Chapter Eight
“Proceed from the impulse of the moment …”
TODAY WOULD BE THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF HIS LIFE.
WITH HIS morning ablutions, Darcy carefully created, in his dress, the appearance of a gentleman open to new possibilities.
He set out through the parklands surrounding Rosings, but his destination was not the park itself; rather, he would call on the Parsonage.
The little over a quarter mile path was short-lived, and before he knew it, Darcy stood outside Hunsford Cottage.
For a few painful seconds, he thought to turn around and return to the manor house.
Yet, his heart said he must see this through.
If he were ever to know happiness, he could not alter his course.
His entrance into the Parsonage’s gate would be well known among its occupants.
Darcy rang the bell, and a servant soon admitted him to the inner room.
He expected the Collinses to be at home, but he found only Elizabeth in attendance.
Having planned to engage the household’s occupants in conversation, his apprehension increased.
He had rehearsed what he would say to each of the cottage’s occupants.
And although the situation was a pleasant surprise, it was still a surprise to find himself alone with Elizabeth. Were the gods taunting him?
“Mr. Darcy, how pleasant!” she said with a bit of uncertainty.
“Miss Elizabeth, I apologize for invading your privacy,” he attempted to sound casual, while finding himself aroused by her closeness. “I understood the Collinses were within. I pray I have not interrupted your solitary pleasures.”
“An interruption does not necessarily have to be unwelcome, sir.” She curtsied.
“I fear Mrs. Collins and her sister went into the village. I hope your appearance here does not indicate your family at Rosings has taken ill. Are Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh, and your cousin, the colonel, all in health?”
“Do not distress yourself. They are well.” He returned her courtesy, while all the time thinking, She welcomes my company!
“Then, please be seated, Mr. Darcy,” she offered politely, while gesturing to a nearby chair. “Would you care for tea, sir?”
“No, thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I am quite content.” For several minutes, Darcy stared at her.
He was so fascinated by her beauty he nearly forgot the need for conversation.
He looked up to observe Elizabeth’s questioning gaze.
He cleared his throat. “May I ask about your journey from Hertfordshire?”
“Quite pleasant, sir. Miss Lucas and Sir William thought the scenery delightful,” she said with her usual sardonic attitude.
Darcy’s breathing relaxed. “And you did not, Miss Elizabeth?”
“On the contrary, Mr. Darcy. I enjoyed the beautiful landscapes. However, I do not possess Sir William’s way with words. His descriptions of Kent and of Rosings are likely to be legendary in Meryton by the time of my return.”
“And the weather?” he said with enthusiasm.
Elizabeth chuckled. “As we both know, England is famous for its weather. Even Sir William Lucas would be at a loss for words in describing God’s grace in Kent. But please be assured I found it very comfortable.”
“And Mr. Bennet? Is your father in health?” He thought it best to speak to those within her family of whom he held some measure of respect.
“My father is well. He lives to read and to make sport of our neighbors.” Darcy was not certain that what Elizabeth saw as an endearing quality in her father was one Darcy would admire, but before he could inquire further, she said, “And what of Mr. Bingley? Is your friend likely to return to Netherfield?”
Darcy had not expected Elizabeth to broach the subject of Bingley’s withdrawal at such an early stage of their conversation.
Yet, he had anticipated her curiosity, especially after her mentioning Miss Bennet’s presence in London.
As casually as possible, he assured Elizabeth of the unlikelihood of that situation.
“I have never heard Mr. Bingley say so, but it is probable he may spend very little of his time at Netherfield in the future. He has many friends, and Bingley is at a time of life when friends and acquaintances are continually increasing. As well as the customary engagements associated with them.”
He noticed Elizabeth’s frown, but he hoped his explanation would temper her inquisitiveness. Darcy changed the text of their conversation. “This appears to be a very comfortable house. I understand that Lady Catherine did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first arrived at Hunsford.”
“I believe she did, and I am certain she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful subject.” Elizabeth smirked.
He cautioned, “My aunt is an excellent benefactor for Mr. Collins. Such improvements are the exception rather than the rule.” Elizabeth simply nodded.
Yet, it was not of the house that he wished to speak.
He wished to know of her thoughts on marriage.
“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”
“Yes, indeed. His friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would accept him, but in a prudential light, it is certainly a good match for her.”
Despite her friend’s sensibility of marrying for monetary advantage, Elizabeth did not appear to favor the match.
Darcy took her words to mean wealth was important, but Elizabeth wished for a loving relationship.
That was acceptable to him. Darcy wished to replicate his parents’ partnership.
He possessed the necessary wealth, and if she should accept him, he would wholeheartedly love Elizabeth.
Darcy added, “It must be very agreeable to Mrs. Collins to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”
A bit shocked, Elizabeth replied, “An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”
A challenge was before him; they would engage in their usual verbal swordplay. “And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance,” he remarked as he leaned forward, as if offering a challenge.
Elizabeth shifted her weight, straightened her shoulders, and leaned in as she countered, “I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match. I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family.”
Darcy could detect the lavender scent that was her favorite.
It was all he could do not to caress her cheek.
“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighborhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.” He smiled while thinking of her at Pemberley and realizing the additional distance between his home and her home and how it would provide them relief from her connections.
Elizabeth argued, “One would need more fortune than the Collinses possess in order for the distance to be an easy one. It is comfortable for you to consider distance from a different perspective, Mr. Darcy. Where there is fortune to make the expense of traveling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow frequent journeys.”
Darcy had the financial stability to make Elizabeth’s travel wishes a matter of choosing in which carriage she wished to traverse the distance.
He could offer her so much. Obviously, Elizabeth would learn to love her new life.
He drew his chair a little towards her and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.” His feelings for Elizabeth caused his breath to be ragged and shallow.
Their gazes locked momentarily, and he saw an image of her uncertainty.
He promptly realized he must check his eagerness.
Despite wanting to scoop her into his arms and carry her off to Pemberley, he reluctantly moved his chair back.
There was a newspaper lying on the table, and as he picked it up, he said nonchalantly, “Are you pleased with Kent?”
Elizabeth leaned back casually in her chair.
The intensity between them subsided, and small talk remained.
When Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas returned, Darcy explained he had thought all the ladies of the house were at home when he had called upon the cottage.
After a series of civilities, he begged their leave and returned to Rosings Park.
It was a beginning, he thought as he made his way along the well-worn path. Elizabeth must, obviously, recognize my intentions. Now I must determine if she will willingly accept me as her husband. The possibility thrilled him while, at the same time, it sent a shot of pure panic through him.
Over the next several days, Darcy continued to call at the Parsonage.
Occasionally, he came with his cousin; other times he came alone.
To his chagrin, his former reluctance to speak easily reappeared when others were in attendance.
He realized he must discover a means to engage Elizabeth privately.
Eventually, having eavesdropped on Elizabeth’s conversations with his cousin, he came upon an idea: Miss Elizabeth identified a particular path at Rosings to be her favorite.
He would arrange a rencontre. They would walk together and become more thoroughly acquainted.
Tomorrow, Darcy would embark upon the second stage of his pursuit of Elizabeth Bennet.