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Fitzwilliam Darcy was restless at home. He was currently living in London with his sister, having removed her from her own establishment after her near miss in Ramsgate. He had prevented the worst, but Georgiana was devastated and he fared no better; their relationship was suffering as a consequence. He was a failure as a guardian and he berated himself for it day and night.
He considered going out to his club but quickly resolved against it. There was no succor to be had there, or indeed anywhere. His friends saw his depressed spirits but only laughed at his gloom. Whenever he went out to a dinner or an evening party the ladies prattled on about their own concerns with nary a thought spared for his. His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was the only person who knew about the affair and understood his misery, but even he was now away with his regiment. Darcy had never felt more alone in his life.
Needing to burn off his nervous energy he set out from his house on foot and walked. He wanted to see nothing and speak to no one, only walk until he was exhausted enough to collapse into his bed, but alas, it was not meant to be. Every time he ran into an acquaintance he was forced to stop and conjure some polite words, and give the appearance of listening to theirs, until he could continue his trek. Frustrated by each interruption he turned his steps to a different neighbourhood he never usually entered, hoping to be unrecognised and unmolested.
The strange area was better. He never saw someone he knew and therefore could push himself to continue even after he was tired, and his feet ached, and his legs objected. He welcomed the discomfort. He did, however, notice the stares he was receiving. The only way this walk could be improved was to not be perceived at all; and concluding his attire was drawing attention to him as a fine gentleman in a poorer neighbourhood, he stopped in a shop he happened upon where he was able to procure ready-made garments. In those clothes he would be taken as a tradesman, which was hardly a rare sight here. Eventually he returned home—too late to have dinner with Georgiana, but satisfied with his exertion. He slept more soundly that night than he had in over a week.
Two days later he attempted to spend time with Georgiana and it was a disaster. He could see she was yet heartbroken but he had no idea what to say to her. To talk about what had happened seemed impossible, but to discuss anything else was equally so. After enduring two of the most uncomfortable hours of his life, sitting in silence with no book or instrument or anything else to occupy them, he finally ended both their suffering and left. He put on his new outfit and had his carriage deliver him to a different far-flung area of London. He walked until he was unable to take another step. He sat heavily in his carriage when he finished, feeling a satisfaction in his exertion.
From that point on his walks became a near-daily occurrence. He acquired a few more solicitor's coats for comfort as much as disguise. He would not have said he felt better while walking, but it allowed him to do something about the restlessness that plagued him at home or in company. The solitude gave him an opportunity to dwell on his errors, which helped him ignore them the rest of the time while attending to his responsibilities. He knew it was not healthy or sustainable, but it was working for now.
One such day found him walking in Cheapside. He was in particularly poor humour. Earlier that day he had heard Georgiana crying softly to herself in her room. He had wished to comfort her, but did not know how, and furthermore he thought he was the last person she would want to see while upset, when she knew as well as he did that he was the worst guardian in the world. This time he walked slowly. He felt so defeated he could not even conjure the energy to push himself. He stared at his feet, willing one to move in front of the other over and over, and did not notice the young lady who was watching his approach with unease until she spoke to him.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” she said. He stopped and looked up in surprise. “I saw you walk in this area several days ago, and noticed your distress. Today you look like you fare even worse. If it is not too impertinent of me, may I ask what troubles you? Is there any way I might possibly assist you?”
Darcy took a few moments to study the lady. He did not recognise her. She was well-dressed, in a new-looking morning dress made in the latest fashion albeit not the finest materials. She was not of the first circles, but did have money: perhaps a well-to-do tradesman's daughter or lower gentry. She did not appear to know who he really was, and would have believed herself slightly superior to him. To stop a stranger this close in rank without an introduction was impertinent indeed, but the kindness in her open expression led him to believe it was done only out of genuine concern.
“I thank you, madam,” he replied, “but I do not believe anyone can help me.”
“Are you quite certain?” she asked with a tentative smile. “A burden shared is a burden halved.”
He drew himself to his full height, intending to dismiss her for meddling and continue on his way, but then almost immediately sagged. What would he lose by confiding in a stranger? She was not seeking anything from him. She was only being kind, and perhaps that alone would help raise his spirits—even for a little while.
“I am truly not at liberty to disclose details, but suffice it to say I have failed my fifteen-year-old sister most thoroughly this summer, leading her to nearly make an enormous mistake. I do not know how to mend her heart and I am certain she hates the very sight of me. She is almost the only family I have left and I cannot tolerate this rift between us.”
The lady, whose eyes grew wide with this explanation, put a hand to her chest in dismay. “Fifteen is such a trying age,” she said sympathetically. “Will you tell me more about her?”
“She is painfully shy and now it is worse since this incident, which distresses me. She is tender-hearted and kind, always wishing to see the best in people. She does not deserve what happened to her due to my negligence.”
“Sir, it seems to me that such a gentle soul could not hate her brother. You may be mistaken about her feelings.”
“We hardly speak,” he returned miserably. “She spends the whole morning at the pianoforte or studying, and after dinner she excuses herself to her room at the earliest possible moment.” He sighed. “I wish I knew what to say to her.”
The young lady looked thoughtfully at him for a minute. She had pretty, intelligent eyes. Then she said, “When I was fifteen, I pilfered a book from my father's collection. I did not know it was rare or costly at the time; I had always understood that I had free rein in his library. But in an unfortunate accident, the book was destroyed when I tripped and dropped it into the pond I was walking next to. He was far more upset than I had expected, and that was when I discovered the book's value. I behaved quite like your sister, avoiding him for weeks out of my own feelings of shame. Finally he told me he did not care about the book, that having his little Lizzy back was the only truly important thing. After that we were able to return to the way things were, in fact our bond became stronger, and I also learned to be more respectful of other people's belongings. Something good grew from the bad.”
Darcy stared at her in disbelief at just how apt her story was to his own situation with Georgiana. His sister's innocence was incomparable to a mere book, but the breach of trust, the shame that damaged their relationship…
“Have you and your sister apologised to one another yet?” The lady, Lizzy, asked gently.
“No,” he replied, then frowned. “Actually, she apologised over and over when it first happened, and I explained it was not her fault but I am not certain she believes me.”
“Hmm.” Lizzy considered him again. “I believe, as the elder brother, it may be incumbent on you to extend the olive branch, however uncomfortable it makes you. Please, for both your sakes, try not to dwell any longer on what happened. You cannot change it. Apologise for your part and make her understand you forgive her for hers. Then do something fun together—whatever it is she likes best, whether that is a shopping trip, outing at the theatre, or something else. Move forward and strengthen your bond; make something good grow from the bad.”
Darcy looked away as he reflected on her words. “You are very wise, Miss Lizzy,” he eventually said.
She chuckled gently. “Trust someone who was once fifteen herself. Forget the blame and focus on making her happy. Your own happiness will follow.” Her attention was caught across the street, and then she waved to somebody before turning back to Darcy. “My aunt is waiting for me. I wish you both well.” She dipped a quick curtsey and was gone before he could even thank her.
“Do you know that gentleman?” he heard the aunt ask Lizzy when they met.
“Oh, he is a stranger, but I had stopped him to ask for the time, and then I was interested in his watch,” Lizzy replied with a light laugh. They spoke of their shopping as they walked away until he could no longer hear them.
Darcy stood in place for a long while, thinking over everything he had talked about with Lizzy. Then he suddenly shook his head and turned his steps resolutely back the way he had come, towards his waiting carriage. He had a conversation to plan.
Elizabeth looked eagerly at the doors when the long-awaited Bingley party arrived at the assembly in Meryton that October. She smiled to see Mr Bingley himself look eagerly around him, clearly prepared to be pleased with the dance and the people. She was a little less certain about the ones Charlotte whispered were his sisters and one of their husbands. But she gasped in shock when she saw the last member of the party. “What is wrong?” Charlotte asked.
“I met that man in London,” Elizabeth said in wonder. “The tall, dark-haired gentleman. We only briefly spoke in the street, and I did not get his name, but I am certain it is the same man. Who is he?”
“Mr Bingley's friend, Mr Darcy,” Charlotte explained. Lowering her voice she added, “He owns a great estate in Derbyshire, said to be worth ten thousand a year. Mr Bingley's fortune is nothing to his.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth studied him. The man she had impulsively comforted had looked like a solicitor, and was repeatedly in Cheapside, yet this one was obviously very wealthy—besides Charlotte's information, she could see it in his fine clothes and proud way he carried himself. Perhaps it was someone else after all, who merely resembled him. After all, she had only seen the man for five minutes, two months ago. But despite that logic, she still believed it to be him. She had found him too handsome to forget even in his low spirits.
Several dance sets passed with no opportunity for Elizabeth to get closer to him. Whenever she was not dancing, he was dancing with his friends or standing across the room. All the while she could hear her neighbours whispering: first about his fortune and stately appearance, then later about his pride as he steadfastly refused to speak with anyone outside his own party. She sighed and gave up hope. Even if it was the same man, this gentleman was far too proud to acknowledge her, if he recognised her at all.
Just as she made that conclusion, however, he began to walk around the outside of the ballroom. Elizabeth froze in place. If she did not move, he would reach her within a minute. She stood and openly stared while he made his circuit of the room. Finally, when he was perhaps ten feet away from her, he looked up. Their eyes met.
The effect on Mr Darcy was immediate. Gone was the frowning hauteur. He stopped moving mid-stride, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped open. Then he gave her the most beaming smile she had ever seen. She tentatively smiled back. He frantically looked around him, and she was confused for a moment until she realised he was seeking someone who might be able to make an introduction. He hastened to Sir William Lucas while giving multiple backwards glances at her, as if she would disappear, and then the two gentlemen approached. Sir William performed the office readily and then made some comment about Elizabeth being a desirable dance partner before leaving them.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Mr Darcy said. “Miss Lizzy,” he amended with a smile. “Is it really you?”
“The very same,” she replied. “You, however, have transformed from a tradesman of Cheapside to a gentleman of large property in Derbyshire.”
He laughed. “I have no more need to conceal my identity with my clothing and location. I no longer take desultory walks alone.”
“I hope that means you and your sister are feeling better,” she said, and was once again astonished by the smile he directed at her. Lord, was he handsome.
“You have done more for us both than I can ever say.” He explained he had followed her advice in seeking reconciliation with his sister; that Elizabeth had been correct in guessing she was hiding due to shame and fear of his being displeased with her; that once they began communicating properly they were able to understand one another's perspective on the summer, to agree to put it behind them, and to focus on spending time together making new memories. “She is more than ten years my junior, and I have been her guardian for several years, so she has long been more of a daughter to me,” he said; “but now we are attempting to become more like brother and sister. She is nearly grown, after all.”
“Sir, I rejoice at your report. You would have made it there yourselves, though, I think.”
“Not likely,” he smiled ruefully with a shake of his head. “We are both rather too stubborn for that. I met you at exactly the right time; you were just what I needed. A lovely and wise angel finding me in the street and setting me on the proper path.”
Elizabeth blushed deeply and looked away. She had been focused on Darcy for the last ten minutes while they conversed, but now she could see they were attracting the curious gazes of her friends and neighbours. She had better end this discussion before people thought the wrong thing.
“Would you do me the honour of dancing the next set with me?” Darcy asked her suddenly, pulling her attention back.
“Oh! Y-yes, of course I will. But I believe there is still one more dance in the current set first. I can wait by my sister for you to collect me.”
Darcy frowned. “Can we not continue talking until our dance? I want to learn more about you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. What brought you to London in the summer?”
Elizabeth hesitated. He seemed quite interested in her now, but that surely would dissipate once he learned of her connections. On the other hand, if he would be put off it was best to get it out of the way early. “I live here most of the time, but my uncle lives on Gracechurch Street near his warehouses. I visited his family for the summer.”
Darcy got a pinched look on his face. Here it comes, Elizabeth thought, he would revoke his invitation to dance or at least become more cold until he could be rid of her. But he once again surprised her by instead saying, “Summer is best spent anywhere else other than town. You would have done better to visit them in the winter.”
She laughed in relief. “But then I would not have met you,” she pointed out playfully.
He smiled fondly at her then, far too fondly for such a trifling acquaintance as theirs. “You are right. I should not quarrel with kismet.”
He went on to ask her about how she spent her time in town, and they carried on an engaging conversation until it was time for their dance. While they had caught some people's notice already, once they lined up they now had the attention of the entire room. Elizabeth felt all the honour of being singled out by such a man, who moved gracefully and was too absorbed by her to pay any mind to the whispers around them. Her heart stirred for him. How could it not?
Afterwards he led her to the refreshment table and gave her a cup of punch. “May I dance the last set with you, later?” he asked, and she nearly spit out her drink in surprise.
“Sir,” she said uneasily, “this is a small neighbourhood. People are already staring and speculating about us. If I dance with you a second time, especially the last, they will certainly all think—”
“Think what?” he asked when she paused.
“Well, that you intend to pay court to me.” She blushed, mortified by having to say it.
“I see,” he said, looking serious. “And you? What would you think?”
She looked sharply at him, at his studied innocence, and began to feel piqued. He was teasing her, she realised, but to what end she did not know. “Perhaps I would believe the same of you, sir,” she said defiantly.
“Indeed,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “In that case… will you dance the last set with me, madam?”
“Sir!” she cried, blushing again. “Are—are you certain?”
He moved a little bit closer to her and gazed into her eyes intently. “I have thought a lot about you, Miss Lizzy, these last weeks,” he said quietly so that only she might hear. “I even looked for you. I went back to Cheapside at least three times hoping to meet you again, but you were not there. You can imagine my surprise when I found you tonight after I had given up hope. Perhaps you can see how little I wish for you to slip through my fingers a second time.”
“Surely your gratitude is excessive,” she objected.
“If it were gratitude alone, I would agree,” he said, “but it is what I have seen of your character that appeals to me. That day in London was the most humbling of my life. You showed kindness to someone wholly unconnected to yourself because you could see a kind word was needed. You did not laugh at me with your aunt afterwards. You have given me several opportunities to withdraw tonight, even while it would benefit you to encourage me, because you are too proper and considerate not to. How could I resist such a woman?”
Elizabeth smiled in delight at his speech. If he was certain he wanted to pursue her, who was she to deny him? She already liked him too well to hesitate for any reason other than concern for his status. If he was willing to overlook that objection, so was she. After a moment of thought, however, she decided to give him one more test.
“I begin to perceive I have some power over you, Mr Darcy,” she said mischievously and he smiled his acquiescence. “I would have you dance with one of my sisters, of my own choosing, and then be introduced to my mother and converse with her. After those missions are completed, if you still wish to dance the last with me, you may ask and I will say yes.”
He laughed. “You mean to frighten me with your relations, but I am made of sterner stuff than I may have led you to believe that day. Lead the way to your sister, madam.”
Elizabeth watched as he accepted the introduction to Lydia, asked her very properly for the next set which was about to begin, and then completed the dance with exactness. He attended to his partner correctly as they danced, even though Lydia was surely prattling on about nonsense to him, and then escorted her to Mrs Bennet. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again as her mother spoke at length to him and he listened with grave propriety—although this was her plan, to let him see how mortifying his prospective in-laws could be before he raised the expectations of the neighbourhood, she became afraid it would work too well. He might actually reconsider. She stood by in anxious suspense. At least, she thought, she was not forced to hear their conversation. Her speculation of her mother's words was bad enough; the truth of it was likely worse, and would shatter her hope completely.
After some minutes Darcy slowly made his way back to her. The serious look on his face as he approached made her heart sink. He came and stood next to her while they both looked out into the ballroom. She waited quietly for him to speak first, every moment more dreadful to her feelings than the last.
Finally he turned to face her again. “As delightful as your mother and sister are,” he said, “I believe I shall enjoy my second set of dances with you even more.”
Who can be in doubt of what followed? The courtship of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet was swift and they married shortly after Twelfth Night. Having decided on her even before meeting her in Meryton, and already resolved to accept those relations who must live in or near Cheapside to be shopping there twice in one week, his only remaining concern was the behaviour of Elizabeth's younger sisters and mother. However, a closer acquaintance with Jane and the aforementioned aunt and uncle of London consoled him that there were some of his new relations for whom there was no need to blush.
Elizabeth was everything he had ever wished for in a partner in life and he never repined for a moment, however strenuously his own family objected to the haste with which he had thrown himself away on an unknown. She and Georgiana became as close as sisters could be, and later, when they had children, he witnessed her revel in motherhood with pride and love.
With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Cheapside at the worst time of year, had been the means of uniting them.