Chapter 8 #3
Aunt Gardiner laughed, and the conversation moved on.
The fright under the marquee was not forgotten, but it was already being transformed into a story people would repeat.
By tomorrow, Elizabeth suspected, Mr. Darcy’s rescue would be vastly more thrilling, and Henry’s fish would have required a boat to carry it.
Elizabeth let the talk swirl about her. It was easier now to sit among them than it had been that morning. Or perhaps she was easier.
Miss Darcy was with Mrs. Annesley at the far side of the party, attending to Miss Pelham and Miss Elinor with quiet perseverance.
She was pale from effort but composed. When Elizabeth caught her eye, the girl smiled quickly, then returned to her guests.
Elizabeth liked her the better for it. There was courage in remaining where one was needed, even when one would rather be elsewhere.
Aunt Gardiner turned her face towards the line of hills beyond the lawn. “I had forgotten how much the light changes the view here. Or rather, I had not forgotten it, but I find memory a poor substitute. My husband admires the hills, but he cannot feel triumphant at the sight of them, as I do.”
Mr. Darcy’s expression warmed. “Then I am glad you have returned to them.”
“So am I. And greedier than ever. Every path I see reminds me that I have not time enough for half of them. Unlike my niece, I am not a great walker.”
“The ground rises beyond those trees,” he said, indicating the line with a slight motion of his hand. “From the upper path, you can see how the valley opens. You take the bridge over and walk up the rise.”
“Is that the bridge half hidden by birch trees?”
“Yes. In winter it can be seen from the house, but in summer one does not come upon it until the last moment.”
Aunt Gardiner’s face brightened with recognition. “I remember that. Or something like it. My father once took me walking near a bridge where the trees met overhead, and I thought it the finest place in the world.”
“I would not contradict you,” said Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I see how it is. My aunt has found an accomplice.”
“In admiring Derbyshire?” said Mr. Darcy. “I hope I may be permitted so natural an alliance.”
“A risky one. Between the two of you, we shall be marched over every hill in the county before Monday.”
Aunt Gardiner smiled, but there was regret beneath it. “No, my dear. That is precisely the trouble. We cannot see all that.”
“No,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Not before Monday.”
Monday. The word was nothing. A day fixed by innkeepers, roads, trunks, letters, and all the dull machinery by which people were moved from one place to another. Yet her heart sank a little.
Aunt Gardiner’s tone remained light. “Then we must be wise in our choices.”
Mr. Darcy looked from her to the hills, and then, only briefly, to Elizabeth. “Yes indeed.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam called to him then, demanding judgment on whether cold chicken could properly be called restorative, and Mr. Darcy was drawn away. Aunt Gardiner turned and admired the prospect with an innocence so complete that Elizabeth distrusted it at once.
“You are very quiet, Aunt.”
“I am enjoying Derbyshire.”
For several minutes Elizabeth sat with her aunt and permitted herself to enjoy Derbyshire too.
The day seemed determined to reward the effort. The air was mild, neither hot nor cold; the leaves above them moved occasionally in a light breeze, and every movement sent spots of sun shifting over the cloths, the plates, the hems of gowns. From the water came the low, steady sound of its passage.
A footman offered each of them peaches from a basket, and Elizabeth accepted one.
“This one has been bruised in the campaign,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, turning it in his hands as he approached.
“Then it suits the company,” said Elizabeth.
His eyes lit up. “Excellent. We shall all claim to have been tested and found delicious.”
“Speak for yourself, Colonel.”
“I generally do.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “You are ridiculous.”
“My dear Darcy, I do not make things ridiculous. I merely reveal them to be so.”
“That is what every ridiculous man believes.”
Elizabeth could not help it—she laughed. Mr. Darcy’s answering smile came more readily this time.
It should not have thrilled her as much as it did. The day stood bright and unhurried around them, yet it was passing too quickly, and she wished to slow it down.
Aunt Gardiner, with a tact Elizabeth both admired and resented, turned to admire a stand of trees beyond the lawn. “If we were to be very wise in our choices, Mr. Darcy, which walk would you recommend before we leave?”
“The rise above the river,” he said after a moment. “It is steep but not long, and the view at the top repays the trouble.”
“Then we must consider it.”
“I should be happy to show it to you before you leave,” Mr. Darcy said, perhaps a bit too quickly. His eyes remained on Elizabeth’s a moment too long. “The rest of the company might enjoy it as well,” he added, with more care.
Elizabeth looked away first. “I am sure the rest of the company would be grateful.”
“Then we must not deprive them of such a pleasure,” said Aunt Gardiner, with a look of perfect innocence.