32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
March 1812 Hunsford, Kent Elizabeth
“ N ow, tell me what is going on between you and my nephew.” Lady Catherine tapped her walking stick against the floor. “I am not blind, Elizabeth. He favors you, and you hold him at arm’s length. I insist on knowing everything.”
Elizabeth set her teacup down. “Your ladyship may ask me questions I refuse to answer,” she replied pertly. “My business is my own.”
“I only want to help you, my dear.” The lady softened her tone and spoke beseechingly.
She sighed. “My relationship with Mr. Darcy is confusing. I do not know what to make of him. Our first meeting was anything but pleasant, for me and for Mary, and since then, his behavior has only puzzled me more with every encounter.”
Elizabeth described the encounter at the assembly—leaving out Mr. Darcy's insult—their many meetings in London, and their continued walks around Rosings Park. Frustrated, she complained that his manner was not at all consistent. In company, he was stiff and formal and barely polite. In private, he engaged her in stimulating conversation, speaking kindly and intelligently, never once doubting Elizabeth’s capabilities in debate or questioning her knowledge.
“So, you see, madam, I can hardly account for his strange and varying behavior. I cannot trust that the Mr. Darcy I speak with on my walks is the same man who scowls at a social gathering.”
Lady Catherine tut-tutted, shaking her head. “He has ever been so. Polite and engaging with those he knows best; reserved and guarded with unfamiliar people. I am sorry that you have been so confused.”
She paused her discourse to sip her tea before continuing. “I assume Darcy does not know about your connections and wealth?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “As you know, I have made every attempt to keep that private. That includes Mr. Darcy. The colonel knows my wishes and has abided by them.”
“And he still courts your good opinion? Astounding. Perhaps Darcy can be taught after all. For years I have pressed him to follow his heart, but he has refused, claiming duty and honor before love. You have changed his mind, I see.” She smiled triumphantly. “When will you inform him?”
“ If I inform Mr. Darcy of anything, it will only be after we are betrothed. Since that is unlikely, I do not plan to do so.”
“My nephew will propose. I would wager he does so before leaving Kent.”
“And yet, unless I know I love him, I will not accept. And I cannot love him until I understand him fully—until I am familiar enough with his character to decipher whether or not he is sincere. I will not marry a man who shows disdain without cause. I want someone who would wed a poor, penniless country miss in spite of her gauche relations, someone who understands that my upbringing formed who I am, and I cannot simply divorce that side of me on a whim.”
“I believe I understand what you are saying. I only hope Darcy proves himself worthy of you.”
Elizabeth walked a particularly lovely path the next morning, thinking about Mr. Darcy and wondering if he had touched her heart. The man occupied her thoughts more often than not since his arrival in Kent, and she longed to understand the true nature of her confused feelings.
She never walked alone long, for he always found her on the paths. Today was no different.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth!” he called. He sounded very happy and looked pleased to see her. He held up a bunch of flowers. “I plucked these from an obliging field as I searched for you,” he said. “Pray, take them. They are for you.”
“Oh. Thank you, sir.” Her heart sped a little, and she took the offering, pressing them to her nose and breathing their scent. “They are lovely.”
“Not as lovely as you,” he murmured, coming close. He touched her cheek with his finger, tracing a line down to her chin. Tipping her face toward his, he gazed at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her, but his hand dropped, and he extended his arm. She took it, biting her lip as a blush stole across her cheeks.
“It has been several days since you last dined at Rosings,” he said after they had walked in silence for a time.
“Three days is some time? Well then, yes, it has been.” She chuckled. “Lydia assures me that Lady Catherine’s attention has never wavered.”
“My aunt is a most attentive to these sorts of things.” He patted the hand that rested on his arm, not bothering to remove it when he stopped. His larger appendage covered hers, warming it pleasantly.
“She could not have bestowed her favor on more grateful subjects,” Elizabeth replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. “My cousin and sister are very grateful.”
“Will you return to Longbourn when you have concluded your stay in town?”
She hesitated, wondering how to answer without causing more unwanted questions. “My return to my father’s estate is uncertain. I usually spend the summer with my uncle. I see no reason for that tradition to change.”
“I suppose your father is pleased to have his daughter settled at so easy a distance to his home.”
“Easy distance? I suppose if Lydia and Mr. Collins could afford a carriage to make visits, then the distance would be very easy, indeed. What is fifty miles of good road when one has the equipage to manage it?”
“I assume you are teasing me, but I see your point. I would call fifty miles an easy distance, but when one has not the means to travel, it would be excessive.” He paused, and she turned to look at him. “ You would not like to always be at Longbourn. Nor settled too near there, I think.”
“I have no objections to my home, sir. I shall make a new home when I marry, of course, but I do hope that my future husband will have no objections to visiting my father’s house.” She smiled pleasantly and awaited his response.
“He would suspend no pleasure of yours, I am certain.” Mr. Darcy’s voice took on a husky quality. She recognized the same tone he had used as he almost kissed her. Dare I interpret his words? No, she would not. Still so uncertain of her own heart, she could not begin to assign such emotions to his actions.
They spoke of many things as they continued walking. Long ago, they had moved from pleasant niceties to more serious topics, and she found that she no longer resented his intrusion on her solitary rambles.
When they parted ways, she watched until he disappeared around a bend. Sighing, she turned back toward the parsonage.
She went to her room, determined to write all her frustrations to a most trusted advisor. The flowers were placed in a vase on the writing table and she admired them as she set about writing her letter. Aunt Maria would know what to do,
Dearest Aunt,
My time in Kent has gone very fast, and while I have enjoyed it here, I am eager to be back in your company. I miss you all dreadfully, and long to be with you.
Lady Catherine has proven to be an amiable lady. I only just learned that she was my godmother. I did not know and am thrilled to have this information. We have spoken often. Her daughter, Anne, is also very kind to me, and we have become fast friends.
Since we are separated, I am forced to put all my confusion on paper and hope that your reply will ease some of my frustrations.
Lady Catherine’s nephews arrived some weeks ago. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I were pleased to renew our acquaintance. Mr. Darcy also came, and our tumultuous connection began where it left off. At least, I thought it did.
Mr. Darcy seems determined to have my company. He finds me on my walks, and we speak of everything and nothing. The social nothings that are common have long been discarded, and we speak of more serious matters. And yet, I find myself unable to reconcile this man with the proud, conceited variation I met in Hertfordshire.
Believe me when I say I began questioning accusations that have been leveled against him long ago. Their source is suspect, and I believe that he only gave me part of the truth when he blackened Mr. Darcy’s name. But can I put aside the evidence of my own eyes? Mr. Darcy openly disdained me and those I care about. How can I tolerate such disregard?
Oh, Aunt, I fear very much that he will propose, and I will not know how to answer. Lady Catherine favors the match; of this, I am certain. She speaks of him whenever she can, lauding his good qualities and seeking to incite my pity by telling me of his woes. I am certain she wishes for me to become Mrs. Darcy.
I have wondered whether I should tell him of my connections. I have no doubt he would find the information pleasing, but I selfishly withhold it. If he proposes without the knowledge, then I will know for certain that he wishes to marry me for nothing more than inclination.
No matter what occurs, I will not accept him if I am not sure of my own heart. Marriage is a rather permanent thing, and I would hate to bungle it. I will admit that I admire him very much, and if I can only come to terms with the very different accounts and versions of the man, if I can better understand his behavior, there would be very little left to prevent me from falling completely and irrevocably in love with him. He is a many-layered conundrum, and I must strip the mystery away bit by bit until I can reveal the truth of the man.
Please, lend me some guidance in your next. I fear that if I am left to my own devices that I shall fail miserably.
Yours in love and affection,
Elizabeth Bennet
Colonel Fitzwilliam
“We must speak whilst your cousin is out.” Lady Catherine tapped her walking stick against the ground. “It must be now, lest he overhear.”
Richard sighed. “Very well, Aunt. How may I be of service?”
“How does Darcy not know you have a prior acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth?” She seemed genuinely perplexed. “How can he not see that your friendliness is of some duration?”
“Darcy has often seen only what he wishes.” Richard shrugged. “Miss Elizabeth and I met in town. Her aunt knows my mother. We got along, but neither of us felt anything beyond friendship. I did not see a reason to mention it to Darcy, for nothing was to come of it. Besides, Miss Bennet had already formed a poor opinion. I did not think he would wish to hear it.”
“A poor opinion? She has only told me that his behavior puzzles her exceedingly. Of what did she accuse him?”
Richard smiled. “He apparently refused to dance at the assembly where they met, holding himself above his company and looking down on the denizens of Meryweather.”
“Meryton,” his aunt corrected automatically. “Yes, she told me about the assembly, but I suspected she concealed some detail—I did not feel comfortable pressing her for information. I do not understand why that would set Miss Elizabeth so against him. She does not strike me as someone to hold a first impression as law. Perhaps something more occurred of which we are as of yet unaware.”
“Well, whatever it is, we had best resolve it as expeditiously as possible. Darcy is head over heels in love, and if he proposes and is refused, he will slink away to Derbyshire to lick his wounds.”
“I shall inquire when next she comes to tea.”
“You show an eager interest in her and her prospects,” he said suspiciously.
“She is my goddaughter.”
Richard’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What?” he asked. “How is it possible?”
“Her mother was my dearest—my only friend. I loved her very much. I lost touch after she died… and then Sir Lewis passed. Elizabeth has only just learned the information herself.” Lady Catherine sniffed.
“What a strange coincidence. You employ a new rector who is heir to her father’s estate. He marries her sister, bringing her into your presence so you could be reunited.” Richard smiled and winked.
His aunt ignored his implications. “Yes, Providence has been very kind to me. I feel almost as if I have gained another daughter. Now, what are we to do to ensure that Elizabeth is ready for Darcy’s proposals? She seems to be in some doubt as to his character. I wish to put her mind at ease and make her path forward clear.”
“She walks out every day. I have seen Darcy leave to meet her. Perhaps you ought to keep my cousin here one day. I can meet her in his place and take the opportunity to extol his many good virtues. I have known him his whole life.”
“You are a biased family member. Elizabeth will wish for more than that in a character reference. I wish you every success in your endeavors.”
Richard grinned. “You underestimate my powers of persuasion. My charm will certainly be enough to convince her to see my cousin’s better qualities.”
“He is a good man, though his arrogance and pride need checking. She is just the lady to do it.”
The party from the parsonage arrived, cutting their conversation short. Darcy and Anne came in next. Their final guest, Mr. Rupert Metcalfe, came last. He greeted his betrothed with a kiss on the cheek, love shining from his countenance.
Richard almost gagged as they continued to demonstrate their mutual regard throughout tea. Darcy watched Elizabeth with equal admiration, and the newlywed Collinses joined the fray, making him feel like the odd man out.
What a bunch of lovesick fools, he chortled to himself. I am glad I have never been so afflicted. He could not marry where he wished, anyway. Love would only complicate matters. He was not averse to aiding his more fortunate cousin, however.
Richard watched for an opportunity to fulfil his part of the scheme. Unfortunately, it was not until April that he found the opportunity to do what his aunt wished.