Chapter VIII #3
“Perhaps with the next generation,” said Darcy, projecting an air of gravity. “After all, it is said that it takes five generations for new money to find acceptance in society—may that not be the same for manor houses?”
The silvery peal of Miss Bennet’s laughter rang out over the hill. “Perhaps it does, Mr. Darcy.”
“If I am not mistaken, you prefer the wild untamed beauties of nature.”
“Oh, aye,” said Miss Bennet with a smile. “Anything we mortals attempt must pale in comparison with nature’s creations.”
“Centuries of my family would agree with you, Miss Bennet.” Darcy paused. “Then you appreciate Pemberley more than Rosings Park, for example?”
She turned to him, a slight look of reproach ruined by her attempt to hide her mirth. “What would Lady Catherine say if she heard you speaking in such a way, Mr. Darcy? Do you not know that she has topiaries? What of the garden of England? And Rosings Park has sixty-four windows!”
Darcy grimaced a little. “I suppose that detail came from the inestimable Mr. Collins?”
“That and more,” replied she. “Mr. Collins was most eager to tell us everything he knew.”
“It amazes me to compare your father with Mr. Collins,” said Darcy. “Mr. Collins is a sycophant from his head to his toes, but your father, though I did not speak with him much, strikes me as an erudite man.”
“Yes, Papa is clever. I know little about Mr. Collins or the circumstances of his upbringing. Papa never spoke much of his cousin, with whom he did not get on at all.”
For several moments, they turned to look at the landscape laid out before them, Darcy, who was familiar with this view, watching Miss Bennet more than anything else.
There was something childlike about her joy in nature, a sense of wonder and enthusiasm she brought to everything she did.
Though he wanted to imagine her in his life at Pemberley, he would not indulge hopes he had not yet earned, so he pushed them away, content to enjoy her presence.
“Since you prefer Pemberley,” said Darcy, breaking the silence between them, “it will shock you to learn that my aunt, besides promoting a marriage between Anne and me, wishes me to reside at Rosings instead of Pemberley.”
“Blasphemy!” exclaimed she, turning those mischievous eyes on him again. “Live in Kent instead of Derbyshire? Whoever heard of such a thing?”
“Lady Catherine, apparently.” Darcy shrugged. “She has never said such a thing outright, of course, but she has made several comments over the years that make her position clear.”
“That is curious,” said Miss Bennet. “If you married Miss de Bourgh, Rosings Park would become your property. Would Lady Catherine not balk at the notion of giving way to you?”
“That is the strange part,” agreed Darcy.
“Lady Catherine manages the estate the way she wants—it is not what I would call the most beneficial style. Fitzwilliam and I have discussed it and come to a few educated guesses. Either she believes I will give way to her, or that she will still be able to direct matters from the background.”
“If she believes either, she does not know you,” said Miss Bennet.
Darcy knew it could not be true, but it felt like the first thing she had ever said to compliment his character.
“I have no desire to have Rosings,” said Darcy.
Miss Bennet glanced at him, a question therein. “Rosings would add to your wealth considerably.”
“That is true, but I have Pemberley and several other properties, and do not need to add Rosings Park. Furthermore, managing an estate of the size of Rosings from a distance would be difficult, though not impossible. I am content with what I have and do not need more.”
A nod was her response, and Darcy felt he had improved her opinion of him. “That is the trick, to be certain. If we always strive to have more, it is impossible to be satisfied. To own the truth, I think that is part of Miss Bingley’s problem.”
Speaking of Miss Bingley was unpalatable, so Darcy did not comment. They spent a few more moments in silence, but a thought was growing in Darcy’s mind, one that would not leave him. A moment later, he spoke without meaning to.
“You have enjoyed Derbyshire?”
“I have,” said she without hesitation. “It is wilder and untamed when compared with Hertfordshire, but I like what I see very much.”
Darcy considered this, wondering how to say what he meant and not appear too forward. “Then you would not be averse to returning.”
The question hung between them. Darcy cringed a little, though he endeavored to avoid giving the appearance of it—the question had come out blunter than he had intended. Then again, how did one ask what he had been pondering without saying what was in his heart?
Miss Bennet regarded him for several moments, understanding the import of what he had said. Then she nodded, slow but deliberate.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. I should like that, if the opportunity presented itself.”
“Then we must ensure it will,” said Darcy, elated. “For now, there is much more to see. Shall we continue?”
At her assent, he helped her down the incline and onto the curricle again, and they departed. There were still miles to go, but the path was now clear. For the first time, Darcy could imagine winning Elizabeth’s love.