Without Vanity or Pride: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Duology

Chapter 8

The treats at Gunter’s were delightful, but Elizabeth could not rouse her customary enthusiasm for her favourite, the neige de pistachio. Her father had insisted they all leave the house and treat themselves on this, their last day in London. Elizabeth would never have agreed to it, save for an unreasonable and silly hope that by entering the streets close to him, she might somehow encounter Mr Darcy.

Mr Gardiner had of late indulged himself in a new landau, capacious and elegant, the very place to revel in both the open air and the ices on a warm spring afternoon. The ladies appreciated the treat to varying degrees—Mrs Gardiner enjoying it fully, Jane determinedly, and Elizabeth half-heartedly.

“I think if you have finished pushing your dessert around with the spoon, Lizzy, we ought to return home,” Mrs Gardiner said at last. “The children will be wondering where we went, but we must not tell, for they will be disappointed we did not take them.”

“Next time,” said Jane brightly. “I shall take them all.”

Following the visit of Mr Darcy and his group to Gracechurch Street, Jane had decided it was time to put Mr Bingley and the misery associated with him aside. She had since donned at least the appearance of good spirits and had even forced herself to return a shy smile to a gentleman who tipped his hat at her while the ladies enjoyed their treats.

It came to nothing, of course, and was a small thing, but Elizabeth was proud of her sister for doing even that much. Every journey begins as a small step, she mused, then wondered if her own steps would take her on a journey towards or away from Mr Darcy.

The carriage began to move, and with one last sigh, Elizabeth looked out towards the square. A sound behind her caught her notice—almost as if someone were calling her name—but she thought it could not be and paid no heed.

The call was repeated a second time. “Mrs Gardiner! Halloo there!”

A third time, it came with authority. “You there! Stop the carriage!”

By then, Elizabeth had twisted in her seat to see if it was who she imagined—wished—it might be. Her heart immediately began to flutter when she saw him.

Mr Darcy, breathless, with his coat and hat askew, had just gained upon them as the carriage stopped moving. “Good man,” Elizabeth heard him say to Mrs Gardiner’s driver, “I shall delay you but a moment or two.”

“Mr Darcy, will you not join us, sir? Perhaps we can take you somewhere?” said Mrs Gardiner as though it were a perfectly common occurrence to have a distinguished gentleman chase down their carriage.

“No, I thank you.” His eyes had met Elizabeth’s and did not waver. “I, um, wondered if I might speak to your niece. To Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth was already preparing to exit the carriage when Mrs Gardiner agreed. Mr Darcy waved to their driver to remain where he was and assisted her by lowering the step and handing her down. They moved a few feet away from the carriage.

“I saw Mr Bennet at my club, and he told me I might find you here.”

“My father?” Elizabeth exclaimed, horror-struck at imagining how her father might have behaved. Satiric discourse was likely the best for which she could hope.

“We had an excellent conversation, he and I. It made me realise I had more I wished to say to you than I spoke previously.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth, wanting to know more but then glanced back at the carriage. Jane and her aunt hastily looked away in a manner that let Elizabeth know they had been staring.

Mr Darcy also saw it and said, “I wonder if I might see you back to Gracechurch Street.”

Elizabeth glanced around. Being that he had clearly run some distance to meet them, she assumed his carriage was not with him, and a cursory glance confirmed it. “On foot?” she asked.

He inclined his head very briefly. “It is three miles, but unless you are much altered since last autumn, I know you capable of it.”

She smiled faintly and called out to Mrs Gardiner. “Aunt, Mr Darcy wishes to return me to Gracechurch Street on foot. Have you any objection?”

“We will not tarry, madam,” Mr Darcy added.

Mrs Gardiner granted her permission and then instructed her driver to continue on their way. Elizabeth waved to them and saw Jane move over to take the place where she had been sitting next to their aunt. Immediately, they both bent their heads towards one another.

Goodness, at least let me be out of earshot before you start gossiping about me, she thought in fond remonstrance.

Turning her attention to Mr Darcy, Elizabeth noticed his gaze was upon her. Feeling shy, she fell back on that which had never failed her: her ability to tease.

“I am told that walking in London, save for the park, is not fashionable.”

“I have lately learnt,” said Mr Darcy, “that excessive worry over what others might think is a sure receipt for misery.”

“Then by all means, let us walk.”

There was so much to say that neither could speak for a moment, and when they did, both spoke at once.

“How does your?—”

“Your father said?—”

Both stopped, laughed, and Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “You first, please.”

“I only meant to ask after your sister. I so enjoyed meeting her.”

“It was her very great pleasure to meet you,” he said. “She will be vastly disappointed to learn she is not to see you this summer at Pemberley.”

She gave him a quick glance. “I see my father has spoken to you of his strictures?” When he nodded, Elizabeth continued. “He is not best pleased with me. He seemed to imagine that being in London taught me to value wealth over character and thought to keep me home to protect me from my own frailties.”

“I know you too well to think that is true.”

“It is not,” Elizabeth agreed softly. “In fact, what I said was this: should I find that Pemberley was no more than a ramshackle peasant cottage, it could not alter my opinion of its master one bit.”

He stopped walking for a moment, and she did as well. “I was exceedingly happy to learn in the park the other day that your opinions had changed. Yet, I was happier still to learn today that I might perhaps have hope?”

She inhaled sharply, and suddenly, her chest felt tight. A quick peep at him showed he, too, appeared affected, though he continued speaking.

“I do not expect to find your feelings so very changed on the strength of a walk and a call, but your father said you refused to promise not to consider me. If the converse is true—that you might one day consider me—pray tell me so at once. I could not bear to deceive myself over what your father indicated may be nothing more than a determination to carry your point.”

His last remark made her laugh lightly. “Even I am not so obstinate as to forgo a holiday to prove a point.”

“Then…may I hope?”

Again she beheld his countenance, this time looking at her with such tenderness that it quite discomposed her. “You may,” she said quietly.