Chapter I #2
Then he stopped. Mr. Darcy said nothing more.
In fact, he appeared almost surprised that he was standing before her.
Though hilarity welled in Elizabeth’s breast, she said nothing, waiting for him to speak.
The gentleman seemed to recall that conversation required speech, and at last his tongue loosened.
“As I recall, you are an excellent walker.”
“Yes, though I suppose I should not compliment myself so openly!” replied Elizabeth. “You have seen me walking enough in Kent to understand my preferences, and then there was that infamous morning I walked three miles to Netherfield to attend to Jane.”
Mr. Darcy’s responding grin made him appear almost boyish.
He turned away, tying his horse to a nearby post, patting its head when it nickered, then returned his attention to Elizabeth.
Then he became reticent again, apparently lost in thought.
Suspecting the silence might become awkward this time, Elizabeth spoke to alleviate the discomfort.
“I must thank you again for allowing us to tour Pemberley. I have found Derbyshire quite delightful.”
“You approve of Derbyshire?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“I do,” replied Elizabeth. “It differs from Hertfordshire—wilder and untamed. As those words might describe my character equally well, it must be no surprise that I like Derbyshire very well indeed.”
“Wild? Untamed?” demanded the gentleman, his lips trembling with mirth. “That is not an accurate description at all.”
“Then how would you describe me?” asked Elizabeth, curious about what he would say.
“Vivacious, perhaps?” suggested Mr. Darcy. “Lively or spirited.”
“I am not a horse, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, dryly.
“No one could mistake you for a horse, Miss Bennet,” said the gentleman, the irony in his voice amusing her despite herself.
“Either way,” said Elizabeth, pushing this silly conversation aside, “you may be assured that I approve of your county. There—now it is settled. Derbyshire is the best of all counties. I have proven my aunt’s assertions.”
“Mrs. Reynolds mentioned your aunt still had some family in the area.”
“That is my understanding,” said Elizabeth, “though I am not at all acquainted with them. I shall meet some of them before we leave the neighborhood.”
That provided a topic of conversation that occupied them for several moments. Elizabeth perceived, however, that Mr. Darcy’s mind was not on the conversation, though what he was thinking she did not know. He seemed distracted, his frequent glances at her filled with questions.
It was an insight into his character that Elizabeth had never considered before.
She had always seen Mr. Darcy as haughty, proud, and above his company, unwilling to speak unless he considered his companions worth his time.
Now that she knew him better, she was certain this was in part because of his reticence.
More than that, however, she now perceived that he often drew into himself when preoccupied by his thoughts, perhaps not even understanding how silent he had become.
Just when they were in danger of lapsing into silence, Mr. Darcy changed the subject again.
“Miss Bennet,” said he, appearing nervous. “I wondered . . . That is . . . If you will indulge me . . .”
When the gentleman fell silent again, Elizabeth, charmed by his hesitation, said: “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”
The gentleman did not respond at once, then he blurted: “My sister is to return to Pemberley today. Would you allow me to introduce her to you and your relations?”
It was all Elizabeth could do to keep a straight face. “Unless I am mistaken, I believe you already proposed such an introduction, Mr. Darcy. I am more than willing, and even eager to make your sister’s acquaintance.”
Mr. Darcy blinked, then looked away. He was not the sort to color when he was embarrassed, but if he did, Elizabeth was certain he would resemble a ripe cherry. Again, she had to force her mirth away.
“Ah . . . Yes, I suppose I have.”
The gentleman paused, gathering himself. “Georgiana is quite shy, you see. She does not make friends easily—I am certain she would appreciate an introduction to a young lady near her age.”
“That must be a falsehood, Mr. Darcy!” cried Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy turned to her in shock. Then he seemed to catch her mischievous smirk, and his own lips turned up in response.
“Why, no less an authority than Miss Bingley herself has spoken of your sister!” continued Elizabeth. “When I meet her, I expect to find that she is at least ten feet tall, with a presence so commanding that I must shrink in terror!”
Though amused by her witticism, Mr. Darcy could not stop himself from glancing heavenward. “Georgiana is not as Miss Bingley suggested.”
“Is that so?” asked Elizabeth, arching a brow. “I never would have guessed.”
They laughed together, the tension between them broken. Then Mr. Darcy sobered, seemed to steel himself, and changed the subject again.
“I find myself curious, Miss Bennet,” said he. “Though I had not the wit to see it, something has altered between us.”
“Without a doubt,” agreed Elizabeth.
“Considering our last meeting, it is curious.”
Then Elizabeth knew what he was asking. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his arm, looking up at him, realizing for the first time how tall and handsome he was.
“Perhaps, Mr. Darcy, it is best to forget our last meeting. If we examine what happened, I suspect we agree that neither of us behaved well.”
Mr. Darcy searched her eyes. “Then your opinion of me is not the same.”
“How could it be?” asked Elizabeth. “As you appear determined not to speak plainly, I shall do so in your stead. I did read your letter.”
“And what was your conclusion?” asked he, impatient to hear her answer.
“Can you doubt it?”
“The results appear clear,” said he, “but I sense they are more complicated than your answer suggests.”
Elizabeth nodded and prepared to respond, remembering her initial skepticism, her growing certainty that his account was true, and the resulting change in her opinions of both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth could not say how much her feelings had changed; she knew they had changed enough to have a different perspective.
“At first, I was uncertain,” said Elizabeth, thinking back to those days. “In the matter of Mr. Bingley and my sister, I understood your concerns, though I do still believe you were a little officious in that affair.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, appearing pained. “I shall not attempt to defend myself, Miss Bennet. At the time, I believed I was concerned only for my friend, but I have since learned to question my motives.”
Elizabeth nodded, not wishing to debate the matter further. With Mr. Bingley coming to Pemberley and Mr. Darcy intending to introduce Georgiana to her, she realized for the first time that a reunion between Jane and Mr. Bingley had become much more likely.
“Regarding Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, her thoughts darkening, “I have discovered that I have been vain and judgmental, and far less skilled at sketching characters than I had always supposed.”
From the long breath the gentleman released, Elizabeth was certain this was the crux of the matter—not merely that she believed his account of Mr. Wickham, but that she no longer considered Mr. Darcy the worst of men.
For the first time, Elizabeth confronted the notion that Mr. Darcy still loved her and wished to learn if she might be amenable to the renewal of his addresses.
While it was still far too early for such a step, Elizabeth could not help the thrill she felt at the notion.
Having already acknowledged there was far more to like in this serious man than she had allowed, she now wondered what it would be like to be the object of his open affection rather than merely suspect it.
“I am glad to hear it, Miss Bennet,” said he, his expression brightening like sunlight emerging from behind a cloud. “I would not have you duped by a man such as Wickham.”
“The regiment is gone from Meryton now,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy understood at once. “Moved to their summer encampment, I suppose.”
“Yes,” agreed Elizabeth. “They departed in late May for Brighton.”
Elizabeth paused, uncertain whether to say it, but then she pressed forward. “My youngest sister, Lydia, has gone as Mrs. Forster’s particular companion.”