Chapter 39
E lizabeth came down the stairs almost instantly, buttoning her pelisse as she skipped effortlessly from step to step.
Her velvet calash was already in place, and as she greeted me, she took her umbrella from the housekeeper and said, “I am just on my way out for my afternoon walk, Mr Darcy. Would you care to join me?”
As we stepped outside where Keller waited with my carriage, she called up to him with palpable warmth, “Good day, Mr Keller! It seems we only ever meet where it is raining.”
My coachman swelled with the pleasure of being singled out for her notice, and after he returned her greeting, I nodded towards the horses, which had been standing longer than he liked, and directed him to walk them to the end of the drive.
Under our umbrellas, Elizabeth and I followed in the ruts of gravel made by my coach as it slowly rolled towards the road.
“I have spoken to your father.”
“I know,” she replied, “and I am determined not to be curious as to what you said to him.”
“I applied for permission to spend more time with you.”
“How very proper of you. Did he abuse you for your troubles?”
“I was merely subjected to the gentle application of his particular gift.”
“Oh dear,” she sighed. “How I wish he would not be quite so wicked.”
“I chose to take it as a compliment, however, and told him that the simplest interpretation of his rudeness was that he was treating me as though I were already a member of the family.”
Her rueful expression cleared to one of gleeful appreciation. “Bravo, Mr Darcy! I expect he will almost be polite the next time you meet. But—oh Lord. My mother?—”
“She does not yet know. I asked for, and was granted, a reprieve for the sake of our privacy. This, however, brings me to what I also wanted to talk to you about. Our opportunities to meet, so newly sanctioned, are dwindling as we speak. Bingley is returning to London.”
“So soon?”
“Miss Johnson ostensibly has a cold, but I suspect it is only her feelings with respect to Miss Bingley that have gone cold. In any case, I believe Bingley is following her to town as an affirmation of where his loyalties now lie, and he has even relegated his sisters to a period of exile in Sussex.”
“Sussex? I am surprised, for I have always thought he deferred to their opinions in all cases. I can only suppose this means he truly does love Miss Johnson.”
“I have come to the same conclusion.” I then braced myself to raise a topic I dreaded. “How fares your sister in all this? Bingley’s attentions to her last year were too marked to overlook, and if I am not mistaken, Miss Bennet might have been…misled.”
“The whole business is unfortunate, and yes, it has been difficult for her. But she suspects that I am right in concluding that some of the attentions lavished upon her by you, your sister, and cousin are meant to soften the blow. She is embarrassed to realise that her weakness for Mr Bingley was so obvious to you but equally grateful to be shielded from the worst sort of pity from our neighbours.”
I spoke carefully. “Our presence is but a poor apology for siding with Bingley’s sisters last year. I have come too late to a full appreciation of Miss Bennet’s qualities. Can you forgive me?”
“If I am honest, I am surprised at how little inclined I am to resent whatever part you played in separating them. In retrospect, the outcome may not have been so bad, since few women want a husband whose head is quite as easily turned as Mr Bingley’s appears to have been.
If we had the luxury of a very long walk, we might pick apart the intricacies of this conundrum, but I fear the end of our conversation is nearing and—what now, Mr Darcy?
Are we to be separated again? Our story seems to be one of collisions of fate blighted by constant interruption. ”
We were by this time at the end of the drive, and we turned to face one another from beneath our umbrellas. I took her hand and savoured the softness of her expression and the admiration that shone from her eyes.
“With your permission, I intend to write a different story for us, Elizabeth.”
“I look forward to reading it,” she murmured as I took her hand to my lips. I then stepped into my coach, and rather than turning around to walk home, it was her turn to stand in the rain and watch me go.
In a state close to euphoria, I returned to Netherfield Park.
It mattered little to me that I had not yet had the opportunity to declare myself.
I had made clear my intentions, and it appeared Elizabeth was willing.
Though I was all but assured of the outcome, I was disinclined to proceed in haste.
I had been sincere when I had told her this fitful, trepidatious dance of courtship should not be rushed.
The suspense was so delicious that I could not yet give up this period of pursuit.
Besides, I still felt strongly that she must be given some time to know me as a suitor, to become accustomed to my demonstrations of regard, and to be given ample opportunity to be herself when in my company.
For this particular insight, I had the ready example of Miss Johnson, who was betrothed to Bingley, it seemed to me, without the benefit of experiencing him at his worst—when he was tired, when he was cross, and more saliently, when he was forced to rise to the challenges of life.
And Bingley, a man so used to a life of amiable ease, had given his lady no opportunities to educate him as to how she expected him to behave or even when he should wisely leave her alone.
He would marry her in happy ignorance that his wishes did not miraculously match hers in all cases.
I had several friends who had married very young ladies, and after a period in which they were forgiven every error and had begun to believe they were free to behave just as stupidly as they always had, were abruptly shown otherwise.
Though I had also seen evidence that love can conquer a great many obstacles, I was too practical to leave Elizabeth’s happiness to chance.
She had seen me at my very worst, and she had seen me rise to a challenge, but she had not yet seen me tolerant or humbled.
In other words, she did not know who I had become after my recent education at the hands of rough living.
I wished to marry with a much deeper and more solid understanding, and to this end, by the time I stepped downstairs for dinner that evening, I had devised and executed a plan to rewrite our story according to the rules of our own making.
I wished I could have forewarned Georgiana as to what I had done, but I had only sufficient time to conduct my business and change for dinner.
I wrote several notes and handed them to Carsten for immediate dispatch, and with a twinge of guilt for holding my cards too close, I escorted my sister to the table.
By the closed look on her face as I pulled out her chair, I surmised that she already knew we would be forced to leave Hertfordshire earlier than she liked.
More than that, however, I suspected that I was being lightly punished for abandoning her to an afternoon in the company of unhappy women.
Upon kind enquiry by Mrs Annesley regarding Miss Johnson’s health, Bingley glibly replied that he was very anxious for her and hoped he could be forgiven for abandoning the party.
Directly after a few required murmurings of concern and well wishes from around the table, Fitzwilliam announced he would return to his regiment, and Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst began to talk of closing the house.
After speculating whether the chandeliers should be covered or if they should be left for the housekeeper to polish, Miss Bingley suddenly turned to her sister.
“Louisa, we have been speaking too happily of leaving Meryton without once thinking of poor Miss Darcy.” Then turning to address my sister, she spoke caressingly. “You must be terribly distressed to leave your particular friend so soon, my dear.”
Georgiana, still too young to have fully trained her body not to betray her feelings, stiffened against the tartness so expertly woven into that profession of concern. She did not instantly reply, and taking advantage of her momentary confusion, I raised my glass to my hostess.
“Your sympathy does you credit, Miss Bingley. But since I have invited Mrs Bennet and her daughters to visit us in London, my sister’s enjoyment of her friends need not be interrupted.”