Chapter 3 #2
He would drive himself mad if he continued in this frame of mind. Darcy let out a frustrated sigh and stood up from his desk, suddenly decisive. No solace could be found indoors. Out of doors, he would at least have the relief of walking and of looking out over the land.
After putting on a stout pair of boots and retrieving his coat, Darcy headed across the rolling pastureland.
When he came to the lane, he turned eastward, where a low hill could be seen some distance away.
Though nothing to the steeper, rockier countryside of Derbyshire, it would still offer more vigorous exercise and the chance to command a broader vista.
The event proved Darcy correct. By the time the path reached the top, he had grown warm from the effort of climbing.
From its peak, the fields spread out in every direction but one — the east, where he could see a small wood surprisingly close by.
Had it not been concealed by the rising ground, it must have been visible for some time.
The trees were aflame with the splendid colours of autumn.
Looking at it, Darcy took what felt like his first full breath in some time.
In nature, if anywhere, was a respite from thinking things he could not bear to consider.
It hardly seemed a decision at all to descend from the knoll and make for the trees.
The distance was short and quickly covered, and to Darcy’s relief, the wood proved one well-suited for walking.
He followed a small path, entering the trees with a sense of relief.
They were not the familiar woods of Pemberley, but they would do.
But even the peace of the forest and the lush colours of autumn could not put his mind at ease forever. Darcy was soon lost in thought, wandering through the deeply shaded area of the little forest. Worry for Georgiana soon overtook him; his mood turned toward hopelessness once more.
Perhaps it would be better to write to her, even if he was harsh in his words, than to have this festering inside him, tearing at the closeness they had once enjoyed. At least his anger, guilt, and grief would be known, and they could then begin the hard work of mending their relationship.
But perhaps that was impossible. Perhaps part of his hesitation lay in knowing that their relationship would never again be the same.
Then, too, there was time impossibility of believing that Georgiana could ever be tolerably happy in the life she had chosen.
He was grieving her situation as much as he was grieving everything he had lost.
Darcy strode along briskly, almost hurrying, though for no purpose. He walked as though he could leave everything — Georgiana, Wickham, his own failure — behind him.
He knew that he could not. A crossroads was rapidly approaching. When he reached it, Darcy decided, he would find his self-command again. He would turn back towards Netherfield, and by the time he arrived, he would be fit to speak to. There were only a few paces left now.
Darcy reached the path, confident in his good intentions. There were four ways: the way he had come, which continued straight forward past a crooked beech tree, a path to the left, and a path to the right. He turned right without hesitation.
If a quiet, niggling voice inside his head asked if he was really sure it was the right way, Darcy firmly ignored it.
That it was, in fact, not the right was quickly apparent.
After several turns and crossings, the little path ended at a small grove.
Forced to retrace his steps, Darcy walked quickly, growling at himself under his breath.
How could he have been so foolish? He had been warned about the woods and the dangers of getting lost in them since he was a small boy.
He had not taken this one seriously, thinking it too small and Hertfordshire too gentle to present any real threat.
But he could not see past the trees to the fields beyond, and the sky was so dull and hazy that he could not determine his direction from the angle of the sun.
He had got himself into a predicament that would have been laughable, if it had not been so embarrassing — and if it did not have the potential for real danger.
By the third time Darcy found himself at the same crooked beech tree, he could not restrain himself from swearing under his breath.
Somehow, he must get himself out of the woods, but how?
Though knowing it must be futile, he was about to start retracing his steps yet again when a young woman suddenly appeared on the path before him, coming out from behind some trees.
He came out further onto the narrow path to make himself known.
She must have been engrossed in the book that she was carrying, for she did not even notice him until she was only twenty paces from him.
Darcy cleared his throat, and the young woman startled so violently that he was afraid she would trip backwards and land in the fallen leaves that littered the path.
“Excuse me, Miss,” he said and took off his hat, bowing to her. Darcy hoped desperately that she would not run from him. While he would not normally expect a lone young woman to speak to a strange man, it would be a shame if the only person who might help him was too much terrified to do so.
“Ah, yes. Forgive me, I did not see you there,” she said, giving a hurried curtsey. She continued on her way, evidently with every intention of scurrying past him before he could waylay her.
“Miss, I am afraid I am quite lost. Would you be so kind as to show me the way out of here?” he asked.
Though it was highly improper for him to speak to her without a formal introduction, let alone in so isolated a setting, the circumstances demanded it.
Darcy frowned for a moment. Indeed, it was even odder that she was walking alone, without a chaperone or a companion.
His eyes travelled over her person. She did not look to be the daughter of a poor farmer.
Her dress, though perhaps a little plain, was of good quality and current style.
If he had to guess, she was the daughter of some middling country gentleman.
“I know it is highly irregular for me to ask, but I am afraid I am a bit desperate. I have become so badly turned around that I cannot seem to find my way out.”
She hesitated for only a moment before closing her book and marking her place with a ribbon. Darcy stifled a sigh of relief; evidently, she was not terrified of him, or at least not so much so that she would leave him lost in the woods.
“Yes, of course. Come this way.” She gave him a smile so brilliant Darcy felt his heart skip a beat and gestured him onward.
To his astonishment, she walked directly towards the crooked beech tree.
It was not until the last moment that Darcy saw how another path led away past it, hidden from where he had stood.
“Have you recently moved to the area?” The mysterious young woman looked at him inquiringly, still smiling.
“I am visiting a friend who leased a house nearby,” Darcy explained.
He wondered if she might press for more information, but she did not, walking onward with swift, sure confidence.
She wove through the trees, sure-footed as they made their way to different paths, though Darcy felt as if they were only growing more lost the further they went.
He was almost at the point of saying so when he caught sight of an open field through the trees about fifty paces ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The young woman had noticed his relief and was looking rather amused, though evidently too well-mannered to say so. “The main road is just up here,” she remarked.
As they came to the treeline, Darcy turned to her, intending to offer his thanks. “I cannot express enough how much I appreciate your assistance,” he began.
What he had intended as sincere and graceful thanks came to an abrupt and most unwelcome end.
As they walked out of the trees together, he tripped on a root.
To his horror, he fell into the young lady with such force that they both came tumbling to the ground.
Darcy wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her so that he would take the brunt of the fall.
She let out a surprised yelp, and they both landed with a thud on the hill that crested up toward a walled pasture. Just then, he heard the sound of carriage wheels approaching, with the road not twenty paces from where they lay prone in an awkward embrace.
The young lady’s eyes filled with fear. He quickly helped her to her feet and stepped away from her. The carriage slowed, and he saw an older woman watching them as the carriage passed by, a pair of spectacles held to her eyes.
He turned to the young woman, who was smoothing down her skirts. “My apologies. I should have been more careful,” he said. “Are you injured?”
“No, not at all. That is, I am not injured in my person,” she looked after the carriage that had just passed in dismay. “But my reputation will soon be ruined. That must have looked very compromising.”
“Compromising —” Darcy repeated in shock.
But she was entirely correct, of course.
Anyone who saw them on the ground together would surely have drawn the most scandalous conclusion.
Even if the woman in the carriage had seen them trip, to have emerged from a place of such solitude together, as though there had been an assignation, was almost as bad.
“It must have looked most misleading…coming out of the wood like that, and then embracing in such a way.” Her cheeks grew pink. Though reproving himself for such a thought at such a time, Darcy could not deny that it looked rather well on her.
But that was absurd wool-gathering at a time of crisis. “Do you think she saw us?” Darcy asked, appalled. “Do you know her?”
“Unfortunately, she does know me. That is Lady Lucas, and she is the foremost gossip in Meryton — perhaps in the whole of Hertfordshire.” She gritted her teeth, her jaw grown so tense that he could see a pulse jumping in it.
“I have no doubt that this story will be in every drawing room in the neighbourhood by the time I return home.”
Darcy felt all the blood drain from his face. After a few seconds to take in the news, he offered her his arm. She only looked at it. “Is that wise?” she asked.
“This hill is slippery. I would be remiss if I did not offer to help you to the road,” he said. “Besides, we have already been caught in a more compromising situation.”
The young woman nodded and took his arm. “That is true, I’m afraid.” They made their way to the road, and after he helped her over the sheep gate that bridged the rock wall, they stood in awkward silence for a time. Neither of them seemed to know how to proceed.
“May I see you home?” he finally asked.
She nodded and motioned in the direction they should go.
For a time, they walked in silence. No doubt the young woman was as absorbed in her disturbing thoughts as Darcy was in his.
Things could hardly be worse. It was his fault that they had been caught in such an inappropriate situation.
If he had kept his mind on where he was walking, he would not have become lost. If he had not asked for her help to get out of the wood, none of this would have happened.
Even at the last moment, if he had not tripped and fallen into her, perhaps the disaster could still have been averted.
But there was nothing to be done. If Lady Lucas told a soul of what she had seen, the consequences would be dire. Darcy could shrug them off, or simply leave Hertfordshire. This young woman, his rescuer, could not.
That left only one choice, little as he liked it.
He cleared his throat and turned to the young lady, stopping on the lane as they came to the bottom of the hill.
“I believe I have been remiss. Though there is no one present of whom I might beg an introduction, we cannot go any farther without knowing to whom we are speaking. I am Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. My estate is Pemberley, in Derbyshire.”
The young lady turned and nodded. Her dark, brilliant eyes met his without hesitation.
Darcy saw in them a knowledge of disaster to match his own, and a slight glimmer of tears.
“And I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she replied, her voice steady, though quiet.
“My father’s estate is Longbourn, not a half-hour’s walk from here. ”
Darcy gulped, wondering if she could hear the wild beating of his heart. There would be no going back once he said the words. “Very well then, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy said grimly. “I am afraid we have no choice but to marry.”