Chapter Thirty
Meryton
Elizabeth
Following a conversation with her father which Elizabeth suspected Mr. Bennet enjoyed considerably more than Mr. Darcy did, she and Darcy subsequently began their courtship.
Mr. Collins required no formal announcement of the alteration.
Mr. Darcy called at Longbourn the following afternoon, and again the day after that, and by his third visit even a gentleman less attentive to the concerns of Lady Catherine de Bourgh might have understood the particular object of his visits.
Mrs. Bennet's satisfaction certainly left very little room for doubt.
Mr. Collins was horrified. As far as he understood the matter, Mr. Darcy had long been intended for Miss de Bourgh, and the possibility that he might choose another lady appeared to him not merely surprising, but a direct opposition to Lady Catherine's wishes.
He attempted more than once to warn Elizabeth of the consequences of encouraging such attentions, until she finally informed him that Mr. Darcy was surely capable of determining his own intentions.
His indignation was not improved when, on Thursday morning, he proposed to Mary and was refused.
Mrs. Bennet had been so persuaded of Mary's suitability for her cousin that the possibility of a refusal had scarcely occurred to her.
Mr. Collins was equally astonished, having apparently considered his own willingness to marry her sufficient recommendation, but Mary remained firm.
She could not respect him, she said, and no argument from her mother could persuade her that gratitude for an offer was sufficient reason to accept it.
Mrs. Bennet was horrified, Mr. Collins offended, and Mr. Bennet so entertained by the entire affair that Elizabeth suspected Mary had risen considerably in his estimation. Elizabeth herself thought her sister had never shown better judgement.
Mr. Collins soon discovered that Lucas Lodge offered greater sympathy than Longbourn and began spending rather more time there. Elizabeth was content to let him. She had other matters occupying her attention.
Mr. Darcy called every day.
Elizabeth had not known precisely what she expected from being courted by him, but the greatest alteration proved to be the ease with which they could now seek one another's company.
Darcy no longer required Bingley's visits as an excuse to come to Longbourn, nor did he hesitate before taking the chair beside her.
If the weather allowed them to walk, everyone seemed to understand where he would place himself, while Mrs. Bennet became so offensively helpful in providing opportunities that Elizabeth occasionally wished her mother possessed rather less enthusiasm for the match.
She nevertheless took advantage of every opportunity offered.
Their conversations altered too. Darcy spoke more readily of Pemberley, his parents and the responsibilities which had fallen upon him after his father's death.
Elizabeth learnt that he preferred Derbyshire to London, that he disliked unnecessary alterations to an estate merely for fashion, and that although he could discuss books for an hour, he became remarkably obstinate whenever she disliked one he admired.
He learnt more of her in return. He asked about her childhood, her reading, her walks and the thousand small matters which ought to have been of no consequence to him, yet somehow appeared to be. Elizabeth occasionally found his interest curious, but she no longer found it unwelcome.
By Friday, she had begun expecting him.
She knew approximately when he and Bingley would appear and caught herself listening for horses in the lane.
Worse, she had begun saving things to tell him.
Some absurdity of Lydia's, an observation of her father's, a passage in a book which she knew he would dispute, all were remembered because she wanted to know what Darcy would make of them.
She did not examine this habit too closely.
On Saturday, a clear afternoon allowed Jane and Elizabeth to walk with Bingley and Darcy.
Mrs. Bennet had at first suggested that one of the maids accompany them, but Mr. Bennet observed that four sensible adults ought to be capable of walking through Hertfordshire without bringing the household into disgrace.
Whether all four deserved his description was left for Mrs. Bennet to decide.
Jane and Bingley gradually moved ahead. Bingley had begun some account which required a great deal of smiling from Jane, and Elizabeth watched them for a moment before turning to Darcy.
“Your friend is remarkably poor at concealment. I knew of his feelings for Jane from the assembly, in fact.”
Darcy followed her gaze. “Bingley has never possessed much talent for disguising his feelings.”
“Unlike his friend?”
He looked down at her. “I had believed myself rather better at it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Then I fear I must disappoint you.”
“Was I so obvious?”
“Not at first. At first I thought you merely peculiar.”
“Peculiar?”
“You stared at me when we were introduced, rescued me from Mr. Sotherton without being asked, and then danced three sets with me after scarcely speaking to another lady in the room. I had several theories.”
“Such as?”
“Well, several.” Elizabeth smiled. “One of which was very near to what we have now, though I confess I began to think you would never ask me.”
“You did not appear like a lady who wished to be rushed into anything.”
“That was very perceptive of you. I eventually concluded that you either admired me or had mistaken me for someone else.”
Something passed briefly over Darcy’s expression, too quickly for Elizabeth to make sense of it. Surprise, perhaps, though there was something almost uneasy in it. “And which conclusion did you prefer?”
“The more flattering one, naturally,” she said.
“I am relieved.”
“You may be. Though I confess I did wonder why.”
“Why I admired you?”
“Yes.” Darcy was silent for several steps, and Elizabeth glanced at him. “That was not intended to be so difficult a question.”
“It is not difficult.”
“Then you are taking an unreasonable amount of time to answer it.”
His mouth curved. “Perhaps I am deciding how much vanity I ought to encourage.”
“My vanity requires very little assistance.”
“I had noticed.”
She gave him a look. “You are becoming impertinent, Mr. Darcy.”
“I have been keeping unsuitable company.”
Elizabeth laughed and nudged a loose stone from the path with the toe of her boot. “You still have not answered me. When did you first decide that you admired me?”
Again he seemed to consider his answer. “Before I had any sensible intention of doing so.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the safest one I can give.”
“Safest?”
“There are questions upon which a gentleman may easily say too much.”
“And you think this one of them?”
“Where you are concerned, increasingly.”
Elizabeth looked ahead, smiling despite the warmth which had risen into her face. “Very well. I shall ask something easier. Why did you continue seeking my company?”
“That is easier.”
“I am pleased to have finally discovered a question you can answer.”
“Because every conversation with you left me wanting another.”
Her steps slowed.
He had spoken without flourish, almost as though the answer ought to have been obvious, and Elizabeth found herself looking at him longer than she intended.
“That is a very dangerous answer.”
“Why?”
“Because I might believe you.”
“I had hoped you would.”
She looked away, though the smile which escaped her made the effort rather useless. “You have improved considerably at this.”
“At what?”
“Courting.”
“I was unaware you had sufficient experience to judge.”
“I have been courted before.” Elizabeth laughed. “Or perhaps I should say someone believed he was courting me.”
Darcy’s brows drew together at once. “By whom?”
The sudden seriousness of the question amused her. “Mr. Sotherton.”
His expression cleared almost as quickly as it had darkened. “That does not count.”
Elizabeth laughed again. “Poor Mr. Sotherton. You dismiss him very easily.”
“I confess I find it remarkably easy.”
“Jealousy does not become you, sir.”
“I am not jealous.”
“No?”
Darcy looked at her with quiet satisfaction. “You are walking with me.”
Elizabeth felt her smile deepen. “A very convenient distinction.”
The quiet satisfaction in his answer pleased her enough that Elizabeth allowed him the victory.
They walked on for some distance before Darcy's manner became more serious. “There is something else I have been meaning to speak to you about. Your friend, Miss Harding.”
Elizabeth turned towards him. “Julia?”
“Yes. I hope you will not consider it an intrusion, but after what you told me of her continued silence, I asked my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, whether he might make some inquiries.”
Elizabeth stopped. “You did?”
Darcy stopped beside her. “He has connexions which may be of use, and it seemed possible that someone might discover what became of her family. If I have overstepped, I shall ask him to discontinue it.”
“No, please do not.” Her surprise gave way to something much warmer.
She had spoken to him of Julia because the subject had arisen and because he had listened with a sympathy she had not expected.
It had never occurred to her that he might carry the concern away with him.
“I am only surprised that you should have gone to such trouble.”
“I do not consider it trouble.”
Elizabeth studied him for a moment. “Thank you.”
“You need not thank me yet. Richard has discovered very little that is certain.”
“Still, it is more than I have managed.”
Darcy inclined his head. “He believes there may be something worth pursuing, though I would rather not raise your expectations until he knows more.”
Elizabeth considered this for a moment. “Could someone not simply go to Somerset? To Willowbrook, by the Timber plantation. I believe I have mentioned the address to you before.”
Darcy looked away, and the pause before he answered struck Elizabeth as peculiar. “I believe you have.”