way of an excuse, for there is none, I know, that can be in any way acceptable. Nor do I consider that I have any right to expect you to forgive me – either for allowing myself to be deceived concerning your character, or for my consequent abominable behaviour towards you.”

“I forgave you some time ago, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, without looking up.

“What? Really?” he asked, astonished. “When?”

“When you visited Longbourn, and I learned of what you had done to protect my name from Mr. Wickham's evil lies, and moreover, of what you intended to do for my sister. I found myself quite unable to continue feeling aggrieved in the face of such gallantry, and kind-hearted generosity.”

“Oh?” said Darcy, pausing in surprise. Elizabeth, however, continued walking, looking steadfastly ahead of her, obliging Mr. Darcy to quicken his pace to catch up. “I had not realised, for if you will pardon me for saying so, it seemed to me that since your return from Hertfordshire that you have continued to be displeased with me.”

“I said that I had forgiven you, Mr. Darcy – I did not say that your society pleased me. Do you imagine that I am able to feel cheerful and at ease in the company of a person who could be persuaded to believe such vile slander about me? Particularly a gentleman whom I ranked as more than merely a passing acquaintance, but one whom I once thought knew me well, and held me in high regard.”

“Then you still blame me,” said Darcy, disconsolately. “Miss Bennet, can you not comprehend the utter impossibility of my having doubted the word of my aunt? Please believe me that nothing less compelling could have caused me to doubt you. I earnestly entreat you to understand that I was blinded by the certitude of faith in the honour of a revered family member which rendered me wholly incapable of imagining, for even a moment, that I was being cold-bloodedly duped. I beg you, do not believe it to be a reflection upon my… my great esteem… for you.”

Elizabeth momentarily looked up at Mr. Darcy, who was staring down at her imploringly. “I see,” was all she said before lowering her gaze once more. They had now reached the river and struck out along the snow-covered path which ran along the near bank.

“I fear, Miss Bennet, that you remain unconvinced. I sincerely hope that you do not believe that I am being dishonest or attempting to deceive you; I would never lie to you, I swear it!”

“I do not suspect you of being dishonest with me, Mr. Darcy; only of being dishonest with – or at least deluding – yourself.”

“I am sorry, I do not comprehend your meaning,” said Darcy, bewildered. “In what way do you believe I am deluding myself?”

“In believing that you hold me in high esteem. For I must tell you that I saw not the least trace of esteem in that cold, haughty, disdainful expression upon your face when our eyes met across the aisle at my sister's wedding. That scornful mask is etched indelibly in my memory, and for a full twelvemonth, there was nothing with which to dislodge it, for you avoided my society as though I were a leper. You fled before me and excluded me from your society. On those few occasions when you could not avoid me, you refused to look at me. You behaved as if I did not exist. Where, Mr. Darcy, was your great esteem in all of that time?”

Darcy stopped walking, and Elizabeth, too, stopped, and looked up at him with an expression of pain and anguish that pierced him to the core. For some time, he was struck dumb, as he attempted to quiet his galloping heart and gain some control of his wildly racing mind. There was nothing for it, but to reveal the true depth of the feelings which for so long he had been entirely powerless to subdue.

They had come to one of the ancient stone bridges that crossed the river, and Elizabeth stepped onto it with the intention of crossing to the other side and thence walking back in the direction of the house.

Darcy followed her silently, thinking all the while as they crossed the bridge of what he must say. He did not know what were her true feelings for him, and he feared the worst; yet he must bare his soul and expose the full fervour of his passion – nothing less would answer.

As they set out along the path on the far bank or the river, he spoke. “Miss Bennet, I have been in love with you for the past two years, since I was first in Hertfordshire. Though you rejected me in Kent, and quite rightly so, for my behaviour at the time was unpardonable, I did not cease to love you – as became abundantly manifest when we met unexpectedly in Derbyshire, some months later. I rode to Lambton on your final morning there, with the express intention of again paying you my addresses; but most regrettably, you had just received the awful news concerning your youngest sister, before which everything else gave way. In September, when I visited Longbourn with Bingley, and we dined with you, it was once more my intention to pay you my addresses; but I hesitated, for I was uncertain of what were your feelings for me; you were so grave and silent. Though I was obliged to go to London on business, I had fully determined to return to Hertfordshire and again attempt to comprehend whether I might ever hope to make you love me.

“However, as you know, I did not return into Hertfordshire; for, while in London, I received the letters from Mr. Wickham, Mr. Collins, and my aunt – which finally persuaded me of the truth of Wickham's allegations – and threw my life into utter turmoil,” he said, sighing mournfully.

“Miss Bennet, please do not doubt me when I tell you that though I believed you to have lost your character, you never lost my love; for it simply refused to die. I know that I treated you abominably, but it was not because I no longer cared for you – but on the contrary, because my love remained true. Believing what I did about you, and knowing it to be impossible that we might ever marry, it was an absolute torment for me to set eyes upon you; I could not bear to be in the same room as you.

“There is no excuse, I know, for my cowardly and irrational behaviour in attempting to avoid your society – but the strength of my emotions overcame all reason. I absented myself from Hertfordshire last year when the obligations of friendship demanded my supporting Bingley at the time of his marriage. Though I determined to stay some days at Netherfield Park following the wedding ceremony, when our eyes met in the church, the feelings that were unleashed overcame all reason, all sense of propriety and duty. I fled Hertfordshire like a cowardly cur – the shame I felt was unbearable,” he said, shaking his head.

Though he looked at her imploringly, Elizabeth continued walking; her gaze focussed on the water flowing beneath the white skeletal branches of the willows overhanging the river, and the ripples made by those long enough to touch the water.

“And again I fled from you, as you must recall, when you came to London. I am thoroughly ashamed of the way I conducted myself with Bingley, when he was considering the purchase of Willowbank, which I had learned was to be your home, also. The low, deceitful, and despicable means I used in endeavouring to dissuade him from purchasing the property were unconscionable. My behaviour was so utterly shameful, and so totally out of character, that, for a time, I feared that I might be losing the balance of my mind.

“When later you settled at Willowbank, I found myself utterly incapable of being in your society. Had my feelings been less, then for the sake of my friendship with Bingley, and the conduct that was demanded of me as a gentleman, I would not have prevented you from visiting Pemberley, and I would have dined at Willowbank. But my feelings would not be tamed. It feels to me, Miss Bennet, as though I have spent a twelvemonth living in hell.”

Elizabeth stopped walking, and looked up tenderly at his forlorn face. There were tears in her eyes. “You poor man,” she said. “You have suffered as much as I.”

“We have both of us suffered, for far too long, Miss Bennet. Is it possible, do you think, that a time might come when you would be able to feel more for me than mere pity? Can you find it in your heart to at least permit me the opportunity of trying to please you? Perhaps in time you might find it possible to return, in some small measure, this all-consuming passion that I feel for you?”

Elizabeth withdrew her gaze from those ardent imploring eyes framed by his handsome, tragic face, and recommenced walking along the snow-covered path. Seemingly, ignoring his heartfelt plea, she said, “I had not the least idea, Mr. Darcy, of what you felt for me, or of the torment you have suffered. And yet, I do not believe that I have suffered in any way less than you. This might strike you as callous; it might seem to you that I make light of the terrible pain and anguish which you have revealed, which is clearly of a different order of magnitude to the ostracism that I have endured.”

Darcy said nothing as he walked beside Elizabeth.

“My exclusion from society has been in no way the worst of what I have suffered, Mr. Darcy. For I have loved you, if not quite so long, most assuredly, as fervently as you have loved me. And to have been spurned and repudiated by the one I loved has been the hardest of all things to bear.”

Darcy stopped and turned towards Elizabeth, “You… you have loved me all this time?” stammered Darcy, incredulously.

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, smiling up at him. “I cannot say with any degree of certainty exactly when it began. Perhaps in Kent, when I read your letter. It had quite an effect upon me; it served to overturn all of my former prejudices against you. I felt quite ashamed of the unjust words with which I had abused you at the Hunsford Parsonage, and began to acknowledge your many fine qualities, which had been previously obscured by all my mistaken notions. My good opinion of you was greatly advanced by the favourable testimony regarding your character that I heard from your housekeeper, who conducted our tour Pemberley, just prior to the most unexpected meeting with you in the grounds.”

“It seems that I owe Mrs. Reynolds an enormous debt of gratitude,” said Darcy, beaming.

“Indeed you do,” replied Elizabeth. “But it was your own behaviour which made the strongest impression upon me, and truly earned my esteem. After the acrimony of my rebuke at Hunsford, I had no right to expect to be even noticed by you; yet you treated me with such extraordinary politeness and amiability; and the meaning of your desire to introduce me to your sister was unmistakeable. Had not the news of Lydia prevented you from paying me your addresses at Lambton, you would have been accepted. I will own that after the warmth of your conduct to me in both Pemberley and Lambton, it would not have been unexpected, and I had determined what my answer should be.”

“Oh,” whispered Darcy, staring open-mouthed at Elizabeth.

“And had you paid me your addresses in Longbourn, in September, I likewise would have accepted you.”

“And if… and if I were to pay them to you now, Miss Bennet?” he whispered, regarding her longingly.

Elizabeth removed one hand from her fur muff and pushed it up her forearm to free her hands, with which she reached out to grasp his. “The answer, Mr. Darcy, would be… yes.”

“You will marry me?” asked Darcy, almost disbelievingly. An expression of heartfelt delight suffused his face, which in a few short minutes had been transmogrified from a visage of abject misery, to astonishment and wonder, and then finally to ineffable joy and ecstasy.

“I have been waiting a long time to get the answer to that question right,” said Elizabeth, playfully alluding to her ruthless rejection of his suit in Kent.

“Elizabeth, my dearest, darling Elizabeth, today you have made me the happiest of men,” he said, his heart overflowing with joy. “May I announce our betrothal at the ball at Pemberley?”

“Certainly – although your guests may begin to believe you incapable of giving a ball without announcing your engagement,” said Elizabeth, ironically.

Darcy shook his head. “You must wonder, dear Elizabeth, how I could ever have contemplated marriage to Caroline Bingley.”

“You were in love with her, I suppose?” teased Elizabeth.

Darcy rolled his eyes. “In love with Miss Bingley? Never! After being comprehensively deceived by my aunt, though my love refused to die, I concluded that that I could never marry you, and thus determined that I must marry someone – anyone. I needed to think of an heir for Pemberley. But as a matter of the utmost urgently, I was desperate to regain control of my tempestuous emotions. I prayed that in marrying, my feelings for you might begin to diminish, for it must irrevocably end all of my hopes.”

“And Caroline Bingley has made no secret of her eagerness to be your wife!”

“What a punishment it would have been to spend my life with that woman!” said Darcy, shaking his head. “And to think how close to it I came!”

Elizabeth took Darcy's arm, and they commenced walking again, along the river. “I believe we have finally found something for which we can thank your devious aunt.”

“Yes,” said Darcy, laughing. “She purposely made me an executor of her will so that I would become aware of the payments to Miss Bingley and uncover her part in the deception. Lady Catherine knew that Miss Bingley wished to marry me, and she was determined to prevent it – and so she did.”

“But unfortunately for your aunt, her ultimate goal of your marrying her daughter, Anne, was never realised.” Elizabeth proceeded to recount her acrimonious conversation with Lady Catherine at Longbourn, the previous October.

“I knew nothing of the matter until Colonel Fitzwilliam related what you had said of the interview on the day he came with the letters to Willowbank, when you so brilliantly pieced together the whole fabric of my aunt's extraordinary scheme. So you refused her demands that you promise not to marry me?” he asked, smilingly.

“Indeed I did! The effrontery of the woman! I should have refused her even had I not wished to marry you! Her final words were ‘I shall now know how to act… depend upon it, I will carry my point!' And then she rode off to London and began weaving her wicked web of lies.”

They walked on joyfully arm in arm. “I hope I have not been too hard on Lord Netherby,” said Darcy. “I have been rather short and snappish with him, ever since the dinner at Pemberley last week. I became so annoyed at the way he was always engaging you in conversation and monopolising your attention. I became quite jealous, I fear.”

“Of course you did, my dear, exactly as you were supposed to,” said Elizabeth, with a pert smile.

“As I was supposed to?” asked Darcy, flummoxed.

“Yes, it was all part of a little deception devised by Miss Netherby. Surely you noticed all the attention that she lavished upon you – why Caroline Bingley could not have outdone her.”

“I did notice – I could hardly have failed to. But, please believe me, dear Elizabeth,” said Darcy earnestly, “I gave her not the slightest encouragement. From the moment I first discovered my aunt's deception, I have thought about, wished for, and desired to marry, no one but you.”

“I do believe you. You see, Miss Netherby and her brother have been acting a part.”

“Acting? Why ever would they do that?” asked Darcy, perplexed. They had now arrived at another of the stone bridges, which they crossed in order to complete the circuit which would bring them back to the house.

“Miss Netherby's attentions to you were intended to arouse the interest of your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, by making him jealous. I believe she was quite successful on that score, for he was most eager to engage her for the first two dances at the ball.”

“Oh, I see. So she was not really interested in me at all, then?”

“No. Miss Netherby is a most astute observer. She has been aware for some months of my feelings for you, and perhaps even, of what yours have been for me. She instructed her brother to lavish his attentions upon me in order to make you jealous, in order to prompt you to act.”

“Well, he certainly did an excellent job!” said Darcy, laughing. “Although it was hardly necessary. I fear I may have been a little overbearing with him when I demanded that he withdraw his invitation to you for the first two dances at the ball. Which reminds me; I do not believe that I have received an answer from you yet, concerning that particular request?”

“I would not dream of dancing them with any other gentleman,” said Elizabeth, squeezing his arm fondly.

Darcy smiled with satisfaction. “I suppose it would be considered bad form if I were to dance every dance with you?”

“Indeed it would. You must, of course, dance with Georgiana, in whose honour the ball is held; and as host, you will naturally be expected to dance with some of your guests. When we are married, you may be excused if you monopolise me at a ball.”

“Then tell me, dear Elizabeth, that we may marry soon,” he implored her. “We have been kept apart far too long; pray let us not prolong the torment with a long engagement,” he begged fervently.

“I think we have little choice in the matter, but to marry speedily,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “For so long as you remain unmarried, Miss Bingley will continue to receive her most ill-deserved stipend from Lady Catherine's will. When is the next payment due?”

Darcy smiled happily. “In early January, I believe; so we must marry next month – and before Christmas, of course. In three or four weeks, perhaps? Will it be possible to make all the arrangements in so short a time, do you think?” he asked anxiously.

“I can see no great difficulty,” Elizabeth reassured him. Then suddenly she stopped walking. “Oh, darling, I have just realised that we cannot announce our betrothal at the ball, for you have not yet asked my father. I am entirely confident that he will not deny you, for he holds you in the highest esteem; I can vouch for it. But still, you must observe the formality.”

“Yes indeed,” agreed Darcy, looking up at the sun to guess the hour, which was not yet midday. “I have it; I shall ride immediately to Buxton and send an express to Longbourn. Your father should have it by tomorrow at the very latest. If he replies immediately, as I shall request, then there is every possibility of my receiving his reply by the night of the ball.”

“Yes, do, darling. It will be such a wonderful birthday present for Georgiana.”

“Indeed it will,” said Darcy. “I believe it is her fondest wish.”

They were standing close to the house. Before setting out for the stables, Darcy turned towards Elizabeth, taking her hands in his and smiling at her lovingly. “I can hardly believe this day, that I have so often dreamt of, which for so long has eluded me, and seemed utterly beyond my reach, has finally come.”

Elizabeth squeezed his hands. “You speak the exact words, my love, that arise in my own heart.”

Elizabeth lost track of how long they stood staring lovingly into each other's eyes. Just as she feared he must turn to go, Elizabeth stepped closer, and standing on her toes, turned her face upwards towards his. He bent down his head, and for a brief, exquisite moment, their lips met.