Chapter 17 #3
The alteration had not escaped him, nor had it failed to please him. Indeed, the last few days had produced a change in his feelings so marked that he could not but acknowledge it.
He had ceased to resist inclination.
He had, for once, allowed himself to follow it.
And he found, to his own quiet satisfaction, that he was happier for it.
He even began to understand, with some clarity, why so many introductions – so many eligible acquaintances – had failed to interest him.
They had not been Elizabeth Bennet.
And Elizabeth Bennet – who now met him with a reserve so unlike her former ease – was not indifferent.
The service concluded at last, and the congregation began to disperse.
Caroline rose immediately. “We shall wait,” she said.
Mrs. Hurst looked at her. “Wait?”
“Yes. I should like to see whether Mr. Darcy intends to return with us – or whether he has other engagements this morning.”
Mr. Hurst adjusted his coat with mild indifference. “A question of considerable consequence.”
Caroline ignored him entirely. Her attention was fixed ahead.
Darcy had already joined the Bennets once more.
There was no ceremony in it – no hesitation. It was simply done, as though it were the most natural arrangement in the world.
Eliza stood among her family, her bonnet neatly tied, her manner composed – yet not entirely so. Darcy spoke. Elizabeth smiled.
Caroline felt the colour rise in her cheeks.
Eliza laughed – softly, but with unmistakable animation.
Caroline’s hand tightened upon her reticule. “What can he possibly find so entertaining?” she said under her breath.
Mrs. Hurst followed her gaze more carefully now.
Darcy was walking beside Miss Elizabeth Bennet – not at a distance, nor with the easy indifference of casual acquaintance, but with a steadiness that admitted of no ambiguity.
“It appears,” said Mr. Hurst mildly, “that Miss Elizabeth is in possession of some advantage.”
Caroline turned to him sharply. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am never more so,” he returned, with perfect composure.
“Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst, in a soothing tone, “you must not allow yourself to be so much affected. It may signify nothing at all.”
“Nothing?” Caroline repeated. “When a gentleman neglects his own party to attach himself – so pointedly – to another? I think it must signify something.”
Mrs. Hurst hesitated. “It may be only temporary.”
Caroline did not answer. Her eyes remained fixed upon the pair before her.
Eliza had turned slightly toward Darcy as he spoke; there was something in her manner – an attention, a softness – that Caroline had never before associated with her.
And Mr. Darcy…
Caroline’s lips pressed together.
He was listening. Not with politeness. Not with that distant civility which had so often characterised his manner in company.
But with interest. Real interest.
Elizabeth said something – Caroline could not hear what – and Darcy’s expression altered. Only slightly. Yet it was enough. Enough that no one who observed him closely could mistake it.
Caroline drew a slow breath. “This is most extraordinary,” she said.
Mrs. Hurst, though less inclined to agitation, could not entirely contradict her. “Indeed.”
Ahead of them, the Bennet party moved gradually along the path.
Mr. Bennet and Jane walked a little apart; Kitty and Lydia spoke together with animation.
And between them – Darcy and Elizabeth.
There was no appearance of impropriety – nothing that could invite open remark. Yet neither was there indifference.
Their steps had fallen into an easy agreement. Eliza, though at moments she seemed to recollect herself and look away, returned again and again to him.
Darcy spoke. Elizabeth answered. And once – only once – she laughed again, more freely than before. Darcy did not laugh. But he smiled.
Caroline looked no longer. “I believe we may return,” she said, with composure that cost her some effort. “Mr. Darcy appears to have chosen his direction.”
Mr. Hurst inclined his head. “Very decisively.”
Mrs. Hurst turned. “Come, my dear.”
Caroline turned away. Tears escaped in spite of her composure.
Yet though she no longer looked, the image remained very distinctly before her mind – Mr. Darcy, walking with Miss Elizabeth Bennet as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
***
The Bennet party had not proceeded far from the church before Mrs. Bennet, who had been in particularly animated spirits, declared herself quite satisfied with the morning.
“I must say,” she began, looking about her with contentment, “that the weather has turned out far better than I expected. And such a pleasant walk before us! Mr. Darcy, you must be quite accustomed to such exercise. I daresay you prefer it to being confined indoors.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I find it very agreeable, madam.”
“Yes, yes, I am sure you do. And it is very good of you to join us so often of late. We have scarcely seen such attention paid to our family before.”
Elizabeth cast her mother a quick glance, but Mrs. Bennet continued without the smallest suspicion of impropriety.
“I declare, it quite puts one in spirits.”
Jane, who had been walking beside her, looked as though she might gently redirect the conversation, but finding no easy means of doing so, allowed it to pass.
Kitty and Lydia, meanwhile, had not been idle observers.
“Oh! Is that the same horse, Mr. Darcy?” Kitty asked suddenly, with unusual hesitation.
Darcy turned toward her. “It is. You have an excellent memory, Miss Kitty.”
Kitty coloured slightly. “You said his name was… Bramble, was it not?”
“It is.”
She tried to touch it from the side. So Darcy made him stop. “Here. You can stroke him.” He showed her. “He likes to be stroked between his eyes. Like this.”
Kitty tried to imitate the motion.
“Would you like to ride him?”
“She cannot ride,” Elizabeth said worriedly.
“If that is the case, it should be remedied. But for now, Miss Kitty may sit sideways on it just to have a feeling what it is like.”
Kitty looked at him in astonishment. “May I?”
“Certainly.”
“I want to ride the horse.”
Before Lydia could press her own claim more loudly, Darcy had already turned, steadying the horse and offering his hand.
“Do not be afraid,” he said, in a tone of quiet reassurance.
Kitty hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his.
With a care that was both natural and unassuming, he lifted her into the saddle and helped her arrange herself on it.
Elizabeth watched the movement with some surprise. There was nothing of display in it – only ease, and a kind attentiveness that she had not before seen so openly expressed.
Lydia, however, was not to be excluded. “Well! If Kitty is to ride, then I must as well,” she declared.
Darcy turned toward her. “I believe, Miss Lydia, that a more important office may be entrusted to you.”
Lydia paused. “More important?”
“Yes. You may lead him.”
This, Lydia considered. “Well – that is something, at least,” she said, seizing the reins with satisfaction.
The small procession reformed itself with new animation.
Kitty sat very upright, clearly determined to acquit herself with dignity; Lydia walked beside the horse, issuing occasional instructions which Bramble entirely ignored.
Mrs. Bennet declared the whole arrangement “quite delightful,” and observed that Mr. Darcy was “the most accommodating gentleman imaginable.”
Elizabeth found herself walking beside him once more.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then Darcy said, quietly enough that only she could hear, “You need not be concerned. He attends to me, not to her.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “I had wondered.”
“He is well accustomed to such situations.”
“I am not sure Lydia is.”
A faint smile touched his expression.
After a moment, Elizabeth said, “It was very kind of you to speak to Mary as you did.”
Darcy looked at her. “I spoke only what I thought might be of use.”
“You spoke what she needed to hear.”
He did not immediately reply.
Elizabeth continued, more thoughtfully, “Rosings must be… a particular sort of place.”
“It is,” he said.
“And Lady Catherine?”
Darcy allowed himself a brief pause. “Is a particular sort of lady.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved slightly. “I had gathered as much.”
They walked a few steps in silence.
Then Elizabeth said, more seriously, “What do you suppose she would say… to such a situation as this?”
Darcy understood her at once. “To my addressing you?”
“Yes.”
He took a moment to consider. “I do not think,” he said at last, “that she would approve.”
Elizabeth let out a quiet breath. “No. I did not suppose she would.”
“She has long entertained other expectations.”
Elizabeth remembered from the dinner before the ball – she wished Darcy to marry her daughter.
Darcy continued, with calm honesty, “I know very well what she would say. And I cannot pretend that it would be agreeable.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “And yet you persist.”
“I do.”
There was no hesitation in it.
They had nearly reached a turn in the road.
“I know you have not much experience with the world at large, but I saw you with Wickham. I saw you with your family, the people around here. What is more, I saw you with Miss Bingley. You can stand your ground; you are not afraid. There will be people, even family, who will not look upon us with favour.”
Elizabeth’s voice softened slightly. “Your confidence in my courage may be somewhat misplaced.”
“I do not think so.”
She met his gaze.
“In any case, I have no intention,” he said, more firmly now, “of allowing you to be treated with disrespect.”
The words were spoken quietly – but with a steadiness that admitted of no doubt.
Elizabeth felt the warmth rise again to her cheeks.
Darcy saw it. He inclined his head.
Ahead of them, Lydia called out something triumphant, and Kitty laughed – still carefully maintaining her balance.
The moment passed. But not entirely.
Elizabeth turned her gaze forward again. And though she said nothing more, she was very much aware that the world around her had altered, and that she was no longer entirely at ease in the way she had once been.
Nor, she suspected, did she wish to be.