CHAPTER 14 Darcy, in the Rain
Darcy leaned against the trunk of the tree and stared at Elizabeth’s window.
He had spent most of the afternoon in the company of Lady Catherine, his cousins and Bingley, who extolled the virtues of Miss Bennet and how happy he was to be in her company again.
Anne and Richard also seemed to be getting on quite well and Darcy wondered if they had formed an attachment.
He thought it would be good for both of them if they did.
Richard was outgoing and poor. And Anne was reserved and wealthy.
They were both perceptive and intelligent.
And he would be happy for them if they ever announced that they were to marry.
For himself, however, Darcy felt unsettled.
He wanted to see Elizabeth but was too afraid of finding that she still hated him.
I do not even like you, she had said. True, she had asked for him while she was ill but…
perhaps she was simply not in her right mind then.
How could he presume anything when she was not even cognisant of what was going on around her?
And yet…he missed her. Somehow - during those quiet hours alone with her - he had become closer to her.
They had developed a relationship wherein he loved her and cared for her and she, in turn, loved him and depended upon him.
He missed those moments, despite the fact that he feared for her life while they were happening.
They had been together in their own world.
And he could almost imagine it as a harbinger of their future life together.
He realised now how shallow his sentiments were on the day he proposed, in comparison to how he felt now. It was only a week ago, more or less. But, having come close to losing her, he saw how flimsy his reasons were for hesitating to propose in the first place.
For a few more moments he listened to Bingley voicing his hopes for a future with Miss Bennet. And then he stood up abruptly and said, “Pray, excuse me. I feel a great need for a walk.”
He was already halfway up the stairs when he heard Richard call out, “But it is raining, Darcy!”
He arrived in his room and called for his valet.
“I need my greatcoat and hat, immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” said Fletcher.
Darcy looked at him curiously. “Are you not even going to warn me that it is raining?”
“No, sir, for I assumed that that was what the coat and hat were for.”
Darcy gave Fletcher a brief smile then proceeded down the stairs.
He exited Rosings through a side door then proceeded down the lane and into the woods.
He did not take the front lane that led directly towards the parsonage but instead took a back lane parallel to it and deeper into the woods.
It was more than a mile to the parsonage using this path but he was glad of it.
The rain beat down on his hat and coat and the sound of it soothed him.
He could also feel it on his face and see its effects on everything around him.
Puddles formed beneath his feet, and the fronds of the ferns became heavy with raindrops.
The day grew darker and Darcy walked on.
At last he reached the vicinity of the parsonage but did not come closer.
Instead he studied its walls and attempted to identify the window to Elizabeth’s room.
He saw it at the corner of the second floor.
It was dark. Yet, somehow, he felt comforted to be here - near her.
She was likely asleep in her bed after having eaten a good supper.
He was very happy that she was getting better.
He knew he would have to call on her one of these days, it was only proper to do so.
But he also did not wish to upset her and possibly hinder her recovery by foisting his presence upon her.
He realised that everyone was wondering why he had not called before, and he supposed that he simply did not wish to give up the illusion that Elizabeth liked him, and needed him.
He enjoyed his memories of his time with her, the closeness they had shared, despite the fact that she was not even awake while it happened. But eventually it would have to end.
He leaned against a tree and thought of this, his hat and greatcoat keeping him surprisingly warm despite the wetness of the day.
He stared at the dark window and imagined her looking towards him.
In his musings she would be happy to see him there, happy to know that he cared enough to come in the rain when it was almost twilight.
He chuckled to himself at his foolishness, then eventually sighed.
It was time to go, for he could barely see the outline of the window anymore.
Slowly, he pushed himself off the tree then turned and began the walk back towards Rosings.
However, instead of going straight in, he walked beyond the house till he came to the edge of Lady Catherine’s formal gardens.
He stopped to look at the rows of rose bushes, their springtime shades of pink, yellow and orange, not quite obscured by the darkness.
He wondered what Elizabeth would think of them.
He turned away then headed for the house.
Later that night, as they sat in the drawing room after dinner, Richard commented that the rain had stopped.
“Why so it has,” said Bingley enthusiastically, looking towards the windows.
“Shall we call at the parsonage tomorrow?” said Anne to no one in particular.
“Perhaps you may defer your call till the following day,” said Lady Catherine.
“But why, Mother?”
“Because I myself would like to pay a call at the parsonage. It has been a while since I have done so. And if you all go then Mrs. Collins’ parlour shall be overflowing. And it may perhaps incommode her. Therefore I shall go…with Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy just stared at his aunt while Bingley said, “I shall be happy to accompany you, My Lady!”
“And I am certain,” she replied, “you shall take the opportunity to converse with Miss Jane Bennet. I have not met her yet and would like to do so. She is very beautiful, is she not?”
“Yes, very,” said Bingley with the enthusiasm of one who is speaking of his favourite subject.
“And she is the kindest person I have ever known. She sees the good in everyone, even those who have not been kind to her. Also, she is tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, which, when they look at you, appear to be looking into your very soul…” Bingley stared dreamily at nothing in particular, apparently caught up in his memories of Jane Bennet’s eyes.
“And you are making progress with your courtship, are you not?” asked Lady Catherine with amusement.
“Yes, I believe I am.”
Suddenly she turned to Darcy and said, “And you, Nephew, shall you accompany us tomorrow?”
Taken aback, Darcy said, “I am not certain, Aunt.”
“But you said you were in love with Miss Elizabeth! Therefore should you not call on her - now that she is better?”
“Why? I thought you disapproved of the match.”
Lady Catherine shrugged. “I did but…since I cannot seem to sway you, I have decided to assist you instead.”
“Really, Aunt,” said Darcy, “I do not need any assistance. Though I am thankful for your…consideration.”
Darcy felt relieved that Lady Catherine was no longer against his attachment to Elizabeth. But it also made him more uncomfortable, for he could no longer use her as an excuse to stay at Rosings when everyone else went to the parsonage.
“So, shall you come with us or not?” persisted Lady Catherine.
“Do you mind if I decide in the morning?”
“Why? So you may have the whole night to think about it?”
“Yes…perhaps…”
“Very well. You may tell me tomorrow if you wish to come. But I highly suggest you do!”
Darcy smiled. “I shall take that into consideration.”
Lady Catherine sipped her tea while Darcy took another sip of his port.
“Besides which,” Lady Catherine continued a little while later, “I can see now that Anne does not love you and never did. And I would not wish for my daughter to be in a loveless marriage.”
“Thank you, Mother,” murmured Anne.
Lady Catherine nodded musingly. Then she suddenly turned to Anne and asked, “You are in love with Richard, are you not?”
Darcy nearly choked on his drink at Lady Catherine’s sudden change of topic. Thankfully he was no longer the object of it. He saw that everyone was looking at Anne, particularly Mrs. Jenkinson who sat beside her with a faint smile. He had actually never seen Mrs. Jenkinson smile so much before.
But Anne remained silent and now looked at her hands.
“Do not worry,” continued Lady Catherine, “for I did not actually expect an answer.”
“But I would like an answer,” said Richard, not taking his eyes off Anne.
Anne, however, continued to look down, her hands tightening around her handkerchief.
It was then that Mrs. Jenkinson intervened. “Would it not be unseemly, Colonel, for a woman to declare her love before the object of it has declared his?” She looked reprovingly at Richard, who had the good sense to blush.
“Yes, you are absolutely right, Mrs. Jenkinson,” agreed Lady Catherine. She then turned her attention to Richard and added, “So tell me, Nephew, do you have any interest in my daughter?”
Darcy smiled, glad once more not to be the centre of attention, and also glad that it was now Richard.
Richard pulled on the upper edge of his cravat and said without expression, “Yes, I am interested.”
Anne smiled and Lady Catherine leaned back in her chair. She looked like one who had accomplished great things that day. And Darcy thought to himself that she had.
“Very well,” she said complacently. “You may proceed with your courtship.”
“Thank you, Aunt Catherine,” said Richard.
“Yes, thank you, Mother,” said Anne.
The conversation continued but Anne and Richard kept taking glances at one another.
Eventually, Lady Catherine stood and announced, “I believe I have done enough for today and shall retire.”
“Goodnight, Aunt,” said Darcy.
She gave him a long look with furrowed brows, then sailed out of the room without another word. Mrs. Jenkinson and Dr. Stephens followed soon afterwards.
“Well, my friend,” said Bingley, as Richard took the opportunity to sit closer to Anne and engage her in conversation, “you seem to be the only one not making progress with your courtship.”
“Yes,” said Richard from the other side of the room, “I agree with Bingley.”
Darcy grimaced. “I thought you were talking to Anne!”
“I can do both,” said the colonel proudly. “But you are changing the subject. What shall you do about Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy shrugged. “I am not certain, for it was only days ago that I feared for her life.” He finished off his port and added, “Perhaps I shall walk in the garden tomorrow and enjoy the good weather.”
Bingley only looked at him as if he had grown horns but said nothing more about it. Richard, thankfully, was now focused on his conversation with Anne.