Page 26 of Undone

Elizabeth raised her brows, the corners of her mouth already threatening a smile. "I had not realised you were once so greatly admired."

"I suspect Miss Bingley admired Pemberley and my situation rather more than my person." Darcy's smile broadened in answer to her teasing. "I believe she hoped I might one day return her attention, which I never did. Later, as Georgiana grew older, she and Mrs. Hurst likewise began to entertain the hope that my sister and Bingley might eventually marry."

"Oh."

It was all Elizabeth found herself able to say.

"When rumours concerning the misfortune of dealing with a Darcy first began to circulate, they dashed both expectations at once. I believe that accounts for whatever resentment they now indulge behind my back, however civil they remain to my face."

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. The explanation accounted for a great deal. She could not approve of it, but she could understand it.

Determined that the conversation should not become too serious, she resumed her teasing.

"Well, for a lady of such consequence to have admired you so particularly, it must surely speak well of your person, sir. I can readily understand her disappointment."

"She was not the only one disappointed." He spoke lightly enough to continue the jest, yet there was something beneath the words that suggested they were not uttered entirely in play. "My aunt, Lady Catherine, was disappointed as well."

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise.

"I do not understand. Surely she did not wish you to marry Miss Bingley also?"

A smile flickered across his face.

"No. She wished me to marry her daughter, Anne."

"And you refused?"

"I did, and I have never altered in my resolution."

He spoke without heat, yet Elizabeth fancied she detected something old and familiar beneath the calmness of his tone, as though the matter had been argued often enough that the words required no further passion.

"My aunt has scarcely spoken to me since. A civil word at Christmas, perhaps, and little more."

"I am sorry you have had to bear that, in addition to everything else."

"It is a small grief when compared with the rest. Even so, I confess it wounded me more than I had expected."

His gaze wandered across the valley before them.

"Society expects a man in my situation to think first of duty, particularly where marriage is concerned. My aunt has never forgiven me for believing otherwise. Yet her opinion is wholly contrary to everything my mother taught me."

"And what was that?" Elizabeth asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

"That happiness is of greater consequence than rank or status. She believed people ought to marry where affections led them, rather than where convenience or expectation directed. Duty may preserve an estate, but it does not always secure contentment."

He spoke quietly, almost as though repeating words long treasured.

"My mother believed it with her whole heart, and lived accordingly, whatever my aunt may have thought of her."

"Then your mother taught you wisely."

Elizabeth found she spoke with greater earnestness than she had intended.

"I believe much the same. I could never marry a man whom I did not both love and respect, whatever fortune he might possess. My mother declares me excessively particular andreminds me of it with admirable regularity, yet I have never found reason to think her right."

Darcy turned to look at her then, with an expression so intent and so entirely free from his usual reserve that Elizabeth's breath caught before she could prevent it. For a long moment he said nothing, and she had the curious sensation of being regarded not merely with attention, but with perfect understanding. Until that moment, she had never thought to question the nature of the regard that had grown between them. Now, for reasons she could not have named, that certainty no longer appeared quite so secure.

At length he spoke.