Chapter 3
FOND OF WALKING
Bright and early the next day, Elizabeth eagerly set off to Rosings to practice for an hour or two.
She had been fortunate to have come and gone the day before without attracting anyone’s notice.
If she were lucky, such would also be the case again.
The Hunsford party was invited to dine at Rosings again that evening, much to Mr. Collins’s delight.
No doubt, Lady Catherine would call upon her to exhibit after dinner.
She looked forward to silencing her condescending critic.
The certainty that she would once again be in Mr. Darcy’s company was not something she looked forward to; however, the colonel’s amiability would surely outweigh the haughty younger man’s unpleasantness.
Elizabeth had not practiced very long before the library door swung open and in walked a servant bearing a tea tray.
Moments later, while the servant was setting out the tea things, Mr. Darcy strolled into the room.
It had not dawned on Elizabeth until that instance, but now she was utterly convinced that she had espied the gentleman lurking in the hallway outside the library the day before.
At the time she had thought it was too odd to be true and had persuaded herself that she had merely imagined seeing him.
What on Earth is that gentleman about? Elizabeth wondered as she leafed through the music sheets before her for another piece to perform.
She pretended to take no notice when Mr. Darcy thanked and subsequently dismissed the servant. Now it was just the two of them. Alone. Elizabeth immediately commenced playing, attempting to dispel the awkwardness of their situation.
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat; still Elizabeth did not look up from her task. “Will you take tea with me, Miss Bennet?”
She could no longer pretend he was not in the room. Smiling, she said, “Thank you for your kind offer, sir. I am afraid I must decline.”
“Do you not drink tea?”
“I believe you know very well that I do drink tea, sir. I suppose I ought to have said I’m not thirsty.”
Darcy strode over to where Elizabeth sat and assumed an advantageous position by the instrument—one that afforded him a full view of her countenance.
She summoned her courage amid the daunting weight of his silent inspection. “Do you mean to frighten me, sir?”
“No. However, I would have a word with you.”
Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and gazed at him expectantly. She said nothing, which he considered sufficient encouragement to continue with his speech.
“I could not help but notice you walked here alone yesterday, and, likewise, you returned to the parsonage on foot. You arrived in the same manner this morning—by foot.” Here he paused as if awaiting her response. She spoke not a word.
“I will gladly make my carriage available to you,” he hastily offered.
Elizabeth arched her brow. “Are you trying to hurry me along my way, Mr. Darcy?”
He shook his head. “No. I believe I am thinking only of your comfort. It is quite a distance from here to the parsonage.”
“I’m very fond of walking, sir,” Elizabeth said, positioning her fingers on the keys. She took up playing where she had left off before he interrupted her.
With that, Darcy walked away. He retrieved a large, leather-bound book from one of the library shelves and took a seat on a nearby couch.
Seeing all this, Elizabeth gave her fingers a rest. “Sir, pray my practicing will not impede your pleasure in your book.”
“No,” he replied, opening the book somewhere close to the middle. “However, if you insist on walking, I suppose I ought to escort you to the parsonage when you have finished practicing.”
“Do you mean to suggest that hordes of bandits are lurking behind the manicured shrubbery along the lanes, sir?” Elizabeth asked.
Affording her taunting retort a degree of consideration it did not warrant, Darcy responded, “I do not think there are; however, as a gentleman, serving as your escort is the least I can do.”
Ambling along at a leisurely pace a short while later, it occurred to Elizabeth that the two of them had barely spoken a word to each other—at least not aloud, for she had bombarded him with silent questions every step of the way.
From what little time she had spent in his company, she knew he could be aloof, but he had been the one to insist upon accompanying her to the parsonage.
What could be his purpose if he only means to be silent and grave? Elizabeth asked herself more than once.
Casting occasional sideways glances at the gentleman by her side, Elizabeth could not help but reflect upon how attractive she had thought he was when she first saw him; his handsome face, his dark, brooding eyes and his rich baritone voice.
Then, too, he was tall with broad shoulders, and there was something in his manner of walk.
All of which evidenced his proud aristocratic lineage.
However, all the estimable qualities in the world could not excuse his rudeness.
Mr. Darcy’s callous proclamation that she was not handsome enough to tempt him had wounded her deeply.
She simply was not accustomed to hearing such derisiveness from the mouth of a gentleman and certainly not in reference to her.
On the other hand, he surely would not have uttered those words if he had known he would be overheard by anyone. Or would he?
Elizabeth could not be sure. Were it not for the fact that he had deliberately put himself in her path, she was absolutely certain she would not be giving herself so much trouble to comprehend what the haughty gentleman was about.
Yet sketch his character she must. She silently compiled a list of possible reasons why he had waited in the library for her to finish practicing and now walked along beside her.
I suppose he simply has nothing better to do. As best I can tell, he wants nothing to do with his so-called intended, else surely she would have been the beneficiary of his company today.
By now they were half way to the parsonage, and still the gentleman had not uttered a word. Say something! Pray say anything, sir, or I shall go distracted by the quiet, Elizabeth silently exclaimed.
As though he had heard her plea, Darcy rested his eyes on hers. Her initial thought was to look away, but that would never do. She did not want to give him the impression that she was scared of him; although, having been caught staring rendered her more than a little uncomfortable.
She racked her brain in search of a means to eliminate the ensuing awkwardness. “It was exceedingly kind of you to walk with me, sir,” she uttered. “However, all things considered, I believe I should continue on my own from here.”
“All things considered?” Darcy asked, his expression befuddled.
She bit her lower lip. “My cousin, Mr. Collins, were he to see us walking together like this might misinterpret things. At the very least, he might insist upon inviting you inside his humble abode. I am quite certain you would not want that.”
“I believe it is safe to accompany you to the gate. I shall take my chances after that.”
“You must not say I did not warn you if luck finds itself on my cousin’s side.”
“I shall consider myself forewarned, Miss Bennet.”
His melodic voice, so soft and tender, with that last pronouncement, took Elizabeth’s breath away. What a pity he does not speak more often, she thought, and then she immediately chastised herself upon remembering his harsh words the evening they met.
Moments later, he resumed talking. “If you will allow me to speak candidly, Miss Bennet, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you pertaining to the evening we met.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth replied, her interest piqued.
He nodded. “Indeed. What I have to say has to do with George Wickham.”
Elizabeth’s entire demeanor stiffened. She could feel her temper rising with each passing second. “I assure you, sir, I have heard quite enough already to comprehend fully how little you and your aunt think of Lieutenant Wickham.”
Darcy halted his footsteps, forcing Elizabeth to do likewise. The decided difference in their statures caused her to arch her neck to look the gentleman directly in his eyes while she braced herself for his defense.
“My aunt and I are not always of the same mind, but as regards George Wickham, you would be wise to listen to her counsel. Do not allow yourself to be deceived by that man. There are too many things about him that you do not know.”
“What is there to know other than his father was your own father’s steward and that Lieutenant Wickham and you—childhood friends by your own admission—have since suffered an irreconcilable parting of the ways?”
“I will ask you to trust me. Heed my aunt’s advice. Write to your father and tell him what Lady Catherine told you.”
“Trust you! I beg your pardon, sir, but you are little more than a stranger to me—a rather impertinent stranger at that—whereas my acquaintance with Lieutenant Wickham is of a long duration.” In truth, she had not known the gentleman very long at all when measured by the passage of time.
She knew Mr. Wickham’s character, which in her estimation was worth ten times that of the haughty gentleman who now stood before her.
“I do not wish to argue with you, young lady. I only wanted to warn you. I would be terribly remiss if I did not.”
The condescension in his tone freed her from the constraints of calm civility. She took a step closer. “I, too, would be remiss if I did not speak on another matter pertaining to the evening we met.”
“I’m listening,” he said, clasping both hands behind his back, thus affording her his undivided attention.
“I heard what you said about me to your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir.”
Darcy showed no hint of remorse at having been overheard, which further confirmed Elizabeth’s decreasing opinion of him—her suspicion that he was uncaring of the feelings of others. What a shame, for they needed not be adversaries. He remained silent.
Elizabeth said, “Surely you mean to apologize. Perhaps you are merely taking the time to fashion your response when all that is necessary is to say, ‘I apologize for the offense.’”
Darcy said, “No offense was intended.”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. Her eyes bore into his. She waited.
“I was engaged in a private conversation with my cousin. Shall I ask for forgiveness because you were listening in on a discussion meant for his ears alone?”
“I suppose if that is the best you can do by way of an apology then I will be similarly generous in my acceptance.”
“The truth is, Miss Bennet, that I would take those hastily spoken words back if it were within my power. The truth is—” Perceiving that he was on the verge of saying far too much, Darcy ceased speaking.
To tell her how intrigued he was with her from the moment he first laid eyes on her simply would not do.
The fact that he had thought of little else other than her since they met puzzled him exceedingly.
What is it about this impertinent young woman that fascinates me so? Darcy silently pondered and not for the first time.
One thing was clear, especially with her standing close enough for him to appreciate the faint scents of lavender from her hair and to detect the tiny little imperfection on her right cheek, he was more determined than ever to find out.