The Lanes
More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, unexpectedly meet Mr Darcy. Naturally, since she took care to inform him that it was a favourite haunt of hers, it was not entirely surprising—but propriety demanded they pretend it was so.
On the first day, after their somewhat awkward introductions, he asked permission to accompany her, and she accepted with satisfaction.
He offered his arm, and she took it without a thought, which was astonishing in a way.
She would have shunned it like a dangerous animal in the autumn, and she would not have expected him to offer it after their last meeting in London.
She did not attach undue significance, save that the action could serve as a truce.
It could suggest anything from indifferent acquaintance to intimate friendship.
“How do you like Rosings’ paths? Do they satisfy your requirements for rambling?”
She smiled. “I find myself satisfied, though I find them slightly fastidious for my taste. I will not complain of course, but I prefer my walking paths closer to wild.”
“You will love Pemberley,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose, though he was unlikely to see it over the rim of her bonnet. “What makes you suppose I will ever see Pemberley? I have never travelled beyond London except for this trip.”
“I just believe some situation will present itself,” he said enigmatically.
She knew not what he meant. It might imply he thought they might become friends, or he might ask her to befriend his sister, who seemed in need of it. She supposed there were any number of possibilities but was loath to speculate further.
“I suppose time will tell.”
“It usually does. Tell me about your travels, and about Meryton.”
Happy to have something to discuss that was not so very fraught, they passed the walk to the lake discussing polite versions of their time since the Netherfield ball.
Both avoided all unpleasant topics. They also discussed the events involving their various sisters, and since they had five between them, it took some time.
When they arrived at the pond, Darcy suggested a bench and she nodded her agreement. He wiped it with his handkerchief, which was kind though superfluous since Elizabeth sat on it every day and any dirt was most likely on the prior day’s gown.
When they sat, he removed his hat to place it beside them, so she followed suit with her bonnet.
They were straining the bounds of propriety by the usual rules, and probably vastly exceeded them by Lady Catherine’s, but she was not unduly concerned.
Not a single person had appeared within a hundred yards of the pond since she arrived, and Mr Darcy would certainly know if they were likely to encounter anyone.
They spent a minute or two quietly watching a Mama duck and her ducklings waddle across the grass into the pond, then Darcy spoke.
“I owe you some apologies, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I do as well.”
“I think not. If you have injured me in some way that is too subtle for me to detect, it must pale in comparison.”
“Perhaps we need not quarrel for the greater share of blame for our acquaintance.”
He chuckled. “We could spend all day in this manner, so pray, allow me to continue.”
“By all means.”
“I must apologise for many things. The night of that first assembly I was as rude as a man could be. I said things simply to relieve my own ill humour that had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. I would never accept that from any other man, nor should you accept it from me.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It did set the stage for my determined dislike. I suppose I could have asked my father to chastise you, and he may even have addressed it in a month or two. Instead, I simply ruined your reputation in the neighbourhood.”
He laughed openly, which confused her. At her questioning look, he explained.
“If you call that ‘retaliation,’ you are vastly mistaken. I have reflected on those weeks and found something very curious.”
“Which is?”
“Nobody, and I mean nobody, threw their daughters, nieces, sisters, cousins, and the like in my direction. That has never happened before. I was too lunkheaded to see it at the time, but I had a month of playing the hound instead of the fox and did not even realise how refreshing it was until much later.”
“You consider my spreading vicious slander about you a benefit?” she asked with a squeak.
“In retrospect, yes. At the time, I was unaware you had even done it… and—”
“You may as well finish.”
“It probably would not have bothered me even had I known,” he said with a look of extreme chagrin.
She had to think about his revelations for some time but finally shrugged.
“I suppose we both could have behaved better, but it ended well enough so there is no need to discuss it endlessly.”
“Well, I am sorry… sorrier than I can really say.”
“I accept your apologies and offer my own.”
“Have you anything to apologise for, aside from publishing my rudeness, which I well deserved?”
“I was rather free with Mr Wickham’s accusations, though I at least only shared them with Jane and my father.
The story did not circulate through the neighbourhood until you left, and he began spreading it to all and sundry.
Nevertheless, I could have been far less accusatory in that one dance we shared, and we might have parted on better terms.”
“I could and should have clipped his wings before I left, so you were not complicit in that. So once again, I state that your apologies are misplaced, since all of the actions you consider hostile proved to be almost entirely my fault in the first place, and subsequently to my benefit.”
She laughed. “It is as if I aimed at you with a rifle but missed and killed your worst enemy. You would name my incompetence a virtue simply because it was to your benefit.”
“Certainly. I take good luck where I can find it… eventually.”
His prolongation of the last word was confusing, so she looked at him and raised her eyebrows in what she hoped was a questioning manner.
He seemed to struggle with the next sentence but eventually summoned his resolve.
“I came to esteem you in Hertfordshire but did not take the time to know you,” he replied with a soft sigh. “I regret that I missed the opportunity.”
“We are both here now,” she whispered.
“That we are. Will you allow me to come to know you better?” he asked with some trepidation.
“I should like that very much,” she replied shyly.
Both felt too timid to say anything further, so they replaced their hats and returned to the parsonage.