Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth did not share with Mary that she had heard another carriage pass the night prior, and knew it to be Mr Darcy. She both desired and feared seeing him again.
The next morning, Mary remained in bed later than usual, and took her time eating breakfast and dressing.
Then church bells clanged—Elizabeth would never grow accustomed to their volume and proximity—alerting them to the start of the ceremony.
Mary’s eyes flew wide and said they ought to begin their walk to Rosings.
They arrived to rooms full of ladies from Hunsford, and were later joined by the men, who had attended the service and burial. Mr Darcy and the colonel were among the last to arrive, and though Elizabeth had pretended not to be waiting for them, she had been.
Mr Darcy spoke with this person and that, bowing and nodding, his face grim.
That was correct, she thought, but he could bow and nod his way to her, could he not?
She attempted to put her focus on anyone and anything else, but could not.
A young woman—a girl, really, as she looked to be around fifteen, like Lydia—trailed Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth suspected she was his sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.
My she was a lovely creature. Blonde, willowy, composed, perhaps a bit shy, though she had an openness in her face that Mr Darcy did not possess.
Elizabeth hoped to speak with her, but the opportunity seemed not to present itself.
Best this way since, once she spoke with Mr Darcy about his aunt, he would hate her, thus leaving her no reason to become acquainted with Miss Darcy.
As she was speaking to a Mrs Allard, a Hunsford seamstress whose work Mary admired, Elizabeth noted that Mr Darcy and his sister had accepted cups from a passing servant and sipped, and they were now speaking to more guests at the farthest part of the room from where she stood.
The minutes turned to an hour, and never yet had he turned to her, let alone spoken with her.
She determined that she did not mind. She had run from him when last they met, and it was right that he would be cross with her.
She ought not to think on him. Despite her protestation to Lady Catherine, they were not a good match.
Their stations were different. Their temperaments different.
And worst, if Mary blanched at the sight of Colonel Fitzwilliam, what would she do when confronted with Mr Darcy?