Chapter Six #2
As soon as the four walkers were out of the house, Bingley took his place next to Miss Bennet and fairly glowed as she placed her hand upon his forearm.
Miss Bennet smiled her sweet smile once again and began to lead the small company toward the rose garden.
Miss Elizabeth looked less pleased with her company, and knowing from the previous evening that the lady favoured direct speech, Darcy asked, “Shall I offer my elbow, or would you prefer to walk alone?”
She stopped and at last raised her eyes to meet his. Her regard was frank, and once more, he felt naked beneath her assessing gaze.
“Are you not afraid of giving consequence to one such as myself by offering your arm to me?” He thought she was teasing him, but he was unsure as of yet how to respond.
Then she continued, her voice arch, “I thank you for your consideration, although with your injuries perhaps it is I who ought to offer you my arm for support. I am happy to walk unassisted for the nonce but shall inform you should I grow tired.”
“I can hardly believe you ever grow tired, Miss Elizabeth.” Had he uttered those words aloud? He seemed insistent upon ruining any hopes he had of procuring her good opinion. But instead of turning from him or finding some cold response, she allowed her fixed smile to soften for a moment.
He had to take advantage of this slight improvement of her demeanour.
“Miss Elizabeth, please allow me once more to apologise for my thoughtless words last night. I cannot retract them, although I wish I could. If I had seen you through eyes not clouded with pain, I would have known in an instant that you are a very handsome woman.”
She halted her steps and turned her gaze upon him. Her eyes were brown with flecks of honey and likely changed according to the light. He felt himself drawn into them and took a deep breath to steady himself. It would not do to lose his composure in any way.
“You seek to flatter me, but I am not so easily swayed. I measure a man by his character and not his sweet words.”
In spite of himself, Darcy chuckled. This would be no young lady to be easily won.
“I sought not to flatter, merely to correct an untruth. If I wished to flatter, I would describe your eyes as golden-flecked pools and compare your hair to fountains of twilight made tangible,” he gestured to the light brown wisps that had escaped her coiffure and bonnet. “But I have not done that.”
Now she returned his laugh. The sound broke over him in peals of crystalline resonance, tinkling bells and rich chimes merged into one melodious sound, and he felt something deep within his being that he wished to put into words.
He could not utter a word, however; she would scorn him for certain on that account.
“No, sir, you have not.” She began once more to walk, leading him closer to the rose garden where Bingley and Miss Bennet were standing by one bush, peering at the beautiful blossoms thereupon.
“You have a sense of humour; that is one matter that speaks to your character.”
He bowed low—as low as his leg would allow him—and replied, “Then I shall endeavour to make you laugh as often as I might, Miss Elizabeth, in order to improve your opinion of me.”
“Does my opinion matter so very much?”
He walked a few steps in silence. It did matter, he discovered.
It mattered very much indeed, although he dare not say the words, or even admit the entirety of it to himself.
It would never do to raise her hopes, or his.
He must, eventually, be away from these parts, and hopefully to expose a traitor to King and Country, and she must suffer the ignominy of being a known traitor’s daughter.
Even in the most gentle of outcomes, should Bennet avoid the noose and retain his estate, her reputation and those of her sisters would be in tatters, irreparably and devastatingly destroyed.
‘Twas a fine thing, then, that the eldest and loveliest Miss Bennet seemed to have no marked preference for Bingley, for her placid smile seemed too cool for deep affection; it would be all the easier to remove his friend thus from the area if his attentions were not returned.
Instead of voicing his thoughts, however, he uttered, “If I am to become a part of Meryton’s society, even for a few short weeks, I would prefer not to be held in anybody’s poor opinion.
Whilst I know I have not Bingley’s natural charm and ability to make friends wherever he goes, I can only hope that my presence is looked upon with pleasure, or at least benevolent disinterest, rather than with displeasure. ”
Her eyes were cool again as she replied, “I cannot imagine your presence should ever be regarded with indifference.”
She said no more on the subject, and within two or three paces they had caught up with Miss Bennet and Bingley, who were discussing some details of the cultivation of different varieties of roses.
The four now entered into an entirely safe discussion of soil and water and which colour rose was each man’s favourite, all remarking at last that the beauty of the rose itself was such that the particular shade was inconsequential.
When at last Darcy and Bingley took their leave of the family and summoned the carriage to transport them back to Netherfield, they carried with them a small basket of the loveliest of the flowers, to adorn whatever surface Bingley thought best. It had been Miss Elizabeth’s idea, Darcy noted with a satisfied grin.
Miss Bennet had agreed at once, with her calm voice, but it was the gesture by Miss Elizabeth that had stirred Darcy’s sentiments.
He had offered an olive branch of sorts and had been repaid in kind.