Chapter 5 #2
The land stretched out in gentle undulations, the hedgerows marking divisions without confining the view. In the distance, Netherfield remained visible, its structure distinct against the surrounding fields.
He rode further.
A rise presented itself, modest in height but sufficient to offer a broader prospect.
Darcy guided his horse upward.
At the top, he drew rein. From that vantage, the land extended in both directions.
Netherfield lay behind him, its grounds spreading outward with order.
Ahead, a smaller estate appeared, less imposing but well kept.
Beyond that, the rooftops of Meryton could be seen, their outlines obscured by distance.
Darcy remained there briefly, considering.
A sound disturbed the stillness. A twig snapped.
Darcy turned.
Two figures stood at the edge of the rise.
Thomas and Toby.
Their presence came as only a partial surprise; the solemnity of their expressions was far more unexpected. Standing side by side, they regarded him with a seriousness that transformed their usually animated faces.
Darcy inclined his head. “Gentlemen.”
Neither boy returned the greeting.
Thomas stepped forward. “Sir,” he said, “we are very much ashamed of you.”
Delivered with complete conviction, the statement might have seemed absurd under other circumstances.
Darcy regarded him steadily. “Indeed?”
Toby moved to stand beside his brother. “You said you were a gentleman.”
“I did.”
“Then you ought never to have said what you said.”
Darcy was confused. “What did I say?”
Thomas frowned. “You said our sister was tolerable.”
The word, repeated in that voice, touched with renewed force.
Darcy dismounted. He led his horse to a nearby tree, securing the reins before turning back. A fallen log lay near the edge of the rise; he seated himself upon it.
“I see,” he said.
The boys remained standing.
For a moment, he considered. “I was in a bad mood,” he said at last. “That does not excuse what I said. It should not have been spoken.”
Toby crossed his arms. “You wounded her.”
Darcy gave a slight nod. “I know.”
Thomas stepped closer. “Lizzy is the best sister ever.”
“I do not doubt it.”
“And you said she was only tolerable,” Toby added.
“I was wrong.” The admission, offered without hesitation, altered their expressions slightly.
Darcy continued. “Your sister is not tolerable. She is—” he paused, selecting the word with care, “—a very lovely young lady. I regret what I said.”
The boys exchanged a look. “You must apologize,” Toby said.
“I intend to.”
“You had best,” Thomas added. “We shall not forgive you until you make it right.”
Darcy allowed the vaguest suggestion of a smile. “That is a severe consequence.”
“It is deserved,” Toby said.
“Then I shall endeavor to avoid it,” Darcy replied.
Thomas considered him. “You tried before?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She avoided me.”
Toby nodded. “As she should.”
Darcy met his gaze. “Can you blame her?”
Thomas shook his head. “No.”
A brief silence followed.
At last, Toby stepped back. “We must go.”
“Before we are missed,” Thomas added.
They turned, then paused.
“We shall know if you do not apologize,” Toby said.
Darcy raised a brow. “How?”
Thomas’s expression held a trace of satisfaction. “We always know.”
With that, they ran.
Darcy watched them go, their figures diminishing as they descended on the far side of the rise.
He remained where he was for a time, then he rose. Their boldness, their certainty—it was unlike anything he had encountered before. Still, he found he did not resent it.
He mounted his horse.
Turning back toward Netherfield, his thoughts had shifted. There remained something to be done. This time, he did not intend to fail.
The gathering at Lucas Lodge offered Darcy precisely what he required. It provided a chance to apologize to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
From the moment the Netherfield party entered Sir William’s drawing room, Darcy perceived that the evening would present a challenge. The rooms were not so crowded as the assembly had been, though there was sufficient company to make private conversation difficult.
Sir William received them with every evidence of satisfaction, Lady Lucas with warmth, and Miss Lucas with composed civility. Bingley, as expected, entered into the spirit of the occasion without delay.
Darcy’s attention, however, went elsewhere.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet stood near the pianoforte, speaking with Miss Lucas and another lady whose name he did not recall.
Miss Elizabeth wore a gown of pale green, trimmed simply, and the color suited her exceedingly well.
Her hair had been arranged with less art than Miss Bingley’s and better effect, the curls about her face softening the lively intelligence of her expression.
Tolerable.
The word returned to him with renewed discomfort.
No. The description had been altogether unjust.
Lovely.
Indeed, she was more than lovely.
She laughed at something Miss Lucas said—not loudly, and never in a manner intended to attract the room’s attention—several people turned toward her with answering smiles. Warmth animated her countenance, intelligence shone in her eyes, and her manner drew others with effortless ease.
Darcy had misjudged more than her beauty. He had called into question the soundness of his own discernment.
“Darcy,” Bingley said at his side, “you look as solemn as a judge. Come, you must enjoy yourself a little.”
“I am perfectly well,” Darcy replied.
In body, at least.
“That is hardly the same thing.”
Before Darcy could reply, Sir William joined them.
“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Bingley! We are honored, most honored, to have you at Lucas Lodge. A small gathering only, but we pride ourselves upon friendly society.”
“You are very kind,” Bingley replied. “I am happy to be here.”
“And you, Mr. Darcy?” Sir William turned expectantly.
Darcy gave a polite nod. “I am obliged to you for the invitation.”
“Excellent, excellent. We shall have music presently, and perhaps a little dancing if the young people are so disposed.”
Bingley brightened. “Nothing would please me more.”
Darcy’s gaze returned to Miss Elizabeth.
She had moved. Of course she had. She now stood beside Jane Bennet, speaking with Lady Lucas.
Her manner altered with each person she addressed—not in character, but in attention.
With Lady Lucas, she was respectful without stiffness.
With Miss Lucas, open and easy. With her sister, affectionate in a way that needed no display.
He began to cross the room.
Miss Elizabeth glanced up.
Their gazes met.
For one moment, he thought she might remain where she was.
Then she turned to Lady Lucas and said something that drew a laugh, and by the time Darcy had taken three steps, she had shifted toward the far side of the room with such naturalness that no one could accuse her of avoiding him.
She had deliberately avoided him. He stopped.
Bingley appeared beside him again, his expression knowing. “You are attempting to speak with Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s gaze remained across the room. “I am.”
“To apologize?”
“Yes.”
Bingley chuckled. “Then I wish you success. She is clever enough to avoid a man for a full evening if she chooses.”
“I begin to perceive that.” Attempting to speak with her was proving to be quite difficult.
Bingley’s mouth twitched. “You might ask her to dance, should dancing begin.”
“I would prefer first to speak.” He had not deigned to dance with her at the assembly. Darcy wished to beg her forgiveness and then enjoy the pleasure of her smiles for a set.
“That is sensible. Though what is sensible and what is possible may not be the same.”
Darcy gaped at him.
Bingley lifted his hands slightly. “I only observe. She does seem rather disinclined to be in your presence.”
Across the room, Miss Elizabeth was now in conversation with another sister.
He recalled Miss Bingley vaguely mentioning a third sister who was out.
Miss Mary Bennet, if he remembered correctly.
Miss Mary’s appearance was one of gravity, her hands knitted before her.
Miss Elizabeth listened, her expression attentive.
When she answered, Miss Mary’s face melted into something like satisfaction.
Darcy found himself watching closely.
There was no impatience in Miss Elizabeth’s manner. No condescension. She did not flatter, nor did she dismiss. She met each person precisely where they stood and somehow made them better pleased with the ground beneath them.
In a fit of pique, he had thought her beneath his notice. The inherent irrationality of the situation became apparent once more.
A few minutes later, music was proposed.
Sir William, delighted by the prospect, clapped his hands together. “Come, Miss Mary, will you not favor us?”
Mary accepted with more dignity than eagerness and moved to the instrument.
Darcy placed himself where he might still observe Miss Elizabeth. She stood near Miss Lucas now, and the two spoke in low voices. Whatever Miss Lucas said caused Miss Elizabeth to glance toward him with a look that might have held amusement had it not been so quickly withdrawn.
He deserved it.
Miss Mary began to play.
The performance was competent, earnest, and somewhat more formal than the room required. Bingley listened with unfailing good nature. Miss Bingley, stationed near Mrs. Hurst, made no effort to conceal her lack of enjoyment.
When the piece concluded, Sir William praised it with enthusiasm.
“Very fine, Miss Mary. Very fine indeed. Now, Miss Eliza, surely you must take your turn.”
Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “You are very kind, Sir William, but I must decline.”
“Decline? We cannot have that.”
“I assure you, you may.”
Miss Lucas smiled. “Lizzy plays only when she cannot escape.”
“Then we must contrive to prevent escape,” Sir William declared.
Miss Elizabeth giggled. “That would be a dangerous precedent.”
Darcy stepped closer before he could reconsider. “Do you dislike performing, Miss Bennet?”