Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
E lizabeth rose early the next morning to exercise her feet and her mind with a walk through the park. The day held the promise of early blooms and sunshine. She was delighted to forgo her pelisse for her cheery yellow spencer and nearly skipped down the lane to attend to her favourite byways; her morning walks were, apparently, the only outings she would be allowed for many weeks to come. She decided to put aside her hurt and anger—to ignore her humiliating banishment from Rosings—for a beautiful morning such as this.
Before she committed to taking the path she was most accustomed to, she remembered Mr Darcy’s suggestion and turned in the other direction. She made her way towards a trail through the woods bordering the formal and ornate gardens of Rosings Park to the south.
After walking some miles, she found a sturdy log to sit on in order to enjoy the biscuits stashed away in her pocket at the behest of Mrs Montgomery. The cool morning air had chilled her cheeks but had also rejuvenated her spirit. Feeling clear-minded and energised once again, she prepared to return to the parsonage, the house which had become her temporary prison.
Elizabeth had not gone far when she was surprised to see someone approaching. The gentleman rider sat tall on a magnificent black beast with a fine beaver hat fixed smartly atop his head. Though she cared little for horses, she could see he had a fine seat. She enjoyed the view of his person at a distance and was rather disappointed to see it was, sadly, only Mr Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him to the same path she walked. To prevent their ever meeting on this path again, she considered informing him that she planned to walk it daily, for surely that would discourage him, though she did not speak a word of it. A desire to converse with someone—anyone—beyond the Collinses stunted her impertinent speech.
He pulled his horse up beside her on the path and dismounted in one swift move, tipping his hat and bowing to her as his only greeting. “You mean to frighten me, Mr Darcy,” she teased. “But I will not be alarmed.”
“You could not honestly believe me to entertain any design of alarming you, Miss Elizabeth. I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own,” he said, looking pleased with his response.
She was surprised to receive the second smile in only two days from the typically staid man—remarkable! His expression was so friendly, she could not help but smile at his rebuke, and he appeared satisfied.
“Where do you go on this fine morning?” he asked .
“I have been walking for some time and must return to the parsonage.”
He nodded. “May I accompany you?”
While she knew it must only be a sacrifice to general politeness that urged him to offer, she was, nevertheless, easily persuaded.
“You may,” she responded and took his offered arm. He made a clicking noise in his cheek and immediately his horse began following their sedate pace. Of course, only Mr Darcy could compel such a grand creature into submission.
He did not say a great deal as they set off, merely responding to her avowed love of solitary rambles with a remark upon the excellent weather. She could find nothing wanting in his conversation, even if she would have preferred his more gregarious cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, as a walking partner. She could admit Mr Darcy possessed a calming presence about him in this scenery, observing the flowers and sharing about the variety of local species as well as an abbreviated history of Kent. His reflections and knowledge of the area were significantly more interesting than the trivial stories Mr Collins had provided upon her arrival, and she found herself less irritated by his unexpected presence on the path and more attentive than she would have previously imagined.
The subsequent morning found Mr Darcy joining her ramble again, although for what reason she was uncertain. Exercise helped to clear the cobwebs from her mind, and she had much to contemplate with all the odd happenings in the parsonage, that she did not pay the vagaries of Mr Darcy much mind. At least the gentleman did not interfere with her need for contemplation. His company seemed much elevated after the sanctimonious dialogues she was forced to attend from her cousin .
His long legs allowed him to keep up with the brisk speed she was accustomed to and also desired. Silence was often their companion, but she found the stillness welcome. She was learning Mr Darcy preferred the quiet, and when he did speak, it seemed the consequence of obligation rather than preference.
When Mr Darcy met her once again the next morning, he suggested they take a new route. She followed, always enthusiastic for outdoor exploration and ever curious to learn more about the county.
Winding through thicker brush, Mr Darcy was remarkably kind to move nettles and branches out of her way.
“Perhaps you might tell me where you are taking me?” she quipped.
He did not turn around to face her. He held back a branch and indicated she should proceed ahead before answering, “Colonel Fitzwilliam and I took this same path many times as children. There was a hidden glade where we would retreat during our visits. I have lately wondered at its location.”
She was eager to help him find it once again. “And I have lately yearned for some adventure. Lead on, good sir.”
After some time, the dense trees opened up to reveal a clearing filled completely with wildflowers—a carpet of bright colours stood before her. Stepping into the glade, she was overwhelmed by the mass of bluebells and primrose covering the ground and the rough, natural edges of the space, outlined by vines that climbed the surrounding trees. The glade overwhelmed all her senses—smelling the floral blooms of early spring, viewing the vivid colours, and feeling the warmth of the sunshine that the break in the trees allowed to pour in .
She knew all the flowers and trees growing in the vicinity of Longbourn, but some of these blooms were foreign to her.
“Mr Darcy,” she breathed, turning in a full circle to take in the beauty of her surroundings. “This is a piece of heaven!”
He smiled, “I knew you were fond of nature. I thought you might enjoy this, but I was not sure if we would find it. These paths were more attended to when I was a child. My late uncle, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, enjoyed these woods and saw the paths were kept clear. He was a spirited and active man. He regularly took us on morning walks when we were children.
“After he died, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I would often retreat to this spot during our visits. We enjoyed many imaginary adventures here—pirates on the rough seas, military men fighting fearsome battles. They are fond memories. Unfortunately, Lady Catherine prefers the structured and manicured gardens of Rosings Park, which you have no doubt visited. The wilds of nature cannot be controlled by her, and thus, she allows them to exist beyond her bordered parklands but does not put forth any effort into maintaining them.”
“Sir, I believe that may be the longest speech I have ever been honoured to receive from you,” she said with a smile.
“Yes, perhaps.”
She wanted him to remain as he was, so she smiled and arched her eyebrow to tease him plainly, “I suppose it would surprise you to know I can be reserved at times.”
“I could be convinced. One does not converse much when they spend long hours reading,” he said slowly.
“Ah yes, accomplished women do improve their minds by extensive reading.” She remembered their conversation at Netherfield Park and Caroline Bingley’s comprehensive list of what was required to be an accomplished lady. She smiled playfully. “Perhaps Miss Bingley has taken your advice and visits Hatchards with more frequency. Though, it is unlikely she would employ her time emulating my preferred activities. I doubt she considers my example exemplary.”
He contemplated this and responded, “Perhaps not. I cannot admit to being an expert on the thoughts of Miss Bingley. Yet, I would argue that no one honoured with the pleasure of knowing you should find anything wanting at all.” He looked at her with complete seriousness, and she believed he meant it.
To be praised by Mr Darcy was a surprise after their many contentious interactions the previous autumn. She imagined he did not offer compliments often, so it softened her to him. But it also reminded her of the shortcomings Charlotte had been frequently impressing upon her during her stay. Perhaps she was truly lacking.
“Of course, they may, sir,” she said, now distracted by her own frustrations. “In fact, I fear I have been told very recently that my behaviour wants for more refinement.” She sighed. "It is hard to disappoint those you love,” she said solemnly. She meant it as a witty rejoinder, but she knew it came out more seriously than intended—though, equally, she was serious.
She knew she was disappointing Charlotte, but she was becoming miserable in the fragile harmony they continued to mend together each time Mr Collins erupted into another embarrassing outburst. Were it not for her concern, she would have already returned home; but she could not, not until she knew if there was anything she could do for her friend.
He considered her and nodded. “I can certainly understand a concern for disappointing those you love. I have spent the five years since my excellent father died trying to care for those under my protection—to live up to his expectations. I have many responsibilities—to my family, to my tenants, to the communities that Pemberley supports, to the Darcy legacy. Each decision I make has the potential for significant impact…” He trailed off. They had ceased walking, and he kicked the dirt with his highly polished boot. She knew there was more, but she did not want to pry.
She held his gaze in silence, allowing the quiet to be enough. She did not want to disrupt the mood or say the wrong thing. Her heart was stirred on his behalf.
Elizabeth had known of his deceased parents and that he was a guardian to a younger sister but had not yet considered the great number of lives he was responsible for. That considerable task would be challenging for anyone. Her frustration with Charlotte and Mr Collins certainly paled in comparison to the weight of all who were under his care.
They returned quietly, side by side, and she was surprised to feel a moment of regret when he turned down the lane towards Rosings.
The next morning, Elizabeth was unsurprised to once again find Mr Darcy along her now favoured path. How easy and completely different he seems from the man I met at Netherfield Park! He immediately offered his arm, which she accepted quite happily.
Elizabeth was finding these mornings a respite from the parsonage, even with Mr Darcy as a companion. He was quiet and thoughtful and asked very little of her. She knew there were people she respected who enjoyed his company. Was this the version of the man they were accustomed to? If the good-natured Mr Bingley would seek a friendship with Mr Darcy, how could he not have redeeming features?
They sauntered in companionable silence for some time before Mr Darcy asked after Mr and Mrs Collins.
“They are both well, thank you.”
“Do they never walk out with you in the morning?” he asked lightly.
“Mrs Collins has never preferred being out of doors. If they have already broken their fast this morning, then it would follow that Mr Collins is likely monitoring the hedge near the lane or tending to his garden. Such that he is out in front of the home, it is equally probable that Mrs Collins is in her back parlour, enjoying a wholly different scene from the nearest window.”
His lip slightly lifted, as if he were tempted to smile or laugh, but he quickly adjusted his features. “It appears Mrs Collins has married well,” he said hesitantly, as if to offer it as a question.
She considered that for a moment. Had Charlotte married well? Perhaps Mr Darcy would consider this a well-suited match per Charlotte’s station in life. Had not Charlotte inferred she married for comfort? Was this the comfort she once desired? She answered, “On her wedding day, she was prepared to be perfectly happy.”
“And how do you consider her now?” he asked.
It was a heavy question whose answer was laden with Elizabeth’s deep regrets for her friend. Charlotte seemed now to be everything but happy, but that was a bit more information than propriety would allow she answer to him. “Now? Now I would consider her...comfortable.”
In his silence, he offered her the space she needed to think. Teasing and provoking being her general nature, she was not often pressed to consider such serious subjects. Her father often challenged her mind over histories or philosophy, but it was much easier than sorting out this business of one’s dearest friend being seemingly lost to her.
“I believe Charlotte is happy to have the safety and security of marriage. That was her reason for accepting him—though it would not be mine.”
Mr Darcy looked at Elizabeth with concern. Uncomfortable being solemn too long, Elizabeth smiled and said, “Or, perhaps, she simply desired a man as verbose as her own father. Though at the risk of being ungenerous, I must own, I would much rather listen to Sir William Lucas speak about St. James’s than hear Mr Collins rehearsing his sermons.”
He released a soft chuckle and flashed her a wide smile. Had she less vanity, she would have felt nothing at the reaction her comment induced. His happy expression reached his eyes, and she enjoyed a first sight of his dimples. His handsomeness almost surprised her. Almost...for it was surely not the first time she had seen it, only the first time she had seen it without her general distaste for him obscuring it. Encouraged, she forged on, “Or, conceivably, she was lacking proper guidance and desired an attentive lady of the peerage to shower her with advice?”
His response was a laugh so deep and sincere it nearly occasioned her to gasp. She joined his laughter, leaning a bit more upon his arm as she did so. When she caught her breath, she apologised for her dreadful speech. “You will have to forgive me. I did not intend to be so mean-spirited. Staying with my cousin has been utterly vexing, and it felt good to laugh.”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
She believed him—again. In fact, she believed he was always honest to a fault. He raised his other hand and placed it on top of the hand she rested on his arm. She was not surprised by his gesture, because he was so kind to her of late—but she was not prepared for the fire of emotion surging through her. The feeling of his hand comforted her—a comfort long absent during her stay in Hunsford, and possibly longer. She was pleased he could be a retreat from this otherwise undependable part of the world.
After a time, she said, “I have lately been attempting more caution with my impertinent tongue.”
“Are you sure it is impertinence, Miss Bennet? Could it not be cleverness?” he challenged with a kind expression.
She shrugged, “Indeed, Mr Darcy, you bring up a good point. I would prefer to think it the latter, though I am certain you have more to say on the subject.”
“I am happy to offer some intelligence, Miss Bennet. The former implies insolence and unmannerly behaviour, while the latter implies a quick intellect. I see no malice here today, though it appears you may believe otherwise at present.”
“And I dare say, you have come to your own conclusion.”
“Indeed, I have, Miss Bennet.” He smiled and kept walking in silence. Then, ever so quietly under his breath, he whispered, “Clever girl.”