Chapter Ten
Breakfast the following morning was conducted with such scrupulous civility that Elizabeth began to wish, very sincerely, for a quarrel.
Not a serious quarrel, nothing that would disturb the harmony of the house or require apology and repair, but something small and ordinary, which might give her something to do besides remember.
A disagreement over the strength of the tea, perhaps, or whether Mrs Makepeace’s marmalade had been improved by the addition of lemon peel.
Anything, in short, that might distract from the fact that Mr Darcy had kissed her in the hall the evening before.
He had kissed her.
Elizabeth had spent a restless night attempting to refine the memory into something less inconvenient, but refinement had not improved it. It remained what it was: unexpected, improper, brief—and entirely impossible to forget.
Mr Darcy sat opposite her now with an expression of such careful composure that no one unacquainted with him could have suspected the smallest disturbance.
Elizabeth, who had known him only a short while and therefore ought not to presume to read him at all, noticed that he had taken no butter with his toast, had stirred his tea twice without drinking any, and had looked at her only once since entering the room.
Jane, beside her, was engaged with Mr Bingley in a discussion of the headland path, which he had promoted with the same enthusiasm he brought to every subject.
"I am told the view is quite remarkable," he said. "And as the morning is so very fine, I thought perhaps we might all walk there together. That is, if it suits everyone. I would not wish to impose—but I do think it would be an excellent plan. Darcy, you agreed yesterday."
Darcy inclined his head. "I did."
Elizabeth took a sip of tea and spluttered into her napkin, discovering, too late, that it was too hot.
Mrs Bennet, who had been watching the table with a degree of attention that Elizabeth found deeply suspicious, set down her cup.
"A walk would be very agreeable," she said. "Miss Darcy, you must bring your blue shawl. The air is sharper on the upper path than one expects, and blue is most becoming on you."
Georgiana coloured faintly. "Thank you, Mrs Bennet."
"It is only the truth, my dear."
Darcy glanced at Mrs Bennet and his gaze softened for a moment before he resumed his carefully blank expression.
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They set out shortly after breakfast, the party arranging itself with an ease that felt suspiciously like design to Elizabeth.
Jane and Bingley went ahead, both smiling warmly at the world in general. Mrs Bennet took Georgiana’s arm gently. Elizabeth, without quite understanding how it had happened, found herself walking beside Mr Darcy.
They proceeded in silence for some time. After a turn in the path, Darcy said, very quietly, "Miss Elizabeth, I find myself in some difficulty."
"Only some?"
A flicker of amusement appeared and vanished. "Considerably more than some."
"Then I am afraid I cannot assist you. I am occupied with difficulties of my own."
"I suspected as much."
The path curved gently upwards. Ahead of them, Bingley's voice carried intermittently on the breeze while Mrs Bennet appeared deeply engaged in explaining something to Georgiana.
Then he said, "Miss Elizabeth—"
"No," she said at once.
He stopped. She stopped also, though she had not meant to.
"No?" he repeated.
"No," she said again, though with less certainty. "If you are going to apologise again, I must beg you not to. We have already completed that exercise. We were both extremely civil about it."
The others had gone a little ahead, the curve of the path placing them just out of easy hearing. Jane’s bonnet ribbon moved in the breeze. Bingley was saying something animated. Mrs Bennet and Georgiana had paused, their heads inclined toward one another.
Darcy lowered his voice. "But you know I speak of yet another aberration I have made no apology for."
"I know there are several things you might mean," Elizabeth said, "and I am not convinced any of them are improved by being discussed further."
"I cannot leave it unaddressed."
"Can you not? It would make things much easier."
"No."
"How unfortunate."
He did not retreat from that.
"You think I would make light of it."
"No," she said quickly, and then wished she had not.
"Then what do you think?"
Elizabeth drew a breath and found, to her irritation, that she did not know how to answer plainly. She thought his conduct had been improper. She thought her own had been no better. She thought he had no right, and yet she had not wished him to stop.
"I think," she said at last, "that you are a gentleman, and I am a gentleman’s daughter, and there are expectations attached to both conditions which neither of us observed very well yesterday."
He looked away then, and the movement unsettled her.
"You are right," he said.
She had not expected agreement.
"I behaved without sufficient thought for your position," he continued. "That is inexcusable."
"I would not say entirely without thought," she said before she could stop herself.
He looked back at her and heat rose at once to her face.
"I mean only," she went on, with as much composure as she could gather, "that you had already apologised very handsomely, and I had been engaged in a most stubborn struggle with my bonnet ribbon, and the hall was extremely narrow."
"The narrowness of the hall is not a defence I had considered."
She coloured and walked on briskly.
They rejoined the others at a bend in the path where the view opened suddenly, the sea stretching wide and blue beneath the morning light.
Jane exclaimed softly. Bingley agreed with enthusiasm. Georgiana listened while Mrs Bennet pointed out some small detail of the landscape with quiet interest.
Elizabeth stood a little apart and Darcy did the same.
Mrs Bennet, however, observed both of them with a steadiness that made Elizabeth uneasy.
"Lizzy," she said presently, "walk with me a little."
Elizabeth obeyed. They moved a short distance away, far enough for privacy but not for secrecy.
"You are very quiet this morning," Mrs Bennet said.
"I am often quiet."
Mrs Bennet gave her a look.
"No," Elizabeth admitted. "I suppose I am not."
They walked a little farther.
"Mr Darcy is also quiet," Mrs Bennet said.
"Mr Darcy is always quiet."
"Not in the same way."
Elizabeth glanced at her sharply, but Mrs Bennet was looking out to sea.
"I am not asking for your confidence," she went on. "I know very well you do not like to be pressed. I have enough experience of you, my dear, to know that."
Elizabeth said nothing.
"I have also been foolish," Mrs Bennet continued, more quietly. "Not about marriage itself. That is not a foolish matter. But about how I have spoken of it. How I have pursued it. I have made a great deal of noise."
Elizabeth had no idea how to respond.
"I was trying not to be afraid for my girls and myself," Mrs Bennet added.
They walked on in silence.
At length, Mrs Bennet said, "Mr Darcy looks at you as though he is trying very hard not to."
Elizabeth stopped. "Mama!"
"I am observing," Mrs Bennet said. "I may be less vocal but I am not blind, child."
Elizabeth did not trust herself to answer.
"Only be careful, Lizzy," her mother said, more gently. "Not timid. I should never wish you timid. But careful. It is all too easy for the lady to be injured in these situations."
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Darcy approached after a moment.
"Mrs Bennet has left you thoughtful."
"She has lately taken to doing that," Elizabeth said. "It is very inconvenient."
"She is a woman of more perception than I had understood."
Elizabeth looked at him. But there was no irony in the remark.
"She is often underestimated. And it is often her family doing the underestimating," she said.
They stood side by side, looking out at the sea.
After a moment, he said, "I spoke earlier of my conduct. I should speak also of my intentions."
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly. "Must you?"
"What passed yesterday cannot be dismissed. I ought not to have done it. I know that perfectly well. But knowing it does not alter the fact that I did, nor what must follow from it."
Elizabeth’s composure sharpened. "You speak as though I had no part in it.
Do not say what I think you intend, Mr Darcy.
You have made it quite clear I do not fit in your world.
And I can tell you plainly that I wish no man to be bound to me under an obligation.
Remember our intention to be indifferent acquaintances? "
"I speak as a man who should have known better," he said. "You are a gentleman’s daughter. I am responsible for my conduct toward you."
There was something in the steadiness of his manner that made it difficult to answer lightly.
Colour rose in her face. "You have made it very clear sir, that I am not born to your world and I do not believe a single ‘aberration’ will change that fact."
He visibly flinched at her words.
Elizabeth drew a breath. "You build a great deal upon a single misjudged moment in a hallway. You speak of what ought to be," she said. "But you do not seem to have considered that I might object for reasons entirely my own."
She turned slightly toward the sea. It would have been simpler if he had been merely arrogant, or merely impulsive. Simpler still if she had felt nothing for him at all.
"I do not know what to think," she said at last.
"I have spoken abruptly," he continued, "and perhaps without sufficient regard for your ease. That is my fault. But I will not withdraw what I have said, nor pretend it was said in error. I am not indifferent to you."
She gave a hollow laugh, then said, "I am not indifferent to you. If I were, this would be easily dismissed. But I am unsettled, and I do not trust my judgement at present."
"Miss Elizabeth, if I could recall that conversation with Bingley and strike every word from it, I would."
"You cannot," she said quietly. "And neither of us can pretend it was never said."
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When they returned to the house, Elizabeth lingered in the hall under the pretence of adjusting her gloves. Darcy, having given up his hat, did not immediately follow the others into the parlour, and for a moment they were left together.
Her gaze dropped, unbidden, to the place where her bonnet had fallen the evening before.
Darcy noticed. A faint colour rose along his cheek.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said.
"Mr Darcy."
From the parlour, Bingley’s voice carried out, bright with enthusiasm. "Miss Bennet, I assure you, if this is not the best tea cake I have ever encountered, it is at least in the top three, and I should be very glad of your opinion —Darcy, you must come and try it—"
Mrs Bennet followed, more briskly. "Lizzy, my dear, do come in. Mr Bingley is in raptures and I cannot be expected to manage his good humour alone."