FOURTEEN #2
And Wickham’s account of Darcy himself had already begun to feel less certain under closer observation.
Perhaps disappointment had coloured his judgement of the entire family. Though Wickham had spoken without any obvious malice, Elizabeth found it increasingly difficult to accept his account unquestioningly.
She set the thought aside without comment.
“Again, sir, I am sorry for what you suffered,” said Elizabeth. “I think there are some griefs which leave people uncertain what they are meant to believe afterward.”
Darcy was silent a moment. His hand rested motionless against the red-bound book upon his lap.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I believe there are.”
Elizabeth considered his words for a moment before saying, “People often expect faith to remove suffering entirely. And when it does not, they begin to wonder whether they have misunderstood faith altogether.”
Darcy looked at her then.
“So you do not believe people ought to question faith when it disappoints them?”
Elizabeth considered the question briefly before answering.
“I think disappointment exists whether one possesses faith or not,” she said at last. “The question for a person of faith is what becomes of that faith afterward.”
Darcy exhaled slowly, his gaze remaining fixed somewhere beyond the hedgerows.
“You possess a remarkably uncommon way of looking at the world, Miss Bennet,” he said at last.
“My mother considers it a defect,” said Elizabeth.
“And your father?”
“He encourages it entirely. Which is probably why my mother blames him for it.”
Darcy laughed. Not the almost-laugh of earlier, brief and quickly suppressed, but something genuine and unguarded, and entirely surprising to them both.
Elizabeth laughed also.
“By the way, how is your sister fairing this morning?” Darcy said after the laughter subsided.
“Jane is considerably improved, sir. She managed some breakfast.”
“I am very glad to hear it.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Elizabeth. “If she continues recovering so steadily, we shall likely return home tomorrow or Tuesday.”
Darcy was quiet a moment longer than the remark strictly required.
“Netherfield will be considerably less lively for your departure,” he said at last, with a composure that seemed carefully arranged.
Elizabeth glanced toward him briefly, a flicker of surprise crossing her expression before it gave way to a smile.
“I had not realised Netherfield depended so heavily upon my conversation for its entertainment.”
“Nor had I,” Darcy replied. “Yet the discovery appears unavoidable.”
For a few moments neither spoke. Gravel shifted softly beneath Elizabeth’s boots. Somewhere beyond the hedgerow a bird disturbed wet branches before settling again.
The sound had scarcely faded when the crunch of wheels upon gravel reached them from the other side of the house. A moment later came the distant activity of servants at the entrance.
The Netherfield household had returned from church.
Elizabeth and Darcy looked at each other briefly. The morning, which had been entirely their own, was no longer.
“I ought to go back up to Jane,” said Elizabeth.
“Of course,” said Darcy.
She turned to go. Then she stopped.
“Mr. Darcy.”
He looked at her.
“I hope your stance on faith is not as fixed as you believe it to be.”
She did not wait for his response. She walked back toward the house and did not look back.
* * *
Mr. Bingley, his sisters, and Mr. Hurst were descending from the carriage just as Elizabeth reached the front steps.
“Miss Bennet!” cried Bingley immediately upon seeing her. “You are out at last.”
“Only briefly,” said Elizabeth with a smile.
“We delivered your letter safely,” said Miss Bingley, gathering her muslin skirts carefully above the gravel. “Your mother appeared greatly relieved by the news of Jane’s improvement.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” said Elizabeth. “Thank you.”
“And how is your sister this morning?” asked Bingley quickly.
“Much stronger. She even managed some breakfast.”
“Excellent,” said Bingley warmly. “Excellent news indeed.”
At that moment Marsh appeared from the lower path, wheeling Darcy gradually toward the house from the very direction Elizabeth herself had come.
Elizabeth became aware almost immediately that Darcy’s gaze settled upon her before anywhere else. Miss Bingley noticed it scarcely a second later. Elizabeth noticed her noticing it because Caroline’s eyes moved instinctively between them at once.
The alteration in her expression was impossible to mistake once observed. A slight frown appeared first, more puzzled than displeased. Then came the understanding.
Mr. Darcy had not merely been outside that morning.
He had been outside with Elizabeth.
Caroline’s smile returned quickly enough, though it no longer possessed quite its former ease.
“What remarkably fine weather has tempted everybody outdoors today,” she observed lightly. “Mr. Darcy seldom honours Netherfield with walks.”
“The weather was agreeable,” said Darcy simply.
His tone revealed nothing whatsoever. Yet Elizabeth had the distinct impression Miss Bingley no longer found the afternoon agreeable in the slightest.
And because she had no wish to remain standing in the centre of that particular discovery any longer than necessary, Elizabeth thought it exceedingly fortunate that she possessed immediate reason to return upstairs to Jane.