Chapter Nineteen
As she looked across the carriage at him, Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy had fully grasped that he escorted four women to the park.
Seated beside his cousin Anne de Bourgh, he seemed content enough.
Whenever Elizabeth, who sat with his sister Georgiana Darcy and her sister Mary, glanced his way, Mr. Darcy appeared convivial.
But then, he wasn’t the same Mr. Darcy she’d met last autumn at an assembly in Meryton.
Or rather, he must be that same man, but now she knew him much better.
She could understand his moods, and better appreciate his temperament.
She even suspected his insulting her at the assembly by saying she wasn’t attractive enough to dance with had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with a man of his reserved nature being forced into an uncomfortable situation.
She’d come to realize that he hid behind wealth and standing when he didn’t know the people around him.
Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy, instead, appeared to hide behind shyness.
Both certainly had when Elizabeth first met them but turned out to be interesting conversationalists once encouraged.
Much like Mary, they simply needed the assurance that their opinions were sought, valued and valuable.
Not that everything the other three women said was wise, or in agreement with Elizabeth’s views, but that did not mean they’d no right to express their thoughts.
Today, however, found all three in their element, a realm into which Elizabeth had never ventured.
Mr. Darcy, giving in to please both of his relations, had agreed to escort them to the park to draw.
Miss de Bourgh and Mary were coming along quite well under the tutelage of a London master, and Miss Darcy had, of course, been at the pursuit for many years already.
Elizabeth, who enjoyed walking in the crisp winter air, had no desire to stand still and study the snow, but suspected she could find a willing companion in Mr. Darcy.
They’d walked together almost every other day since arriving in London.
The carriage, a truly fine conveyance pulled by a team of four and with enough room for six passengers, rolled to a halt, then bounced almost imperceptibly as one of Mr. Darcy’s men alighted.
A moment later, the door opened, and a footman handed Miss de Bourgh out, followed by Miss Darcy, and then Mary.
Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy to find he studied her intently. He immediately dipped his head and said, “After you, Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth paused, then added, “Not only for the courtesy. Thank you for escorting us to the park. They’re all so happy to ply their drawing skills out of doors.” She accepted the footman’s proffered hand and stepped out.
Already, the other three women headed up the path, accoutrements in hand.
They talked and laughed, pointing this way and that at things they might draw, but not slowing, even though they’d told Elizabeth they planned to do rapid sketches in their small sketchbooks, a gift from Lady Catherine to encourage their drawing.
This, apparently, would work best as it required no easels or places to sit, draped as the park was by a thin layer of snow.
“We’ll be at least an hour,” Mr. Darcy said to his servants behind Elizabeth. “Take lunch, or a pint, or what have you, then come find us. We’ll head to the duck pond.”
“Yes, sir.”
Elizabeth glanced back to see Mr. Darcy handing over some small sum to his men. Turning from them, he crossed to her and offered his arm. “Walk with me?”
“I should be pleased to,” she said, placing her mitten covered hand on his coat sleeve.
They’d had several days of gray, snow choked weather, which hadn’t kept Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy from their walks, but which had dissuaded the others from time outside.
But now, denuded branches traced intricate patterns against a deep blue sky, sparkling snow frosting every limb.
It crunched under their feet, but not loudly enough to drown out the chatter of sparrows.
Following the others down the path, Mr. Darcy at her side, Elizabeth couldn’t imagine a more perfect winter’s day.
“I hope you didn’t feel left out when Lady Catherine bought the others sketch books,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Lady Catherine bought me some sheet music,” Elizabeth said.
“Had you expressed a desire for sheet music?”
Elizabeth chuckled. “No, but I do appreciate the gift, and I benefit from the gifts to others since they led to a pleasant outing for me.”
“And you do not wish to take up drawing, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth shook her head, watching her breath puff out before her. “No. I draw well enough for my purposes.”
“What are your purposes?”
“I can draw flowers or other simple designs to embroider. A pencil on fabric gives me enough of a flower to place the design. My mother taught me patterns that will cover rips. I’m not trying for realism with these drawings, only symmetry and appropriate locations.
I have a few designs I use frequently and vary them enough, so they look different, especially when I use different colored thread. ”
“Yet with lessons, you might be able to do better designs,” Mr. Darcy suggested. He then hastily added, “I’ve noticed some of your embroidery and it is attractive.”
She smiled. “Thank you, but I don’t enjoy embroidery. It is a chore. I enjoy music. That gives me pleasure. I love music.”
“I’ve heard you play. You give others pleasure.”
“Again, thank you. But Mary plays better than I do.”
“I’ve heard both you and Miss Mary play. I enjoy your playing more, perhaps because you convey your pleasure to your audience and your sister somehow doesn’t.”
Elizabeth nodded, for her sister had expressed much the same thoughts about her playing, and so Mr. Darcy’s observation couldn’t be deemed insulting to Mary. People only asked Mary to play if they wished to dance. They didn’t want her to play simply to listen to.
They crested the hill overlooking the duck pond to find the surface half frozen over and half a deep, rippling blue.
True to its name, some brave ducks paddled about, mostly in pairs.
Down by the shore a boy and a girl stood with a woman, tossing bread into the water, much to the delight of a cluster of ducks.
Farther around the pond, a couple walked, heads together in conversation.
Elizabeth tipped her own head back to let sunlight reach under her bonnet, a welcome warmth after the chill of the previous few days.
“You’ll get freckles, Lizzy,” Mary called from where she, Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy stood atop the hill, books open and pencils scratching away.
“A few moments of sun will not give me freckles,” Elizabeth replied, although it truly wouldn’t take much. She freckled easily.
“Any gentleman who wouldn’t court Elizabeth because of a few freckles would be too foolish for her to wish to wed,” Miss de Bourgh said firmly, not looking away from her sketch.
“My ducks look like floating dogs,” Mary bemoaned. “Miss Darcy, what am I doing wrong?”
Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy clustered around Mary, looking at her sketch.
“Shall we go see if we can find a duck that looks like a dog?” Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy lightly.
Mr. Darcy nodded and, together, they set off down the hill, leaving the others at the top.
As they descended, Mr. Darcy said, “Anne wouldn’t have spoken so freely or with such certainty before she met you.”
Elizabeth cast him a surprised look. “Surely, she was simply shy at first because she didn’t know me. She must have expressed her opinions to her close companions, like her mother and you, and this Colonel Fitzwilliam I hear so much about.”
“No. Anne rarely spoke and never had an opinion.” Dryly, Mr. Darcy stated, “Lady Catherine had all the opinions.”
Keeping her tone expressionless, so he wouldn’t need to realize she mocked his aunt if he didn’t wish to, Elizabeth said, “How tiring that must have been for her.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled, then asked, “You hear about Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy speak highly of him.”
“He is a good man.”
Elizabeth didn’t doubt that. “And what about your sister?”
“My sister?”
“Is Miss Darcy shy around everyone, or simply those she’s recently met?”
“She has always been outgoing with those she knows well, which I’m happy now includes you and Miss Mary, because it’s been a very small circle of relations.
” He cast Elizabeth another of those searching looks of his.
“I have some hope that your influence is giving her greater confidence with new acquaintances.”
“She has every reason to be confident. She’s exceedingly well educated, intelligent, talented, quick and thoughtful. Not to mention, of course, attractive and wealthy.”
“One might say the final two are reason to be less friendly to new acquaintances.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“That was amusing?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Wondering if she would insult him, Elizabeth ventured, “It’s amusing to better understand your initial behavior upon arriving in Hertfordshire.”
“You are saying that I am attractive and wealthy?”
He sounded far too pleased by the compliment, so Elizabeth couldn’t resist sallying, “Or wealthy enough that it does not matter one whit if you’re attractive.”
“But not wealthy enough to excuse outright rudeness.”
“No,” she agreed firmly. “No one is wealthy enough to excuse that.” Did he finally mean to apologize? She’d given up on the idea, deciding he was enough like his Aunt Catherine not to realize he’d even given insult.
“I’ve owed you an apology for some time.” He halted, equidistant from the top of the hill and the duck pond, and turned to face her.
Elizabeth held her breath. He truly meant to say he was sorry for publicly insulting her?