Page 4 of Symptoms of Peculiar Regard

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I believe we shall be very happy. I have seen so many matches made from the first tentative growth of affection through to the beauty of mutual regard and a successful suit, but to have that joy for myself is a blessing I could hardly have dared hope for.”

Mr Darcy nodded abstractedly, and Jane wondered how she might broach the question of his own feelings when she hardly knew him. She was pondering this when he made a strangled sound. Glancing up, she saw his eyes widen before they darted away from her.

“Are you quite well?” she asked.

“You can—can you—?” he stuttered. Jane waited patiently as he collected his thoughts. “Miss Bennet, perhaps I presume too much when we are so newly acquainted,” he said at last, “and I hesitate to ask, but?—”

He stopped again, staring at her beseechingly.

“You wish to know what I can see of your own affections,” Jane finished kindly, prompting a grateful glance. She sighed and wrung her hands before she continued.

“I am glad that you ask, but I do not wish to presume. We do not know one another well, but perhaps, being a brother yourself, you will understand that I speak in the interests of my own beloved sister.”

Mr Darcy’s face paled, but he gave no other sign of responding. Jane took this to mean she should continue.

“Your feelings—and your restraint of them—are painfully clear to me, and my sister’s happiness is as dear to me as my own. Clearly you have some reservation that is preventing you from allowing yourself to admire her.”

Mr Darcy looked away, and Jane berated herself for daring to approach the subject, but when he turned back, his features and voice appeared unmoved.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“New growth—healthy growth, which might in time become a strong and sturdy love, but which is constantly being denied and withdrawn.”

“Ah.” He rubbed his neck, unable to meet her gaze.

“I have seen something much like this happen before,” Jane offered.

“Oh?”

“It was not a happy conclusion; a good, stout love, too much restrained, was so twisted as to become inward-turning bitterness. The gentleman has never completely recovered; he lives an irreproachable but lonely life, and I suspect will never be truly happy again. He is unmarried, and the lady is the wife of another man.”

Mr Darcy contemplated this. “Do you not think it is correct to be cautious in one’s interest, reserving judgment until one is sure of the suitability of a partner?”

“Certainly. But one may reserve judgment without denying one’s own feelings. I have seen love grow and bloom many, many times, but I have also seen it make a very promising beginning, only to wither away. This is natural enough; affection may exist on one side but be met by indifference on the other, or circumstances might prevent mutual interest and admiration from ever reaching their fruition. This is not what I observe in you. Restraint and reserve have their place, but resistance and control will only serve to hurt your heart in the end.

“There may be many reasons that affection does not blossom, or that you may not be free to admire my sister, but pruning an unwanted plant will often only cause more stems to spring up as it strives to survive. In this case, it might be better to leave it untended, and allow it to wither naturally. Or, perhaps,” she added firmly, “to consider whether it is necessary to remove the plant at all, and whether the objections that cause you to restrain your feelings are truly the obstacle you believe them to be.”

Mr Darcy made no reply, but turned to look at the house. Jane could see the tell-tale stems grow back towards it as his eyes roved over the windows. “Lizzy could not love a man who did not respect her,” she added quietly.

“I—” He turned his head to meet her eyes. She did not blink until he looked away. Instead of retracting abruptly, the stems slowly eased back towards him, a single leaf occasionally stretching back as if in regret. His posture was stiff but his voice was soft when he replied. “I shall think about what you have told me.”

“Thank you.”

They walked for another quarter of an hour, speaking little. Mr Darcy seemed preoccupied, but not uncomfortable with her company. When they returned to the house, they parted cordially.

At breakfast, Jane did her best not to observe either Mr Darcy or her sister too closely. Not until she and Elizabeth were preparing to depart did she allow herself to notice anything. Mr Darcy’s feelings still grew much as they had before. They did not extend so far, but neither did they retract so firmly. Jane was content. He would fall in love with Elizabeth or he would not; she had done what she could. Elizabeth’s feelings still appeared as a confused tangle of bramble, and her peculiar air at parting from Mr Darcy betrayed that she had not forgotten Jane’s hints.

As they settled into the carriage, however, Elizabeth sighed with relief.

“I am sorry to speak so ill of Mr Bingley’s hospitality, but I do not think I have ever been more pleased to leave a place than I am to escape Netherfield!”

Jane could not precisely agree with this, but she felt how trying the visit must have been to her sister, and said so.

“Mr Bingley is very amiable, but I cannot say the same for his sisters. And as for Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth turned with suddencuriosity to Jane. “I saw you walking in the garden with him this morning. I hope he was not being disagreeable.”

“Of course not. He congratulated me on my engagement.”

“As he ought to have done,” Elizabeth replied.

---