Chapter 6 #3
He counted the days before he could be near Elizabeth. Three had already passed, and he had barely spoken to her. He did not feel strong enough to be in her company and to conceal his feelings, nor could he bear the distress of being in such proximity and still not enjoy her presence.
Later that day, Darcy decided to take a ride to ease his mind.
He could not spend all his time in the library, and racing his horse across open fields was the perfect medicine for his torment.
He rode at a gallop, far from the Rosings manor until the horse needed rest. He stopped and sat in the grass.
Spring flourished around him, enhancing the trees and flowers with scents of freshness and sounds of joy.
But his soul remained heavy and his spirit low.
Eventually, he lost patience and decided to return.
He allowed the stallion to run free for a while but stopped abruptly when he spotted Elizabeth walking towards the Parsonage.
His heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath, tempted to take another path to avoid her. But his horse neighed, and she turned.
There was only a short distance between them, so he easily noted her surprise. He bowed, and she curtseyed and continued to look at him. His decision was made in an instant; he dismounted and approached her.
“Miss Bennet. What a lovely surprise to see you.”
“Mr Darcy. A surprise indeed.”
“Are you returning home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“May I escort you?”
“If you wish…”
“Is Mrs Collins well? And Mr Collins?’
“Very well, sir. And Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh? And Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“They are all well. Do you often walk in this part of the park, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes, as often as I can. Since I have been in Kent, I have fully enjoyed its beauties. What about you, Mr Darcy?”
“I was just taking a ride.”
He heard himself talking and was ashamed of how silly he sounded.
So he walked silently by her side, in danger of sinking into total silence.
He knew it was absolutely necessary to think of something, but her nearness, their privacy, and her scent—stronger than flowers—blurred his reason.
He glanced at her from time to time then startled when she spoke.
“How very suddenly you quitted Netherfield, Mr Darcy! It was quite unexpected, for if I recollect, Mr Bingley intended to return after a day.”
He cleared his voice. “Well, yes…it was a sudden decision.”
“He and his sisters were well I hope when you left London?”
“I have not seen Bingley lately. He is visiting friends outside London. But his sisters were fine, from my knowledge.”
“I see…I was asking only because I had the impression you would be knowledgeable about them. Miss Bingley told Jane that Mr Bingley was frequently engaged with you and Miss Darcy. But you informed me Miss Darcy is not in London either.”
“I cannot imagine why Miss Bingley would say something so completely inaccurate.” He had uttered another lie. He knew why—and her glare showed him she did too.
“I wonder whether Mr Bingley has any idea of ever returning to Netherfield.”
“I have not discussed the matter with him, but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are important.”
“Perhaps. But I trust a gentleman to decide which friends and engagements are more important than others,” she said sharply.
“I hope he does,” he answered briefly.
“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely. Then we might get a settled family there.”
“It depends on him.”
“Of course it does,” Elizabeth continued. “For surely, Mr Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle.”
“True. I would not be surprised if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchase offers.”
Another short pause followed; then Elizabeth continued. “Sir, you should not feel obliged to accompany me. The Parsonage is in sight; I shall be home in no time.”
“I do not feel obliged, I assure you, Miss Bennet.”
Silence again—then he felt the need to carry the conversation. “Mr and Mrs Collins have a lovely house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr Collins first came to Hunsford.”
“I believe she did. Her ladyship’s kindness is greatly appreciated.”
“Mr Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”
“Indeed; he met with one of the few sensible women who would have accepted him. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I do not consider her marrying Mr Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. But in a prudential light, it is a good match for her.”
“Mrs Collins looks like a wise and sensible lady. It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her family and friends.”
She glanced at him and laughed. “Surely, you are joking. An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”
“Yes, little more than half a day’s journey.” He smiled back.
“I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,” cried Elizabeth.
“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”
“Not quite, sir. I am not that attached to Hertfordshire, and I have occasionally travelled far from my home. In truth, I believe that at times a woman can be settled too close to her family. But we were speaking of Mr and Mrs Collins. I do not think they consider it a comfortable distance, but I agree they have a comfortable living.”
Darcy sensed a change in Elizabeth’s voice. She was not content with the conversation, and he was not sure of the reason. So he spoke only to keep her engaged and to have her smile and glance at him from time to time.
“Are you pleased with Kent?” he inquired and safely turned the discussion to the subject of the country and the weather.
The remainder of the distance was covered in complete silence as they were out of subjects. His mind slowly emptied at the thought that they would separate soon and might not see one another again privately.
They arrived at the gate, and she hurried inside after a brief farewell. He remained there, gazing after her. He did not even think to tell her he enjoyed the stroll. He had been a ridiculous fool and struggled so to conceal his pleasure that he could not truly relish it.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth stopped in the main hall and looked out the window, waiting for Darcy to leave.
She was relieved when they finally separated.
His company made her uncomfortable, and his incoherent answers regarding the weak and undecided Mr Bingley made her angry.
But at least she had confirmation about the lies of the Bingley sisters—and he was aware of it too. She rejoiced in that small victory.
It was somehow satisfying that he did not appear at ease either. But then why did he walk with her? Was he only being polite? Was he attempting to learn something from her? He was such a strange man and managed to disturb her every time they met—so very opposite to the colonel!
“Lizzy, was that Mr Darcy?” Charlotte asked, puzzled. “Did you walk out together? Alone?”
“Not at all. I walked alone, he rode out, and we met on my way home. For some strange reason, he decided to escort me.”
“My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he never would have called on us on the second day of his arrival nor kept you company alone with the risk of finding yourselves in a compromising situation.”
Elizabeth laughed wholeheartedly. “Not at all! We had little conversation and spent half of the time in an awkward silence. No one who saw us could ever assume a compromising situation unless it is one in which we are trying to kill each other. I tell you—he is a strange man.”
“Well, you are strange together,” Charlotte reluctantly admitted. “Although I do believe he has a certain regard for you.”
“I cannot agree. He is simply bored and tries to amuse himself during this visit to his aunt.”
After more teasing and jokes, their disagreement ended.