Chapter XIV
Winter was such a trial to Elizabeth’s patience that she always greeted the change in the weather with a mix of relief and anticipation. Spring meant freedom, the ability to roam as she wanted, to escape the house for a time and think.
One such day in early spring, Elizabeth left the house for a morning constitutional, enjoying the chirping of birds and the sun on her face as she walked.
Longbourn’s paths were a welcome old friend, a pleasing sight after months of deprivation provoked by inclement weather.
It was such a fine day that she might have removed her bonnet had she any reasonable expectation of not meeting anyone while she was out.
As much as she enjoyed the exercise and solitude, it was the ability to think that had always brought her such peace, and that day was no different.
So many things had changed that she hardly recognized her life anymore.
Had Elizabeth remained alone, she might have stayed out much longer than her wont.
The interruption that day, however, had become more welcome than she had ever thought possible.
When she spotted him by the side of the path ahead, Elizabeth wondered if she should feel some annoyance—but her heart betrayed her, jumping in her breast, rendering such a response impossible.
Had Mr. Darcy appeared self-satisfied or superior, that might also have set her off.
Instead, the gentleman only appeared pleased—happy to be in her company, eager to steal a few more moments together, unwilling to waste even a moment.
“I am gratified, Miss Elizabeth,” said the gentleman, pushing away from the tree he had been leaning against.
Elizabeth feigned incomprehension. “And why is that, Mr. Darcy?”
“That I correctly deduced the path you would choose this morning.” Mr. Darcy grinned, giving him an almost boyish charm. “As there are several, the chances are not at all great.”
He stepped forward and caught her hand in his, kissing it before tucking it into the crook of his arm. “I hope, Miss Elizabeth, that my presence is not an imposition on your solitude.”
“Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth, though she knew in other circumstances she would have been most put out.
“Then shall we walk together?”
Elizabeth assented, and they strolled for several moments. What Mr. Darcy was thinking, Elizabeth did not know, but she could not help but wonder at the ease she felt in his company, the essential part of her life he had become.
“Unless I am mistaken,” said Mr. Darcy, breaking the silence between them, “you would even now be in Kent had the situation been different.”
“Sir William and Maria departed last week,” said Elizabeth, regretting the lost opportunity to see her friend.
“Are you disappointed?” asked Mr. Darcy, watching her with care.
“I regret the distance from Charlotte,” replied Elizabeth. “I do not regret the inability to stay in Kent, to own the truth.” Elizabeth offered a wry grin. “Mr. Collins’s company is not so agreeable that I cannot do without it.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “I offer my apologies, Miss Elizabeth. The need to keep our recent amity from Mr. Collins’s ears never crossed my mind.”
“It is not your fault, Mr. Darcy.”
“You have been denied your visit because of my aunt’s obsession, Miss Elizabeth.”
“That does not make it your responsibility.” Elizabeth sighed and offered him a wan smile. “To own the truth, it never crossed my mind to keep it from Sir William. Even had I spoken to him, he might not have understood the reason for discretion.”
Elizabeth regarded him quizzically. “Was it your intention to let me stay in Kent without ever letting your aunt know?”
The gentleman hesitated. Overhead, a bird called, and Elizabeth looked up into the clear blue sky, seeing a flock wheeling overhead. A slight breeze rustled branches still bare of leaves, sending striped shadows across the path.
“To own the truth, my plans were not so developed as that. I knew that informing my aunt of my attentions to you would lead to disaster, but I had some hope that she might warm to you during your stay with Mrs. Collins. Perhaps I give Lady Catherine too much credit, but I hoped that her inevitable opposition would not be so vehement if she knew you.”
Elizabeth nodded—she suspected it was wishful thinking, but she could not fault him.
Elizabeth’s acquaintance with Lady Catherine comprised one confrontational conversation, while Mr. Darcy had a lifetime of acquaintance with the lady.
At least Mr. Darcy had been present that day when Lady Catherine had descended on them in a fury—Elizabeth shuddered to imagine her behavior had she confronted Elizabeth alone.
“You used the words ‘inevitable opposition,’” said Elizabeth.
“It is no less than the truth, Miss Elizabeth. Nothing in this world could induce Lady Catherine to release her obsession without a fight.” Mr. Darcy shrugged.
“That is why I did not correct her before—I knew any such discussion was fruitless and risked argument, or even a breach in the family. There was little reason to provoke such before it became absolutely necessary.”
“I cannot fault your reasoning, sir,” replied Elizabeth. Then she laughed. “To own the truth, Lady Catherine’s behavior at the mere suspicion of a connection between us was so astonishing that I must wonder what she will do if you present her with news of an engagement.”
“Hopefully nothing,” said Mr. Darcy, though the look he directed at her was more intense than usual.
“Having failed once already, I do not suppose she will trouble herself to journey so far again.” A pause ensued, then Mr. Darcy gave a rueful shake of his head.
“No doubt the copious volume of her letters will increase, but you have no need to concern yourself with that.”
“It is just as well that she cannot write to me,” replied Elizabeth, humor filling her. “But Mr. Collins will no doubt berate my father over the post, and he will adjure Charlotte to plead with me to reconsider.”
The gentleman offered a serene smile. “I cannot suppose that Mr. Collins’s discontent will sway you.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth. “All his displeasure did nothing to convince me when he proposed, so I can well withstand his campaign by letter.”
Mr. Darcy watched her, then offered a slow nod. “Yes, I suspected that he proposed to you, though we never spoke of it. With that knowledge, my suspicion of your mother’s influence over your sister is revealed as absurd.”
“It is,” said Elizabeth, feeling quite satisfied. “While I cannot blame you for thinking as much given my mother’s zeal for seeing her daughters married, Jane and I have always determined to keep our own counsel when confronted with a suitor.”
“And do you still keep your own counsel?”
Mr. Darcy had stopped in the path and turned to look at her, and Elizabeth looked up into his deep blue eyes.
They were the eyes of a man she had not seen when he had first come to Meryton—had not chosen to see, if she were honest with herself.
Mr. Darcy had not been in good humor and had not portrayed himself well, to be certain.
Yet after the initial acrimony, it had been as much Elizabeth’s prejudice as his pride that had kept them apart.
“Perhaps I do, Mr. Darcy,” said she. Then she arched a brow at him in challenge. “What do you mean to do about it?”
“That depends upon you,” said the gentleman, drawing closer.
His hand reached up and brushed her cheek, like the touch of a feather, or a light puff of wind fluttering playfully. Elizabeth leaned into his touch, sighing with contentment. Then she giggled.
“Are my attentions now a cause for mirth?” said the gentleman, though he was not displeased.
“You know me, Mr. Darcy,” said she, giving him an impish smile. “I dearly love to laugh.”
She fixed him with a challenging look. “Will my propensity toward laughter provoke you to flee from me in panic?”
“There is nothing, Miss Elizabeth, that could take me from your side.”
“Then yes, I do keep my own counsel.”
“And if you were to receive another proposal of marriage?”
Elizabeth laughed and tapped his hand. “That would be telling. Let us only say that I am not displeased with my current situation.”
“Soon, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he. “I am not renowned for my patience.”
“That is a surprise. Why, I have heard that you never rush into anything without due deliberation.”
“But when I decide, I do not hesitate.”
“Then I shall wait to witness the truth of your assertion for myself.” Elizabeth took his arm again. “Now, shall we not return to Longbourn? My mother will send a search party to look for us if we do not appear soon.”
DARCY WAS SO CLOSE that he could almost taste it.
Which was why he had no choice but to fill his mind with other matters, so he did not speak with haste.
Though he was ready, he could sense that Miss Elizabeth, though she had warmed to him, needed a little longer.
Having her forever was worth the wait, so he practiced patience and emulated her—he kept his own counsel.
Longbourn was, as usual, lively that morning, the chatter from the sitting-room reaching them the moment they entered the vestibule.
Knowing Bingley was to visit that morning—Bingley never allowed a day to pass without being in the company of his angel—Darcy was not surprised to see his friend when he stepped into the room.
As he had expected, Georgiana sat with the youngest Bennets, and Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had also come that morning.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” cried Mrs. Bennet the moment they stepped into the room. “How good of you to escort my second daughter this morning.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Darcy, knowing that she could speak at length if he let her. “I enjoy walking with Miss Elizabeth.”