Darcy's Trial by M. A. Sandiford Page B

Fitzwilliam Darcy
    As she finished this letter, Elizabeth kept hold of it, pretending to read it again but in reality struggling to regain her composure. Her face no doubt betrayed her emotion, which her uncle and aunt would probably construe as embarrassment, or perhaps guilt, but her main feeling was one of fury at Darcy’s characteristic paternalism and self-importance. It was as if Darcy and her uncle were adults, and she, Elizabeth, was a child in their care that had foolishly ignored their counsel, acted on impulse, and needed to be guided kindly but firmly back to the proper pathway. And this from a man who had just endangered his own life, and his sister’s reputation and prospects, by taking part in a mindless duel for no apparent reason beyond some medieval notion of honour. He was ridiculous—in a way as foolish and sanctimonious as Mr Collins—and she longed to tell him so. However, for the present she had to attend to her uncle and aunt, who were awaiting her reaction with their usual kindly concern.
    She handed the letter back to her uncle, who after an awkward pause asked, ‘I assume this is true, Lizzy?’
    Elizabeth coloured in shame. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you …’
    ‘Perhaps you visited the Darcys on impulse,’ Mrs Gardiner suggested, ‘and were intending to inform us afterwards?’
    For a moment Elizabeth was tempted to assent to this, but she decided there had been enough deceit. ‘In truth, I was determined to thank Mr Darcy for his help to our family, and to offer any support that was in my power to give.’ She shifted her gaze to take in her uncle as well as her aunt. ‘I concealed my visit because I feared you would oppose it.’
    ‘With good reason,’ Mr Gardiner said, with an unusually authoritative edge to his voice. ‘Have you no appreciation of the risk you have been taking?’
    ‘I see no particular danger,’ Elizabeth said, trying to control her irritation at this further demonstration of male paternalism. ‘I have no reason to think I was observed arriving or departing. I met no-one outside the Darcy family, who are scarcely given to gossip.’
    ‘Surely other people might have called,’ Mrs Gardiner pointed out.
    ‘On the contrary, the Darcys are now in self-imposed exile. Even the Bingleys have been discouraged from visiting.’ Elizabeth wondered whether to mention her news from Jane, but held off to prevent any impression of trying to change the topic.
    Mr Gardiner shook his head. ‘I cannot go along with this, Lizzy. With luck no harm is done yet, but the visits must cease until Mr Darcy succeeds in clearing his name—as I hope and trust he will.’
    Tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes, and she whispered, ‘I wish I could feel such confidence.’
    There was a long silence, before Mrs Gardiner asked gently, ‘Lizzy, is there perhaps some— understanding between you and Mr Darcy? I was assured by your mother that you thoroughly disliked him, but now I am unsure what to think.’
    ‘Believe me, there is no understanding of any kind. However, I have misjudged Mr Darcy in the past, and we are now in his debt. I believe it would be shameful to abandon him.’
    Mr Gardiner waved the letter. ‘But that is precisely what Mr Darcy insists that you do, and I must say I concur entirely with his judgement. I’m sorry Lizzy, this must end directly, else I will be forced to inform your father. If you wish to remain in London, I must have your promise that there will be no more visits to Darcy House, nor any other contacts with the family.’ He glanced at the clock, and rose to his feet. ‘Do I have your word?’
    Elizabeth remained silent for a while, seething with frustration and humiliation, but saw no alternative to giving in, and in a strangled voice muttered her agreement.

    The following two days Elizabeth passed mainly in her own company, sometimes walking in the park, and sometimes reading Mary Wollstonecraft, whose ideas had become almost an obsession.