Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
T hey walked on together with Elizabeth between them. As they strolled along the path, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth carried most of the conversation, with Mr Darcy offering only a rare phrase or two. They spoke of the advantages and disadvantages of being in the countryside versus being in town, some of the travelling the colonel had done recently, and his family. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a good conversationalist and could match Elizabeth’s wit. He was jovial and open.
Mr Darcy, by contrast, was the trio’s silent, almost forgotten presence. He offered occasional smiles and even fewer laughs at Colonel Fitzwilliam’s musings. It ought to have put her off the gentleman and yet in spite of, or perhaps because of his reserve, she sensed great depth to him. What words he did offer hinted at intelligence and, on one rare instance, humour. She found herself increasingly curious about him .
The conversation as they walked meant that Elizabeth’s head was mostly turned towards the colonel. Yet whenever she turned her head in the opposite direction, she often caught Mr Darcy looking at her. Each time their eyes met, she would feel her stomach leap, and he would quickly look away. Although she later regretted not saying something witty about catching him staring, she remained silent during those moments. As they continued walking, she could not help but be aware of his every movement and glance over to see whether he was watching her again.
As Colonel Fitzwilliam had earlier teased Mr Darcy for walking silently in a stupid manner, Elizabeth concluded that he usually was a bit more talkative and perhaps felt inhibited by her presence. In an attempt to provoke his liveliness, she followed the colonel’s course and teased him a little.
“Mr Darcy, I must beg of you, please cease speaking incessantly at once. I cannot hear your cousin’s stories adequately.”
It worked, somewhat. He smiled at her, not seeming offended in the least. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I had not realised how quiet I was.”
“You should have done,” the colonel inserted warmly. “Have I not tasked you for your reticence three times already?”
Mr Darcy’s gaze was still intent upon her. “Would it please you if I relayed some childhood stories of my cousin here that would cause him to blush? I have an interesting one involving bees that occurred over there in that very tree.” He gestured towards a small copse nearby.
“Perhaps I preferred when he was silent!” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a mocking frown. “There are too many secrets in that brainbox of his! ”
Elizabeth covered her mouth and laughed as Mr Darcy began his own round of tales based on the landscape surrounding them. Each tree seemed to have been a scene of some childhood escapade and though many of them were amusing, she also found the evident closeness between the cousins particularly charming.
Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted one such tale, stopping their progress and gesturing at a path that had appeared to their right. “Darcy, let us go off here and take in the view at Holly Hill.”
“I do not believe Miss Bennet desired to go that far, and while the scenery is beautiful, the terrain is difficult.”
The colonel gave her an assessing look. “Miss Bennet, you seem like a lady who enjoys the out of doors, and is ready for an adventure. Would you like to take in the sight? It is amazingly beautiful this time of year. Makes one proud to serve and live in such a country.”
She smiled at them both. “I cannot think of anything I should rather do.”
“Richard, no,” Mr Darcy interrupted. “It will not do.”
“Whyever not? You surely cannot talk of childhood memories and not show her Holly Hill in all its glory?”
Mr Darcy stared at the colonel, his face unreadable to her but apparently not to his cousin.
“If Miss Bennet says she is equal to it?—”
“It is quite a steep, dirty climb,” Mr Darcy explained to her.
Elizabeth laughed. “Mr Darcy, I assure you that I am more than prepared to get my hem a little dirty. I would be more worried about yourself. I have never seen a cravat so white or boots with so few scratches. I should say your attire will suffer far more than mine. ”
Colonel Fitzwilliam barked out a laugh, and Mr Darcy gave her a quizzical look that she could not decipher. She wondered whether she had offended him.
“Very well,” Mr Darcy said eventually. He pulled back a large tree branch, and gestured to her to go ahead into the thick wooded area off the beaten path.
Mr Darcy had exaggerated how dirty the path would be, but she surmised that he was not used to women from the country. Ladies of the ton probably would have baulked at walking in such conditions, but thankfully, she was not one of those. It had always been her aim to live her life with enthusiasm, to take in whatever sights she could, and meet interesting characters along the way. A life worth living, in her estimation, was made up in its depth, not in its length or status achieved. She could not imagine denying herself such a satisfying experience because of so silly a notion as propriety or a little difficulty.
They followed the overgrown path up the hill that the men had carved out through their repeated walks as youths. She quickly realised that calling this a hill had been an understatement. It was a steep incline comparable to what seemed like a small mountain. But the path that the men had made to the top as young boys sloped gently in a zig-zag motion up to the top, so the hill was not too difficult to ascend. Occasionally, there was some terrain in which she required a hand to walk over a log or jump over a fence, and Mr Darcy would swiftly and quietly provide it.
Elizabeth was invigorated that they were in unconstrained nature. She could see God’s goodness and wisdom reflected in His design of every forest animal she saw, built to thrive in its environment. She took in the colours that He painted every tree and leaf, infinitely more beautiful than any painting she saw that tried to recapture it. It brought her immense joy, and she felt happier than she had in all of her time at Kent.
Mr Darcy, who had been walking ahead of her to clear the way such as he could, stopped suddenly—so suddenly that Elizabeth nearly ran into him. “We have been gone quite a long time now. I worry we shall not get you back to your hosts by dinner.”
Elizabeth had not realised how much time had passed, but the sun was no longer directly overhead, suggesting they were likely nearer to the dinner hour than she had realised.
“We can go the steeper way, and get there faster. It is just ahead.” Colonel Fitzwilliam gestured straight in front of them.
Elizabeth looked to where he pointed and saw there was a steep incline just past the curving path if they went straight instead. When Mr Darcy seemed as if he was about to object, she assured him, “If you are worried about me, please do not. I am equal to a climb.”
“I do not think you realise how steep the climb might be,” he replied.
“Perhaps not, but I would like to at least make the attempt.”
He regarded her for a moment, with what she hoped was begrudging respect in his eyes. “Very well.”
And so the trio went ahead. The dirt was not as compact and felt more slippery as they climbed. A few times Elizabeth needed to use her hands to catch her balance on the rocks in front of her. She could sense Mr Darcy directly behind her with his arms out, ready to catch her if she slipped. It was reassuring and made her feel protected. Although she almost slipped a few times, she managed to keep her balance the whole way and avoid falling into his arms.
When they reached the top, she saw immediately that it had been well worth the exertion it took to get there. Elizabeth looked at the scene in wonderment. As far as the eye could see, there were green rolling hills and to the east she believed she might see a glimpse of the sea.
“Darcy and I spent many a day here escaping Lady Catherine’s interrogations,” Colonel Fitzwilliam offered.
Elizabeth chuckled. Looking down she let out a gasp. All around their feet, bluebells blanketed the ground, enhancing the majestic scene. “This is positively dream-like! Almost heaven.”
“On a clear day, I have always fancied I may see London,” stated Mr Darcy quietly.
“Perhaps you can.” Then with a contented sigh, she added, “Does it not feel as if time slows in moments such as these?”
Her eyes moved to look at him. As before, he was looking intently at her, and she was certain she must look wild with her hair half falling out, and her dress smeared with mud. She attempted to make a joke of it as she usually did when she felt uncomfortable. “I must look ridiculous. I am certain you are wholly unaccustomed to women with dirty dresses and unkempt hair.”
He did not reply. She perceived a small headshake from him as he suddenly turned from her and briskly walked to a different part of the hilltop. She tried not to feel affronted, but her quizzical glances at his back were clearly seen by the colonel, who approached her with a conciliatory grin .
“I think Darcy feels responsible for your safety being up here.”
“I hardly know Mr Darcy and am surely not his responsibility.”
“You are, at least temporarily, under the protection of us both and we have absconded with you on a dangerous journey,” the colonel chuckled. “Darcy always tries to behave in a way that is dignified. He is the most honourable and upright of men you will ever meet. A disciplined one too. I have seen him numerous times fulfil what he believes are his duties and responsibilities despite great personal cost to himself.”
Elizabeth glanced over to where Mr Darcy still stood motionless and silent. “He is very serious.”
“Try not to be offended by his reserve, he is merely uncomfortable with those he does not know well.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Or he might behave like this when he is attempting to become master of his emotions.”
Elizabeth contemplated this for a moment, and shrugged, unsure what to make of that. Did Mr Darcy think her a hoyden for following them up here? He had surely tried to dissuade them. She discovered she did not mind if he disapproved, for the sights had been well worth the effort and the mud, and she did not have to answer for her behaviour to someone so wholly unconnected to her.
Though perhaps the colonel was correct, and his cousin’s seemingly proud and unfriendly manners could be attributed to a reserved nature and excessive dignity. She resolved to withhold judgment until she better understood him.
Mr Darcy turned and returned briskly to them. “Miss Bennet, we should be getting you back to the parsonage. Likely Mr and Mrs Collins will dine soon. ”
She reluctantly agreed, and they turned and headed back the way they came. They walked quietly through the woods for some time; it seemed even the colonel’s capacity for easy banter had been exhausted.
“These woods remind me greatly of some in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said eventually, breaking the silence and gesturing in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s direction. “They remind me of a dreadful time when I was lost as a child.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“It was late afternoon, and I was following my older cousin. I adored him, but he was trying to desert me, as to him I was just an irritation.” Looking towards Colonel Fitzwilliam, she continued her story of how she had almost had to spend the night in the woods. Suddenly Elizabeth felt a hand touch her arm and gently pull her away from the colonel. Startled, she glanced to her left and realised Mr Darcy was subtly shifting her away from tripping on a large branch directly in front of her. It happened so quickly that the colonel had not noticed it. When she turned to look at Mr Darcy, his arms were again behind his back. He was looking towards the ground on the path in front of them, but she saw the corners of his mouth pulling tight for a slight moment. She quietly murmured her appreciation.
She felt a violent blush take over her whole body and was so distracted by her momentary interaction with Mr Darcy that she stopped telling her story.
“You have left us in suspense, Miss Bennet!” said the colonel. “What happened next?”
“I am sorry, I was, um…momentarily distracted,” she stammered. “My parents enlisted the help of all of our neighbours and tenants. Finally, just after nightfall, our neighbour, Sir William Lucas—who is Mrs Collins’s father—found me hi ding up in a tree. He helped me get down and carried me home. I was quite young and a little emotional about the whole ordeal. It was very kind of him.”
The gentlemen agreed and said they were thankful she did not have to spend the night in the woods. They continued in good conversation with each other as they accompanied her back to the parsonage.