Chapter 7
“Did you see how Lady Catherine looked at Anne?” the colonel asked Darcy.
After several hours spent in the carriage, they had gone out for a walk to stretch their legs and admire the park around the house that Lady Catherine kept in a rather severe order, imposing upon the grounds her desire for control and her rather narrow, somewhat unimaginative nature.
Fortunately, the vegetation did not yield easily and managed to transform the order imposed upon it into an undeniable charm.
“How?” Darcy replied absently as they made their way at a brisk pace, clearly set by him, towards the gate of the estate.
“She appraised her like she was merchandise,” said Richard, and Darcy turned to him, surprised.
Such nuanced observations were not typical of his cousin.
Yet, all the members of their family in London had either been moved or disturbed by Anne’s silent, sickly presence—clearly her mother’s doing.
Lady Catherine preferred her daughter without will or spirit, for in the end, Anne was the heiress of Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s estate and fortune.
“To Lady Catherine, you are the best possible match,” the colonel said.
“Why me and not you? Lady Catherine is hardly in need of her son-in-law’s fortune,” replied Darcy, who had thought—particularly of late—that a marriage between Richard and Anne might well be his cousin’s salvation.
As the second son of the Earl of Matlock, Richard stood to inherit only a modest sum, insufficient for the life he led.
He would, therefore, need a wife with means.
“And yet the answer is simple. The master of Pemberley would rarely come to Rosings and would take no interest in managing another estate.”
“You are right. And Lady Catherine would continue to oversee the place just as she always has, far away from the prying eyes of her daughter and son-in-law, who would not interfere.”
“Precisely. Whereas I, or another man like me, willing to marry Anne, would move here at once and take up the estate through the marriage.”
“And yet she sent her to London, to Lady Matlock, to be transformed into a young woman who is less timid, somewhat more charming, and certainly far more elegant.”
“Do not be deceived. Everything has been done for your sake.”
But Darcy did not hear the final words as he was almost running to reach the gate of the estate.
“Why are we in such a hurry?” Richard asked, though understanding struck as they reached the road that led towards Hunsford.
From there, the Parsonage stood plainly in view.
They knew the countryside intimately, having visited their aunt nearly every year, and there were few landmarks in the area that held any particular interest.
Only then did Darcy stop what had felt more like a march than a walk before dinner.
“I must be mad. I nearly killed you,” he replied with a wry smile, and they paused to look towards the Parsonage.
“If she were to appear now, what would you do?” the colonel asked directly, interest vanquishing any reserve.
To his huge surprise, Darcy replied sincerely, “I would stand here like a fool and say nothing, for this battle with myself has left me weary.”
“You have still not decided?” the colonel asked, evidently disappointed. He had hoped to witness an engagement at Rosings, yet not the one Lady Catherine anticipated.
“No, I have not. I wish to see her, and I hope some clarity will come at that moment.”
“Which you have been waiting for in vain these many months.”
“Yes. But now it feels different. We shall meet her together, and I am curious to see how you perceive her.”
“You care for my opinion?” the colonel asked without attempting to hide his scepticism. His cousin could rarely be influenced, which was not always a virtue. Stubbornness and pride were among Darcy’s more prominent flaws.
“I do care,” replied Darcy, and in the stillness of the afternoon, broken only by birdsong, his voice sounded full of unexpected emotion.
“Yet you know that I favour your marrying the woman you love even before meeting her. Your feeling, which you described as love, counts in this story. I have deep faith in your ability to judge character. But I am also concerned by how uncertain you remain, for I know you will heed no counsel.”
Darcy looked intently at the Parsonage, as though he were waiting for the door to open and for Elizabeth to step out.
Before learning of her visit to Kent, he had given much thought to finding a way to see her again, though it was likely he would never have taken that step himself.
Thus, being so near to her now felt less like a choice and more like a turn of fate, and he let himself rest in that thought, content to let destiny lead him forwards.