Chapter 2.13 #3
“Mr Darcy, can you wait a moment, please?” asked Elizabeth, and to the gentlemen’s surprise, she approached and petted the horse once more.
“Thank you, Thunder.” Then she stepped closer to Darcy and curtseyed politely to him as she whispered, “I would thank you too, sir, but I have learned that I should not thank you for things you do most willingly.”
∞∞∞
Immediately after he arrived at Rosings, Darcy retired to his room.
He pretended not to hear the colonel and his aunt calling his name; he wished for a little solitude and tranquillity.
His heart was light, but his mind was tormented with restless thoughts.
That day turned out to be more than he could have hoped—and it had not ended yet. He would see her again soon.
As hard as he had fought it, sharp jealousy defeated his reason each time he saw his cousin with Elizabeth Bennet.
That morning in the garden, he had spotted them long before his cousin called his name, but seeing them walking arm in arm, looking at each other and laughing, he did not trust himself enough to disturb them.
When they approached and he could see Elizabeth holding the colonel’s arm, the icy hole in his stomach grew.
And then Robert started his insensitive, thoughtless conversation, and he could see Elizabeth’s disapproving expression.
He felt obliged to return home with Anne, though he wished nothing more than to stay. And then she left with Robert.
Not for a moment did he imagine that Elizabeth might share the same feelings seeing him with Anne—yet she did, as she betrayed herself during their walk.
She was jealous, too. And she was relieved to find that he was caring for Anne as for a sister, but not half as relieved as he was to discover the nature of her attachment to Robert.
She was extraordinarily smart, and she always found the perfect means to allow him to guess her feelings after his disastrous proposal. And then today he had spent an hour alone with her, an hour that brought him the joy he needed. She was pleased in his company, too; he could not doubt that.
He had been tempted to bring up the subject of his proposal again, to offer more apologies, and to explain to her what remained unexplained, but somehow he felt it was not needed; things seemed quite clear between them for the moment.
Sometime in the future, if their newly born friendship grew as he hoped, there would be need for more words, for more explanations, and for more confessions.
For the time being, he allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of their new friendship.
He allowed himself to enjoy her company, her smiles, her jokes, her fears, her teasing, her touches…
He could still feel her body touching his when he lifted her onto the horse and then when he took her down.
For a moment, she had been in his arms—touching his, brushing against his—and her breath had warmed his face for an instant.
He knew he would not be able to find rest or sleep for a long time, just recollecting that sensation.
Elizabeth had stolen his peace since the first day he was enchanted by her beautiful eyes.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth took a final look at her image in the mirror and was reasonably pleased.
Since she entered the house, she had spent time preparing for dinner, fighting the temptation to lie on her bed and recollect each moment of the last hours.
She could not think of what happened and what was said without feeling her entire body tingle. She was not certain whether it was embarrassment, shame, or some other strange sensation she had never experienced before, equally pleasant and frightening.
She loved to be alone with him; she was forced to admit that to herself.
She loved to see him so different than in the past—smiling, laughing at her, teasing her at times, protecting her when necessary, touching her, holding her…
Her hand still felt his touch—their entwined fingers, caressing Thunder’s strong, soft neck—then he held her in his arms. That was what he did.
She remembered the moment he took her off the horse; she slid into his embrace and her body touched his.
Cold shivers travelled along her spine at the recollection.
If he had tightened his grip only a little, she would have been breathless. In truth, she was breathless anyway.
As she tried to ignore the memories, she forced herself not to anticipate what would happen during dinner.
She expected him to be as restrained and behave as propriety demanded.
She could not hope for more. But there would be another day—and she had one more week at Rosings.
Then she would return to Longbourn and he— No, she could not think of that yet.
With much excitement from Mr Collins and his continuous praise in anticipation of the evening, they arrived at Rosings where they were directed to the dining room.
The colonel seemed glad to see them, and he did not hesitate to mention that their presence was a welcome and pleasant addition. Lady Catherine asked why they were five minutes late; Miss de Bourgh and her companion greeted them briefly and silently.
Mr Darcy moved to them and bowed politely; his manners were not as open as his cousin’s, but he was friendlier than usual.
He did not say more than a few words, but his eyes fixed upon Elizabeth and captured her own.
She smiled and felt herself blushing, but she did not avert her eyes until the colonel asked her a direct question.
He invited her to sit, and she sat by him; she cast a quick glance at Darcy, but he had already resumed his place by his aunt.
Lady Catherine began to talk with Mr and Mrs Collins and Sir William about various issues that demanded her ladyship’s wise opinion.
The colonel engaged Elizabeth and Maria in a most agreeable conversation of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying at home, and of new books and music.
Elizabeth was as pleased as ever to speak with the colonel, and the uneasiness of noticing Darcy’s eyes turned repeatedly towards them made her more talkative than usual.
They conversed with so much spirit and flow as to draw the attention not only of Mr Darcy but of Lady Catherine herself, who did not scruple to call out,
“What is it that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.”
“We are speaking of music, madam,” said he when no longer able to avoid a reply.
“Of music! I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?”
“Georgiana gets on wonderfully, ma’am. She is extremely gifted, and I enjoy seeing her daily progress. I am truly proud of her.”
“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her,” said Lady Catherine, “and pray tell her from me that she cannot expect to excel if she does not practise a great deal.”
“I assure you, madam, that she does not need such advice. She practises constantly.”
“So much the better. It cannot be done too much, and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times that she will never play really well unless she practises more, and though Mrs Collins has no instrument, she is welcome to come to Rosings and play on the pianoforte in Mrs Jenkinson’s room.
She would be in nobody’s way in that part of the house. ”
Elizabeth was more amused than offended, but she could see that Mr Darcy was ashamed of his aunt’s ill breeding. She smiled at him as she thanked her ladyship politely.
When dinner was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having promised to play for him, and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song and then talked to her other guests.
Mr Darcy moved slowly to the pianoforte and stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer’s countenance. Elizabeth was certain that her increased emotions and trembling fingers made her perform poorly, so she took the first convenient pause.
“Darcy, you interrupted Miss Bennet! Why on earth are you staring at us so seriously? You are quite scary, you know. I wonder if Miss Bennet will be able to play again. Take a seat; it will be more comfortable for all of us.”
“Do not worry, Colonel, I am not scared of Mr Darcy.” She laughed, her eyes daringly holding Darcy’s gaze.
“It is true that Mr Darcy’s presence is intimidating, and it makes me nervous and sometimes uncomfortable.
I always wonder what he thinks of me and whether he looks at me to find fault; I am never easy in his company, but I am not scared either. ”