Chapter 7 Saturday Confessions
Saturday Confessions
“Have you heard from Mr. Bingley?”
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. Did you have a pleasant evening?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and sat on the bench overlooking the brook. “My evening was as pleasant as yours, I imagine. Have you heard from your friend?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” He continued to lean against a tree with his arms across his chest, watching her.
“That was quick.”
“Bingley was in when my man arrived and he waited for a response. It arrived late last night.”
“It must be convenient to have men to ride all over the country for you at a moment’s notice.”
“It is remarkably so.”
She rolled her eyes again.
“Do you care to hear his response?”
“Yes, please.” She smiled and removed a muffin from her small basket as Mr. Darcy opened the letter.
“He says all the usual things, then asks me if I am sure I was mistaken about Miss Bennet, expresses surprise she is in London, tells me I am an officious oaf for presuming to know the heart of a young lady I barely knew, and says he will call on her today and beg her to forgive him.” He folded the letter neatly and placed it in his pocket.
“Does he truly call you an officious oaf?”
“He used rather more colorful language, but that was the general idea.”
She smirked and held out a muffin. “Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
She scooted over on the bench and placed the basket on her lap so Darcy could sit beside her. “I told Mrs. Hopkins I would be gone quite some time and she insisted on sending me with sustenance. There is tea if you would like some.” She held out a small crockery bottle still warm from the kitchen.
“Thank you.” He brought it to his lips and kept his eyes on her as he drank, then handed it back to her.
“I am glad Mr. Bingley will call on Jane. She deserves every happiness.”
“Bingley has been miserable without her. To be honest, I was regretting my role in it long before today.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I do not like to practice persuasion on a friend. It is distasteful. But I truly thought it was in Bingley’s best interest, so I did it.
Disguise is my abhorrence, but I concealed your sister’s presence in London from him.
It has not sat well with me. Bingley has been so low, I have been tempted more than once to tell him she was in town and how to find her. ”
“What stopped you?” she asked softly.
“You.” He turned to look her in the eye. “If Bingley married Miss Bennet, I would not be able to avoid seeing you, and last winter, I was foolish enough to think I could live without you and that I would be better off with a wife from the ton.”
“And now?”
“Now I realize how foolish I was. I have been in society many years. If I had wanted a wife from their ranks, I could have chosen one ten times over.”
“So you only changed your mind about Mr. Bingley because you changed your mind about me?”
“No, I changed my mind about Bingley because I realized I was mistaken as to Miss Bennet’s feelings and having known what it is to live without the woman I love, I did not wish to inflict such a thing on my friend if happiness was within his grasp.”
She flushed. “Am I that woman?”
“You know that you are.”
Elizabeth was sure she resembled a September apple from how much she was blushing. Recognizing the futility of trying to overcome such a thing, she laughed breathily and shook her head a little.
“What is so funny?”
“Nothing really. I was only thinking about how I cannot stop myself from blushing even when I try.”
He touched her cheek with his fingertips and traced them down to her jaw, then softly to rest below her chin and tilt her face up to his. “I like your blushes.”
She smiled shyly and lowered her eyes.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look down. I want to see your eyes.”
She looked up at him, her breath coming shakily. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, she laughed a little and pulled away. “Mr. Darcy, you surprise me.”
“Do I? How so?”
“You are so,” she fumbled for words, “well, flirtatious!”
He smiled. “I am glad you think so. I have never spoken so freely before. I feared I might seem bumbling or vulgar.”
“You are neither, though I shall tell you if you drift into vulgarity.” She smiled teasingly at him, her eyes sparkling and her mouth quirked in that way he always wanted to kiss.
He was leaning towards her mouth when he remembered himself and turned away, huffing out a breath. “So shall you allow me to court you?”
Elizabeth’s expression changed to one of trepidation and she looked toward the water. “I believe so, Mr. Darcy, but I must make a few things clear.”
“Yes?”
“I would wish this—us—to progress slowly. It was only a few days ago I thought you disliked me heartily, and that I felt the same.”
“Do you still dislike me, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, his voice strained. It was surprisingly painful to hear that she had held him in disdain so recently. His heart hammered in his ears, but he had to know.
She looked at him anxiously, at the forest floor, then back to him.
“No, Mr. Darcy, I do not dislike you. I have found that I do not know you at all. What I saw of you, what I knew of you before, was colored by my own offense. I am afraid that I cannot look back on our acquaintance without feeling quite ashamed at how constantly I baited you.”
“I hope you will not quit the practice altogether.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“I rather like it when you bait me. Though I can think of a more satisfying conclusion than those we were accustomed to at Netherfield.”
She flamed scarlet and her mouth formed an O. After a moment, she found her tongue and said, “For a man who does not do much flirting, you are certainly making up for lost time.”
He laughed. “Shall we walk?”
She took his arm when offered and they meandered down the path for some time. Finally, Elizabeth broke the silence. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“When you joined me on my walks before, it was by design, was it not?”
“Usually, yes. Though the first time had been a happy accident.”
“Why did you never say anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“You went to so much trouble to walk with me, yet you hardly spoke a word! I wonder why you bothered at all.”
“Is it so unusual that I would desire to simply be in your presence?”
“Yes, it is!” She laughed. “I am generally desired for my conversation, not the serenity of my presence. That is Jane’s purview.”
“I would not call it serene exactly.” He had a teasing look on his face that she wished to know the root of.
“What would you call it?”
“I cannot know what you were feeling—likely annoyance at my lack of conversation—but I was joyful.”
“Joyful?”
“Yes. And anxious upon occasion. Being with you makes me very happy, Elizabeth. And very nervous.” His cheeks flushed slightly at this confession. “Surely you realize that?”
She looked down at his familiarity, the look in his eyes too much for her at the moment.
But she was not a coldhearted woman. She could not hear such things and not be moved at least a little, so she brought her free hand up to his arm, squeezed it, then interlaced her fingers so she was holding his arm with both hands.
He seemed inordinately pleased by this, and she felt guilty that his feelings should be so much stronger than her own.
But no matter. She had agreed to get to know him better, and she was well on her way. If stronger feelings wished to develop, she would give them leave to do so.