Chapter 7 #2
Darcy had seemed attentive to his lady cousin’s needs during dinner.
He indicated to a footman that her glass of water be filled several times and offered his arm whenever they moved from room to room.
Elizabeth observed everything and appreciated his care.
His manners were completely different than at Netherfield in his interactions with the Bingley sisters.
To Anne, he showed concern and affection, but never could Elizabeth discern any symptom of partiality beyond polite care for a relative in need.
She understood that Anne was right. It was unlikely Mr Darcy would ever marry his cousin unless he accepted a marriage of convenience.
That way, his fortune and connections would improve significantly while he maintained the freedom to do anything he pleased.
He appeared to always wish to impose his will.
But in what situations and to what degree?
Many other gentlemen of consequence and wealth did so.
Was Mr Darcy that kind of man? Or would he wait and marry only if he found a woman to his liking, as Anne suggested?
But—Elizabeth wondered—was there a woman to Mr Darcy’s liking?
He disapproved of Jane and did not accept her as his friend’s choice; of that, there was no doubt.
And yet, Jane was perfect, both in beauty and character.
And she was a gentleman’s daughter even if her dowry was of little significance.
From that perspective, she was at least Mr Bingley’s equal.
And yet, she did not meet with Mr Darcy’s approval.
He did mention that he had only met six accomplished women among his acquaintances. Would he marry one of them, perhaps?
Not that Elizabeth cared who Mr Darcy might marry—it was just a way to amuse herself and quell the desire to blame him for all Jane’s suffering and ruined hopes.
As for Anne, Elizabeth noticed that she appeared more curious about Elizabeth and the colonel than the cousin she was destined to marry.
She was no more partial to him than he was to her, which would explain her indifference about whom he might choose as a wife.
But again, she treated everybody with equally silent restraint, so her apparent lack of interest in Darcy could be an attempt to protect herself from more disappointment.
“So, Miss Bennet, do you plan to stay in London on your way back to Hertfordshire?” Lady Catherine asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied with surprise. “My sister is visiting my uncle and aunt, and we shall meet there. We plan to stay a week before returning to Longbourn.”
“Cousin Elizabeth will take my sister Maria with her,” Mr Collins explained diligently. “Her uncle will send a carriage for them, I am told.”
Lady Catherine smiled in condescension and inquired with sharp mockery, “Which uncle? The one who lives in Cheapside or the one who stays in Park Lane? Quite a significant difference, I must say—unless you have confused Park Lane with another street, of course.”
Embarrassment and anger coloured Elizabeth’s cheeks. She felt ashamed in front of the colonel and even Mr Darcy, and she was frustrated at not being able to reply as she would wish to do.
“Both possess comfortable carriages, so either would suffice. As for confusing the streets, I promise to ask my uncle once more, and I shall find the precise direction of the house. Then I shall send your ladyship a letter with the information. Would that be acceptable?”
Lady Catherine stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief; Mr Collins and Charlotte paled. The colonel hid his smile behind a glass of wine while Darcy unexpectedly spoke.
“I have known Miss Bennet for almost half a year now, and I have noticed she rarely, if ever, confuses things. But additional information would do no harm,” he said.
His impromptu support against his aunt surprised Elizabeth into silence. Their gazes met briefly; then Darcy had his glass filled again and asked his aunt whether she had any plans to visit London.
“Well, if Anne had felt well enough, I would have stayed in Town every year for the Season. And I would have introduced Anne at St. James’s a long time ago. She is, beyond doubt, one of the most admirable young women in England. If her health would allow it…”
While her mother continued to declare that nobody could equal her taste and that she would have been a delightful performer at the pianoforte, or any other instrument, had her health allowed her to learn, Anne lowered her head and took a sip of tea.
Elizabeth feared she might burst into tears, but Lady Catherine was oblivious to her daughter’s sorrow.
Eventually, Anne excused herself and asked permission to retire, which was readily granted.
Elizabeth nodded to her in acknowledgement, but no reply was given.
As Anne stepped hesitantly through the door, followed by her companion, Elizabeth’s distress also increased.
Not even the colonel’s pleasant conversation could improve her mood until the evening finally concluded. To Mr Darcy, she said nothing at all.
∞∞∞
The night after the dinner party and the days that followed, Darcy’s turmoil increased, and his mind was so captured by Elizabeth that he was unable even to pretend interest in anything else.
He was angry and disappointed with himself for his complete lack of control in regard to his obsession. He was dishonest with her and himself, and this weakness was turning him into a laughable fool.
Richard showed his admiration for Elizabeth without restraint, and she was obviously partial to him. She was increasingly disinterested in Darcy while she enjoyed Richard’s company; anybody could see that.
Though she had never belonged to him, he had already lost her.
Darcy knew he had to make a decision quickly or be in danger of never seeing her again.
But there was no decision to make. Though she was as charming and admirable as ever, all the arguments he made to Bingley to remove him from Hertfordshire were still there.
If distance allowed him to ignore her family while at Rosings, his recollections were vivid.
Their lack of decorum would never improve and held more weight than their low connections and modest situation in life.
And he could never overlook it. He could never expose himself to the ridicule and censure of his peers by joining a family so significantly beneath him—not even for Elizabeth’s sake.
On the days after the dinner, he ceased calling at the Parsonage, but he met Elizabeth twice in the park.
Once he was with the colonel, who completely captured her attention as they both ignored him completely.
The second time, Darcy was alone and purposely searched for her along her favourite path.
But when they met, the power of his feelings and the confliction of his thoughts and wishes gave him little freedom to enjoy her company.
He asked some daft questions that he barely recollected, though he noticed her uneasy replies—not unexpected as he behaved like a simpleton.
As his distress and disappointment increased, Darcy began to count the days, eager to leave Rosings but lacking the strength to do so.
He knew he should stop his torture immediately, just as he knew his heart and his entire life would never be the same.
Once he departed, they would likely not see each other except by accident.
Either of them might be married the next time they met.
The thought of Elizabeth’s belonging to another man, sharing her life and her bed with someone else, the image of another man touching her, caressing her, kissing her, enjoying her warmth made him dizzy and sick, slashing his heart.
And yet, there was no other choice, and he would have to learn to live with it.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth continued her rambles within the park every day as often as she could.
Her stay in Kent was almost at an end, and she was determined to enjoy the remaining time.
She did not see Miss de Bourgh again but met the colonel and Mr Darcy—once together and, later, the aloof gentleman alone.
The former was as amiable as ever, the latter never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of much talking or listening.
However, it struck her in the course of their third private meeting that he was asking some odd, unconnected questions—about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Rosings.
At times, she felt he was implying something about her friendship with the colonel, but she was not certain—like everything else related to Mr Darcy.
It distressed her a little, and she had been glad to find herself at the gate opposite the Parsonage, so the awkward interlude was interrupted with a hasty farewell.
Three days before her departure, Elizabeth was again interrupted in her solitary walk, this time by the gentleman whose company gave her great pleasure.
“Miss Bennet! What a joy to see you!”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam! I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”
“I have been making the tour of the park as I generally do every year, and I intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?”
“No, I should have turned in a moment.”
“How fortunate! May I keep you company then?”
“Of course.”
They walked towards the Parsonage together.
“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?” said he.
“Yes—my sister is waiting for me in Town. We have some engagements for the next week. And you?”
“Probably on Friday, if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.”
“Well, I am sure he has great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems to enjoy the power of doing what he likes more than Mr Darcy,” she said mockingly.