Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
T he day that followed was plagued by a driving rain that kept everyone inside. Mending clothes from Charlotte’s charity basket and Elizabeth’s embroidery were only sufficient diversion for so long. Elizabeth had also depleted her reading material and had not yet received any letters from home, nor from Jane in London. She could not imagine she was welcome to the contents of the library at Rosings. She equally could not imagine Mr Collins having any book that would interest her. She had already suffered sufficient examples of his book collection during the nightly religious lessons he required her to sit for.
Hoping to help Charlotte along in making friends in the village, Elizabeth coaxed her friend to go shopping the next day if the weather improved. Mr Collins reluctantly allowed them the time for their ‘frivolous’ walk to town.
After Charlotte assisted Elizabeth in posting a letter to Jane in London, they visited the local milliner and hosier, a bookshop, and eventually stopped at a bakery for some fresh scones. The baker’s wife introduced the ladies to their other customer, a Mrs Jacobson, whom Charlotte later identified as a young, wealthy widow of the area whom she had not yet had the pleasure of meeting.
Mrs Jacobson was surprisingly welcoming, though she had little of substance to say. Elizabeth was bored by the conversation but could feel Charlotte’s excitement at the possibility of a friendly neighbour. The ornate and overly decorated bonnet upon the lady’s head was diverting enough to pull at Elizabeth’s curiosity. A lavender ribbon, matching the lining of the bonnet, was tied into an ornate bow under her chin. If the lady had ceased in her decorations there, the bonnet would have been pretty—but no. A dark blue bird perched in a nest sat atop, inquisitively staring Elizabeth in the eye. Concentration was beyond her capabilities at the sight of it.
Mrs Jacobson pulled her from her amusement to ask about each of their purchases that day and related her own. Their new acquaintance was particularly excited about some red ribbon she had purchased. Elizabeth wondered if she would consider mounting a pigeon on her next bonnet.
It was disappointing to know instinctively that her friend would not be entertained by her musings, though Charlotte did seem a little happier on their walk home. Charlotte had been informed of numerous members of the gentry in the area but had yet to meet many neighbours beyond their parishioners who frequented Sunday services. Her friend appeared genuinely delighted to have been introduced to someone new, and for that, Elizabeth would be grateful, no matter what she thought of the lady’s bonnet.
A windy morning was the setting for Elizabeth’s next walk with Mr Darcy. She had been forced to wear her pelisse and warmer gloves and to tie the ribbons of her bonnet tightly under her chin. Even with the wind howling, Elizabeth could not be kept from her own moment of solitude every day—even if her walks could no longer be called solitary. She still found this part of her day to be a safe haven from the anxious air of the parsonage. Elizabeth continued to wonder what possessed Mr Darcy to deviate so greatly from one version of himself to the next—from this amiable man to the reserved gentleman he had given her to expect at Netherfield.
Searching for answers to her mind’s unresolved questions, Elizabeth asked Mr Darcy to tell her more about his life. He spoke extensively about his many houses and tenants and projects. She had not imagined there were more properties than the house in town and the renowned Pemberley. His responsibilities were great, and she felt guilty for ever imagining he had any improper pride.
He also spoke expressively about his sister, Georgiana, and her preferences. It was, indeed, a joy to hear him speak so lovingly about her. He was detailed in his description—she was tremendously timid but came to life when playing the pianoforte. Though she lacked confidence in most of the traditional feminine endeavours, she was truly passionate about music, and it showed.
While Elizabeth was aware Mr Darcy was not verbose, it was surprising to hear him speak openly about his own reserved nature. “Like my sister, I too am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers,” he told her. “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before.”
This information gave Elizabeth further understanding of him. When they first met, he had been surrounded by unfamiliar society. She had immediately judged him, assuming him only haughty and prideful. He did insult me the first time we met—but he was also being compelled by a much more sociable friend to dance in a room full of strangers. Never had she considered an imposing man such as he, with so much experience in the world, would be uncomfortable in society!
She had formerly speculated it was his station, far above all others in Meryton, that kept him reticent; when, it appeared, it was likely his private nature. She was slowly learning he was prideful, but not to a fault. There were further layers to his personality, and his pride was not unjustified. There was a great deal to be proud of, and his self-importance may have been more a mask than arrogance.
His deep affection for his sister was evident, and allowed Elizabeth to see a softer side of him. She kept quiet when he told her about a disappointing event that occurred the previous summer. He spoke of leaving his sister in the charge of an untrustworthy companion who put her in harm’s way. His withdrawn expression revealed he was even now very affected by this, still burdened by what had occurred.
How well did she understand this! She too was learning what it meant to put trust in another person who later turned out to be unworthy of it. While she would not press him for further details of what had happened to his sister, Elizabeth could sense his wretchedness. The impenetrable Mr Darcy had been shaken by whatever had occurred, and she rather enjoyed seeing this exceptionally unguarded side of him. He cared for his family deeply and detested those who would bring them harm. She wanted to return the comfort he provided during their last walk together, so she moved closer, leaning on his arm and giving it a little squeeze. She hoped if the gesture alarmed him that he would consider the chilly gusts of wind a motive.
Darcy was elated when Miss Elizabeth held his arm more tightly and pressed herself against him. While her bonnet now blocked his view of her expressions, he was delighted to feel her warmth. His body reacted immediately to her closeness. He gently covered her hand with his but had to make a concerted effort to concentrate on the conversation.
When they entered the glade he had shown her once before, she pulled away from him, closing her eyes and tipping her face heavenward. In that moment, he thought her the loveliest creature he had ever beheld.
He was surprised by how comfortable he felt sharing details of his life with her. There were many gentlemen of his long acquaintance who knew much less about him. Watching her just then, he considered how dearly he would like to introduce her to Georgiana. Miss Elizabeth’s spirit could bolster Georgiana, and a friendship would undoubtedly provide his sister some needed confidence.
Back at the parsonage, Elizabeth and Charlotte settled into their routine of sewing in the parlour after breakfast. The hour was early for callers, so when Hayes entered to announce visitors, they were surprised. Elizabeth could not see the cards that had been handed to Mrs Collins, but she immediately straightened and smoothed her skirt, assuming it would again be Mr Darcy and the colonel. To her surprise, however, it was Mrs Jacobson bringing two friends to call on Charlotte.
Mrs Summers and Mrs Oliver were both on a smaller scale than Mrs Jacobson, and not just in the sense of height. Both were smartly dressed for morning calls, but neither of the ladies could claim the same creative and exaggerated style that Mrs Jacobson was clearly known for. Atop her head sat a crimson velvet bonnet with large black feathers jutting from just over her ear. The other ladies followed her in quietly and stood in eagerness for an introduction.
After all were introduced, Charlotte called for tea and refreshments and settled in to hear the neighbourhood gossip. Charlotte eventually manoeuvered the conversation to boast of her best attribute—her connexion to Lady Catherine. The ladies were amazed by her regular visits to the estate and invitations to dine. They fawned over her, and Charlotte was nearly glowing with pride as she described with great detail the ornate rooms and the two elaborate sets of china she had had the pleasure of observing while taking tea.
Elizabeth was mostly quiet, allowing Charlotte to form her friendships where she could, but enjoyed studying the characters of the women as they spoke. She decided these ladies must operate beyond Lady Catherine’s dominion to be interested in the Collinses’ intimacy with her ladyship, rather than be repulsed by it.
How odd it was to listen to Charlotte go on and on about Lady Catherine, sounding very much like her husband! But Elizabeth knew how much Charlotte would wish to be on even-footing with these wealthier women, to establish her position with them. Nevertheless, it was alarming to watch Charlotte fall in with the neighbourhood gossips, contributing titbits of her own knowledge of neighbours as she could. If Elizabeth closed her eyes, she fancied that Charlotte had become Lady Lucas. Are we all to eventually become ladies of nervous tendencies and spiteful gossiping? Are we destined to become our mothers?
After the callers departed, Elizabeth went upstairs to rest. She meant to settle her mind, but it was filled with concern for her friend. Was she truly to leave Charlotte in Kent with these insipid ladies and her vexing husband?
Before travelling to Kent, Elizabeth would have believed that Charlotte would run her household with little interference from Mr Collins, whom she had imagined simply pottering in his garden and speaking nonsensically from the pulpit once a week. Yet, the anxieties and unspoken air of uncertainty in the home were clearly beyond Charlotte’s management. Elizabeth did not envy Charlotte having to spend her days and nights with Mr Collins.
Charlotte had paid a dear price for the privilege of having her own home, and Elizabeth shuddered to imagine how near she might have been to finding herself in her friend’s position. Did Charlotte resent her for it? Surely not.
In any case, Elizabeth could not feel guilty for exercising the one power women held, which was the authority to refuse! Surely Charlotte could not hold it against her now, not when she had so vehemently opposed the match that Charlotte had calmly and thoughtfully accepted.
Granted, this was all before Hunsford—before Lady Catherine made clear her complete control over the parsonage household—and before the daily interference of Mr Collins in all of Charlotte’s affairs. How could her friend not be miserable?
A knock below stairs brought Elizabeth from her thoughts. Shortly after, the maid came to tell her there were more callers downstairs. This time, it was the callers she had first anticipated.
Their visit was all that was to be expected: the colonel was jovial and entertaining, while Mr Darcy was all that was civil and polite.
There was no sense in Mr Darcy feigning indifference, as Elizabeth had long been aware of his frequent looks. She was even becoming more accustomed to his unending stares. No longer considering them brooding or disdainful, she was a bit discomfited by the notion that they may, in fact, be rather the opposite. She blushed just thinking of it.
During an especially dull conversation about the accumulation of spring rain, Elizabeth brazenly decided to stare back. She wondered if he would break the gaze first. She stared rather plainly at him with a tranquil expression that she had been recently assuming while in Kent. When he did not look away, she smiled a bit to see if she could effect a change in him. She witnessed his jaw clench and a straightening of his back, but he would not avoid her gaze. His observation merely became more intent.
Since tormenting Mr Darcy was the only enjoyment to be had on that dreary afternoon, she arched her eyebrow in a quizzical manner in an attempt to unsettle him. She watched his lips begin to turn upward; he tried to repress the movement, but it appeared to make it even more inevitable.
Suddenly, he stood and moved to the window rather quickly. Following him with her gaze, she observed in the reflection of the panes of glass that his lips did turn up into a full smile once his back was to the room. She likewise grinned at the sight of his dimples. She felt quite satisfied with herself and considered the game won.
Allowing her attention to appear engaged in the conversation once again, her mind began to wander. She must consider Mr Darcy’s marked kindnesses and the implications. She could not conceive why she had challenged him in that way—was she becoming like her youngest sisters, Lydia and Kitty, with their unrestrained and heedless flirting? What did she want from Mr Darcy? Surely, she understood the consequences of provoking the man in such a manner!
She was certain he understood it was merely a study of his character, or rather a game intended to push him to a point whereby he might show himself more openly. But, no. It was not only that. She was beginning to comprehend there was something drawing her to him, and that he, against every expectation, appeared to be just as interested in teasing and flirting with her.
Elizabeth was forced to contain her amusement in this conclusion. It was nonsensical to say the least. Mr Collins and Mr Wickham had both informed her in Hertfordshire that Mr Darcy was promised to Miss de Bourgh. If marriage was not a consideration, she ought to protect herself from these attentions. Mr Darcy was a wealthy man who was likely doing nothing more than seeking to relieve his boredom during a visit to his aunt. He would be forgiven such an indiscretion as the natural tendency of a man, but in her case, there could be rumours, and her reputation could be ruined—or worse, she might begin to care for him and be hurt.
After the gentlemen departed, Charlotte made her way to the kitchen to confer with the cook. A soup of potatoes and onion, a roasted chicken, and a simple apple tart would round up the evening meal quite charmingly. Charlotte felt it was in her favour to prepare a lovely table while Elizabeth was visiting, for surely news would travel back home. She would not be pleased if her hosting abilities were mocked back in Hertfordshire. At least her husband’s interference with the menu had lessened in the last month as she began to better understand his particular preferences.
Charlotte went back to her parlour to ensure all was in readiness for the evening scripture, and checked with the footman for the location of her husband. She was relieved to hear he was still out of the house. Naturally, she did not wish illness upon her neighbours, but when her husband was called to attend to families during their last hours, she enjoyed a short-lived respite.
After seeing all was in order, she retired to her room to dress for dinner. She felt a little lighter after the busy day. It was not often the parsonage received callers, and two parties was, indeed, unique. The eventful day rather lifted her spirits.
She sat at her dressing table to attend to her toilette, pleased with herself as she recollected her day. The visit from Mrs Jacobson, Mrs Summers, and Mrs Oliver had been a first and had been sorely needed. She could hardly contain her excitement to have neighbours call on her. It was all she could do to pour the tea and try to follow the many twists and turns the conversation took. And to think! She was even able to offer evidence about why the Price boy had not shown up for work at the Oliver house. Her husband’s long-winded speeches about all the goings on in the village might be of some use after all.
She hoped that even though her husband was generally disliked by most of the villagers, it was conceivable her connexions to information and Lady Catherine would assist her in making a few friends—and she deeply longed for local acquaintances. Even with Elizabeth under her roof, she had felt alone. Her marriage had severely altered their long, valuable friendship and left a distressing emptiness in her heart.
The second party of visitors was equally astounding. Lady Catherine’s nephews were unusually kind to visit once again. She was especially happy for her husband’s absence so she could enjoy the colonel’s good humour more fully. Although, it was hard to focus on his tales when she was often distracted by the looks passing between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy.
Charlotte frowned at the recollection of that. How had Elizabeth managed to gain the attentions of a man like Mr Darcy? A wealthy man of the highest social circles—following her around with his eyes like a puppy! But she knew the truth of the matter. She smiled, albeit guiltily, considering that Elizabeth would have her just deserts soon when Mr Darcy wed Miss de Bourgh. It would surely reward her previous selfishness towards Mr Collins. Elizabeth should have considered more carefully what she was capable of attaining and what she most certainly was not.