SEVEN
Oakham Mount.
Elizabeth
Aside from a single and entirely unwelcome appearance in her dreams on Sunday night, which she refused to examine too closely, Elizabeth had enjoyed a welcome respite from the gentlemen of Netherfield since their visit to Longbourn.
Three days of ordinary Hertfordshire life. It was precisely what she had needed.
Tuesday morning broke clear and cold. She set out early, before the rest of the household was fully awake, with no greater object than the pleasure of the walk itself.
For once, her thoughts were settled. She walked briskly, breathed the sharp morning air, and found herself more at ease than she had been for several weeks.
She was nearly at the summit of Oakham Mount when she saw him.
Even from behind, she knew him at once.
Mr. Darcy was seated upon a fallen log near the edge of the rise, entirely alone and looking out over the valley below.
He had not heard her approach.
Elizabeth stopped.
There was something undeniably absurd about the sight.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, possessed of ten thousand a year, seated upon a log in the Hertfordshire countryside at half-past seven in the morning as though he had nowhere else in the world to be.
As though sensing her attention, he turned his head.
Their eyes met.
For a moment Elizabeth forgot how to speak, and very nearly how to breathe.
Then she continued up the path, for there was nothing else to be done, and came to a halt a few feet away with what she hoped was an expression of complete unconcern.
"Mr. Darcy," she said. "Good morning."
"Miss Bennet." He rose at once. "Good morning."
Elizabeth looked at him, then at the log, before returning her gaze to his face.
"I seem destined to encounter you wherever I go," she observed. "It is beginning to feel almost deliberate."
"As I told you before, I am partial to morning walks."
"You did mention it. Yet I should have thought Hertfordshire possessed more than one suitable path, and somehow we continue to choose the same ones.
" She tilted her head slightly. "I had understood it was Miss Darcy whose acquaintance I was expected to cultivate.
Why is it her brother I keep encountering? "
To his credit, he appeared entirely untroubled by the accusation.
"You make a fair point. As it happens, you may remedy the matter today. Georgiana mentioned yesterday that she intended to write to you. Bingley, Hurst, and I are engaged to dine with Colonel Forster, and Georgiana hoped you might spend the afternoon at Netherfield. I trust you will oblige her."
"Colonel Forster?" Elizabeth raised her brows, choosing to ignore the mention of Georgiana's invitation. "You are acquainted with Colonel Forster?"
"I am."
Elizabeth smiled in surprise. "I should not have thought him a gentleman of your acquaintance. Meryton has largely convinced itself that you do not socialise."
"I have known Colonel Forster for several years," Darcy replied, a faint smile appearing in return. "He is a close friend of my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. They entered the militia together and served in London for some years before Colonel Forster obtained his present commission."
"I see." Elizabeth considered this. "Though I confess your calling at Longbourn still occasions me greater astonishment than your acquaintance with Colonel Forster. I had not imagined you a gentleman who visited people."
Darcy looked at her.
"I visit people."
"Mr. Darcy," she said pleasantly, "your first introduction to Meryton was that of a gentleman who stood in a corner and appeared unwilling to acknowledge the existence of anyone beyond his own party. You must forgive us for drawing conclusions."
"My first impression," he replied, with a gravity she strongly suspected was entirely sincere, "was formed under particularly unfortunate circumstances.
I had spent the greater part of the day travelling.
My sister was not in the best of spirits.
We were attending an assembly which Bingley had accepted on our behalf before consulting either of us, and I had not enjoyed so much as an hour to compose myself before being obliged to enter a crowded room full of strangers. "
He spread his gloved hands.
"It was, in short, a very bad day. Meryton must simply forgive me."
Elizabeth stared at him for a moment, then laughed.
Not the polite laugh she employed in company, but the genuine one, the sort that escaped before she had decided whether to permit it.
"That," she said, "is the greatest number of sincere words I have ever heard you speak at one time."
"You drew them out of me."
"Did I?" She was still smiling. "And are you truly sociable, Mr. Darcy?"
"In the right company."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, indeed."
Elizabeth glanced sideways at him.
He met the look with an expression that was, she felt certain, the nearest approach to unguardedness she had yet seen from him.
The morning lay quiet around them. Below, the valley was slowly awakening beneath the rising sun, the frost retreating from the fields as the light strengthened.
It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Mr. Darcy was considerably less disagreeable than Meryton had first led her to believe.
"I shall look forward to Georgiana's letter, then." She stepped back and began descending the path. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy."
"Good morning, Miss Bennet."
She had gone perhaps twenty yards down the slope before she permitted herself to smile properly.
Far enough away, she hoped, that he could not see it.
? ? ?
Longbourn
Elizabeth had been looking forward to a letter from Netherfield at breakfast and was therefore quite unprepared when Mr. Bennet announced, with a degree of amusement that immediately invited suspicion, that he had received a letter from his cousin, Mr. Collins, who proposed visiting Longbourn on Friday.
"Friday!" Mrs. Bennet set down her cup. "That is only three days away."
"So it is." Mr. Bennet seemed entirely pleased by the circumstance. "Lizzy, read the letter aloud, if you please." Drawing it from his coat, he handed it across the table. "It is, I believe, the most entertaining letter I have received in several years."
Elizabeth took the letter whilst her sisters abandoned all pretence of interest in their breakfasts and waited for her to begin.
Dear Sir,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much concern, and, since I have now reached an age at which I may judge for myself, I have frequently wished that some means of reconciliation might be effected between our respective branches of the family.
For some time, however, I was restrained from writing by doubts respecting the propriety of such a step, lest it should appear that I was wanting in due regard for the memory of my late father.
Having now the happiness of enjoying the distinguished patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose benevolence and condescension have been such as few men are fortunate enough to experience, I have been encouraged to believe that every Christian clergyman ought to promote harmony whenever it lies within his power to do so.
Under the guidance of so excellent a patroness, whose judgement I esteem most highly, I have therefore resolved to make the attempt.
Perhaps you may not be aware that I have lately been so fortunate as to receive the valuable living of Hunsford, in Kent, through the generosity of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
The duties of my office are considerable, yet I trust I discharge them with diligence and humility, and it is my constant endeavour to conduct myself in a manner worthy of the distinguished favour I have received.
The circumstance of my being the future possessor of Longbourn has not escaped my consideration.
Indeed, I have often reflected upon the hardship which the entail must occasion your amiable daughters, and I am by no means insensible to the inconvenience of an arrangement which deprives them of an estate to which they might otherwise look forward with confidence.
As the future inheritor of Longbourn, I have therefore long felt it incumbent upon me to make every suitable reparation within my power.
After much consideration, and with the approbation of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose advice upon matters of consequence I always seek with gratitude and respect, I have determined that the most eligible means of accomplishing this object would be by forming a matrimonial connexion with one of your daughters, should such an arrangement prove agreeable to all parties concerned.
You may perhaps think me hasty in expressing myself so plainly, but I have always considered openness and sincerity among the greatest ornaments of the clerical character.
In order that I may have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of yourself, Mrs. Bennet, and your daughters, and of judging whether my hopes may be reasonably entertained, I propose waiting upon you at Longbourn on Friday the eighth of November at two o'clock in the afternoon.
I trust this arrangement will not prove inconvenient.
I remain, dear sir,
With respectful compliments to Mrs. Bennet and your accomplished daughters,
Your well-wisher and cousin,
William Collins
Silence followed the conclusion of the reading.
Then Lydia burst into laughter. "He writes like a sermon," she said, when she had gathered herself sufficiently to speak.
"He writes considerably worse than most sermons," Mr. Bennet replied. "Sermons, in my experience, generally possess the good sense to end."
"He means to marry one of us," Kitty said, with the air of someone identifying a threat.
"He means to offer," Mrs. Bennet corrected, sitting a little straighter. "Which is quite a different thing." She was already calculating. "Jane is as good as engaged, so it cannot be Jane. Lizzy is next."
"Mama—"
"It is only sensible, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said. "You are one-and-twenty and have yet to show the slightest interest in any gentleman who has shown an interest in you. Mr. Collins will inherit this estate, which is considerably more than most of your admirers have ever been able to offer."
"He does not sound particularly intelligent," Elizabeth replied.
"He appears to have determined upon reconciliation only because Lady Catherine approves of it.
A gentleman who requires another person to tell him what to think can hardly be said to possess much judgement of his own.
I cannot think that a desirable quality. "
"A clergyman," Mary observed before Mrs. Bennet could answer, "occupies a very respectable station in life. There is much to be said for a man of steady principles and an established parish."
Every eye at the table turned towards her.
"You see," Kitty said, "I believe Mary has just volunteered."
Mary looked up from her plate. "I said no such thing."
"No," Mr. Bennet agreed. "But you said enough to suggest you would not object to the man."
Mary returned her attention to her toast without offering either a defence or a quotation.
Mrs. Bennet looked from Elizabeth to Mary and then to her husband.
"Well," said Mr. Bennet, "this visit may prove even more entertaining than I anticipated."
Had Hill not entered the breakfast room carrying a note upon a small tray, Elizabeth suspected her mother would have pursued the subject with renewed determination. The housekeeper's appearance, however, drew everyone's attention at once.
Elizabeth's own settled immediately upon the note.
This must be Georgiana's letter.
The prospect was a welcome distraction from her mother's efforts to dispose of her in favour of Mr. Collins.
Her anticipation vanished the moment Hill crossed the room and stopped beside Jane.
"A note from Netherfield, Miss Bennet."
Jane accepted it and broke the seal.
Whilst Elizabeth attempted to understand what had become of Mr. Darcy's prediction, Jane read in silence, her expression passing through surprise, pleasure, and something she made only a partial effort to conceal.
"It is from Miss Bingley," she said at last. "The gentlemen have been invited to dine with Colonel Forster, and she asks me to spend the day at Netherfield.
" She paused, smiling slightly. "She adds that Elizabeth will be very welcome if she is at liberty.
Miss Darcy requested particularly that she be invited. "
Elizabeth felt a curious disappointment ease almost as soon as it arose.
After all, it was perfectly sensible. One invitation addressed to Longbourn was far more practical than two separate notes saying much the same thing.
Yet she could not help wondering whether Georgiana had mentioned her intention of writing her to Miss Bingley, as she had apparently done to Mr. Darcy, and had then been forestalled by the lady herself.
The circumstance was not difficult to imagine.
Miss Darcy was only a guest at Netherfield, whilst Miss Bingley seemed inclined to regard herself as its mistress and might therefore consider the issuing of invitations her particular province.
Whatever the truth of it, the invitation made one thing abundantly clear.
It was Georgiana who wished for her company. Certainly not Miss Bingley.
From their few encounters, Elizabeth had seen little to persuade her that Miss Bingley liked her at all. Indeed, she was not entirely convinced the lady liked Jane either, beyond the civility required by her brother's attachment.
Elizabeth had scarcely reached that conclusion when Mrs. Bennet sprang to her feet.
"Jane, you must go. You must both go. Hill, the carriage—"
"Mama," Elizabeth interrupted, "we have not yet decided."
"What is there to decide?" Mrs. Bennet threw out her hands. "Mr. Bingley is at Netherfield. His sisters have invited Jane. You are invited. What possible objection can there be?"
Elizabeth had no objection whatsoever.
She looked across the table at Jane.
Jane looked back with an expression of quiet satisfaction, as though the arrival of Miss Bingley's note had entirely displaced Mr. Collins and his alarming intentions from consideration.
"We shall go," Elizabeth said.
"Of course you shall." Mrs. Bennet was already halfway to the door. "Hill! Tell Sarah to bring up the good dresses!"
Elizabeth picked up her tea.
Across the table, Mr. Bennet had returned to Mr. Collins's letter and appeared to be deriving fresh amusement from every line.
"Friday," he remarked to no one in particular. "I find I am almost looking forward to it."