Chapter 10
Ten
The small party enjoyed a most agreeable ramble for the better part of three quarters of an hour, the time passing swiftly in light conversation and easy wandering along wooded paths.
Just as they were approaching the banqueting house once more, the sound of wheels upon the lane drew their attention, and Elizabeth glanced up to see a fine lacquered carriage arriving at the crest of the rise.
Mr Darcy was out of the door in an instant, moving in the direction of the carriage with determined strides.
Waving the footman aside, he offered his own hand to assist a young lady down from the vehicle.
From where she stood, Elizabeth could see that her figure was womanly and graceful, her motions hesitant; but she accepted his help with a soft word, and he guided her across the lawn with the greatest care.
Mr Bingley descended next, looking every bit as affable as she had known him to be in Hertfordshire, followed by a genteel older woman whose composed bearing marked her as someone accustomed to polite society.
Elizabeth had scarcely a moment to gather her thoughts before Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to her with a broad smile.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas, may I have the honour of presenting my cousin Miss Georgiana Darcy, and Mrs Annesley, her companion? And I am certain you remember Darcy’s good friend Mr Charles Bingley.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught as she stepped forwards to curtsey.
Mr Bingley bowed with polite ease but offered nothing more than the civility due a recently made acquaintance.
They moved to join the others inside, where Mr Darcy performed the remainder of the introductions.
Elizabeth watched closely as Mr Bingley greeted Jane, but his bow was no more familiar when directed at her sister.
No glimmer of affection. No warmth beyond the expected social courtesies.
An unexpected shiver ran up the length of her spine. That she should know so much of this gentleman yet stand before him now as a near stranger… It was, she thought, one of the oddest sensations she had ever experienced.
Her gaze shifted to Mr Darcy’s sister, who was now conversing quietly with Lady Catherine.
While less handsome than her brother, there was sense and good humour in her countenance, and her manners were pleasant and unassuming.
Elizabeth suddenly recalled, with a faint tightening of the lips, Mr Wickham’s description of the young lady as being ‘very, very proud’.
But she saw nothing of pride in the girl before her, only a reserved civility and uncertain smiles.
Before Elizabeth could make any further observations, Lady Catherine’s voice cut through the gathering chatter, calling out from her station near the head of the table, “I believe it is high time we dined.” At once, the footmen sprang into motion.
Hampers were whisked away, dishes uncovered, and decanters set within easy reach as the table was brought to order.
Chairs were drawn out, and the company began to take their seats with varying degrees of ceremony and grace.
Elizabeth followed Charlotte and Jane to places along the far side, her gaze lingering on the newest arrivals as they joined the Rosings party.
Mr Darcy was already attending to his sister, while Colonel Fitzwilliam, with easy civility, saw Mrs Annesley seated.
Within moments, the servants moved deftly along the table, serving food and pouring wine, until the murmur of conversation rose again and the meal was fully underway.
If Elizabeth had expected nothing more than cold ham and lemonade, as she had initially predicted, she was to be disappointed.
The table within the banqueting house had been laid with an extravagance more befitting Rosings itself: cold roast fowl and glazed tongue, pigeon pies and savoury tarts, baskets of fresh bread and cheeses, and fruits arranged in artful abundance.
Crystal decanters brimmed with wine and punch, while at the centre of the table, an elaborate display of iced pastries and sugared almonds gleamed in silver dishes—delicacies so ornate that Elizabeth could not help but marvel at their incongruity for a country collation.
Although the food was sumptuous, there was little opportunity for conversation.
Lady Catherine held court from her seat at the head of the table, speaking without intermission on every detail of the impending wedding and the breakfast that would follow.
But for once, Elizabeth was content to let the monologue continue uninterrupted as it afforded her the leisure to observe the rest of the company.
Anne de Bourgh had been seated beside Dr Latham, who addressed her now and again with quiet courtesy.
She scarcely touched the food on her plate, her fork tapping lightly against the porcelain as she moved a morsel from one side to the other.
Mrs Jenkinson, fluttering at her other elbow, urged her to taste a slice of tongue or a bit of tart, lamenting that she looked exceedingly flushed.
But to Elizabeth’s eye, the lady’s hesitation seemed born less of illness than of nerves; for whenever her physician addressed her in a lowered tone, her hand stilled, and her colour heightened further.
Meanwhile, Mr Collins busied himself in his customary fashion, echoing Lady Catherine’s every pronouncement with eager solemnity and turning now and again to Jane with the air of one imparting invaluable instruction.
On the opposite side of the table, Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared engaged in amiable conversation, though their efforts were repeatedly thwarted by Lady Catherine, who demanded to know what they were discussing and insisted they repeat themselves for the benefit of the company.
Miss Darcy, seated beside her brother, ventured a few timid remarks, though always at moments when the general din was at its height and the chance of being overheard was least. Mr Darcy, by contrast, maintained a composed civility.
He answered his aunt’s enquiries with measured politeness, his manner marked more by patience than warmth.
Now and then his gaze swept towards his betrothed and his sister, as if determined to include them, but Miss de Bourgh only toyed with her food, and Miss Darcy merely smiled softly before retreating into silence once more.
Finally, the interminable repast was at an end.
Lady Catherine, with a decisive wave of her hand, announced that she and her daughter would require a period of repose, indicating the small grouping of chairs near the windows.
Mrs Jenkinson immediately bustled forwards, summoning a pair of footmen to fetch blankets and additional cushions from one of the carriages.
Lady Catherine’s gaze then swept over the company.
“Latham, you may remain with us in case Anne has need of your services. The rest of you may take the air. You especially, Mrs Collins—you look quite drawn and pale. I have always said that a healthy bloom becomes a married woman. It speaks to her vitality.”
At his aunt’s words, a faint frown crossed Mr Darcy’s features, his glance straying briefly towards Miss de Bourgh before he addressed the group.
“A walk would be of benefit to me. Perhaps others might be inclined to join in a short excursion?”
Elizabeth could not mistake the way his eyes turned in her direction, but it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who spoke.
“If anyone prefers a more sporting diversion,” he began, his eyes alight with mischief, “I believe I spied a battledore and shuttlecock set. What say you, Bingley? Shall we put it to use?”
“With the greatest pleasure,” Mr Bingley answered, springing up with his usual good humour.
“I should enjoy a game,” Charlotte added brightly. “Lizzy? Jane?”
“I believe I shall walk,” Elizabeth replied, stealing a glance at Mr Darcy. Jane, however, inclined her head in Charlotte’s direction.
“I shall play. It will be just like old times at Longbourn.”
No sooner had she voiced her opinion than Mr Collins was by her side, shaking his head in solemn disapproval. “My dear, I cannot think such exertion quite suitable. A rector’s wife must be mindful of appearances, and Lady Catherine—”
“—has just given her blessing,” Elizabeth interposed sweetly.
Lady Catherine, catching their discourse, lifted her voice. “Indeed I have! There is no harm in a little gentle play, provided it is not too boisterous. On the contrary, I daresay the exercise will do Mrs Collins good. It may even restore some colour to her complexion.”
“Ah! Just so, your ladyship!” Mr Collins cried, bobbing his head with great enthusiasm. “How very wise! Mrs Collins, you must follow Lady Catherine’s excellent counsel.”
Jane’s eyes flicked towards Elizabeth, her lips tipped into a knowing smile. “Then I shall play.”
At that moment, Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, if you are still inclined to walk, I believe there is a hedge maze beyond the east grove. I thought perhaps my sister might enjoy exploring it.”
Miss Darcy, who had been listening attentively beside her companion, gave an eager nod as Mrs Annesley added, “A walk would be most beneficial, I think.”
“Then it is settled,” said Mr Darcy.
As the others moved out of doors to break into their chosen amusements, Lady Catherine summoned Mr Collins to her side with a sharp look and a flick of her wrist. He obeyed at once, bowing to Jane before retreating to the sunny area near the windows.
Colonel Fitzwilliam handed Charlotte a battledore with an exaggerated flourish. “Shall we?” he said cheerfully, as he, Jane, Charlotte, and Mr Bingley began to make their way out to a suitable lawn.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth stepped up beside Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley as Mr Darcy led them from the pavilion and across a sunlit meadow.
The small group made their way to a narrow path that wound towards the main house.
As it admitted only two abreast, Elizabeth willingly fell back beside Mrs Annesley, leaving Mr Darcy to walk with his sister.
For several minutes they moved in an easy silence, the sunlight filtering through tender leaves and scattering the ground with shifting patterns of gold.
From ahead came the low murmur of Mr Darcy’s voice, patient and encouraging, as he drew his sister into quiet conversation.
After a time, Elizabeth turned to her companion with an affable expression. “Miss Darcy seems a sweet girl. How long have you had the charge of her?”
“Since just after the new year,” Mrs Annesley answered, her voice warm.
“The months have been uneventful, but I believe she needed the calm. She is a tender-hearted creature, kind, thoughtful, and more sensitive than she allows most to perceive. There was…a trial last summer, and she is still regaining her footing.”
Elizabeth’s gaze lifted to the young lady walking beside her brother, and a pang of sympathy stirred.
She remembered Mr Darcy’s own words—graver and more impassioned—as though the hurt still lay raw beneath the surface.
That both he and Mrs Annesley had expressed themselves with such feeling told her all she needed to know.
“She seems very shy,” Elizabeth offered.
“She is,” Mrs Annesley agreed. “Yet not without courage. To open one’s heart again, once trust has been shaken, requires uncommon strength. She is fortunate in her brother. He has been her staunchest defender.”
Elizabeth made no reply, but her eyes shifted to the tall figure in front of them, his head inclined towards his sister’s, his speech low and steady.
“He is a good man,” Mrs Annesley continued. “A proud one, yes, but proud in the manner of those who feel deeply and cannot always give voice to those sentiments. He carries his responsibilities like a second skin, ever vigilant, ever striving to do what is right.”
There was something in her tone—an almost lyrical certainty—that gave Elizabeth pause. She glanced at the older woman with renewed interest, but Mrs Annesley offered only a serene smile.
“He does not make it easy to see beneath the surface,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“Sometimes, those who seem the most distant are only waiting for someone who sees them as they truly are.”
Elizabeth blinked, unsettled by the words. A faint shiver traced the nape of her neck despite the warmth of the day.
“You speak as though you know a great deal.”
Mrs Annesley’s eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, but the smile lingered in her expression. “I know enough. Enough to see that you stand at a crossroads. That you have glimpsed more than one path but have not yet chosen your own.”
Elizabeth halted, her breath catching.
“Do not trouble yourself, my dear,” the older woman said gently, slowing her own steps and turning to meet Elizabeth’s gaze.
“It is no strange thing to forget and then remember again. Some memories return like birds in the spring—expected, familiar, though easily startled away if one moves too quickly. But when the moment is right, you will know.”
Elizabeth’s mouth had gone dry. The words struck something deep within her, awakening a spark of recognition she could not at once place.
And then it came: the woman at the market, the glint of gold in the sunlight, her voice low and certain as she pressed the locket into Elizabeth’s hand.
“It will open, but only when the time is right.”
She lifted a hand to her throat, forgetting for a moment that the necklace was no longer there.
“How did you—”
But Mrs Annesley was already moving forwards. “Come,” she said, inclining her head towards the curving path. “I believe Mr Darcy is waiting for you.”