by Jann Rowland
“I am sorry to hear it, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “I know how fondly you look back on those times.”
Elizabeth paused, thinking of Derbyshire and vacations to the north, and a thought made itself known to her. Reluctant though she was, Elizabeth decided to ask her question, thinking it unlikely that her aunt would understand her reasons for doing so.
“Aunt, the town in which you were raised—where was it exactly?”
“In southern Derbyshire, Lizzy,” replied Mrs. Gardiner, turning her attention from her own disappointment to Elizabeth’s question. “Can I assume you are in truth asking whether it bears a connection to an acquaintance of yours?”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I will own to a little curiosity.”
“Then it shall be satisfied, Lizzy. In fact, Lambton is but five miles from the house at Pemberley, and as it is situated close by—and in close proximity to several other large estates—it owes much of its prosperity to those gentle families who live nearby.”
“But why, then, did you not tell me what you knew when you learned that I had made the present Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance?”
“Because I never presumed an acquaintance with the family,” replied Mrs. Gardiner, favoring Elizabeth with a pointed look. “You were already decided against the man, and as I had no personal knowledge of him, I could not offer any guidance, whether to confirm or refute.”
Though Elizabeth thought that her aunt might still have mentioned it, she allowed the matter to drop. It truly did not signify, after all, for Elizabeth did not expect to see the gentleman again.
“Can we not go to the park today, Lizzy?” pleaded eight-year-old Jessica.
“Jessica,” said Mrs. Gardiner to her daughter, a warning note in her voice. “Do not pester your cousin.”
Jessica pouted, and little Sarah, only three years of age, mimicked her elder sister as she often did, causing Elizabeth to laugh with delight. They were dear children—the two girls, with two boys between them in age—and Elizabeth enjoyed playing with them, reading stories with them, and, indeed, taking them on expeditions to the park.
“Aunt, I do not mind taking them to the park, if you will permit it,” said Elizabeth.
“And I will go too,” added Jane.
Aunt Gardiner eyed her eldest, her stern gaze showing that she was not amused with her children’s begging, but Elizabeth knew she had no true disinclination to allow it. The day was bright and warm, birds were chirping, filling the air with their song, and it truly was a day which demanded they be out enjoying its pleasures. Had Elizabeth been at Longbourn, she would have long since departed for her morning constitutional. The dangers of the city made her movements a little more restricted, but it was too lovely a day to waste indoors.
“I do not wish for you to encourage bad behavior,” said Mrs. Gardiner, looking pointedly at her two daughters.
Elizabeth stifled her laughter—she knew her aunt’s show was for the children’s benefit, and it would not do to illuminate them to this fact.
“But we will be so very well behaved,” said Jessica, turning her wide, doe eyes on her mother.
The two boys—Steven and Jeremy—nodded their heads rapidly in agreement, and the toddler agreed, though her response was marred a little by the thumb she refused to take from her mouth.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “But you will mind your cousins and behave yourselves, or this outing will not be easily repeated.”
Though she was quite obviously bouncing with joy and excitement, Jessica managed to restrain her reaction and promise with gravity that she would behave herself, and ensure her siblings did likewise. Mrs. Gardiner smiled and kissed her eldest on the forehead. A flurry of activity followed, where they prepared to go out, and once the upstairs maid had been called to accompany them, they set out toward the nearby park.
It was a smallish sort of wilderness in the middle of the city, only a mile or two around, but it boasted some delightful woods and a small pond on the north side. They had brought some bread along with the intention of feeding some ducks, which were almost always to be found swimming there, and they directed their steps thither, though with warnings to the children not to approach too close to the water’s edge. Their formation became somewhat ragged as they neared the pond, and their positions became reversed—Jane, who usually followed sedately behind, hurried her steps to follow the running children along with the maid, while Elizabeth, who held Sarah in her arms, followed behind.
She had yet to reach her destination when she happened to glance to the side and noted a tall man walked toward her. Elizabeth’s footsteps slowed and then stopped altogether in shock when she realized the man’s identity.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed she as he approached and bowed.
“Miss Bennet,” said he. “How delightful it is to meet you here today.”
Remembering herself, Elizabeth curtseyed as best she was able, though it was difficult while carrying a small child. Mr. Darcy did not seem to notice, as he gazed at her with his usual intensity, making Elizabeth feel uncomfortable.
“I am surprised, sir,” said Elizabeth. “Mayfair is quite a distance from Gracechurch Street, is it not?”
Mr. Darcy hesitated for a moment before saying: “I had business in the area this morning, and thought to take a short walk before I returned home. It is truly fortunate I happened to meet you today.”
“Yes, fortunate, indeed,” replied Elizabeth.
“Might you do me the honor of introducing me to your companion?” asked Mr. Darcy, gesturing with a smile at the young girl in Elizabeth’s arms. Sarah was watching him, staring at him as young children often do, sizing him up for his great height, unless Elizabeth missed her guess.
“This is Miss Sarah Gardiner, my cousin,” said Elizabeth.
“How do you do, Miss Sarah?” asked Mr. Darcy, inclining his head over her hand, which he had reached out to grasp. For her part, Sarah only continued to watch him, seemingly uncertain what to make of this tall gentleman. Elizabeth was not certain what to make of him herself.
“I believe your party has gone somewhat ahead of you, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, gesturing toward Jane and her other cousins, who were now happily tearing up chunks of bread and throwing them into the water for the ducks to fight over. “Shall we not join them?”
Grateful for some activity in which she could attempt to order her thoughts, Elizabeth agreed and they walked toward the pond. They did not say much as they walked—Mr. Darcy asked after her family while Elizabeth asked after his cousins in turn—and they soon made the side of the pond, where Jane had become aware of their presence.
“Mr. Darcy,” said she with a curtsey, revealing no hint of surprise over his sudden appearance. “How lovely to see you here.”
“Miss Bennet,” replied he.
He requested, and was granted, introductions to all the Gardiner children. Jessica managed a mostly graceful curtsey in response to his bow, but the boys’ bows were decidedly ragged. They were no doubt more interested in feeding the ducks, than meeting some friend of their cousins. Soon they were happily returned to their activities under the maid’s watchful eye, while Mr. Darcy stood next to Elizabeth and Jane.
“I understand you met my sister while in Kent,” said Jane, more, Elizabeth thought, to avoid a long silence than anything else.
“Yes, I was visiting my aunt at the same time,” said Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth wondered at his behavior—the Mr. Darcy who was easier in her company seemed to have disappeared in favor of the aloof, reticent man they had known in Hertfordshire.
They carried on a stilted conversation for several moments while the children continued with their activities. When they had exhausted their supply of bread, Jane proposed a walk around the park before they returned home, which was accepted eagerly by the children. Soon they began walking, the children leading the way, with Jane and the maid in close attendance, while Elizabeth and Darcy trailed along behind. Elizabeth did not know what to make of this
frustrating man. Surely he had not intended to approach her only to remain silent!
Darcy had never been more affected by the sight of Miss Elizabeth Bennet than he was that morning. He had seen her in her finery at balls and assemblies, he had seen her in church on Sunday, and he had seen her walking through the park with nary a care in the world. But the sight of her, dressed in her typical day clothes, a light spencer over her dress, and holding a young child in her arms spoke powerfully to him.
He could almost imagine that the small girl-child was their own, a child born of their love, raised at Pemberley, and destined to become one of the leading lights of society. And with it, he could imagine numerous children, girls with the beautiful eyes and dark curls of their mother, and boys with their father’s stature and dark coloring, and he could not help but hope for that future to come true, sooner rather than later.
If only he possessed the ability to speak with her! He had never felt so tongue-tied in her presence as he felt at present, though he wondered if that was as much to do with her sister’s attendance as the hint of delightful felicity which tugged at his senses and teased him with thoughts of what might be. He thought she must think him a simpleton, for she watched him with curiosity tinged with exasperation, the longer they stood their making stilted conversation. The irony of Darcy’s ability to speak to her when alone, while he felt himself unequal to the task in the presence of her dearest sister, was not lost on him!
Of Jane Bennet, Darcy did not really want to think. The woman was as beautiful as he remembered, and she was calm and quiet as she had ever been. In fact, had it not been for her indifference and her mother’s fortune-hunting ways, Darcy thought she might have made a good match with Bingley. She had no connections of which to speak, it was true, but should he marry Miss Elizabeth, her connections would include Darcy himself, and though at a greater distance, the Fitzwilliams.
When they proposed a walk, Darcy agreed, feeling a well of relief flood through him. Miss Bennet stepped ahead of them, keeping a close eye on the children, while Miss Elizabeth settled in beside Darcy as they walked. It was not a moment before the youngest child finally decided she needed to run herself, and Miss Elizabeth put her down, following behind her closely.
“Your journey to London was accomplished without mishap, I hope?” asked Darcy.
“It was, indeed,” replied Miss Elizabeth, her eyes never leaving the form of her running cousin.
“And the Collinses were well when you left them?”
“They were well, indeed,” said Elizabeth. She turned to glance at him. “I must own, however, that Mr. Collins is excessively concerned about your aunt. It seems she has been unwilling to emerge from Rosings or even to admit him to see her.”
“I am unsurprised,” said Mr. Darcy. “Lady Catherine suffered a series of . . . disappointments lately, and I believe she will wish to come to terms with her new reality in peace and solitude.”
Miss Bennet laughed. “Solicitude my cousin could provide in earnest, but peace or solitude is a bit of a stretch.” She paused for a moment and then said, through a rueful grimace: “I hope you do not find my comments to be intrusive, Mr. Darcy.”
“Of course not, Miss Bennet,” replied Darcy. “There are matters occurring of which you know nothing, though I assume you have already divined that fact, and it is only natural you should be concerned for a woman who has seemingly been left behind to suffer in loneliness by the rest of her family. Mr. Collins should attempt to comfort Lady Catherine as best he can, but as for the rest of the family, we would wish for an improvement of her manners before she once again enters our society. And, she must learn that some things are not meant to be, no matter how much she wishes for them.”
It seemed their ability to speak was restored after that short conversation, and soon they were once again speaking much as they ever had, though Miss Elizabeth’s eyes followed her cousin carefully, ensuring she did not wander anywhere she should not. Not much of consequence was said, but Darcy was grateful for their greater ease. Perhaps his decision to seek her out the day after her arrival would not turn out to be the disaster it had seemed at the start.
When they had completed the circuit of the small park, the Miss Bennets turned to Darcy and thanked him for accompanying them. “I hope the children were not a trial upon your patience, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bennet.
“They are exuberant, though generally well-behaved,” added Miss Elizabeth, “especially when we are present. Mrs. Gardiner, or course, has much to occupy herself, and cannot spend nearly as much time in the park with the children as she would like. When Jane and I are staying with them, we provide them with the outlet for their energy.”
In fact, Darcy had been pleasantly surprised at the behavior of the Gardiner children, and he indicated as much with a smile. “They are handsome children, indeed, and I well remember some of my own exploits as a child. All children must have a means of release, and it is obvious that they adore their elder cousins.”
Miss Elizabeth thanked him for his words and she indicated their readiness to depart. But before they could leave, Darcy stepped forward and made the request which had been his purpose in approaching them that day.
“Miss Elizabeth, I had wondered if you might do me the honor of allowing me to introduce my sister to your acquaintance.”
The gaze Miss Elizabeth fixed on him could not hide the astonishment she obviously felt at his application, and Darcy wondered at it. Had he not made his intentions quite clear to her, even now?
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, apparently drawing in the threads of her composure. “Both Jane and I would be happy to make her acquaintance.”
“Excellent!” replied Darcy.
He paused, and considered the matter, and decided there was nothing for it but to bring his sister to their aunt’s house. He could only hope that they were not as unrefined as Mrs. Bennet, though he could not help but think it unlikely he would be pleasantly surprised.
They arranged for a visit the following day, and Darcy tipped his hat and stepped away, turning his steps toward his carriage, which was waiting some distance down the street. The beginning had been less than auspicious, but Darcy was happy with the outcome. If Miss Elizabeth did not understand the meaning of his attentions now, she soon would.
It was a preoccupied Elizabeth that made her way back to the Gardiner residence in the company of her sister and cousins, thinking about the half hour she had just spent walking in Mr. Darcy’s company. Though she had discounted Mr. Darcy’s supposed interest in her until nearly the end of her stay in Kent, the fact that he had happened upon her, seemingly by chance, in Cheapside, of all places, shattered credulity beyond all repair. She still needed to think on the matter, but she was beginning to form several suspicions about the man. What she was not yet ready to do was to confess her suspicions to anyone else.
Mrs. Gardiner was surprised to hear of Mr. Darcy’s appearance in the local park, and even more surprised to learn that he wished to bring his sister to be introduced to them, though she was more than shrewd enough to realize that Mr. Darcy wished to introduce his sister to the young ladies she was hosting, rather than to Mrs. Gardiner herself.
“That is strange behavior for a man of his stature, indeed,” commented she, after Elizabeth had informed her of the visit planned for the following day. The children had been sent to the nursery, and the Bennet sisters had gathered with their aunt to partake of a mid-morning tea.
“Your uncle has had contact with many men of society, and while times are changing and men of business are starting to earn the respect of the higher classes, still a gentleman will usually balk at bringing a valued relation to the home of a tradesman, especially when that relation is a young girl who is not yet out.”
“But he is known to us,” said Elizabeth, not wishing to acknowledge her aunt’s suspicions.
“Yes, he is,” replied Aunt Gardiner. “But his standing in society is, you must understand, quite differen
t, for all that your father and he are both gentlemen.”
“I understand that, Aunt,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot account for his behavior. I only hope his sisters is amiable—I have heard of her, and understand that she is his equal for pride and conceit.”
“A conceited man would not beg to introduce his young and impressionable sister to ladies who are, by every measure of society, beneath her.”
It was clear that her aunt wished to say more on the matter, but she refrained, and for that Elizabeth was grateful. At the present time, Elizabeth had no desire to inform her aunt of what had been occurring at Rosings, and of what she suspected his motivations to be. Aunt Gardiner was quite intelligent—Elizabeth had no doubt she had already guessed.
But if Elizabeth had thought she had avoided an inquisition, she was mistaken. When it came, the questions came from an altogether surprising source.
Mr. Gardiner had returned at his usual hour, and the family sat down to supper. Though her uncle was surprised at Mr. Darcy’s application, he chose not to question Elizabeth regarding it, seeming to accept the matter with good humor, though a little puzzlement.
“I shall delay going to my office tomorrow,” said he. “An acquaintance with someone of Mr. Darcy’s stature would be quite beneficial, I do not doubt.”
Elizabeth felt the heat of her aunt’s gaze, but she declined to speak, though she thought that Mr. Darcy would not likely wish to make the acquaintance of a tradesman. No sooner did the thought occur to her, however, than she thought of Mr. Bingley and how, though he was not active in trade any longer, he seemed acceptable to Mr. Darcy. And Elizabeth wondered if she were not somehow doing Mr. Darcy a disservice by thinking such things of him.
It was later in the evening when she and Jane had retired to their room that Elizabeth found that there was another who was desirous of hearing her account of Mr. Darcy’s seemingly changed behavior. Elizabeth was grateful, however, that Jane had seen fit to bring up the subject in the privacy of their room, rather than with their aunt and uncle present.