Chapter 24
Darcy strode out over the open ground, relishing the wind’s refreshing bite and thinking of his own foolishness.
The day appointed for the supper party at Netherfield would come soon enough; he would see Elizabeth then.
In the meantime, pining over her could lead to nothing good.
It could only spur him on to reckless action.
And however much he had come to be certain that his heart was already hers, it was far from clear that such action would be wise. Why had Elizabeth left Pemberley so suddenly? The question tormented him. He could not believe ill of her. Surely there could be no reason that would shame her.
But if that were so, why had she not owned it openly?
Darcy could think of one reason — that she had discerned his own desires and did not share them.
In such a case, a young woman might well leave the roof of the man she could not love in return — and in such a case, it would be both cruelty and self-abnegation to make any proposal to her.
Above all, Mrs Bennet could not be allowed to learn that such a match was possible, or she would do everything in her power to see that Elizabeth accepted him, whether or not she wished to.
And to have all of Elizabeth except her heart was a fate Darcy could not bear to contemplate.
As he came over a rise, Darcy saw a field of grain waving in the gentle breeze. He smiled at the lovely sight, not unlike the billowing waves of the sea, and then smiled again at his own foolishness in being so fanciful.
That too, he might justly blame on Elizabeth. She had brought out the romantic in him, which he had not previously suspected even to exist.
Darcy felt his pulse jump upon perceiving a figure coming toward him, recognisable as a young woman even at a distance.
It should not have been possible to recognise anyone from so far away, but Darcy felt unreasonably certain that it was none other than Elizabeth herself.
Logically, it could have been any of a dozen young women in the neighbourhood, but he was certain he had recognised the woman who had come to hold all his heart.
When they drew nearer, he saw it was indeed so. Elizabeth seemed subdued, but she did not turn aside, making his heart swell with hope.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet.”
“Hello, sir,” she replied with a small smile. “It seems you have found my favourite haunt.”
“I thought all the countryside was your favourite haunt. Indeed, we could not keep you inside for more than a few hours at a time back in Pemberley.”
“Well, the Peak District is vastly diverting. But Hertfordshire has diversions of its own,” Elizabeth said, waving toward the field of grain ripening in the late autumn sunshine.
“What are you doing out this far? Netherfield is a good four miles from here,” she said.
He appreciated the look of surprise on her face.
“I found I needed some fresh air,” he admitted. It would not do to confess that he had been trying to get his mind off her.
Little success that plan had had. It was as if he had conjured her just by thinking of her. Darcy looked down the road and tried to judge from which direction she had come. “Is Meryton your destination, or do you return home?” he asked.
“I was on my way to the market to purchase some ribbons for Lydia. It will be her birthday in a few days,” Elizabeth explained.
“Ah, just in time for the supper at Netherfield. I shall have to mention it to Bingley,” he said.
“Lydia would be most honoured,” she replied. “Life has not been easy for her — or Kitty — since our father died.”
“If you will pardon my mentioning it, I must confess I am surprised that your family has entered so extended a mourning period,” Darcy said.
He had wondered why their mother had kept them cloistered for so long.
Proper respect must be shown to the dead, and the grieving process was different for everyone, but to allow two full years to elapse without allowing some of their old friendships to rekindle seemed unfair, especially for young, vivacious girls such as the youngest Bennet sisters.
“The mourning period has been over for more than a year,” Elizabeth said.
“The cause of our seclusion is largely pride. Our mother has done her best to make economies, and that has forced us to live well below the means we were once used to. I believe our circumstances are turning for the better, though.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Darcy replied. Perhaps her uncle, brilliant businessman as he was, had offered aid so that the sisters might find suitable husbands. Darcy himself would be very willing to help with that project.
But it would be the behaviour of a cad to let her see too much of his thoughts, when he was so uncertain whether his intentions were welcome.
Darcy cleared his throat. “You may be assured that all your friends will rejoice in your good fortune. I should very much like to see you and all your family comfortable and happy.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip and looked as if she were about to say something.
After a moment’s hesitation, she seemed to come to a decision.
“I—am very glad you and Miss Darcy decided to join Mr Bingley at Netherfield for a visit.” Her speech was oddly halting, particularly for a woman normally so eloquent.
Darcy looked at her narrowly, wondering if there was something else on her mind, something she was too embarrassed or frightened to say.
It would not do to press her, of course. Darcy suppressed a sigh and stuck to conventionalities. “Yes, we are glad we came as well.”
“How is Miss Darcy? I was sorry to have missed her the day you and Mr Bingley were so good as to call upon us at home.”
“She is much improved, and looking forward to seeing you at supper.”
Elizabeth nodded, then studied her feet as they walked along the lane.
His heart yearned to confess all to her.
The atmosphere between them seemed charged with tension, by no means unpleasantly.
Darcy felt the full weight of his longing for her.
Was he deluding himself in thinking that the electricity between them was nothing less than mutual longing?
“Mr Bingley was very gracious to invite us,” Elizabeth said.
“He counts you as a true friend, Miss Bennet. And I believe your family will soon find there is not a gentleman more loyal or good-natured than Bingley.”
“I have already found that to be the case, Mr Darcy,” she said with a smile. “He is second only to you.”
Her words threw him off balance for a moment. “Me?” he asked without thinking.
“Yes, of course. You saved my family and me in a moment of dire need.” Elizabeth stopped in the lane to face him. To his astonishment, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I do not think I shall ever be able to repay your kindness, sir.”
“I did not do it for thanks,” Darcy told her. How could he make her understand the depth of his love for her? He took a step closer and even thought of taking her hands. But he forced them to remain at his side before he risked her reputation and painted himself a fool.
He shook his head slightly, and they continued on their way. “Bingley has invited a few of the officers from the local militia encampment to even out the numbers for the supper tomorrow night. I hope your mother will not be averse to the idea?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, she will not be averse. Indeed, she will be delighted.” She hesitated a moment, looking oddly uncomfortable. “Will Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst be joining our host from London for the occasion?”
Darcy frowned to himself. It was a strange question, for Elizabeth had never seemed to enjoy their company. Why would she wish to see them now? “No, neither Mrs Hurst nor Miss Bingley will accompany him during this visit. They will remain in London.”
Elizabeth was not quick enough to hide her relief, though she said merely, “I see.”
That solved one mystery — why Elizabeth would wish to see them — while introducing another.
If it was strange that Elizabeth might seek the company of Bingley’s sisters, it was odder still that she would be relieved by their absence.
He would have thought rather that it would mean nothing to her.
Of course, Caroline Bingley and Elizabeth had never been great friends.
Indeed, Miss Bingley seemed to despise Elizabeth, but Darcy would not have thought she would show a reaction of such disquiet, amounting almost to fear.
On the contrary, Elizabeth was perhaps the only woman who had ever stood up to Miss Bingley.
She came to a bend in the lane and gave a bow. “Well, I shall not keep you any longer, Mr Darcy. I am sure you will not want to make your four-mile walk any longer by escorting me all the way to the milliner’s establishment.” Elizabeth smiled. “Until tomorrow,” she said and hurried away.
He did not follow her or insist on accompanying her, although he would have gladly joined her in travelling to the ends of the earth, if she had so desired.
Instead, Darcy looked after her, thinking.
He was left more curious after their conversation than when they had begun.
There had been such hope in her voice when they had spoken, and yet it had been mixed with pain as well.
He was unsure what it could mean. Surely he was reading further into the encounter than he ought.
He turned reluctantly and started back toward Netherfield.
He knew more than ever that he was in love with Elizabeth, but her actions were a puzzle.
There seemed to be something she wanted to express, but did not have the words.
What was she hiding, and why? Or was it simply that she did not care for him at all?