by Beth Poppet
“Keep your secrets, then,” she laughed. “I mean to chastise Mr Darcy, not remark on the virtues of a man who is not here to be buoyed by the flattery.”
Mr Darcy looked as if he was about to answer her, but Mr Collins then returned, keeping Mr Darcy preoccupied with the great task of saying as little as possible to him without also encouraging his ongoing speeches full of thanks. Colonel Fitzwilliam had far better success in asking just the sort of questions Mr Collins was delighted to answer, but in such a way that amused and entertained Elizabeth, and even Jane. There was something in his manner that made her think of Mr Bingley, though he was far more learned and less apt to make jokes at his own expense. Still, he was a most agreeable man altogether and livened the atmosphere exceedingly, which said a great deal about the disposition of the party in general, and Lizzy was sorry to see the gentlemen go less than an hour after Mr Collins’s return to the parsonage.
Jane had been observing Mr Darcy throughout his visit and had formed an opinion based on the agitation in his features when Mr Wickham was mentioned, and his general fascination with anything Elizabeth said, whether significant or slight.
Later that evening, while the women were tucked away in the little sitting room on the other side of the house from Mr Collins’s study, Mary with a tome as her companion, Lizzy and Jane with each other, Jane brought about a most interesting suggestion.
“I do believe Mr Darcy may be in love with you, Lizzy.”
“Me?!” She laughed heartily. “No, I cannot believe it.”
“You may not,” Jane said, “but he has eyes for no other when you are in the room. And he looked in such distress when you spoke of your friendship with Wickham, it seemed almost to cause him physical pain.”
Lizzy shook her head, smiling all the while. “You are imagining things because you want him to be in love with me, and your sisterly interest does you credit, Jane, but it is hardly probable.”
“He was very kind in sending us that basket of berries ahead of his visit. They were not on the prescribed list of foods Lady Catherine determined was best for me to ingest, but Mr Collins could not argue with Mr Darcy’s generosity.”
“You should not need Mr Darcy’s generosity to go against the wishes of Lady Catherine. Your husband should have the good sense to do so of his own accord.”
“Yes, but you must see how much thought was put into such a gift, and I’m certain Mr Darcy would never be inclined to such consideration for my sake alone. No, you will not convince me against it. If Mr Darcy is not in love with you now, he is in very real danger of becoming so, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Danger, indeed! For I have not decided to like him, and if he were to offer himself to me—as absurd as that would be!—I may not accept him. He was very cold to me at Netherfield, you know.”
At the mention of Mr Bingley’s place, Jane maintained her composure remarkably well. “Yes, so you have said. You made a great point of it this afternoon, and I wonder if you would be so bothered by his slight if you felt entirely disinterested in him.”
“You are in rare form tonight, Mrs Collins!” Lizzy laughed. “But you are too quick to see us matched. We still have not seen him with Miss de Bourgh, remember? I have a great curiosity to see how they are together.”
For the first time that evening, Mary peered over the top of her book in order to offer her opinion. “Anne does not consider Mr Darcy with any more affection than that of an elder brother, but having been joined to him since infancy, she is perfectly ready to fulfil her duty as set forth by her mother, Lady Catherine. If Mr Darcy does her the injustice of retracting from their understanding, however first supplied, he will cause no injury to her feelings, but might do great harm to her prospects, as Anne’s health is as fragile as a woman’s reputation is brittle.”
“Miss de Bourgh cannot be in want of prospects,” Elizabeth countered. “Though her health may prevent a match of willing means to come about, she will never want for money or connexions. She will have the means to live as much as she ever has. I wonder if this betrothal at birth has more to do with Lady Catherine’s jealous protection of the nephew rather than the daughter.”
Mary rolled her eyes a little and returned to her book, in no mood to speak on the motives of ladies either high or low. She intended to warn Elizabeth of Mr Darcy’s obligation, and now that she had done, she would gladly withdraw from the conversation altogether.
“Besides the indifferent Miss de Bourgh,” Lizzy went on, “there is still this mysterious business with Mr Wickham that I cannot make out. Colonel Fitzwilliam seems to know whatever Mr Darcy does, but is determined to be as secretive as he. Unless he has had the matter from Mr Darcy and is therefore not a reliable informant.”
“Lizzy, what are you supposing?” Jane asked.
“Only deciding what my chances are at getting the colonel to tell me what Mr Darcy will not,” Lizzy smiled mischievously.
Mary found this an opportune moment to caution her elder sister against the dangers of forming attachments with rich men who did not think seriously of previous engagements. Elizabeth retorted with a thinly veiled insult of sisters who did not think seriously of keeping private conversations in their confidence, but rather gave misleading intelligence to important ladies with an elevated opinion of their right to poke their nose into their neighbours’ business.
The insult being given in a vague but meaningful fashion, Mary had no ready reply and Jane was not required to make a shaky sort of peace between them. Mary retired to her own room in a superior huff and Elizabeth was not long in following, though the parting words between her and Jane were far gentler and more tender.
Chapter Eleven
There was a small grove hidden from the lane by some beautifully wild trees that Elizabeth frequented when Jane was indisposed, and she had a little time to herself. She often took letters from home there to pour over in the quiet and considered it quite her own spot as it seemed beyond the reach of Lady Catherine and Mr Collins’s scrutiny to contend with the wildness there. There was an old bench by the wayside that offered her rest and repose in such moments as these, and she became more than fond of her little grove.
She was less than pleased then, when Mr Darcy came upon her in the tranquillity of one of her morning walks. Surprised, but civil greetings were exchanged, and she thought that would be the end of it. However, Mr Darcy lingered. He asked if she regularly enjoyed morning walks by way of the grove, if Mrs Collins was well, and whether she had settled comfortably into the parsonage.
Baffled as to why he should take an interest after having behaved so coldly to her before, but no less interested in having a means to speak her mind on the subject of her sister, she replied that Jane was not always well, but might be able to rest better without such “help” as was constantly prevailed upon her to accept. By this, Mr Darcy inferred that she meant his aunt, and said as much.
Elizabeth’s expression was ample confirmation that it was Lady Catherine she referred to. “I am sure she could not bestow her attentions on a more willing recipient than Mr Collins, but his wife is another matter altogether. Jane does not have the temperament to refuse any consideration offered her by an authority. However misguided the attempts may be, she cannot help but believe there must be some merit to the proposed remedy.”
“In that, I think, she is entirely unlike you, Miss Bennet.” This was said with a teasing smile, but as the sentiment was delivered with a tone not unlike his usual proffered judgements, Elizabeth missed the humour in his looks.
Supposing he must have heard some tale of her outspokenness towards Lady Catherine at their last encounter, Elizabeth coloured deeply. “Lady Catherine is not used to inferiors speaking their mind in opposition to her whims. I dare say it was quite the shock for her.” The lengths demanded of her to receive any help for Jane were not the most endearing of memories, and it fuelled her temper. “Is she quite recovered?” she added with mock sincerity. “We have had no invitations to Rosings of late.
Perhaps my presence is too alarming for her to endure, as it is too inferior for your liking.”
“It was not my intention to offend you,” he glowered. “I assure you the observation was meant to be a compliment, however misinterpreted by you.”
Chagrined into silence, Elizabeth sought an escape from their uncomfortable interlude, but could discern none at present that would not cause even more embarrassment in the long run.
It was Mr Darcy who next broke the silence. “You have told me before that your sister is not one to be often beset by melancholy. I take it then her sufferings are of a physical nature.”
“Perhaps they are a little of both,” she answered cautiously. “Jane is unsettled by being the centre of so much debate and feeling troublesome which adds to her already sensitive condition. It is one that cannot be fully alleviated until the end of her confinement, but if I can do anything to make her more comfortable, I am willing to offend a few great ladies and perhaps a gentleman or two in the process.”
Understanding now what ailed Jane, he remarked, “Being so near to Longbourn must be of comfort to her, at least.”
“So near?” Elizabeth thought he must be mistaken regarding the distance, having travelled from town into Hunsford rather than from Hertfordshire. “It is almost fifty miles!”
“What is fifty miles of good road?” he said dismissively. “I do say it is near.”
Elizabeth thought of the frequent quarrelling that had taken place shortly after Jane’s marriage. She considered her mother’s nervous flutterings and despairing utterances, and she thought of how Kitty and Lydia might imagine themselves within their rights to stop in every morning if Jane had settled within walking distance of Longbourn. “I suppose… one could be situated too near their family,” she began.
“Precisely,” he agreed emphatically, to a degree that surprised her. “You could have no serious objection to not being always near Longbourn, so far as you were nearer to Mrs Collins.” Something in his expression changed curiously. Elizabeth stammered an assent but was not confident she should reply to such an assumption however true it might be.
Mr Darcy seemed surprised by his own remark, enough to shorten his walk and soon return to the great house, leaving Elizabeth more puzzled than before.
She thought there could be no more unwitting exchanges between her and Mr Darcy. They would go their separate ways and the mistake would not be repeated now he was aware of her fondness for walking in that spot. Yet he came upon her again, and yet again in the days that followed. Each time, he seemed nearly startled to find her there, as if his wanderings had taken him where he had not intended to go, and it was not until seeing Elizabeth that he realised his mistake. And yet the mistake was repeated. Not twice, but thrice, and even four times over in a matter of weeks. He would not only tarry with her, but walk her back to the parsonage, and sometimes stop in to call on Mr Collins if he was in. As Mr Collins was the last person on earth Elizabeth imagined would incite Mr Darcy’s interest in forming a more intimate acquaintance with, and he was so severe and silent whenever in his company, it caused her to wonder why on earth he would take the time to visit so often. Jane was convinced by these attentions that he was in love with her sister and paid her husband the honour for Elizabeth’s sake alone. She did not continue to pester Elizabeth on the subject however, fearing that a continuation would provoke her to outrage and she might frighten Mr Darcy away by her ire. She therefore left the matter be as far as discussion was concerned, but more and more often found herself desirous of solitude in order that Lizzy might not neglect her morning walks.
Elizabeth considered altering the direction of her walks, but there was no pleasanter spot on the property, and she supposed she could suffer Mr Darcy’s company now and then in order to escape agents of Lady Catherine, or the announcements of Mr Collins whenever her carriage or Miss de Bourgh’s phaeton stopped at their garden gate.
The sighting was now even more worthy of rejoicing, as since the arrival of the gentlemen, Lady Catherine had no great need for the company of lesser persons. Elizabeth supposed it a fair assessment that Lady Catherine only sought their company as a diversion when no better could be had. Despite her open complaints to Mr Darcy, it was of little consequence to her, as Jane was not usually well enough to attend at all, and she preferred her quiet grove and the occasional intruding of a certain enigmatic gentleman to the pomp and ceremony that came of dining with the revered aunt.
They were invited to come an evening, much to the relief of Mr Collins, though the invitation was not for dinner but only to come and play at cards afterward. A mere formality to be certain, but Elizabeth mustered the eagerness to attend, for she was most keen to watch Mr Darcy and his behaviour towards his supposed betrothed, Miss Anne de Bourgh.
It crossed her mind as they were seen into the drawing-room that it might have been at Mr Darcy’s request that his aunt invited them so soon after Elizabeth’s complaints, but quickly banished the thought as it was more probable that Lady Catherine felt herself under obligation to extend another invitation to her fawning Mr Collins or Colonel Fitzwilliam was merely eager to have more players at the card table.
Through the evening Elizabeth kept her watch over Mr Darcy and his intended. There was nothing more warm or attentive in his looks or actions to Miss de Bourgh than any other creature in the room, though the aunt ensured his attention was directed towards her one way or another as frequently as she could. He replied with courtesy but displayed not an inkling of deeper affection. Elizabeth thought him just as likely to have been in love with Miss Bingley for all the lack of feeling he showed, and Miss de Bourgh blankly ignored her mother’s remarks with a languid sniff or a low murmur to either Mary or Mrs Jenkins.
When the tables were put away and all gathered once more, the subject was turned to music, and Lady Catherine bemoaned her daughter’s health which disallowed her mastery, claiming herself to be a great proficient at heart and ensuring the whole of their party understood her to be so, despite her inability to manifest her talents in an outward expression of them.
Colonel Fitzwilliam secured Miss Bennet for a song, insisting he was the only one thus far denied the pleasure of hearing her sing. Mary looked grave and disappointed for all of several moments, but was employed with the remarkable task of making Miss de Bourgh smile with her “gloomy quotes,” as Lydia would have called them, and the mood passed almost as soon as Elizabeth had taken the bench.
Mr Darcy soon approached, and Elizabeth cautioned him by way of saying to Colonel Fitzwilliam that her courage rose at every attempt to intimidate her. He accused her of asserting opinions which were not her own. She combated with mock horror, and an arched brow.
Their lively conversation, and Colonel Fiztwilliam’s responding laughter piqued the interest of the aunt who left her high-backed chair of antiquity to insert herself into the proceedings. The subject turned again to Lady Catherine’s wish that Anne would have been able to play and sing, as her fingers, though delicate, were long and seemingly made for such pursuits as the minuet Miss Bennet now played. Mr Darcy replied with disinterested silence towards the aunt but maintained his fixation on the pianist. Elizabeth supposed it a challenge to her ability and played better than she ever had in her life. The applause from the colonel was generous and deserved, and Mr Darcy smiled with little reservation.
After the small party had returned to the parsonage and the ladies of the house prepared to retire, Lady Catherine swept past her nephew in a brush of heavy silks and exclaimed it was too bad Miss Bennet was engaged to that Wickham fellow, for she might almost be an accomplished young lady, if she only took the time to apply herself properly and practise her music as instructed.
A look of alarm passed over her favourite nephew’s features, but as it came and went so suddenly Lady Catherine supposed it to be only a twinge of indigestion and advised him to take a cup of camomile rather than a glass of port before retiring. This he did dutifully, wrestling with his own thoughts
that it was not troubles of the stomach he felt at all, but something far more worrying that no amount of camomile would overcome.
Chapter Twelve
It had been some time since Elizabeth received any letters from Longbourn. She supposed the ending of spring and the coming of warmer days drove her youngest sisters out of the house more often than before to chase the officers and call on their Aunt Phillips in Meryton. Being that she had no letters to bring with her to the grove, she bypassed it, taking Jane for walks in the garden when she was well enough to manage them.
Upon their return this morning there were two letters for Elizabeth; one from Kitty and the other from Lydia. She was preparing to go out with Jane again to visit her poor folk, but she insisted Lizzy stay behind to read them knowing how long she had waited for news of home. Jane assured her she was prepared to visit all the poor folk in their neighbourhood with Mr Collins who was more than pleased to take her and began expressing so in his verbally affluent way when Miss de Bourgh’s phaeton came, and the sight of it—and even more, the sight of Mary being helped into it and driven to Rosing’s without a word of it to him—knocked him quite speechless even as far as the lane towards the Hummel’s home.
Elizabeth was thus alone in the house, and her letters unopened when the bell rang, and Mr Darcy was ushered in by the housemaid. Elizabeth supposed he would take note of her solitude and soon be on his way, but after a brief apology regarding his intrusion he asked several questions of no consequence whatsoever and sat down in the chair opposite her. Knowing little else to do, she sat as well, and attempted to think of something to say to him that did not let on how poor she thought his timing.
Mr Darcy’s countenance was agitated and grim. He seemed to be deeply distressed over some ill tiding, as if he had hurried over as soon as possible, but Elizabeth was not one to enquire. Not when she had letters of a more pressing nature waiting for her perusal.