Mr. Darcy's Christmas Carol by Carolyn Eberhart

denoting your perverseness—her words—as she sought to obtain that promise from me, which you had refused to give. But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise. It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I should have come then.”
    â€œWhy did you not come? Surely you knew enough of my disposition to be certain, that had I been absolutely, irrevocably decided against you, I would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.” Elizabeth colored and laughed as she continued, “After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.”
    â€œFear, doubt, pride. My aunt can be quite overbearing, and I feared you simply would not provide her the satisfaction of giving her the assurance she demanded. Your previous refusal has weighed heavily on my mind. I was doubtful that even if your feelings for me had changed for the better, they may not have been strong enough to accept a proposal, and I felt my pride could not withstand another rejection, no matter how gently or kindly given.”
    â€œAnd I had not treated your feelings so kindly in the past.”
    â€œMy behavior to you at the time merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence and was doubtful that you could ever forgive me.”
    â€œWe will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable. But since then we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”
    â€œI cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I then said—of my conduct, my manners, and my expressions during the whole of it—is now, and has been for many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: ‘Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.’ Those were your words. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me, though it was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.”
    â€œI was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an impression. I had not the smallest idea of their ever being felt in such a way.”
    â€œI can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper feeling; I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible way that would induce you to accept me.”
    â€œOh! Do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at all. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it.”
    â€œMy letter, did it,” asked Darcy, “did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?”
    She explained what its effect on her had been: “My feelings as I read your letter can scarcely be defined. With amazement did I understand that you believed any apology to be in your power; and I was steadfastly persuaded that you could have no explanation to give that would be acceptable. It was with a strong prejudice against everything you might say that I first read your letter,” Elizabeth was embarrassed to confess.
    â€œYour belief of Jane’s insensibility I knew to be false. Your account of the real and the worst objections to the match made me too angry to perceive any justice in your words.” Elizabeth gave Darcy a wry little smile. “And it was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice. As to Mr. Wickham, every line proved more clearly that in matters between you and him, you were entirely blameless throughout the whole, which I would have believed to be impossible before reading your letter.”
    Darcy wanted to offer her some comfort, but Elizabeth spoke before he could