Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
E lizabeth was not herself upon waking. The sun would rise soon, but her heart and body were weary. If the state of her bedclothes were any indication, she had not slept soundly. Charlotte’s support of her husband had broken something within Elizabeth—she who had always assumed her inclination to understand people was so keen. Yet, keen it was not.
She found herself re-examining memories in her mind, looking for evidence that she had long been wrong about her friendship with Charlotte. But it was to no avail. She could find no proof. In all her memories she found a steadfast friend—fortification for dull parties and a confidante for her heart’s inner workings. Theirs had always been a friendship reliant on honesty.
Elizabeth readied herself for her walk without calling for Hayes. She preferred to pull on a plain walking dress that she could fasten herself and secure a simple braid which could be easily pinned on her own. She was certain the entire world would see the havoc of her mind when they viewed the state of her tired eyes. She splashed water on her face but found no support there.
While the sun was only beginning to rise, and most of the household remained abed, Elizabeth still took care to open her door most quietly and tiptoe down the corridor. She had no energy for forced conversation.
Mrs Montgomery was lighting the fires when Elizabeth arrived in the kitchens. “Good morning, miss. Shall I find you something to take on your morning walk?”
“No, thank you,” Elizabeth replied. “I do not require sustenance quite yet. I shall breakfast with the family when I return. I shall not be long.”
“I’d be right pleased if you took one of those apple tarts, miss.” She pointed to a small basket with an assortment of sweet provisions. “Or I could wrap up some of those pickled apples the master enjoys?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Elizabeth who pinched her face in response.
“Thank you, no.”
Elizabeth wondered if she should ask her about helping to get a letter out to her father but thought better of it. It would not do to have the household talking about a disagreement between herself and her cousin. She also had a care for the woman’s position in the house, which could be impacted should she bow to Elizabeth’s request and be caught assisting her.
Elizabeth reached for the servants’ door and stopped short when she heard, “Eliza.”
She whipped her face around to find Charlotte looking nearly as dreadful as she felt. Her red eyes and the dark circles underneath them gave her to think her friend had also not slept .
Elizabeth dropped to a polite curtsey. “Good morning,” was all she was willing to utter.
“Would you mind joining me in my parlour for a moment?”
Elizabeth nodded, and Charlotte led the way in a stealthy manner that suggested she too did not want to stir her husband’s interest. They both settled in their customary chairs, and Elizabeth waited in silence for Charlotte to begin a conversation. She was not eager to hear excuses, but still would not snub her friend.
“I want to begin by apologising for the uproar that took place yesterday,” Charlotte said while fidgeting with her dress. “As I am sure you have already surmised, I thought it best to resolve the conflict more quickly rather than waste breath determining fault.”
“I see,” Elizabeth responded.
“You should understand that my husband takes his duties rather seriously. And, as a visitor in our home, he considers himself your protector. As such, his authority is final. Understanding this, you should have no trouble here.”
“Should I not?”
“I find peace in the calm ,” Charlotte responded with some emphasis and looked her in the eye for the first time. “Should you write your letters quickly and put them directly into my care, there should be no further conflict.”
“Could you not talk to your husband?”
Charlotte visibly cringed. “I shall be living with Mr Collins long after you have returned to Hertfordshire, Eliza.”
“Perhaps you could simply request he lift the restrictions he threatened yesterday?”
Charlotte held her gaze but slowly shook her head.
Can she not even say it? It struck Elizabeth that Charlotte would make no effort towards reconciliation. Or perhaps she considered this reconciliation. If so, that was a sad thought. Her silence said much.
Elizabeth aimed to offer an olive branch of sorts. “I shall endeavour to keep my correspondence private, and I thank you for your offer to carry my letters. I want peace for you too, Charlotte. I sincerely do. Is there anything I may offer for your comfort? Perhaps you should like to speak a little more. You could tell me about your marriage.”
“No, thank you.” Charlotte stood to exit the room.
Elizabeth rose from her chair and quickly asked if her friend would like to walk about the gardens with her that morning, but she replied only, “I am sure Mr Collins cannot spare me,” and exited the room.
Darcy prepared for Easter services with extra attention. He was light in his step and cheery in his mood. He was certain his valet was perplexed by his behaviour, but considering that only caused him to smile more. He shocked even himself, tipping his hat at parishioners as he approached the church.
Fitzwilliam’s interest in his visit to the parsonage had made him realise the need for greater circumspection. His cousin was too interested and too intelligent to miss any signs of admiration on Darcy’s part. Thus, he had denied himself the pleasure of another call, grimly enduring the limited society of Lady Catherine and Anne.
But not today. Today he would see her. After taking his seat in the family pew, he tried to appear nonchalant as his gaze roved the sanctuary in search of Miss Elizabeth. Fitzwilliam gave him a curious glance, and he shrugged his shoulders in response. Confound it. Why must Fitzwilliam always be so aware of my every move? He should save his powers of observation for his time in the army.
He found her seated by Mrs Collins in the pew towards the front where the parson’s wife would customarily sit. He wished he had been there when she entered, for now, in a humble, bent-head posture, he saw little more than her bonnet and a simple green gown that suited her small frame well. He felt great pleasure just merely being in her presence. If I cannot have her, I can at least enjoy watching her while I am here.
Mrs Collins said something to her, and as she responded to her friend, Darcy was gifted with the full view of her beautiful face. A very short observation, however, showed him that once again she did not appear to be her typical, vivacious self that morning. Her fine eyes looked dull, and their expression could only be described as despairing. There was a meekness to her that he could not like. Even the shape of her mouth as she responded to Mrs Collins felt unfamiliar and subdued.
Throughout the absurd speech the parson called a sermon, Darcy considered what he might say to her. He would dearly like to cheer her.
Following the service, Darcy moved his long legs quickly out towards the churchyard, hoping to find a moment to speak to her. He knew with certainty there would be no opportunity for conversation during Easter dinner under the watchful eye of his overbearing aunt.
He was required to pause a moment and to nod his thanks to the bumbling vicar. “Yes, happy Easter,” he responded with a distinct lack of enthusiasm to the man’s effusive well wishes. His greedy eyes had landed on Elizabeth in the churchyard and did not desire to leave their mark.
Once released by Mr Collins, it was the work of a moment to arrive by her side. “I am certain this sunny day finds you well,” he said, and could not fail to detect surprise in her sorrowful gaze. Their eyes met, and he could not help but wonder why she was at a loss for words.
“Good morning, Mr Darcy.”
“I imagine weather like this might be ideal for a great walker such as yourself. Have you enjoyed meandering through the park, Miss Bennet?”
“I have, sir, but only a little.”
Her reticence discouraged him, but he proceeded determinedly, “You should visit the paths that border Rosings to the south, just outside the formal gardens. I think you would find them to your liking.”
“Thank you for the recommendation, sir,” she said. His words were not encouraging her as he hoped, so he flashed her a full smile and was surprised to see her dark eyes widen, a question in her expression.
“Good day, Miss Bennet.”
“G-Good day, Mr Darcy.”
Spending a long evening with Mr Collins brought Darcy no joy, but the promise of Miss Elizabeth’s company was a superb consolation. He knew his movements were scrutinised at Rosings and was forced to linger in his rooms for above half an hour so as to not seem too eager to join the family in the drawing room.
If it were not for his aunt’s constant interference and oversight, he should like to take the stairs two at a time to await her arrival. Keeping himself under regulation was to his benefit and hopefully hers as well.
Once he joined the family, he placed himself directly in front of his aunt. She considered his conversation her due, so he complied—but only for the reprieve that was shortly to be delivered.
When the butler entered to announce their guests, Darcy schooled his expression and stood as uniformly as possible—but it was no use—his eyes searched hungrily for her presence.
“Mr and Mrs Collins, my lady,” the butler announced. The man and his wife bowed and curtseyed and performed all appropriate civilities.
“I should not have to remind you about the importance of being punctual, Mr Collins,” Lady Catherine called out to them from across the room. She then immediately turned to speak to Fitzwilliam, dismissing their entrance entirely.
Darcy thought perhaps it was Miss Elizabeth who had delayed their arrival, for she had not yet entered the room. Had they left her behind? Was she unwell? She had seemed rather subdued in her posture and conversation that morning. Was anyone to fetch a doctor? Had the apothecary been called?
“Of course, my lady,” the parson responded to his aunt, while he stumbled to a seat near Lady Catherine. “My deepest apologies for our tardiness. As you have mentioned before, punctuality is a sign of good breeding.” The man looked positively pleased with himself for the response.
Darcy turned to the window to roll his eyes. Good breeding! That was a joke. Half the ton considered a late arrival the height of fashion, and only the most grasping arrived early.
The butler re-entered the room, and Darcy spun around to take in Miss Elizabeth’s entrance. But instead, the staid retainer requested Darcy attend an express rider who had just arrived.
Darcy nodded to his family and their guests before following him out of the room .
“I shall have my share of your news, Darcy. Do not be long in relieving our anxieties regarding the contents of the express,” Lady Catherine bellowed across the large room.
“Of course,” Darcy responded with nary a glance at the woman.
Once the correspondence was in hand, he was relieved to see that it was not his sister, Georgiana, who required his immediate attention but news of a fire in the stables at his estate, Pemberley. He paced the front hall, taking in the details of the notice. As expected, his loyal and experienced servants had made exemplary decisions in his absence. Their quick actions had saved not only the lives of the stable boys within, but also his horses. Work had already begun to rebuild.
Darcy was relieved but knew a timely response was required. He called the attention of the butler, who was quick to lift his eyes for instructions. “Please see that the rider is provided a meal and rest before he returns north. If this note is any indication, he has ridden hard and fast for two days.”
The butler nodded in reply. “Also, I require use of her ladyship’s study so that I may pen a response. You may notify my aunt that our family is in good health.”
By the time the note had been written, sealed, and sent back to the rider, Darcy had little time to prepare for the onslaught of questions when he returned to the drawing room. Once the details of the correspondence had been shared, the entire party stood to dine.
The meal held little pleasure for Darcy who spent most of his time wondering why Miss Elizabeth had not come. He hesitated to ask in front of his aunt; his only consolation being that if she were extremely ill, he thought her friend, Mrs Collins, would have stayed back to attend her.
Even if Miss Elizabeth was only slightly ill, it did seem in rather poor form to not mention her absence. Perhaps he missed their explanation while he attended the express?
Mrs Collins appeared as she ever did in Hertfordshire—capable of rational and shrewd conversation. Nothing of the sort could be said of her husband who crowed his own accomplishments rather loudly—if you could call them such. Celebrating the manner in which he had reprimanded one of his servants sung of a rather foolish master. Seeking his aunt’s approbation for his choice words, even more absurd. A self-satisfied gleam in the man’s eye set the hairs on Darcy’s skin on their ends. To his satisfaction, Fitzwilliam was examining the man closely as well.
“…I told him, I did, that only one man would be master of my domain,” Mr Collins proclaimed. “And I shall not dictate the rest of our exchange while in the presence of ladies.”
Darcy could not be happy with the turn of conversation. It was in poor form, and the man was altogether too pleased with himself.
“Perhaps Mrs Collins will play for us this evening? I have not yet had the pleasure,” Fitzwilliam said, turning to his subject. Darcy was thankful for his cousin’s intervention.
“I shall second that request, Cousin,” Darcy joined in and sent a small smile to Mrs Collins. She blushed at the attention and thanked the gentlemen for their kind request.
Of course, as they were only on the second remove, it would still be some time before they would have the pleasure of music to drown out the need for conversation. A long night it would certainly be.