Chapter 20
Elizabeth had just finished her breakfast when a letter from Jane arrived.
She had been ruminating on her father’s decision to send Lydia to Brighton in her mother’s company, and opened the letter thinking that Jane would have written about the same.
The news inside made her forget all about Lydia and Brighton.
Jane was finally reunited with Mr. Bingley, and by all accounts the gentleman was as devoted as he had ever been.
He had already called a few times at her uncle’s home and had even invited Jane on an outing to the theatre.
Jane’s happiness was apparent even through her cautious letter; she had chided her for not disclosing all that had passed between her and Mr. Darcy.
A blush spread across Elizabeth’s face at the mention of the gentleman.
Her silence about him had not been solely to spare Jane’s feelings, but to conceal her own.
She was now even more confused, for she had realised that she craved the gentleman’s attention.
Was she such a fickle creature that her feelings changed the moment her vanity was satisfied?
She admonished herself. Her aunt was still confined to her bedchamber and Mrs. Ashcombe had gone to the dower house.
Deciding that a walk would help her clear her mind, she put on her outerwear and was soon walking briskly on the path towards the churchyard.
Darcy had just sat down with a cup of coffee as he checked his post when Mrs. Ashcombe walked in and unceremoniously sat down next to him. She had such an expectant look about her that Darcy completely ignored her in favour of his tedious business letters just to be contrary.
“No wonder you were rejected, Fitzwilliam. No woman appreciates being ignored so thoroughly,” Mrs. Ashcombe said in a clipped tone, breaking the silence.
“You are no hapless lady waiting to be granted my leave to speak,” Darcy finally put down his letter.
“Nor is the lady you are trying to woo. If anything, she is the complete opposite of hapless.”
“I am well aware of that, madam.”
“Then, whatever are you doing to gain her approval?”
“I am a grown man and quite capable of handling my own affairs,” Darcy answered, annoyed.
“Yes, clearly that is why a lady with no fortune to speak of decided that refusing you was better than being Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. You may be the first Darcy to have been refused by a lady. Even your mother, the daughter of an Earl, was obliged when your father asked for her hand.”
“I am aware that my father was a much better man and I am just trying to follow his footsteps.”
“The problem is that it is you who needs to woo the lady, not your father. I suggest you apply yourself to this business of courtship with much greater diligence.”
“I am not sure I understand your meaning,” Darcy replied with a frown.
“You have been used to women hanging on to your every word. Miss Elizabeth is different; you will have to put yourself out there if you want to have any chance of winning her. Your silent glare will not achieve anything. Talk to her nephew, you have the opportunity while you are both here.”
“I am talking to her. We spoke at length yesterday when I called at the house.”
“The problem, my dear nephew, is your reticent nature, what may appear to you as a very forward conversation may just leave her confused. Why would she think that there is any chance of a man already refused to persist with his preference? She probably sees your conversation as civility, nothing more.”
“That is not logical. I proposed to her because I care for her deeply. Her not returning the sentiment cannot make me forget my own.”
“Was she aware of the depth of your regard? She may have thought it a passing inclination or a flight of fancy. The point I am trying to make is that you should not leave her in any doubt regarding your feelings.”
Darcy was quiet for some time, reflecting on his aunt’s advice.
Then, changing the subject, he asked his aunt’s opinion about renovating the dower house.
Mrs. Ashcombe understood her nephew’s need for change in subject and took advantage of it.
It had been some time since she had last done up a house and her hands were itching to get on with this cottage.
The structure was sound and spacious; it just needed new drapes and upholstery, and maybe some new furniture and new wallpapers would hardly be remiss.
Mrs. Ashcombe got up and moved around the house, deciding that new carpets were an absolute necessity.
As for the chandelier in the front parlour—it was atrocious.
Darcy, seeing his Aunt was now completely occupied, took his leave for a ride across the countryside.
He needed to reflect on the recent conversation.
He was very much aware that Elizabeth had no idea of his preference when he had first proposed.
Maybe he should actually put propriety and decorum aside and be forthright with the lady.
There was no sense in clinging to his false sense of polite manners after the debacle at Hunsford.
If frankness was what might gain him the lady’s approval, he would do his very best to be as open and agreeable as possible.
He had just turned towards the stables when he saw the object of his thought walking out of the main house on the path leading towards the churchyard. Quickly he changed his path and called out to her.
“Miss Bennet, I was planning to go for a ride, but if you do not mind the company, may I accompany you on your walk.”
“Of course, sir, but I thought your aunt was at the dower house.”
“Well, yes. I have just set her to planning the renovation of the dower house and I do not think my company will be required any more. I doubt that she has even noticed that I have left.”
“It must be gratifying to have enough funds to resolve all your problems. A renovation of the house on a whim is no small matter.”
“I will not deny that my position in society, the Darcy name, and Pemberley’s prosperity has always been a significant part of my identity. I was born to it and have long taken it for granted, but the work here is being done out of Willowmere’s own funds.”
“You are able to spend those funds for the benefit of the estate and house because you do not have any need for more funds. The most honourable intentions may not be achieved if one is in want of funds.”
“That philosophy is not applicable to you, Miss Bennet. I have been thinking about Hunsford. Any other woman in your situation would have accepted my offer, no matter how little she esteemed me.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath before answering, “Mr. Darcy, you must have observed how unequal my parents’ marriage is. I had sworn at a very young age that I would never marry where there was no mutual respect. Affection in marriage is something I deeply desire, but respect is a necessity.”
“I know my proposal was badly done, and I regret every harsh word I uttered, but I would have you know that I have always respected you. Your wit and vivacity is what first attracted me to you.”
“In the spirit of this conversation, may I ask when you first realised your preference for me? I always thought that you disliked me.”
“Dislike you! I sought you out at every opportunity in Hertfordshire. There were times when I remained silent only because I feared raising expectations, but I assure you, it was an exercise in futility. You always had my full attention.”
Elizabeth blushed deeply and sought to change the topic. Remembering the letter from Jane she mentioned it to him. “It seems that your ill-judged interference did not do any lasting harm.”
“I am grateful. I had regretted my involvement for some time. Bingley is yet to write to me, but that is hardly surprising; he is the most careless of correspondents.”
“I had thought you exceptionally snobbish when you had spoken about Mr. Bingley’s atrocious writing at Netherfield,” Elizabeth recalled with amusement.
“I assure you, madam, that you would be similarly horrified if you had to deal with one of his over-enthusiastic missives.”
“I no longer doubt you, sir.”
They spent the remainder of the walk in easy conversation, trading anecdotes of Hertfordshire and Kent.
Darcy inquired after Mrs. Hardwicke’s health, and was assured that she was now much better and should soon be able to come downstairs.
As they reached back to the house, Elizabeth invited Darcy to come in for refreshments but he declined.
“My aunt has been left to her own devices long enough; I shudder to think what I shall find if I delay any further.”
Elizabeth laughed aloud at this and bade him good luck.
Unbeknownst to them, the exchange was observed from the upper gallery window, where Mrs. Hardwicke was taking a slow turn. With every private exchange between Elizabeth and Darcy, Mrs. Hardwicke’s unease deepened.