Chapter 23
Autumn had begun to leave its mark on Hertfordshire, and the days shortened with sharp splendour, cerulean skies and scarlet-hued leaves all about.
It beckoned everyone outdoors to enjoy the air before winter came upon them.
Elizabeth was no exception, leaving every afternoon while Bennet napped for long rambles through all her old haunts.
Early in their marriage, Darcy would have felt free to join her; now, unless she would specifically ask him, he did not dare presume.
On one particularly fine afternoon, however, espying her from the window at Netherfield, he decided to chance following after her in hopes she would invite him to accompany her.
She did not follow the path he had thought she might, and it took him some time to find her.
He had almost given up when a flash of colour in the trees drew his attention.
She was sitting on the bank of a small stream, a group of trees shielding her from the path. She would have been impossible to see were he not looking for her, and soon he knew why.
Elizabeth was crying.
She had pulled up her legs so that she could rest her face on her knees. She seemed to be staring at the stream, but with a small movement, Darcy could see that she mostly had her eyes closed, occasionally raising her hand to wipe the tears from her cheek.
He immediately stepped towards her—every instinct urging him to wrap his arms around her—but knew she would not like it.
Instead, he stood helpless and useless, watching her sorrow.
He laid his hand on a nearby tree, imagining it was resting against her back in a consoling fashion.
His mind raced, conceiving and rejecting a thousand possibilities of what he might do to relieve her agony, but nothing would satisfy except the sure knowledge that what she would want most was to see him gone.
It seemed to Darcy as though she wept for a very long time. As she began to stop, opening her eyes and looking at the stream while sighing and wiping her tears, Darcy realised he should walk away. Quickly, he retreated back down the path and returned to his study.
It was above thirty minutes later when Elizabeth entered the house. From her face and demeanour, one would think she had not a sorrow in the world.
“Did you enjoy your walk?” he asked.
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed. “I think the colour of an autumn sky is the most beautiful thing in the world.”
The next day was a repeat of the first. Having seen her leave, he lingered in the house an additional quarter of an hour.
Then he quietly walked down the path where he believed he would find her again.
She was there, exactly as she had been the day prior.
Again, when she returned, she looked for all the world as though nothing could possibly be amiss.
Darcy found her apparent good cheer terrifying, and he wondered how long these crying spells had been going on.
The third time, he did not leave her. He stayed, silent and sombre, until she stood, dusted herself off, and went to leave her spot. Her eyes fell upon him almost immediately, and she flushed red. For a moment, they stood still with eyes on each other.
Driven by instinct, he extended an arm to her. She moved slowly towards him, then quickly dashed into his chest, her face pressing into his neck as her hand wound its way under his cravat. He said nothing and neither did she, nor did she weep.
At length, she turned her face to the side. “When I was young,” she began, “my favourite thing was to watch the sparks that shoot up from a knot in the wood as it burns, crackling and hissing. ’Tis magic, or so I thought. I always wanted to grab those sparks. They seemed so very special to me.”
Elizabeth’s hair brushed his cheek as she shook her head slowly. “I always burnt myself. Always in pain because I could not resist what was not good for me.”
“That is a metaphor for me, I daresay,” he replied. “Though I hope it is less faithful a picture than you currently believe.”
There was a short silence until she admitted, “I do not know what I believe. I have, here in Hertfordshire, become reacquainted with the man I knew before. A man among friends and equals, who can laugh and tell stories, who can make me laugh. A man who is tender and kind to me, who is every bit my lover.”
“That is the man I am,” he said fervently, pulling away and waiting until she met his eyes. “I assure you, on my life, there is no other. There was a more loathsome creature within, but he has been banished forever. I promise you that.”
She said nothing for a moment, but her hand rose to brush against his cheek. When it dropped again, she said only, “I must get back to the house.”
The next days in Hertfordshire passed quickly, full of visits and calls, dinners and evenings with the neighbours… It was alternately delightful and exhausting.
It was strange seeing Darcy with his friend Bingley—it was a side of him Elizabeth had forgotten, the charming man who spoke well and laughed and teased.
And he watched her often—she had forgotten how it felt to have his gaze upon her, to feel his desire and know her power over him.
It confused her and sent her more than once to her secret girlhood spot to cry and relieve her feelings.
She could not permit herself to desire Darcy, she simply could not. She refused, flatly, to love him again.
Mr Rollings was soon in Hertfordshire, making his application to Mr Bennet. He was granted his heart’s desire to the delight of all, and a wedding in London was planned for a little more than a month hence.
“It would be more reasonable,” said Darcy, “for us to remain in London for your sister’s nuptials. We might hold a dinner for them, and you can help her shop.”
“London…” Elizabeth echoed faintly.
She had no fond memories of London—or at least not of Mayfair and the house on Grosvenor Square, the brief glimpse she had had of life amongst the ton.
She could not even contemplate it without shaking, but she supposed she must face it sometime.
The longer she remained away, the harder it would be to go.
With a deep breath, she said, “Very well, then. To London we shall go.”
The day before their removal to London was busy with packing and calls. Elizabeth scarcely afforded a moment for her son until later in the day when a mother’s guilt drove her to the nursery to take him out. She was surprised to find Darcy had preceded her.
“The master came to collect him earlier. I believe their intention was to go to the stream to fish.” Nurse Harriet smiled sheepishly. “He left me to my duties here, I hope you do not mind. ’Tis quicker without the young ones underneath my feet.”
“Of course! And no, I do not mind,” Elizabeth hastened to reassure her. “I did not realise Mr Darcy was spending time with him, that is all.”
“Mr Darcy spends a great deal of time with Master Bennet—does my heart good to see it. Would not be nearly so many rakes roaming about London if their fathers did what was right. A boy needs his father’s touch.
” Nurse Harriet chuckled indulgently. “Why, I have returned to the nursery on several occasions to see him playing with soldiers, building with blocks, reading books, and he takes him outside whenever he can. No, the master is an excellent father, there can be no two opinions on the matter.”
Elizabeth left the nursery lost in her thoughts. Evidently, Darcy was spending his mornings with Bennet. She had known nothing of it, but from the sound of things, it had been going on for some time. She walked outside slowly, deciding to join the pair of them.
Not more than ten minutes later, she discovered them. They had chosen to fish at a location relatively close to the house, and as she approached, she could hear them talk.
“…frogs eat the bugs?”
“They do. Flies and moths, snails, slugs, and worms.” Darcy reached down to take Bennet’s hand and place it on the fishing pole.
“Do you remember how we did it last time? See, you will hold onto the pole just like that, and then we shall make a sort of throwing motion into the stream. It is called casting.”
As Bennet held the rod, Darcy flicked it into the stream.
“Does the moths taste good?”
Darcy chuckled. “When you are a big boy and can gallop on your horse, you will learn that at some time you will have an insect in your mouth. It does not taste good, but neither is it too dreadful.”
Bennet looked up at his father in astonishment, his eyes wide with surprise. However, any further discussion of insect eating was forestalled by the appearance of Elizabeth. “Mama!” The pole was dropped, and Bennet ran to greet her.
“I hope you gentlemen would not be averse to some company.” Elizabeth smiled at Bennet but also glanced at Darcy.
“We are well pleased to have you join us.” Darcy said, smiling back at her.
Bennet wished to be picked up, so Elizabeth pulled him into her arms while settling herself on the bank next to the tackle box. The discussion had halted with her appearance, so she decided to continue it.
“I heard only the last bit of your discussion, but if I might add my own experience, I once ate a cricket on a dare. I do not recommend it.”
Darcy and Bennet both laughed and conversation resumed once more.
The Darcys spent several hours by the stream, with Elizabeth departing at one point to request a snack be brought out to them.
After they had finished their repast, Bennet became sleepy, so Elizabeth laid her shawl beside her on the ground for him to curl up on and nap.
He was in deep slumber almost instantly.
Elizabeth and Darcy were both silent for several minutes. Darcy continued to fish, and Elizabeth, behind him on the bank, could not but help admire his form. Seeing Darcy with Bennet is very attractive. Of course, Darcy is handsome in almost any situation.
With a slight shake of her head to dispel her thoughts, Elizabeth ventured to say, “You have been spending quite a bit of time entertaining Bennet these days.”
Darcy nodded, then paused in his fishing to set down the rod and sit next to her on the bank. “It is he who entertains me. I must say, he is very different from most children. Much more interesting and engaging. Quite witty, in fact, but funny too.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I think most parents think their own children far beyond the common way.”
“But Bennet truly is,” Darcy insisted. “You have done an amazing, extraordinary thing, Elizabeth. Truly, I am…humbled and amazed.”
Looking over at her husband, she felt it was almost painful how handsome he was.
He was not looking at her directly, but rather, had his gaze fixed on the grass where he was plucking pieces, methodically separating the blades into strips and then plaiting them.
Darcy’s hair had fallen over his eyes, which she found particularly attractive.
She allowed her gaze to trace his features and, for just a moment, to feel her love for him come into her heart.
Elizabeth reached over and gently brushed back the curl falling over his eyes, a pointless manoeuvre as it immediately fell right back down. “Thank you,” she whispered.
It felt very natural to reach back over into that curl, gently smoothing it back, and then to wind her fingers deep in Darcy’s hair. Then, with their faces so near she could feel his breath, Elizabeth closed her eyes and gently kissed his lips.
For as long as they had been without each other, the kiss ignited quickly.
Darcy pulled her tightly against his chest, his arms encircling her back and his mouth devouring her hungrily.
She was no less ravenous for him, winding her hand even more firmly into his hair while the other dove underneath his waistcoat to feel the warmth of his chest and the beating of his heart.
Relief washed through her, as her loneliness and sadness melted away, banished by the touch of her husband’s lips on hers.
A small voice in her mind urged caution and tried to warn her of the danger, but it was disregarded in favour of the rest of her that needed to touch her husband and to feel him touching her.
Then Bennet stirred in his sleep, making some small sigh of a sound, insignificant, but it brought his parents sharply back to their senses.
Elizabeth jerked away, pulling her hands from underneath her husband’s coat as Darcy slowly removed his hands from her.
For a moment, they could only stare at one other in shock.
Elizabeth leapt to her feet. “We must take him back to the nursery. Nurse Harriet must be wondering what came of him.” She busied herself in brushing the grass from her skirt and smoothing back her hair, anything that did not require looking at Darcy.
Darcy cleared his throat and also stood. “Allow me.”
Reaching down, he picked Bennet up, and the three headed back to the house. As they entered, Elizabeth reached for Bennet, saying, “I shall take him to Nurse Harriet.”
Wordlessly, Darcy handed their son to her, and she walked away as quickly as she could.
They did not speak of their kiss, nor did Elizabeth wish to.
It was a temporary madness, that was all.
The small family departed Hertfordshire the next day, Bennet on her lap and Darcy across from her.
The rest of the family would travel closer to the time of the wedding, but nevertheless, Jane sobbed and Elizabeth felt her throat tighten.
But it was a good, relieving feeling to have reunited with them all, and it made her feel, if not happy, as much like happy as she had been in some time.