Chapter 14
HIS AGITATED STATE
Darcy thought back long and hard over the events of the prior day—how he had come so close to kissing Elizabeth—a young maiden, a gentleman’s daughter.
She must think I am the worst sort of man, hardly a true gentleman—evidencing my desire for her with no mention of my intentions towards her, my honorable intentions.
He had come exceedingly close to allowing his most cherished dreams of her to turn into reality.
On the other hand, had things progressed they most certainly would be betrothed by now, for he was positive that a single brush of his lips against hers would have released in him the urgency to make her his.
A single kiss is all that it would take. There could not possibly be any turning back after that.
Elizabeth cannot have failed to discern my desire for her without forming some expectations of where it is leading. As a respectable man, he dared not spend another moment alone with her in the absence of an avowal of his ardent affections as well as his heartfelt intentions.
It was precisely this new resolve that accompanied him along the lanes that morning in the direction of the parsonage.
Her head full of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth prepared with more care than she was wont to do that morning.
She wanted nothing more than to see him again, and she hoped to encounter him again on her walk.
Memories of being in his arms had been her constant companions since parting with him at the parsonage gate, memories both pleasing as well as perplexing.
While in his arms, a part of her knew it was the only place in the world she wanted to be—the fanciful part.
Another part of her knew it was the last place in the world she ought to be—the sensible part.
Each additional step along the path with no sight of Mr. Darcy gave voice to the latter part.
He must surely think I am wanton, and he wants nothing more to do with me.
Her fanciful part posited a more tenable explanation.
It is not as though he promised to meet me this morning.
Perhaps I ought to go to Rosings to practice today.
No doubt, he will expect to see me there.
Her sensible part would not be repressed. If Mr. Darcy wishes to see me today, he knows where to find me. Thus resolved, Elizabeth turned and headed back to the parsonage.
She was not disappointed upon her return to learn that Mrs. Collins had gone out on business.
Indebted to her aunt Mrs. Gardiner as well as her dearest sister, Jane, as a consequence of their recent unanswered correspondence, she saw this as an excellent opportunity to catch up on her letter writing.
She had just sealed the second missive when she was suddenly roused by the sound of the doorbell. Her spirits were a little excited by the idea of a visit from Mr. Darcy, and she was further rewarded when, indeed, he walked into the room.
She gave him a warm smile and, setting aside the sealed letter, rose to greet him with a polite curtsey.
He bowed. Elizabeth’s joy was short-lived, replaced instead by a bout of curiosity for the gentleman’s air was quite different from when they last parted company.
He had resumed the reserved attitude which best characterized him during the earliest days of their acquaintance.
Not knowing what to think or how to feel, she invited him to sit—an invitation he promptly declined with a slight wave of his hand.
She offered to ring for tea. He declined that too.
Elizabeth sat back down at Charlotte’s writing desk, folded her hands in her lap, and waited.
Then he did sit down, but only a few moments passed before he stood again and commenced walking about the room. All this Elizabeth observed in silent wonder.
After several moments of continual silence marked by slight agitation, he came to her. “Miss Elizabeth, I fear I have been woefully remiss in not being completely honest with you—”
Suspecting her worst misgivings were about to unfold, she felt her heart slam against her chest. Is Mr. Darcy about to confess to me that he does indeed intend to honor his family’s wishes and marry his cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh?
Does this explain his agitated state? Elizabeth colored. She stared. She breathed in deeply, endeavoring to maintain the appearance of composure while preparing for what was to come. She nearly jumped out of her chair when the parlor door flew open and in raced that ridiculous Mr. Collins!
In such a case as this, Elizabeth did not know whether to be disappointed or grateful for the sudden turn of events.
His breathing precariously labored, Collins hurried directly to Darcy and bowed deeply.
“Pray, Mr. Darcy, you will forgive my tardiness. When my servant informed me that you were here at my humble abode, I dropped everything that I was doing and rushed inside to receive you properly. Do excuse my appearance, sir. I was attending my garden,” he said, likely in response to his soiled attire.
“Oh, yes,” Collins went on with no encouragement whatsoever.
“I fancy myself quite the proficient when it comes to such matters as this. Although I admit I did not always think so, for there was a time when I would not have given myself the trouble of performing such a menial task more worthy of servants. However, with Mrs. Collins’s frequent urging and my noble patroness’s blessing, I now find the exercise quite to my liking—that is to say when I am not preparing Sunday sermons, calling on parishioners and, most importantly, attending her ladyship. ”
Collins threw Elizabeth a look meant to send her on her way—a silent directive she promptly ignored by pretending she did not notice.
“I see my fair cousin has been attending you in my stead,” said Mr. Collins. “I also see that she has not called for tea.” He threw a rebuking glance in Elizabeth’s direction. “Cousin, what were you thinking?”
“Miss Bennet did indeed offer to ring for tea. I declined,” said Darcy in Elizabeth’s defense.
“Sir, I would be entirely remiss were I to neglect to serve you tea. What would Lady Catherine think of such appalling evidence of incivility?” Collins turned to Elizabeth.
“Pray will you see to it that my guest is served the finest tea we have? I truly hesitate to burden you with such a task and, no doubt, I would not if Mrs. Collins were here, for it is her place to attend such an honored guest as Lady Catherine’s nephew.
However, my excellent wife is on business in the village.
She will be dreadfully sorry to have missed you, sir,” he said, directing his attention back to the gentleman whose countenance beamed with annoyance.
“As I said, it is entirely unnecessary to go to such lengths on my behalf.”
Elizabeth, eager to escape her cousin’s sycophantic display, stood.
“It is no trouble at all, sir.” She promptly quit the room.
Once in the hallway, she halted for a moment to catch her breath.
She felt sure Mr. Darcy was on the verge of making a confession about his intentions towards his cousin Anne and, likewise, Elizabeth herself before Mr. Collins unexpectedly arrived.
For better or worse, she needed to hear him out.
On the other hand, she also knew her cousin well enough by now to know he would not give the gentleman and her a moment of peace, especially with his head filled with the idea of Mr. Darcy being his guest.
Whatever Mr. Darcy was about to say must wait, thus subjecting me to lingering suspense, the likes of which shall rob me of every bit of calm composure until we are alone once again.
With such uncertain expectations of all that the gentleman might say, Elizabeth went on her way.
She arrived in the kitchen in time to discover that tea was already in the process of being prepared by Charlotte’s cook.
She offered to deliver the tray to the parlor herself.
With another of the servants trailing closely behind her, Elizabeth was but moments from re-entering the room where she had left her cousin and Mr. Darcy when the door flew open.
“Mr. Darcy—”
He walked directly to her. “Pray forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but I find I really must be on my way.”
A hint of amusement twinkled in her eyes, in spite of her disappointment. “My cousin?”
He nodded slightly. Lowering his voice so that only she would hear him, Darcy said, “Please agree to meet me in the morning at the temple.”
Elizabeth smiled in acquiescence. With that, Darcy bowed. “Good day, Miss Elizabeth.”
She curtsied, satisfied that, come what may, mere hours stood between the two of them and their next meeting.