Chapter Eleven
During the next fortnight, Elizabeth enjoyed her time in Kent, specifically her rambles in the massive parkland that surrounded Lady Catherine’s estate. While she enjoyed the scenery, she was troubled by the number of times Mr. Darcy had happened upon her.
At first, she thought the timing coincidental, but when he had intruded upon her walk three days in a row, it became clear that the gentleman was purposefully seeking her company.
Flattered, yet somewhat troubled by his unexpected attention, she remained coolly polite and kept all conversations safely in neutral territory, such as discussions of books, plays, and the wilds of Derbyshire.
Upon this subject, Mr. Darcy became almost as verbose as her cousin, yet she did not mind, as she was most desirous of any information gleaned.
She and Jane would be touring the Lake District with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner this summer, and she was thrilled to learn they would not be disappointed.
This morning, though, the formidable Mr. Darcy had not graced her with his presence, and upon Elizabeth’s return to the parsonage, a letter from Jane awaited her, its familiar handwriting bringing immediate comfort.
As she lost herself in her sister’s detailed account of Mr. Morgan’s increasingly marked attentions, she was roused by the chime of the doorbell, and her thoughts immediately flew to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Earlier, she had glimpsed his tall figure in the park, his military bearing unmistakable even at a distance, where he had acknowledged her with a raised hand before continuing purposefully along the gravel path.
Perhaps he now wished to pay his respects before he and his taciturn cousin quit Kent on the morrow.
However, her surprise was great when Mr. Darcy entered the room, alone.
After polite enquiries after her health, knowing she had suffered a headache the day prior, he sat down for a few minutes, then got up and walked about the room, pausing near the fireplace.
After a silence of several minutes, he turned and faced her.
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you that I love you.”
“You love me?”
“Most ardently.”
“Why?”
He drew back, an expression of surprise flickering across his face.
“Why?” he echoed after a moment, his voice low, uncertain.
“Yes, why?” she pressed, lifting her chin. “During the few short weeks you spent in Hertfordshire, we drifted past one another at various gatherings, exchanged barely half a dozen words, and danced only once at Mr. Bingley’s ball.”
He offered a faint, rueful smile. “You forget the week you spent at Netherfield nursing your sister. I recall us having a conversation on Mr. Bingley’s terrible handwriting, and what makes a lady accomplished.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “That hardly counts as quality time. I was consumed with worry over Jane and fending off Miss Bingley’s rude behaviour.”
His gaze darkened with remorse. “I must confess, Miss Bingley’s coldness towards you sprang from my own folly.”
Elizabeth's eyes widened. “How so?”
“At a gathering at Lucas Lodge, I let slip that I admired your fine eyes,” he admitted, his voice hushed as if the walls themselves might hear.
“That explains much,” Elizabeth said, a soft laugh escaping her. “Yet you never once spoke of this admiration to me.”
Darcy looked away. “I admit, I did not wish to raise your expectations.”
“My expectations?” Elizabeth’s brow knit in concern, her thoughts travelling in a dangerous direction. Had he learned her father was now an earl? “Why now?” she asked, dreading his answer.
“Because…” Mr. Darcy paused and gazed out the window, gathering his thoughts.
“All my life, I have been told to marry someone from my social circle. I am the grandson of a duke and nephew to an earl. It has been drummed into me for as long as I can remember that I must marry a lady of equal rank, and I was at peace with that… until I met you.” He then turned back, his voice catching.
“When in your presence, I become mute. My thoughts scatter like leaves in an autumn breeze. I fled to London to escape these feelings, but they pursued me. Your lack of fortune or title changes nothing: I am a gentleman, and you a gentleman’s daughter.
In that, we are equals. All that matters to me is whether you could imagine a life with a flawed man such as myself. ”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. Proud Mr. Darcy loved her. She paused to steady her voice; aware he waited an answer.
“In such circumstances, most ladies would thank you for the honour and give you the answer you most desire,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his steady, earnest one. “However,” she added when he stepped forward, “I am but a simple country girl of Hertfordshire, and must decline.”
He halted, the proud mask slipping back into place.
“Allow me to explain,” she continued, voice gentle. “Though I find you entirely honourable, you never once hinted at any special regard for me. You said you did not want to raise my expectations, and you succeeded. I expected nothing from you but lofty disdain for my family and me.”
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I had not meant to display such rude and unforgiving manners.”
“Fret not, Mr. Darcy. Your letter of apology allowed my family to view you in a more favourable light. Having said that, I remind you that you never once asked me to call you friend. Did you expect me to fall at your feet because you are wealthy and handsome?”
“You find me handsome?”
“That is all you heard? I find you handsome.”
A mischievous light kindled in his eyes. “It did give me hope. May I dare press my luck? Though you refuse my hand in marriage, might I still ask permission to call on you?”
Elizabeth’s lips curved in reluctant amusement. “I do hope you will not take this the wrong way, but your aunt would not look kindly on you giving me any undue attention when she expects an engagement between you and her daughter.”
Elizabeth blushed at the curse he muttered under his breath. She had never seen him so unsettled, and found it oddly charming.
“My aunt’s expectations and reality rarely align,” he said, composure returning. “Fitzwilliam and I leave for town tomorrow. If you allow me to call upon you after your return to town, I will speak plainly to her of my intentions.”
“You should have that conversation irrespective of whether you call on me or not.”
His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Your words are sound, and I cannot fault your logic. I shall speak with my aunt regardless of your answer, which is…?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. You may call on me.”
A radiant smile broke across his face, and a warm tide of happiness surged through her. His joy lit the dim room like morning sun through mist, and despite all caution, her heart had already warmed towards him, yet, there still remained much to discuss.
While Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair, her dark eyes darted briefly towards the half-open door before meeting Darcy’s intense gaze. “Before we proceed further, I have matters to disclose, and the walls of my cousin’s home are not as deaf as one might hope,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied quietly. “That is why I chose to visit while your cousin was occupied with my aunt.”
“He does give her much adoration and attention, but I refer to the servants. We have enjoyed a moment’s privacy while Molly fetches us fresh tea, yet she will return shortly to linger at the parlour door and convey anything she overhears to some unknown entity at the manor.”
“Surely, you jest.”
“I do not. Your aunt knows far too much, but such is the life my cousin and his wife have chosen, so I say nothing.” Rising deliberately, Elizabeth smoothed her skirts and signalled that their tête-à-tête was ending.
In a low tone that barely disturbed the air between them, she added, “Meet me tomorrow morning in the grove. I shall bring my uncle’s address and a letter of vital family information.
Please reflect carefully on what I intend to share. ”
“You have my word,” he said, stepping forward before he paused at the soft rattle of the tea tray beyond the door.
He raised his voice to a polite timbre. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I must decline tea. I promised my aunt I would finish reviewing the estate ledgers, for my cousin and I plan to depart early tomorrow morning.”
“It was my pleasure,” Elizabeth said, turning to the rosy-cheeked maid who entered with the tea, its silver service gleaming in the waning light. “Thank you, Molly. Mr. Darcy will not be remaining, so I shall be the only one to indulge in the cook’s custard tarts.”
“Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, bowing deeply.
“Goodbye, Mr. Darcy. Safe travels,” she said in return, as he strode from the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway.
With a bright smile, she addressed Molly once more.
“Well, I daresay we shall miss their visits as they were certainly a pair of affable gentlemen. I found nothing lacking in their manners, and Lady Catherine should be quite proud of her nephews.”
Elizabeth then poured herself a cup of tea, the amber liquid steaming in the delicate china cup, confident that Lady Catherine’s emissary would report Mr. Darcy’s farewell call and Miss Bennet’s praises of the great lady’s nephews.
This would smooth Charlotte’s path once news of the Bennet family reached Kent.
Having secured Elizabeth’s agreement to meet him the next morning, Darcy set off for Rosings with buoyant steps and a lighter heart.
Though pained by her refusal to accept his proposal outright, he had no cause for reproach: her objections were sound and well expressed, and he could scarcely blame her for holding fast to them after his own disgraceful conduct.