Chapter 18
Eighteen
TO HINT OR NOT TO HINT
Elizabeth was not certain what she had expected. The previous day, when Mr Darcy had come to inform her of Jane’s illness, he had appeared about eleven in the morning. It was now three o’clock in the afternoon according to the old mantel clock, and there had been no sign of him.
She was torn between worrying that Jane had worsened or that others in the house—Mr Darcy especially—might have taken ill as well. He had certainly seemed hale and hearty yesterday. Too hale, really. Impossible that he should be felled so easily!
Mrs Finch’s advice haunted her.
There had been that moment, two different moments really, when she had thought that perhaps…
maybe…he had meant to kiss her. She had, even, thought—hoped, if she were being honest—that the drive was not for Neddy’s sake alone, but that it might be for the purpose of extending their time together.
She had to admit, however, that on that drive, he had been mostly silent; except for promising to come today, he had given her little encouragement to think such thoughts.
But had she encouraged him? She had been embarrassed and uncertain; she had hidden her discomfort under an excessively spirited monologue on the passing buildings and scenery.
In her recollection she had droned on and on, scarcely allowing Mr Darcy to speak had he wished to do so.
Heavens, she had even mooed at the cows. Her cheeks heated at the memory.
How does one go about ‘encouraging’?
There was no way to do so, it seemed, without leaving oneself vulnerable and exposed.
Had it just been herself, she might have—would have—shied away from anything close to an overt admission.
A young lady ought to be reserved, genteelly awaiting the gentleman to make any overtures if an overture was going to be made.
For Neddy’s sake, however, could she afford to miss the chance that he was looking for some sort of admission from her, a clue to her feelings?
Could she even afford to make that clue a subtle one?
Had she still resided at Longbourn, he would know exactly what to do—morning calls, and perhaps, even, a visit with Uncle Philips. The usual indications were closed to her. If he was attracted to her, he might not be certain what the proper course of action ought to be.
He does not strike me as the type who would irresolutely waver between strategies.
Neddy had found his shoes, and was shoving them at her with real intent—he, at least, did not have any trouble making his feelings known. She had kept him indoors all day long, hoping and waiting for Mr Darcy.
“Very well, my biggest boy. You have been patient.” Perhaps they could walk over to Longbourn and speak to Mrs Hill to discover what was known of the situation at Netherfield. A heavy disappointment settled upon her as she readied him to go.
I was being foolish. It is clear he needs no hints from me, now that I have received an obvious one from him.
But as she and Neddy exited the building, a tall man on horseback appeared on the lane. Mr Darcy! He had come! He tethered his horse on the gatepost and joined them where they stood.
Neddy, unsurprisingly, grew excited at the sight of his hero on horseback, his little body bouncing with unrestrained joy.
Mr Darcy smiled at her brother, but when he looked at her, his expression grew impassive and she suddenly felt entirely awkward. She disguised it with what she hoped was a warm smile.
“Good afternoon, Mr Darcy. We were about to take a walk, since the weather is so fine. Have you brought me good news of my sister?”
The weather was bitingly cold, and he smiled faintly in acknowledgement of her little joke before replying.
“Yes, I have. She passed a restless night, but this morning’s reports were improved, and she is comfortable enough now to sleep more peacefully.
Jones says her fever is lessened; she is certainly recovering. ”
Elizabeth’s heart lifted at this intelligence. “That is wonderful! Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“You need not thank me, I assure you, I had nothing to do with her progress.”
She smiled at him, hoping that this was a little bit of answering humour; it was difficult to say, since he did not return her smile. Neddy tugged on her hand, wanting to reach the horse; she knew better than to let him go.
It occurred to her that here was her test—she would give Mr Darcy every excuse and opportunity to leave at once. If he stayed…well, it would be a sign, would it not? An indication that he might want to be more than a messenger?
“Neddy is impatient to be moving, and he may bother your horse if I do not distract him away from it. Thank you, Mr Darcy, for delivering the news of Jane’s improvement. It was a kindness that is much appreciated.” She added a little curtsey, making it obvious that she must now be on her way.
“To where do you walk?” he asked.
Well, he had not raced for his horse and a speedy departure, but she did not assume he meant anything more than politeness.
There was no real need to go to Longbourn now that she knew of Jane’s recuperation, so she made a quick decision.
“We will probably go to Oakham Mount. It is a long enough journey to use up some of Neddy’s energy, but close enough that I can get us back to Fox Hollow if the weather worsens. ”
“Perhaps he would like a brief ride first? Any child who holds such a fierce interest in horses surely deserves one.”
Surprised, Elizabeth was yet unsure about what it meant. “It is very kind of you, when you have already been so generous with your time. I fear that he will not give up his seat easily when you decide it ought to be solely yours again.”
“Edward,” Darcy said, kneeling so he was face to face with her brother, “I will allow you to ride, but when I say we are finished, you must be good, if you are ever to ride again.”
Oh, certainly, tell him not to misbehave. Because reasoning with him always works so well. Nevertheless, riding that horse was the thing Neddy wanted most in the world. She would deal with the consequences.
Neddy practically leapt into Mr Darcy’s arms. He had not arrived on that enormous black beast he usually rode, she finally noticed, but on a smaller grey horse. Had he come with the idea of giving Neddy a ride? He truly might be only thinking of the child.
Once again, she was made unsure.
Mr Darcy placed Neddy carefully on the saddle. There was nothing for him to hang onto besides the horse’s mane, as he was of course not given the reins; Elizabeth feared aloud that he would hurt the creature.
“No, he will not,” Mr Darcy assured. “I will watch his hands. Mabel is as gentle a mare as you will ever see, and I brought a leading rope.” When he had the rope affixed, he looked at Elizabeth. “Shall we?” he asked.
Her heart sang. He had arranged this outing for Neddy, but he specifically asked her to come along! He had brought along a lead rope, so that he could walk along beside the animal. He had thought out this encounter! Was this not a clue to his feelings?
It was naturally a possibility that amusing Neddy was his single object, but there were surely easier ways to do so. He might have brought him a puzzle or a ball, for instance.
Still, she had heard all the rumours; he was Mr Darcy, of an estate in Derbyshire that made Netherfield look like a cottage.
Ten thousand a year, some said. Earls in his blood, said others.
So wealthy, of such a high sphere, that Miss Bingley was not eligible enough for him, said most. It was ridiculous to think that Elizabeth Bennet, of no particular fortune, of such a disarranged family, was more of a candidate than Miss Bingley, despite her better birth.
Did I not consider Mr Morris, a land agent, as my likeliest possibility for a husband?
For several minutes, they walked beside an exhilarated Neddy.
Mr Darcy said little, but then, he was never a prattle-mouth.
Neddy, however, found the ride itself extremely exciting, every inch of passing scenery a thrill.
He chattered away in his nonsense language, expressing his rapture in it with his whole body, tensing so acutely and bouncing so joyously, that a few times, she thought he might fall off.
Mr Darcy was there, though, the second he needed to be rearranged on the saddle, helping him straighten his form, urging him to look ahead, and such was Neddy’s interest that occasionally he even obeyed.
He is simply so good with my brother, so caring.
And yes, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but it was the kindness in his voice, the way he tried to instruct a little boy whose own family members had often rejected as stupid and incapable, that melted her heart.
When Neddy did not understand or even seem to listen, he physically took his hands and placed them correctly, modelling the appropriate placement for him repeatedly, his patience seeming endless.
And of course there was that time, when he had—possibly—almost kissed her. That time when she had—possibly—wanted him to.
“Tuck-a tuck-a-tuck-a!” Neddy exulted, his dimples showing, his eyes crinkling with wonder and delight. “’Orse!”
Mr Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth; they shared a smile at his sheer joy that, to Elizabeth, seemed almost intimate. “Yes. She is a horse,” he agreed.
Mr Darcy led him via a different path back, even, which Elizabeth was thankful for, because Neddy’s sense of direction was very acute for his age, and it would take him that much longer to figure out that they were heading back to Fox Hollow. She knew, however, that any minute he would realise it.
He would be furious; he would believe that he never, ever would ride a horse again, and he would demonstrate every poor behaviour that he had ever exhibited.
She knew it; she had known it when she had allowed this ride in the first place.
He would not understand or be reasoned with.
Mr Darcy had seen it before, and he had not acted as though Neddy was some kind of feral animal.
Instead, he had helped. Perhaps she had fallen in love with him then, back in that instant.
If she was going to speak, if she was going to grant him a ‘clue’ to her own feelings, she had to do it in the next few minutes or not at all.
I will tell him how much it means to me, that he should take Neddy on this outing.
And I will simply add that Neddy is not the only one who would have been disappointed today, had he not come.
Was it too much? She already felt her cheeks heating.
No! Or if it was, anything would be, and she had no chance anyway. What was foolish pride compared to possible happiness, however unlikely?
“Mr Darcy,” she began tentatively, summoning all her courage, primed with hope, prepared for humiliation.