Chapter 18
Like everything else at Rosings, the breakfast table was conducted with the stiff formality and pomp Lady Catherine considered essential.
Once arranged, nothing varied without notice.
The servants moved with quiet precision, every dish appearing at the proper moment. Conversation followed the same rule.
Darcy had long been accustomed to such arrangements, and on former visits had submitted to them without effort. This morning, his attention was somewhat less than wholly engaged by what passed before him.
Seven days had passed since the accident. On each, Darcy had indulged himself in a visit to the parsonage.
At first, he had told himself that a visit the next day to ascertain Elizabeth’s health and offer to bring anything that might aid her was a required courtesy.
Though meaning not to stay long, Elizabeth had looked so very pleased to see him and had so readily engaged in conversation that by the time he thought to look at his watch, Darcy found he had stayed considerably longer than any idea of good manners could excuse.
Though, he thought as he walked back to Rosings, Elizabeth certainly had not seemed to mind.
On the next day, though wishing to see her again, Darcy had not wished to intrude.
He therefore firmly told himself that he must not visit her that day, and he would have kept to this prudent intention, if Georgiana had not mentioned very much wishing to see Elizabeth and try to cheer her spirits.
Darcy told himself that he could hardly send Georgiana by herself, and therefore went with her with a clear conscience.
He spoke little on that visit, but watching Elizabeth and Georgiana already talking like old friends — like sisters — was its own reward. By the end of the visit, Georgiana had asked if they might call each other by their first names, and Elizabeth had agreed with what he could only call delight.
He had gone the next day likewise, as Colonel Fitzwilliam mentioned that he intended to go. Between Elizabeth’s sparkling wit, Fitzwilliam’s jolly humour, and Darcy’s own rather drier jests, they had laughed themselves half sick.
Though reproaching himself a little for the stratagem, Darcy had set out for the parsonage the day after without telling anyone where he was going. Pleasing as it was to see Elizabeth’s charming manner and good sense in conversation with those he loved most, he found he wanted her to himself.
Each day that followed had been more pleasant than the last, and on the previous, Darcy could no longer resist temptation, and had made a fixed engagement to come again in the course of the morning.
Nor could he regret it once he had. Elizabeth had said little, but her encouragement had been plain in the delicate curve of her smile and the sudden softness in her eyes.
Darcy smiled to himself at the breakfast table, remembering it. The week had resolved what he had once allowed himself to question. There was no longer any uncertainty.
He did not mistake the consequences of such a conclusion. He had considered them already and found they no longer held the weight they once had. What might have restrained him before now appeared only as something to be acknowledged and set aside.
Across the table, Georgiana sat composed beneath their aunt’s watchful eye, her spine straight and her expression calm.
Her resolve seemed greater for having withstood the test of Lady Catherine.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, untroubled by ceremony, attended to his breakfast with easy good humour.
Perhaps it would take more than Rosings Park stiffness to trouble a man equally accustomed to taking breakfast at an earl’s table and in a rugged tent shortly before facing Napolean’s troops.
When Lady Catherine had satisfied herself that nothing had been neglected, she turned her attention to the company. “Let us arrange the day to best advantage,” she proposed, in a tone that said she did not intend to brook disagreement. “Fitzwilliam, have you plans?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked up readily, giving a one-shouldered shrug that made their aunt frown at his informality. “None that cannot be altered at your pleasure.”
“You will attend me after breakfast, then,” Lady Catherine said. “There are matters in the village which require inspection.”
“I shall be happy to accompany you.”
She inclined her head, then turned to Darcy. “And you, Darcy?”
“I intend to walk to the parsonage this morning,” he said.
Lady Catherine’s expression sharpened. “Again?”
“Yes.”
“I cannot conceive what occupies you there so frequently.” Her gaze held him. “You have already shown every attention that civility requires. It is not necessary to repeat it daily.”
Darcy did not look away. “It is not civility alone that engages me.”
She paused, measuring him now. “I should have thought your time might be more properly employed. Anne has not been out this week. She will take the carriage about the countryside. It would be a very suitable arrangement for you to attend her.”
Anne lifted her eyes briefly. “Mother, I do not wish to go out in the carriage this morning.”
Lady Catherine turned sharply. “My dear Anne, you must not be guided by inclination alone. The air would be of the greatest benefit to you.”
“I would rather remain within. I had intended to write my letters, for I owe several.”
The refusal did not please her mother. Lady Catherine turned back to Darcy. “You see how necessary it is that she be encouraged,” she said imperiously. “A short drive would do her a great deal of good. You may easily postpone your visit.”
Darcy met her gaze. “I shall be glad to attend my cousin later in the day, if she wishes it. But I am expected at the parsonage this morning.”
She studied him more closely. “Expected?” Lady Catherine repeated. “By whom?”
“By Miss Bennet.”
A dark look crossed Lady Catherine’s face at the name. “I was not aware that such expectations had been established.”
Darcy gave no explanation.
Fitzwilliam, who had been watching with interest, leaned back slightly. “Do you not think, Aunt Catherine, that we ought to be particularly attentive to Miss Bennet? After all, she injured herself on Rosings land and in Darcy’s company. I think my cousin makes Miss Bennet a very proper apology.”
Lady Catherine snorted. “That is quite absurd.”
“I should not wish Miss Bennet to feel lonely or dull when she must not walk anywhere,” Georgiana volunteered, though very softly. “And it is so very pleasant to talk with her. She is so sweet, and yet so very clever!”
Lady Catherine did not seem much pleased by this intelligence. “A lady ought not to be too clever in conversation, Georgiana. Then she will be called pert, and no one enjoys the company of a pert and argumentative woman.”
Though Georgiana looked down shyly, she refused to retreat. “I find her company very agreeable,” she said softly.
Though Lady Catherine opened her mouth, looking very much displeased, Darcy fixed her with so speaking a look of warning that the rebuke she might have given Georgiana remained unspoken. “You are easily pleased, my dear,” she said instead.
Georgiana did not shrink. “I hope I am not improperly so.”
Fitzwilliam smiled. “If so, I shall be in danger of the same fault.”
At that, Lady Catherine harrumphed, but at last allowed the conversation to shift.
She seemed unwilling to pursue a subject that had moved beyond her immediate control, a surprising but welcome surrender.
For the remainder of the meal, she spoke of other matters, directing her observations chiefly to Fitzwilliam and occasionally to Georgiana, whose answers she corrected when they did not entirely accord with her expectations.
Seeing that Georgiana looked more amused than distressed, Darcy chose not to intervene again.
He was aware of a change in his aunt’s manner. She did not return openly to the subject of his intended visit, yet her gaze rested on him at intervals with a scrutiny that suggested she was not satisfied with what she had already observed.
When the meal was concluded, Darcy rose with the others, his intention unchanged. Whatever Lady Catherine might imagine, it was not for her to determine the suitability of his conduct. He would go to the parsonage as he had intended.
The walk from Rosings to the parsonage was not long, nor varied enough to command attention under ordinary circumstances.
Darcy had passed along it several times within the past week, at first unthinkingly, and afterward with a degree of impatience he chose not to examine.
His thoughts were not with the scene before him, but with Elizabeth.
The recollection of her manner returned to him with a clarity that left his heart beating faster even in remembrance.
She had met every part of the past week with the same composure that had first distinguished her in his regard.
There had been no affectation in her conversation, no attempt to recommend herself by display, and no inclination to misunderstand what was offered.
She had listened, considered, and answered with a sincerity equally free of vanity and artifice.
Her injury had only sped the development of feelings that were already almost overwhelming.
At the moment of assisting her, he had considered nothing beyond what was immediately required.
The action had admitted of no delay, and he had acted without reflection.
Only afterward, when there was nothing more to be done, did he fully understand what had passed.
She had trusted him without hesitation. She had accepted his care as if it were natural to do so.
The memory of it was perhaps more thrilling than it ought to be.