Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory
Chapter Ten
Gratefully, Jane’s manners were not bound in any way, and she invited the party to walk in the gardens with us. Of course we could not stand around speaking in the drive for the entire visit. When did I become so inept? For a moment, I felt my heart rate surge as the party naturally separated into pairs. Jane and Mr Bingley began walking down one path, and I suspected that Colonel Fitzwilliam would replace his cousin in escorting Miss Darcy, leaving me with her brother.
I prepared myself for it. There was an unspoken purpose to this visit that went well beyond the pleasantries exchanged near the carriage. I was not ready for it despite knowing for many weeks that this time was coming. I understood its necessity and was grateful that Mr Darcy seemed intent upon fulfilling his obligation, yet I had the impulse to run off down the lane and hide in the lilac bushes there. A wry smile lifted my lips as I thought of crouching down among the branches as a child when my mother would call me inside.
However, it was Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm that was presented to me, his keen eyes questioning my secret smile as he offered his escort.
I tipped my head and accepted, placing my hand on his arm. Ahead of us, Miss Darcy and her brother were carefully making their way along the path. She made subtle gestures, spoke whispered words, and by so doing, allowed her brother to have all the appearance of leading her, while in truth she guided him. It was a kindness that spoke of her affection for her brother and her understanding of how he would not wish to look helpless. How unsettling it must be for Mr Darcy to require such gentle measures, and I felt gratitude for his cousin and sister who so expertly disguised their help that anyone not aware of his condition might not otherwise have guessed he could not see.
I felt the colonel’s eyes on me and realised I had been studying the backs of Miss Darcy and her brother with focused attention for far too long. He smiled slightly at me, and I noticed the suspicion leave his eyes.
“May I speak plainly, Miss Elizabeth?”
I schooled my features to remain impassive, difficult though it was for me to do so. How I wished I had Jane’s ability to always look serene!
“Yes, of course, sir.”
He hesitated only a moment, looking ahead to our companions, and I felt our pace slow ever so slightly. “As you can imagine, the news of the collapse and my cousin’s injury was a shock to us. I could hardly make out the words in Mr Bingley’s letter, which only added to the concern in receiving it.”
I laughed quietly. The topic was not humorous, but I recalled the difficulty Jane had had in reading her suitor’s handwriting and imagined Colonel Fitzwilliam likewise found it so. I sobered immediately, concerned lest my companion misinterpret my bout of amusement.
He did not, to my relief. “You are familiar with Mr Bingley’s hand, I see.” I nodded, embarrassment flooding my cheeks with colour for being so light-hearted when he had wished to speak of his cousin’s condition. He thankfully continued.
“Mr Darcy is…I beg your pardon, perhaps I should ask how well acquainted you are with my cousin? He introduced you as a friend, but I know he has not been long in the neighbourhood.”
This was more familiar ground and I answered honestly, pitching my voice low to keep it from carrying to the couple ahead of us. I looked around for my sister and her companion, surprised I could not see them right away.
“Indeed, you are correct. Mr Bingley let the house just after Michaelmas, and I believe your cousin followed soon thereafter. We have dined in company a number of times, and more recently, I spent a few days under the same roof as Mr Darcy when my sister became ill while on a visit to Miss Bingley. Excepting attending an assembly together…”
Colonel Fitzwilliam was an astute observer, and I wished I had been more careful with my tone when recalling the assembly, for his eyebrows popped up though he did not speak. I suspected he filed my words away for another time.
I cleared my throat and continued, explaining that besides those occasions we had very little interaction. “Until, that is, the day of the visit to Bodden Chapel.”
Once again I regretted my transparency. Despite the physical and emotional distress of that day, for some inexplicable reason, my voice carried a measure of reverence when speaking of it, and the observant colonel did not miss it. To avoid his interested gaze, I looked ahead and my eyes locked on the broad back of Mr Darcy as he bent down to speak something to his sister.
“I was sorry to hear of your injuries, Miss Elizabeth. My cousin and Mr Bingley explained the extent of them, and I am pleased that I am able to make your acquaintance without you appearing to suffer much for them.”
I thanked him, and for a moment we were silent.
“I have wondered about my cousin’s actions.” At my questioning glance, he was quick to add, “That is not to say I was surprised he would jump to the rescue of a handsome woman, mind you.”
I blushed at his compliment and then my lips quirked up into a smile. I suspected Mr Darcy had not informed his cousin that my beauty he had long withstood. No, whatever reason propelled him to rescue me, it was not my attractiveness.
Once again the keen observance of my companion detected something of my thoughts. With humour, I spoke with perhaps more impertinence than I ought to have done on such short acquaintance.
“I am loath to contradict you, Colonel, given the newness of our association. I would hate to damage so new a friendship by challenging your assumption, yet I cannot allow you to go on with such faulty logic.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam proved himself the amiable gentleman I had suspected of him when he laughed outright, bringing forth my own laughter. Mr Darcy turned abruptly to look over his shoulder towards the sound, and the frown upon his face was quite familiar. It only added to the evidence of how wrong his cousin was in assuming Mr Darcy would have used my outward appearance as an inducement to come to my aid during the collapse. Romantic as that sounded, it was clear to me that Mr Darcy acted on impulse when he saw danger to another, and that was all.
I tempered my laughter, not wishing to draw him into my conversation with his cousin before I could make my correction. Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed all the more amused by his cousin’s fierce grimace and slowed our pace even more. Mr Darcy, at the mercy of his guide, was obliged to keep walking.
“Please explain yourself, Miss Elizabeth. I am eager to hear your opinion and promise that contradicting me will not alter mine. But be quick about it, mind you. My cousin clearly dislikes that I have been the recipient of your charming laugh. I must warn you, I have known of your many qualities long before we met this day.”
He nodded towards his cousin when he spoke the last, and I was surprised by it. He could not have meant that Mr Darcy spoke highly of me. Ahead of Mr and Miss Darcy, I caught a glimpse of my sister and Mr Bingley as they passed behind a break in a hedge. That settled my thoughts and answered for such a strange utterance. Mr Bingley, I had no doubt, was the type of gentleman to speak highly of everyone he met.
“As kind as you are to say that Mr Darcy acted as he did at Bodden Chapel on account of my beauty, I must sadly inform you that I am certain that is not the case. Being his cousin, you must know he would have acted as any gentleman might in the face of danger. Whatever else may have been his motive is his to explain. For you see, I have long known Mr Darcy’s opinion on the subject of my beauty. I assure you, I am merely ‘tolerable’ and ‘not handsome enough’ to tempt him.”
I laughed lightly at my wit and use of Mr Darcy’s own words from the assembly. I even flattered myself to think I did a tolerable job at mimicking Mr Darcy’s baritone voice. The sting of those words had been long dispelled, though perhaps not entirely and without leaving their mark. Of course a lady wishes to be thought of as beautiful; however, that does not mean that she cannot appreciate a noble gesture for what it was. Mr Darcy had not rescued me for my beauty as the colonel suggested, but because he was a man of action. And begrudgingly, I allowed myself to admit it was because of some measure of goodness within him.
“Is that so? How very interesting.” My companion spoke as though he did not believe a word I had said yet had garnered some valuable information from my speech. He left me feeling a little adrift.
“I hope my cousin was not foolish enough to actually speak those words aloud; however, your amusing impression of him confirms it. A thousand pardons to you, miss. I do not know the particulars that led him to make such a false statement; my cousin loathes deceit of any kind. Perhaps he was misheard.”
“I assure you, Colonel, I know of what I speak. I heard Mr Darcy say these words myself.”
“Well, let us not quarrel, shall we?” he responded with a beguiling smile, causing me return it. “We have only just met, Miss Elizabeth, and I do not wish to be on enemy lines with you. Let me just say, I too have heard my cousin speak on this subject, and I shall maintain my previous opinion.”
My mouth dropped open in an unladylike expression, which I soon schooled. Colonel Fitzwilliam merely smiled to himself, full of some amusing secret he was unlikely to share. Given his acute observance of me during our short acquaintance, as well as his ability to confuse and spin my thoughts in all manner of directions, I had no doubt he had risen to the rank of colonel with no trouble at all. I pitied any foe he might face. For certainly, this man would know their secrets and strip them of any strategic order to their battle plans with very little effort.
Although the colonel had the ability to unnerve me, I found his companionship easy in another way. Oddly, even though we had just met, I felt the same sort of fondness touched with a bit of annoyance that I had always presumed a sister might feel for a brother.
We did not speak more, which was a blessing as it allowed me time to reconsider many different assumptions I had made about my companion as well as his cousin. That man and Miss Darcy slowed to allow us to catch them, and soon we four were standing about quietly and not a little awkwardly. Colonel Fitzwilliam led me to a nearby iron bench, charmingly set by a cluster of late-blooming rose bushes. I sat with a thank you and expected he would next escort Miss Darcy to take the seat by my side.
Instead, he startled me with his words to his cousin. “Darcy, might we exchange companions for a time? There is a flower I see just over there that I do believe can also be found in Pemberley’s gardens, and I wonder whether Georgiana might oblige me and identify it.”
“Of course.”
Mr Darcy’s face was as impassive as ever I had seen it. He was unlikely to give much of his thoughts away to the colonel, yet it seemed as though that military strategist knew them regardless. Miss Darcy walked her brother to me and took his hand in hers for an affectionate parting squeeze.
Had I not known of the subtle ways his relations helped him, I might not have noticed how Miss Darcy left her brother’s hand on the edge of the bench when she let it go. This little action allowed Mr Darcy to take a seat without much disruption to his natural grace had his vision been sound. A lump formed in my throat. Although the bench had ample space for both of us, I attest I could feel the heat of his leg as it rested next to mine despite the several inches that separated us.
I missed the parting words and looks from the colonel and Miss Darcy. Which was just as well, for I could imagine what they might have communicated. I was not ignorant of the real purpose of exchanging walking partners. Mr Darcy had come to Longbourn for one reason and one reason alone. It would seem it was time.
Nervously, I looked up through my lashes at the stillness beside me. And Mr Darcy did sit almost too still, as if he were lost in a state within himself. The gentleman, for all his ability to hide his thoughts, could not hide the subtle movements of his eyes as they darted around tensely, nor hide the way he repeatedly swallowed, clearing his throat a number of times before attempting to speak.
I knew that I was staring and I ought not. However well I knew my breach with etiquette at that moment, I could not fight my inclination to drink in every aspect of his features. At no other time during our acquaintance was I afforded such an opportunity to study him without his knowledge. As much as I disliked his manners, I could never fully inoculate myself against his handsome features. As if he could detect my thoughts, even though I had not spoken a word, Mr Darcy turned towards me. His lost and blank eyes hit me with a blast of unexpected grief. I could almost say that I missed the focused way he used to look at me. It was a shame that someone of his proud demeanour should lose this aspect of his being. Mr Darcy ought to always have his ability to glare. Without it, he looked almost…wrong.
At least when he glared at me, I knew where we stood with one another. He looked at me to find fault, and I was, if not pleased, then used to it. This lack of focus caused by his blindness had the ability to undermine my dislike for him. It humanised him, and made me think all manner of ridiculous thoughts, such as how I wished to push away the curl at his brow or run my finger along the fullness of his lower lip. And that was just the unsettling thoughts regarding his handsome face. I almost prayed for the return of his sight if only to have that glare of his remind me how his pride and arrogance dictated his every action. The last time he had glared at me had been just before he leapt at me near the ruins.
I recalled with vivid acuity the force of that look. It pushed through me and shattered my heart, encapsulating me in stunned immobility. In that moment, as the world turned upside down around us, had he lifted his hand and beckoned to me rather than jumped to wrap his arms about me, I would have gone to him without hesitation. That thought alone made me reverse my original opinion and decide that his glare was not something to hope returned. What a mess of contradictions I was!
My thoughts were as disordered as Bodden Chapel was now. I disliked how lost Mr Darcy looked, yet I could not entirely wish for him to regain the ability to look at me as he did before the accident. His glare was as much a part of him as the strong, square fingers tapping a steady tattoo on his leg, but I had never fully felt comfortable with it. That glare of his produced in me a dislike for his disagreeable manners, curiosity to know his thoughts regardless, and most importantly, allowed me to keep at bay any lingering opinions on full lips and errant curls!
My disquiet manifested itself in a quiet huff, which naturally Mr Darcy fixed on.
“How are you recovering, Miss Elizabeth?”
His voice carried an unmistakable element of concern, which made me study his face all the more. I knew he could not see me, yet I blushed at not being able to look away.
“I am nearly all healed, thank you. And…and you? Mr Bingley has spoken of your condition.”
I winced at the inelegance of my words. Mr Darcy, to his credit, did not show displeasure at my reference to his blindness. I knew that he was not reconciled with his circumstances, but how I knew that, I could not say. Only that intuitively, I knew he would hate every restriction it placed upon him. I could not claim to be familiar with him to such a degree, yet I knew my impression was true.
“Thank you for speaking of it. I did not know how to broach such a subject with you, but of course, you must learn of it. You have every right to wonder what implications it has for you.”
Again I blushed at his reference to our paired future, but the prevailing feeling I felt was…compassion. On impulse, I rested my hand on one of his where it still restlessly tapped on his leg. Mr Darcy immediately went utterly still as if he did not have the ability to command his muscles to move. Even his chest was motionless, his breathing frozen.
Immediately, I pulled my hand away. He was too slow to respond; his hands lifted to catch mine only to grasp air and slowly return to rest on his legs. I watched them settle and felt ashamed. I could not reach out to him again. I simply could not, despite the sudden clarity of how grievously lonely his world must feel to him now. A world of darkness robbed every personal interaction of so much. My hand twitched, the muscles knowing I ought to offer this small kindness, but I did not reach out. Ashamed of myself, I looked around for Miss Darcy and the colonel in desperation. Their touch was proper, desired even. Mr Darcy could only desire for my hand as a way to ground him in a world of swirling night.
“I am sorry you suffered such a consequence in ensuring my safety. It does not seem fair.”
I could at least offer these sincere words. Mr Darcy and I might never have really liked each other, but I could not see his difficulty and be totally immune to it.
“Please do not…that is to say, I…I cannot explain how the sight of…” His voice shook and then his jaw went rigid and his lips pressed together.
A moment later, his voice once again regulated, he continued, “It was impossible to act otherwise, and I do not regret it despite my condition. Regardless, it is the way it is, and I must learn to accept it.”
“Mr Bingley said that your physician believes your sight will return with time,” I offered with false lightness, hoping to dispel the morose and disquieting atmosphere around us.
It was unfathomable, but when Mr Darcy seemed to be about to speak of his turmoil, I could not bear it. I was grateful when he stopped, because it did not sit well with me to see his spirit weakened. As much as I disliked his pride, it suited him. I understood myself enough to know that my wish to avoid hearing his difficulties was for my own protection as well. It was selfish of me. I did not wish to know Mr Darcy was brought low, for it would rob me of my aversion to him if I were required to see that he suffered because of me. If I had not needed to be rescued, he would not have been injured in this way.
“Thank you for rescuing me from a dire fate. I am not ignorant of what might have happened to me had you not acted as you did.”
Mr Darcy turned to me. He might not be able to see, but that only opened up the expressions of his face to show how much he disliked my speaking of my possible death. His blank eyes flashed with fear. Perhaps he was seeing those last moments before we were both buried in darkness.
Or perhaps the fear was for the future. I did not doubt the uncertainty that lay before him. I hoped he would regain his sight, for I would feel miserable to know I had been responsible for breaking someone, anyone.
“I do not wish for your gratitude.”
His words, spoken so low as to be almost scraping the gravel at our feet, still had the power to upset me. His actions had saved my life, and I was not even allowed to express my thanks! For all he had lost on my behalf, he had not lost his arrogance. Not wish for my gratitude, indeed!
“Well, nevertheless, you have it,” I ground out.
My companion’s brows puckered, but other than that, he did not respond to my words. No nod of acknowledgement. Could he not recognise how awful it was to accept that my very life was owed to a man I disliked? He must know how difficult it was for me to be beholden in such a way. Although I was grateful, I could not help but feel it had cost me every bit as much as it had cost him. Particularly when next, without any expression, feeling, or passion, Mr Darcy spoke the words that he had come to say.
“Miss Elizabeth, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
I do not know how I stayed seated. How I did not lurch forward out of the bench and run to the house. I hated this obligation of his. I hated that the only marriage proposal I was to receive was not one of love. Yet I could not decline it. Awful as it was that I had no choice but to marry Mr Darcy, it was still worse to know how much he loathed the idea himself. He did not love me and I did not love him, yet we were bound to this future. Every hope of my girlish dreams was fractured by his unwilling question. It was utterly intolerable.
My eyes caught a movement on the other side of the garden. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s all-too-perceptive gaze caught my own, and I knew in that moment that I must hide every brutal and painful feeling from then on. Colonel Fitzwilliam, though hardly more than a stranger, had the ability to read me as though he was a relation. Swiftly, I looked away from him.
Mr Darcy had lost his sight in saving my life. He ought not ever know that accepting his offer would make me lose a bit of my soul in exchange.
“I thank you, Mr Darcy, yes.”
Mr Darcy breathed deeply beside me, his movements contrasting with my own. Where he seemed to draw in great heaps of air in relief, I felt I could not breathe at all. It was as if I was buried all over again and my lungs were on fire. I blinked rapidly at the stinging of my eyes. Now was not the time to be missish.
“What are you wearing?”