Chapter 6
The morning arrived bright and shining, the sun casting a golden promise for a lovely day.
Elizabeth dressed with care and slipped from the house before the household stirred.
Her feet carried her almost of their own accord along the familiar path to the secluded grove — that favoured spot where reflections and revelations had lately found her.
She arrived to find it empty, and a hint of disappointment touched her heart. But she had little time to reflect on this as moments later the sound of approaching hoofs made her pulse quicken. Mr. Darcy appeared, dismounting in haste and securing his horse with efficient grace.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that softened the formality of his bow.
“Mr. Darcy,” she returned, a slight awkwardness thickening the air as they stood facing one another in the dappled morning light.
“What a pleasant and inviting morning, is it not?” he said at last, a hint of hesitation in his manner before he recovered. “I trust you slept well?”
“Better than of late, sir.” She paused, then continued with genuine feeling. “I wished to thank you for taking my part yesterday against Mr. Collins’s rebuke. It was kindly done and quite effective.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips curved into a rare smile that warmed his countenance.
“Dr Rease deserves the greater share of credit. His defence was both gallant and well-informed. I merely lent my agreement.”
Elizabeth laughed softly, the sound easing the lingering unease between them.
“Nevertheless, I am grateful to you both. As for Dr Rease, our first meeting was as unexpected as it was brief. I encountered him during one of those very night strolls my cousin so disapproves of. He was most courteous, and his limp — I could not help but notice it — spoke of the bravery Mr. Collins later recounted.”
“He is a worthy gentleman,” Mr. Darcy observed, his tone measured. “Anne appears to be improving under his and Dr Blake’s joint care. She ate a little yesterday, which is more than she has managed in some days.”
“I am truly glad to hear it,” Elizabeth said warmly. “We have all been concerned and praying for her.”
A brief silence fell, comfortable rather than strained. Then Mr. Darcy spoke again, his dark eyes meeting hers with quiet resolve.
“I have taken another step, Miss Bennet, one I hope you will approve of. I wrote to Bingley yesterday, informing him of your sister’s presence in town. He was not aware of it, I believe, and I thought it only right that he should know.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with pleasant surprise. “You did? Truly? Oh, sir, I thank you most sincerely. It is more than I dared hope after…after all that has passed.”
He inclined his head, a touch of colour rising to his cheeks.
“A gentleman should be more prudent in his involvement in the romantic affairs of others. Especially when he does not excel in that particular art himself.”
The humble remark drew a matching smile from Elizabeth, and for a moment they shared an embarrassed yet understanding look, the memory of his own ill-fated proposal hanging lightly between them like a half-forgotten melody.
Emboldened by this new accord, she ventured further, “Since you have been so generous with your counsel and confidence, Mr. Darcy, might I seek your advice on another matter? It concerns Mr. Wickham. Now that I know the truth of his character, I cannot remain silent while he continues to impose upon others in Meryton. Yet I know not how to proceed without exposing what ought to remain private — particularly regarding your sister.”
Mr. Darcy’s expression grew grave.
“You honour me with your trust, Miss Bennet. The matter requires care, for Wickham’s charm is his most dangerous weapon. If you will permit me, I shall consider the best course and share my thoughts at our next meeting. For there must be another, must there not?”
The question, softly spoken, carried a note of earnest hope that stirred Elizabeth’s heart in a manner both new and strangely welcome.
She met his gaze steadily, a spark of her former wit returning.
“I believe the grove will prove accommodating, sir. And I shall greatly anticipate hearing your wisdom on the subject.”
The conversation having taken a turn both promising and delicate, Elizabeth gathered her courage, her fingers twisting lightly in the folds of her gown.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began, her voice soft yet resolute, “there is something else that has weighed upon my mind. I wondered whether there was some particular distress that troubled Miss de Bourgh so greatly as to increase her illness. She appeared quite well one day, then suddenly took to her bed, and I could not help but fear some deeper cause.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her with evident puzzlement, his dark brows drawing together. “I am lost to what particular distress you imagine.”
Heat rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks, embarrassment warring with the need for honesty. She looked away for a moment towards the sun-dappled path before meeting his gaze again.
“I have heard rumours — persistent ones, I own — that certain…expectations exist. That Miss de Bourgh should soon receive a marriage proposal from one near to her…”
The effect of her words was immediate. Mr. Darcy’s countenance clouded with distress and no small measure of upset.
“I assume you heard these rumours from Mr. Collins,” he said, his voice low and edged with displeasure.
“And do you presume, then, that I broke some sacred engagement to my cousin when I proposed to you? That such a betrayal caused her to fall ill? That I would trifle so heartlessly with the affections and health of an honourable woman?”
His expression was dark, reminding her of the proud anger of that fateful day at the parsonage, and Elizabeth felt a pang of regret sharp enough to leave her still and speechless.
“I had better leave now, before more distressing things that should remain unsaid are spoken.”
He turned his back, and a sense of panic made her act without much consideration. She hurried towards him and grabbed his arm quite strongly, forcing him to stop.
“Mr. Darcy, pray, do not go. I spoke too hastily, and it was only my genuine concern that prompted such presumptions.”
“I understand your concern for my cousin, as well as I understand that you think so ill of me that you are ready to assume the worst. I cannot be surprised, since you so honestly revealed your opinion of me a few days ago.”
She halted, her breath catching at the warmth of his arm where she still held it and the sad earnestness in his eyes.
“Regardless of what I said a few days ago, I do not think ill of you, sir. If I did once, for just or unjust reasons, it ended the day I read the letter. I can see you are angry and upset, and I apologise. If I offended you, it was most unintentional. My confusion led me to err once more. I did not know what to think.”
“I am angry and upset,” he admitted. “But I should apologise for my temper. It is a fault I have long struggled to master, especially where you are concerned.”
He turned, revealing his acceptance to continue the conversation, and she released her grip on his arm.
“If you did not know what to think, perhaps you should have asked, like you just did, without assuming I am a scoundrel with no honour and loyalty.”
“You are too harsh, sir,” she answered, lowering her eyes. “I never implied that. As for addressing questions — what woman would dare ask a gentleman about his engagement to another?”
“You are right. Since we tend to fight over new misunderstandings at every meeting, I repeat my offer to answer any questions you may have. As for my engagement to Anne, it is a silliness that began a long time ago and has still not ended.”
Elizabeth remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“It has been my aunt’s obsession for as long as I can remember, but nobody took it seriously except for her.
As we grew up, neither Anne nor I ever agreed to it and told my aunt at every opportunity, but she would simply not have it.
I care for my cousin deeply and always shall, as she is part of my family.
But I have no intention of marrying her — regardless of any proposals I might or might not make to other women. ”
“I see… I am sorry. Truly,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I am glad you told me as much. It would have pained me if we parted on unhappy terms after my enquiry.”
He nodded, his frame easing as he studied her.
“What a relief to know my assumption of you thinking ill of me was wrong.”
Encouraged, with a sudden burst she could no longer contain, Elizabeth continued,
“My opinion of you has changed greatly since I read your letter and reflected upon its contents. I see now how unjust many of my accusations were. Yet I remain upset with you for the pain you caused Jane. That wound is not so easily healed in me, but I am grateful for your decision to inform Mr. Bingley of my sister’s presence in town. ”
“I thank you for your candour. I know my involvement has hurt your sister, you, and most likely Bingley too. I expect him to be upset and angry with me, as I well deserve. Keeping this secret from him was shameful on my part.”
“That, I cannot deny,” Elizabeth said, though in a lighter tone.
Then, with a boldness that bordered on impropriety, she added, “I find it surprising and yes, rather shameful, that you agreed to be part of a secret scheme with Caroline Bingley. I wonder how she convinced you. Perhaps she mended your pen perfectly, as she once offered to.”
Her teasing was improper, and she blushed as soon as she had finished. He stared at her, appearing dumbfounded and incredulous, then suddenly his face brightened, as if a revelation had struck him, and he began to laugh, openly, loudly, as she had never heard him before.