Chapter 20
It had been a week since the party at Darcy House. Mr. Aldridge had called at Gracechurch Street twice. He came at the proper time, stayed a quarter of an hour, then a half an hour, and was easy with her uncle in a manner few of Lady Anne’s gentlemen could have managed.
He spoke to Aunt Gardiner about Derbyshire wool, to Jane about medicinal gardens, and to Elizabeth about Fielding.
When he rose to go, he bowed over her aunt’s hand first, which her aunt appreciated.
On the second call he had left a book—not for Elizabeth, for her uncle—a treatise on canal shares her uncle had mentioned once, in passing, at Lady Anne’s party.
It was expertly done.
Mr. Aldridge was intelligent, kind, and patient. But Elizabeth found her thoughts wandering to the man who had stepped in to help her escape a difficult situation.
Over the course of their acquaintance, Mr. Darcy had insulted her, avoided her, and watched her in silence.
He had also complimented her and walked with her.
He had revealed a sense of humour she had not known he possessed.
And he had somehow appeared at precisely the moment she had most needed assistance.
Elizabeth did not, as a rule, appreciate being commanded.
But she had been happy to have Mr. Darcy take command of that situation.
So she was grateful to Mr. Darcy, but gratitude alone could not explain what she had felt when she turned and saw him approaching. It had been relief, swift and deep. But there had been another sentiment, one she could not quite identify.
She tried to pay attention to what was happening before her and was pleased to see that Jane was speaking quietly with Mr. Aldridge. As for her, there was nothing to be done with such confused feelings until she saw Mr. Darcy again, and so she must bide her time and be patient.
Tuesday took her uncle into Mayfair on business, and, as usual, he left them at the park.
It was a raw, bright morning, and the paths were nearly empty.
Jane had not come today, for she found the cold trying and preferred to remain indoors.
But she begged Elizabeth and Aunt Gardiner not to stay with her, knowing how they prized these mornings.
“I will keep to the house with my workbasket and the children,” she had said, “and be perfectly content.”
Elizabeth took in a breath of frosty air. She did enjoy walking in here, for it was the closest she could come to a walk at home while still in London.
Aunt Gardiner had just said, “My dear, about Jane—” when Elizabeth’s eyes went to a bend in the path where Mr. Darcy had just appeared.
Elizabeth did not start. She only adjusted the ribbon of her bonnet, though it needed no adjustment, and looked down at the path until he had come near enough to bow.
It was Tuesday, after all. On Tuesdays, Mr. Darcy took exercise in this direction.
On Tuesdays, he had business that brought him to the south walk at precisely the hour when she and her aunt were often to be found here.
Elizabeth had noticed the coincidence, and while she did not understand it, she was beginning to count upon it.
Mr. Darcy bowed. “Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Darcy.” Aunt Gardiner drew her shawl closer. “You find us very determined today, I am afraid. Though I cannot say the weather rewards us for it.”
“It is a sharp morning,” he said.
“Sharp is a generous word.” She looked towards the open stretch of path ahead.
“Lizzy, my dear, I believe I shall sit a moment on the bench here. The view is quite pretty from there, and with the trees on either side, it may be better sheltered from the wind.”
Elizabeth glanced at her. “Shall I come sit with you?”
“No, no. You were enjoying the walk. Pray go on a little further.” Her aunt moved towards the bench beneath the beeches. “Mr. Darcy, you will not let her be blown into the Serpentine, I trust?”
“I shall do my best to prevent it.”
“A very proper answer.” Aunt Gardiner sat, tucked her shawl about her, and looked out across the grounds. “There. I am perfectly content.”
Elizabeth remained where she was for a moment. “You are certain?”
“Quite.” Her aunt’s eyes flicked briefly from Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy, then back to the view. “Pray take your walk. I can see you all the way down the path from here if you turn back before the path curves into the trees.”
There was nothing to answer to that. Elizabeth returned to the path, and Mr. Darcy walked beside her.
They had gone only a little way beyond the bench when Elizabeth said, “I have not yet thanked you.”
Mr. Darcy looked at her. “For what?”
“For coming to my rescue at your mother’s unexpectedly large party.”
He shook his head.
“Captain Lyle was becoming very tiresome,” she continued, “and I could not easily remove myself without either turning my back to him, which I believe would have been unwise, or making a great deal of noise, which would have ensured everyone present would have known what was happening.” She had done nothing wrong, and so screaming ought not to have brought down any shame on her. But it would have, just the same.
Mr. Darcy frowned. “He should not have troubled you.”
“No. But he did. And you were . . .” She smiled playfully at him. “Useful.” He had been impressive, but she would not say so and embarrass him.
He returned the smile. “I am glad of it.”
They walked on a few paces. Aunt Gardiner remained on the bench behind them, her shawl drawn close, her face turned towards the view.
“There is something else,” Elizabeth said. “I ought also to thank you for your mother’s kindness. My sister’s withdrawal from Mr. Bingley might have made matters awkward, but Lady Anne has been so generous. First to invite us at all, then to continue to include us.”
“My mother likes your sister.”
“That is generous too, under the circumstances.”
“It is true.” He hesitated. “And my mother is not inclined to punish a young woman for being honest.”
Elizabeth looked at him quickly, but his eyes were on the path ahead.
“Is Mr. Bingley still in town?” she asked.
“No, he has gone into Yorkshire to visit family.”
“I see. And his sisters?”
“Miss Bingley remains in town with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.”
“Ah.” Too bad they had not gone with their brother.
“I do not know how long Bingley intends to be away,” he said. “He spoke of returning in April so that he might finish the season when more of his friends are in town.”
Elizabeth nodded. Jane had seen Mr. Bingley clearly, for he could not stay away from town long, even to nurse a bruised heart. “And Netherfield?”
“He has not given it up.”
That answer caught her more than she wished. “No?”
“No. He has written to his steward there. There are matters still to be settled.” There was something in his voice that made her slow a bit. Mr. Darcy slowed with her.
“I have been wishing to speak to you of Hertfordshire, in fact, and I should take this opportunity to do so,” he said.
She turned to him. “Of Hertfordshire?”
“Yes.” He drew a breath. “Of Netherfield and my conduct there.”
Elizabeth said nothing.
“I owe you an apology, Miss Elizabeth. More than one, perhaps, but I shall begin with the clearest. I was distressed about matters that had little to do with you and believed that because I was unhappy that I was excused from courtesy.”
Her colour rose, but she kept her voice even. “You did not like us.”
“That is not it. I did not even know you then.”
She looked away, watching a curricle pass at some distance. Behind them, Aunt Gardiner still sat beneath the trees. She was far enough away now that she could not hear them. She glanced at them, however, and then, satisfied, turned back.
“Why tell me this now?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because I should have told you before,” he said. “Alas, there has been little opportunity. My mother knew I had behaved badly and forbade me to seek you out at her parties. I believe she has softened on that point, provided I remember myself.”
Elizabeth could hardly keep from laughing. The great Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley, sent to his own mother’s parties with a warning to be on his best behaviour. It was a wonder he had come at all. She found she was not sorry that he had.
All she said was “That sounds like Lady Anne.”
“It does.” He clasped his hands behind his back as they walked. “But her kindness to your sister does not undo my insult to you. Nor does your sister’s decision as regards Bingley absolve me of my part in leaving Netherfield.”
Her heart gave a quick, uncomfortable beat. “You advised him to leave?”
“I did not. But neither did I oppose his sisters when they insisted upon closing the house. I was only able to see that the servants, who had the expectation of a year’s place, did not suffer for the loss of it.”
Here was another part of his character she would not have expected. “That was kind of you, to act in Mr. Bingley’s stead.”
“It was the first question he asked of me when we met in town.”
After a moment, she said, “You have surprised me.”
They had reached the point where the path curved into the trees. Elizabeth turned, as her aunt had instructed, and began to head back towards the bench.
“I was churlish to you at the assembly,” Mr. Darcy said.
Elizabeth looked straight ahead. “At the assembly?”
“Yes.” His voice was even, but not easy. “I spoke of you to Bingley, but I was aware that you could hear me.”
“Indeed, I could.”
“It was shameful, to say what I did. And utterly untrue.”
She did not reply. It was so direct an admission she could offer no parry.
“I was angry that evening. Not at you, of course. I had been pressed on all sides, and instead of bearing it like a gentleman, I took refuge in being disagreeable.”
“Pressed?” she asked.
He nodded. “Gossip about my income, of course. But primarily Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose.