Accept No Evil （First Person） #2
He looked sheepish, so I helped him along. “You cannot turn green every time Lizzy is mentioned. You will not survive tomorrow, let alone a fortnight.”
He looked chagrined. “I shall do my best.”
Emboldened, I added, “I frequently walk in the morning. I find the small path to the folly lovely at sunrise.”
I should have died of mortification were I still the Jane Bennet of Netherfield, though by my mother’s standards I was too subtle by half. I was not really that woman anymore, but neither was I willing to venture further.
“That is a lovely path. I recommend it at any hour, but I concur that the morning is ideal.”
The colonel returned and sought to reclaim my attentions. I tolerated them as best I could until it was time to return to the parsonage.
The gentlemen escorted us to the carriage, and the colonel handed me in. I knew not what to think of him, but to be truthful, I was not particularly interested either.
At an hour I would previously have deemed ‘before the cock crows,’ and now considered ‘before Abbie wakes to scream,’ I sought my usual path toward the folly.
I rarely went all the way, considering the structure silly (though I would never tell Lady Catherine), and usually turned back halfway.
I enjoyed a good walk, but I was still not anything like Lizzy had once been.
Of course, since losing her sight, even Lizzy was not Lizzy, but that was another matter.
As I predicted, Mr Darcy wandered down the path at the same hour.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. It is a lovely day for a stroll.”
I restrained a giggle, and answered seriously, “Good morning, Mr Darcy. It is indeed.”
“May I join you?”
Though the simplest of requests, and one he was obliged to make having encountered me, he appeared to summon his courage.
“I would be happy for your company.”
We started walking toward the folly, hands clasped somewhat awkwardly behind us. Fortunately, he did not offer his arm, and I was not required to accept or refuse it. We walked in companionable silence for some time before I spoke. “Mr Darcy, I had a letter recently from my sister Elizabeth.”
He appeared quite interested, so I continued, “I assume your aunt informed you she is in New York with your cousin.”
“She has.”
He looked as though he wished to say more. I should not have been surprised if Lady Catherine shared her letters with him, nor if she did not.
“She wrote to me perhaps six months ago, and made a suggestion pertaining to you. Would you care to hear it?”
“Very much so, if it breaks no confidence.”
His offering was endearing, even though I had suggested the scheme.
It spoke to his character, as did his lack of attempts to contact neither sister when asked not to.
He was at his aunt’s house, whom he could not avoid forever, and I could well have avoided him by going home or remaining in the parsonage.
He followed his word to the letter. However, Lizzy had assigned a duty, and I am not one to shirk.
“Lizzy suggested that—”
My courage failed. I expected him to say something encouraging, or look with sympathy, but he instinctively understood that was not what I needed. He simply nodded, as if willing to wait a fortnight if necessary.
“She suggested that… well… she suggested we leave this unpleasant business behind us. She is no longer angry, nor am I particularly… may we just… I know not… perhaps forgo the awkward apologies… as well as the recriminations and vexations… and perhaps simply begin anew? When you cut Miss Bingley, you did all that was required, so may we leave it at that?”
He seemed astonished. He likely still felt he owed an apology but eventually acceded.
“I would like that very much, and hope I might do the same with Miss Elizabeth at her convenience.”
After that he did the funniest thing. He simply stepped in front of me, and introduced himself entirely properly as if we had never heard of each other…
well, as proper as a self-introduction could be.
He bowed, I curtseyed, and we carried on towards the folly, both of us trying our best to leave the awkwardness behind.
In both our cases, our best was not really very good, but it would have to do for the moment.
After that first encounter, matters became more comfortable with the Derbyshire gentleman. I frequently met either him or the colonel at Rosings, and both gentlemen called at the parsonage, either singly or together.
One day, during a pleasant conversation with my sister Mary, in a flash of impertinence, I said, “Mr Darcy, why do you allow the colonel to so dominate conversations in your presence? You have much more to say when you set your mind to it.”
His expression was something I could not quite read, but certainly nothing I had seen on him before.
It was a cross between a smile and a frown, rueful and introspective at the same time.
“I was a terrible conversationalist for most of my life, Miss Bennet. I have a difficult time understanding people’s expressions or following their way of speaking when I do not know them well.
Your sister taught me better… well, actually, she taught me many things, but that was one of them.
In my cousin’s presence I sometimes fall back on my old habits, but I do believe I am a better man for having been instructed by Miss Elizabeth. ”
At that moment, I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy’s true nature.
I doubted he would ever act on his obvious feelings for Lizzy, but there was little doubt the feelings were there.
I could hardly wait for Lizzy to return, because I thought if she could also openly forgive him as I had, whether he was at fault or not, or whether he deserved forgiveness or not; he might use his newfound amiability to look to the future.
I imagined he must be now around nine and twenty, and his situation seemed little changed from when I had known him the year before.
Sooner or later, he would have to worry about marriage, but he seemed stalled.
I hoped Lizzy might be able to assist him somehow.
There was even some small chance they would make a match, but more likely, Lizzy would just help her friend get out of his rut.
I had no idea how to do it myself, but Lizzy would know. Lizzy always knew.
~~~
I was out on one of my usual morning rambles when a rustle sounded behind me. Expecting Mr Darcy, who met me on my walks most days, I was quite surprised to see Colonel Fitzwilliam.
We exchanged civilities. “I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”
“I have been making the tour of the park, as I generally do every year, and intended to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?”
“I should have turned in a moment.”
The assertion was not precisely the truth. I would have turned in a few dozen moments, but be that as it may, it was time to return to the parsonage for breakfast, and I had no desire to prolong the walk if it included the colonel.
The gentleman turned and offered to walk me back. He offered his arm, and obliged to take it, I set a reasonably brisk pace. I knew it was nearing the end of their visit, so I asked a question to which I perfectly well knew the answer, merely to give us something to do.
“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?”
“Yes—if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases. He has the pleasure in the great power of choice. He likes to have his own way very well… But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”
That sounded more than a touch on the whiney side, and nearly as wordy as my cousin Collins before his marriage, but I obviously could not say so directly. Neither could I allow it to go completely unchallenged, so I replied archly.
“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”
“These are home questions—and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.”
I slowed my response to ensure I replied without using the words complain, whinge, or whine.
“Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.”
“Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”
I had so thoroughly exceeded the bounds of any conversation I wished to have with any man, let alone the colonel, that I refrained from asking exactly how much it cost to purchase the son of an earl.
It was a subject I obviously had no wish to explore in any depth, and I cannot begin to describe my relief when the parsonage gate appeared, with Mary walking out carrying grain for her poultry.
With such a perfect excuse, I thanked the colonel for his superfluous escort, and ran to assist Mary.
Saturday came, and the gentlemen had not departed.
We received word from Lady Catherine that she had made decisions regarding the estate’s management and required both her nephews for another week or two.
They were likely both grinding their teeth, but they would either recover or they would not.
Neither outcome affected me, save that I would miss Mr Darcy’s company, as I found him most agreeable.
I had almost considered broaching the subject of Mr Bingley, but never gathered sufficient inclination and courage at the same time, and doubted I ever would.