Chapter Nine
Darcy awoke with a mind unquiet. The night had afforded little rest, and he rose earlier than was his habit. For some time he stood at the window watching the tide creep steadily over the rocks below, while his thoughts returned unwillingly to the previous evening.
The business itself had progressed satisfactorily.
Captain Mountjoy desired only a speedy conclusion that he might return to sea, and Mr. Hargrave was equally anxious to resume his domestic comforts.
When the question arose of replacing Sir Thomas's contribution, Darcy had offered to supply the deficiency himself.
The proposal had been accepted without objection, though Mr. Gardiner's look suggested a curiosity he had not chosen to express before company.
Had they been alone, Darcy would have spoken more openly.
Mr. Gardiner was a man of business and would readily have understood what many gentlemen preferred to ignore; that a fortune might be enlarged by means other than land alone.
Darcy had no shame in such matters, though he was seldom inclined to discuss them beyond a small circle.
A brief glance had passed between them across the table which convinced him that further explanation could wait for another occasion.
His thoughts turned next to Lord Matlock and Ashford.
Both had encouraged his journey to Brinmouth with an eagerness which now appeared less accidental than he had first supposed.
Richard had laughed at the scheme, while Ashford and his wife had been more deliberate; yet all had urged him to come.
After meeting Madeline again, Darcy could not help wondering whether his relations had decided that her absence from his life had endured long enough.
From Madeline, his thoughts passed naturally to her niece.
That Miss Bennet should prove to be the same young lady who had already occupied his attention was an accident he had not anticipated.
Throughout the previous evening he had found himself observing her more than propriety justified.
She spoke little, yet never seemed at a loss for interest. Whether listening to Captain Mountjoy's lively accounts or replying to Mr. Hargrave's quieter observations, she displayed a good sense and consideration for others which he found increasingly difficult to disregard.
Such reflections were dangerous. He had known Miss Bennet scarcely three days. To build expectations upon so slight an acquaintance was folly, and Darcy was not a man given to romantic fancies. Yet reason proved less persuasive than usual that morning.
He left the window and crossed the room.
To walk upon the shore was natural enough; Brinmouth offered few alternatives, and he had no horse with him.
Twice accident had brought them together.
To seek a third meeting bordered upon design.
Darcy took up his coat. Whether prudence approved or not, his course was decided.
The air was cool, the tide half-turned, and the sand lay firm beneath his boots.
He told himself he came for exercise. He had not gone far before he perceived a figure walking ahead, the wind lifting the ribbons of her bonnet and the hem of her light gown.
The same servant as before followed at a respectful distance.
As he drew nearer, his step involuntarily diminished, for the lady before him was Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
For a moment he debated retreat, but retreat was impossible. She had already turned, and upon seeing him paused with an expression of surprise which was quickly schooled into composure. He removed his hat and bowed.
“Miss Bennet.”
“Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied with equal propriety, a faint colour rising in her cheek.
“You are abroad early. The shore is at its best in the morning.”
“I think so too, sir. The light changes every instant, and one is never weary of the view.”
They walked on for several moments in silence. The waves advanced and retreated upon the sand with a steady murmur.
“You have not long been at Brinmouth, I think.”
“No, sir. Only since the day before yesterday.”
“You find it agreeable.”
“Very much so. I had not seen the sea before, and it is more various than I imagined. One cannot look upon it without feeling both small and enlarged at once.”
“It is indeed so. The sea teaches humility, and yet it gives a sense of freedom.”
She looked at him then, and for a moment neither spoke. They walked a little farther, the waves breaking softly at their side. Elizabeth stooped to examine a shell before letting it fall again to the sand.
“It is strange,” she said, straightening, “to think that the same water which touches our feet here has touched lands I shall never see.”
“I have often thought the same. When I was a child, I imagined that if I followed the tide long enough, I might come to those distant shores myself. Later I understood it was a dream, yet it has never wholly left me.”
Her lips curved. “I think it is a dream worth keeping.”
A wave broke closer than the last, and they both stepped back from the waterline without speaking, adjusting their course up the sand. The footman behind them did the same.
Darcy was silent a moment before saying, “Your uncle must be satisfied with Brinmouth, to have chosen it for his business. He has conducted himself with remarkable prudence in this venture.”
Elizabeth's expression brightened. “Yes. My uncle has a talent for seeing both sides of a question, and he never presses beyond what is fair. He is very much respected in town.”
“I do not doubt it. It is a quality not always found, even among those who pride themselves on judgment.”
Before he could think of anything further to say, Elizabeth spoke again. “My aunt is happy to be in your presence once more. She told me a little of her time with your mother, and of you as a boy.”
“Did she? She and my mother were often together. I was much in her company in those years.”
“She said you were like a younger brother to her.”
A shadow of warmth crossed his expression. “Madeline was very good to me. I owed her more than I ever had words to say. It is a satisfaction to see her well settled, and to know she is surrounded by so much affection.”
“She deserves it.”
Darcy inclined his head, and for some time they walked on without speaking. At length the footman, with the discretion proper to his station, drew somewhat nearer, and Darcy, understanding the caution, slackened his pace.
“I will not intrude further upon your walk, Miss Bennet.”
“You are not intruding, sir. The sea is wide enough for us both.”
He bowed, but she added, “My aunt is pleased that you accepted her invitation for tea. She looks forward to speaking further.”
“The pleasure will be mine. There is much to discuss.”