Chapter 16 #2
Lydia was the first to hear it. “A rider!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Perhaps it is one of the officers.”
Kitty hurried to the window. “No – it is not a red coat.”
Mrs. Bennet turned quickly. “Well? Who is it then?”
Kitty leaned forward to see more clearly. “It is…”
Before she could finish, Lydia exclaimed triumphantly,
“It is Mr. Darcy!”
Elizabeth felt the words strike her with sudden force. For an instant, she did not move.
Mrs. Bennet rose at once, smoothing her gown with sudden energy. “Mr. Darcy! Well! I am sure we are very glad to see him again. Jane, my dear, ring the bell. Hill must bring tea immediately.”
Elizabeth had not yet risen. Her heart, which had been only quietly unsettled before, now beat decidedly faster.
He had come.
The door opened only a few moments later.
Mr. Darcy entered the room with his usual composed manner. He bowed first to Mrs. Bennet, then to Jane and the others.
Elizabeth stood. And for an instant, the room seemed to fall entirely silent to her.
Darcy turned toward her.
Their eyes met.
There was, in his expression, the slightest hesitation – not uncertainty, but a searching look, as though he wished to discover whether she knew.
Elizabeth felt the warmth return to her cheeks.
She did not look away.
Something in her expression must have answered him, for Darcy’s gaze changed almost imperceptibly. The reserve in it softened, and a quiet understanding seemed to pass between them.
He knew.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes at last.
Mrs. Bennet received Mr. Darcy with great animation. “Mr. Darcy! We are quite delighted to see you again. Such a pleasant surprise on so uncertain a morning. Pray, sit down. Jane, my dear, have you rung for tea?”
Darcy thanked her and took the seat offered, though Elizabeth could not help noticing that his composure, usually so unshaken, seemed touched with an unusual gravity.
“How are the ladies at Netherfield? After Sunday, we ought certainly to pay our respects, girls. They gave such a fine entertainment for the neighbourhood.”
Elizabeth seated herself near the window and tried very earnestly to attend to what was said.
She was not entirely successful.
Darcy had spoken several times to Mrs. Bennet and once to Jane. Yet she could not help being aware that, from time to time, his gaze returned quietly in her direction.
At length, there came a small pause in the conversation.
Darcy turned slightly toward her. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “I hope you are well this morning.”
The words were perfectly ordinary. Yet Elizabeth felt, quite absurdly, as though the entire room had fallen silent again. “I am very well, sir. I thank you.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I am glad to hear it.”
Nothing more was said. But Elizabeth, who had heard those same polite inquiries a hundred times before from other gentlemen, could not persuade herself that this one meant quite the same thing.
After some quiet, Darcy spoke again. “Have you been walking this morning, Miss Elizabeth?”
Mrs. Bennet soon recovered her full command of the conversation.
“Mr. Darcy, you must not think us very dull hosts. This morning, we were obliged to say farewell to Mr. Collins, so Lizzy has had no time for walking. But how good of you to notice. She, indeed, likes her walking even in such weather. Lizzy, my dear, you might show Mr. Darcy the garden though there is little to see at the moment. Come spring, however, it will be beautiful.”
Elizabeth felt the warmth rise again to her cheeks.
Jane rose at once. “I shall come with you.”
But before Elizabeth could speak, Mr. Bennet closed his book and stood. “My dear Jane, I must beg a moment of your time in the book room. There is a small matter upon which I require your assistance.”
Jane looked surprised but nodded. “Of course, Papa.”
Mr. Bennet turned toward his wife with mild composure. “As for the rest of us, I imagine we are all very content to remain indoors. The weather threatens rain at any moment.”
Mrs. Bennet hesitated. “But Lizzy ought not to go alone…”
“My dear,” said Mr. Bennet calmly, “they will be in the garden, not in the wilderness.” He glanced briefly toward the window. “They will be visible from the house most of the time.”
Darcy rose. “If Miss Elizabeth does not object,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth did not trust herself to speak immediately. After a moment, she inclined her head. “I should be happy to show you the garden, sir.”
Mr. Bennet regarded them both with evident satisfaction. “Excellent. Fresh air improves every conversation.”
Jane, who now suspected her father’s design, allowed herself the smallest smile as she followed him from the room.
Mrs. Bennet, though still uncertain whether this arrangement was entirely proper, comforted herself with the reflection that the garden path could indeed be seen from several windows.
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy moved toward the door together. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Darcy said, in a lower voice, “I believe I must thank your father.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “I believe you must.”
They stepped out into the hall, where the cooler air from the open door carried with it the faint scent of damp earth.
Elizabeth paused beside the small table where cloaks and gloves had been laid earlier that morning. For the first time since leaving the parlour, she became fully conscious that she was alone with him.
Darcy stood a little behind her, waiting.
Elizabeth reached for her gloves. They slipped once from her fingers before she managed to take them up properly.
She told herself she was being absurd.
Yet when she attempted to draw the first glove over her hand, her fingers refused their usual obedience. The leather caught awkwardly, and the small buttons at the wrist seemed suddenly determined not to cooperate.
Elizabeth tried again.
The second button was worse. Her hands, to her great annoyance, were not steady.
Before she could attempt it a third time, Darcy stepped closer.
“Allow me.”
The words were quiet.
Elizabeth looked up in surprise, but before she could protest, he had gently taken her hand.
She could not move.
Darcy’s fingers were careful and precise as he fastened the small button at her wrist. The task required only a moment, yet it seemed to Elizabeth far longer.
Neither of them spoke.
When he finished, he released her hand at once.
Elizabeth drew a small breath. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Darcy inclined his head. “You are welcome.”
Then he opened the door for her fully, and they stepped out together into the garden.
***
The late-morning air was cool, and the clouds gathered slowly overhead without yet committing to rain. The paths of Longbourn’s modest garden stretched before them in quiet order, bordered by winter shrubs and the last stubborn leaves clinging to their branches.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Behind them, the door closed softly, shutting away the murmur of the household.
Elizabeth felt suddenly very aware of the silence. She walked beside Mr. Darcy along the gravel path, the faint crunch beneath their steps sounding far louder than usual.
She told herself she had no reason to feel nervous. Yet her heart refused to believe it.
Darcy, for his part, seemed equally thoughtful. His hands were clasped lightly behind his back, his expression composed, though Elizabeth had the curious impression that he was choosing his words before speaking them.
At length, he said, “I am grateful that you agreed to walk with me, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth glanced toward him. “My father made it rather difficult for me to refuse.”
Darcy allowed himself the faintest smile. “Yes… I believe he did. Is that the only reason you joined me?”
Elizabeth refused to look at him; she looked straight ahead but shook her head slightly.
They continued a few steps in silence.
Elizabeth could not decide whether she wished him to speak or feared that he would.
At last, Darcy stopped.
They had reached a quieter corner of the garden where the path curved along the low stone wall.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “there is a matter I wished to speak with you about – and I hope you will allow me to do so with complete honesty.”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. “That sounds rather serious, Mr. Darcy.”
“It is meant to be sincere.”
She looked at him more carefully now.
Darcy continued, his tone calm but deliberate. “Yesterday I asked your father for permission to pay my addresses to you.”
Elizabeth felt the words like a small shock, though she had expected them.
Elizabeth looked down briefly at the gravel path.
“You must allow, sir, that the information surprised me.”
“I imagined it might.”
“You have come to this resolution very suddenly.”
Darcy considered the remark. “It may appear so,” he said. “But I assure you that my opinion of you has not formed quite so quickly.”
Elizabeth glanced at him with some curiosity. “Oh?”
Darcy looked at her directly now. “I have admired you for some time.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows slightly. “That is a remarkable claim, Mr. Darcy.”
“Is it?”
“Considering,” she said with a composed expression, “that you once declared me only tolerable.”
Darcy exhaled slowly. “Yes. That unfortunate remark has not yet released me.”
“I do not believe it ever will.”
“I cannot say I blame you. You must allow me to apologise. I was not in the right frame of mind. I did not want to be there.”
“Why? It was a ball.”
“Precisely. My experience of these events is vastly different from yours.”
Elizabeth regarded him with a mixture of amusement and scepticism.
“I speak the truth.”
Elizabeth looked at him with polite disbelief.
Darcy continued, though without any attempt at drama. “Balls, for me, generally consist of being observed by a room full of strangers who have already decided what sort of man I must be.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling slightly. “And what sort of man do they decide you are?”
“A very proud one, usually. Sometimes disagreeable. Occasionally both.”