It was one thing to suffer the social effects of being openly known as a witch, but an accusation of using witchcraft maliciously against another could lead to much more serious, legal problems — and Elizabeth didn’t trust certain inhabitants of the house to not immediately jump to the worst assumptions.
Realizing they had been quiet for far too long, and that Mr. Darcy was staring at her in a curious matter, she cleared her throat lightly and took a tentative step forward, toward the house.
“What brings you out so early this morning, sir?” she asked the gentleman, hoping he would follow in her direction, rather that continue on toward the woods. She was relieved when he gently steered his horse toward her and followed suit.
“I often ride out early in the morning,” he responded quickly as he began to walk along side her. “And may I ask what brings you out?” Elizabeth nodded in agreement.
“I, too, often take early morning walks. Though I admit this morning I was seeking fresh air and a slight escape from my anxieties. I am quite concerned for my sister,” she responded quietly, acknowledging to herself that it was not a lie.
“And how is Miss Bennet? Was the apothecary able to help her at all?” Elizabeth shook her head.
“She is not well at all I am afraid. The apothecary provided her with a sleeping draught, but she was unable to keep it down. If she could only sleep soundly, I’m sure that her fever would break,” she said, her voice trailing off and breaking slightly. “I am so worried for her. She has never been ill like this before.”
Mr. Darcy came to a stop beside her and quickly dismounted from his horse, pulling the reins to the side as he continued his pace, on foot, next to Elizabeth. She cocked her eyebrow at him quizzically.
“It was difficult to hear you from such a great height,” he said briskly, dismissing further questions. He was silent for only a moment before continuing.
“I too know what it is like to worry for a sister, Miss Elizabeth. Some days I fear I will go distracted, I become so consumed with concern for my sister Georgiana’s well being. I could not imagine what I would do without her,” he said, somber. Elizabeth felt a quick flash of compassion for the gentleman beside her, and realized that it was the first time she had found anything in common with the aloof man.
“I am sure she feels the same way about you, sir. Though you should not worry so! From all I hear, your sister is near the very picture of perfection, and you are far too young a man to carry such advanced burdens,” she joked lightly, hoping to defuse some of the seriousness she had caused. But she realized the moment she said it that her plan had backfired. Mr. Darcy’s brow had furrowed to an extreme degree, and his posture had tensed.
“It is my duty, as Georgiana’s brother and guardian, to worry for her wellbeing as I do. We have lost both our parents, and as such I am responsible for her. I would feel quite derelict in my duties if I did not occupy my mind in such a manner.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I did not think—” she started to say.
“No, I am sure you did not—” he interjected at the same time. Both stopped in the middle of their sentences and turned away from each other awkwardly, allowing the tension to linger in the cold morning air. Elizabeth shivered slightly, and Mr. Darcy’s eyes snapped back onto her.
“Are you cold?” he asked quickly, surveying her attire. “You are hardly dressed for the weather. With your sister so ill, you should not risk your own health. Please, may I offer my coat?”
Coming from another man’s mouth, Elizabeth was sure that the sentence would have dripped with chivalry, and the offer would have been sincere; but Mr. Darcy’s mien was so harsh, his demeanor so stiff, that he could have no other intent than to censure. His dark greatcoat was already off, however, and he was poised to wrap it around her shoulders, making her refusal that much more difficult.
“No, sir, I assure you that I am fine. Though not properly attired, I assure you that I may fend off the cold just fine,” she demurred, attempting to be as polite as possible. Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows knit together in frustration for a brief moment as he stared at her.
“Miss Elizabeth, it feels so cold that it may snow at any moment, and you are out in your dressing gown. Truly, I must insist,” he said. Elizabeth, annoyed that he had ignored her rejection, shook her head.
“Truly, sir, I must refuse. It is very kind of you, but I could not leave you without a coat due to my failure to dress properly. And, as we will be near the house shortly, I do not think it would be prudent or proper for me to be seen wearing your garment,” she said quietly, meeting his eyes in an attempt to prove her determination. The man stared at her for a long moment, the hard, censuring look that he gave her so often once again fixed on his face.
“It may not be strictly proper, but I must point out, again, that you are in your dressing gown. As you have already acknowledged, you did not dress properly, and thus the strictures of propriety have already been left behind. I hardly believe that preventing you from becoming ill due to exposure could be such an egregious overstep,” Mr. Darcy said at last.
Elizabeth could feel the anger welling in her stomach. What an insufferable man! Did he not understand what a rejection was? Was he so used to having his way in all affairs that he could not comprehend what no meant? In her exhausted and worried state, her anger came much faster, overtaking her with surprising swiftness.
Her annoyance flared white-hot through her body, and she could feel her hair beginning to crackle and slowly stand up from static. Her fingertips began to itch as the full heat of her anger sparked through her. She struggled to regain her calm quickly, knowing that she tended to lose control of her magic when angry; indeed, the very gentleman in front of her had taken an unfortunate tumble the last time she had lost control.
“Mr. Darcy, your offer is kind but unnecessary, and as I have twice now rejected it, both to save you from depriving yourself of warmth and also to avoid a potentially improper situation, I should very much appreciate it if you would respect my initial reaction, and conduct a study in the meaning of the word ‘no,’” she snapped, far harsher than she had intended.
While Elizabeth grappled with her anger, Mr. Darcy stood before her, staring in amazement at the transformation happening in front of his eyes. It was as though she glowed from within herself; though he could not pinpoint where the light came from, or indeed if it even existed, it was as though the woman standing before him was on fire. With her hair unfixed and unruly at her side, her breath crystallizing in the air before her, and her eyes blazing as though alight, she looked positively wild, as if she were a being of pure nature who had sprung from the ground itself to set upon him.
He had no idea what had caused this transformation, or what he had done to deserve such apparent wrath, except for offering her a coat. What woman, especially one as intelligent as he had observed Miss Elizabeth to be, would grow so enraged over the offer of warmth when cold? Darcy could only reason that she must be extraordinarily stubborn, or simply mad. And yet, even as he felt his own ire rising, he was fascinated.
“Miss Elizabeth, forgive me. If my offer of warmth is so offensive to you, I must retract. I was thinking only of your well being,” he finally answered, his voice stilted as he shrugged his jacket back on. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the fire that had been building beside him was gone.
He blinked as he looked back at her again to find no sign of the blazing anger, the electrical crackling that had filled the air, or the pulsating glow that had seemed to emanate from within her. It was as though it had all been a figment of his imagination, a trick played by the early light, and now the woman was smiling at him sweetly, if not slightly sheepishly.
“I thank you for your very generous offer sir; it was very kind indeed. I assure you I am quite warm now,” Elizabeth said, the very essence of ladylike grace. The wild creature who had been there a heartbeat earlier was truly gone; and though he could not confidently say it had ever existed at all, he felt strangely sad t
o see it go.
VI
At length Jane was recovered enough to be moved to Longbourn, much to Elizabeth’s relief. The sisters’ magic had, for possibly the first time, worked without any unfortunate side effects, and after a day spent guarding the site of their spell, Jane’s fever had not only broken, but her cough and sore throat had receded as well. Elizabeth, who had been forced to suffer another day of conversation with the Bingley sisters and Mr. Darcy, was beyond delighted to be returning home.
Each member of the Bennet coven was, as a result, feeling in particularly high spirits, which is possibly what made the sudden arrival of their cousin Mr. Collins all the more disappointing.
Mr. Collins was, in essence, exactly as Elizabeth had expected from his letter. His words were overwrought, his tone unctuous, and his manner exceedingly annoying. In appearance he was an unexceptional man, slightly overset with hair that was already thinning, and though he had an open kind of face, he could not but fail to impress. She allowed that he was an easy character to read, however.
She believed that the man Mr. Collins showed to the world was an exact representation of his character, and though she would not allow him to be a particularly deep man, she did acknowledge that she found no open maliciousness in his address.
Throughout tea, as well as that night’s dinner, she tried repeatedly, to resketch his character, to widen her knowledge of his good characteristics. She had always prided herself on her ability to capture a person’s likeness on first impression, but never before had Elizabeth found herself wishing that she had missed some hidden depths of character; for although he was slightly irritating, she knew with complete confidence that the man would one day be her brother-in-law, or perhaps even husband.
From the dismissive remarks her two younger sisters hurled toward the man, and the polite yet uninterested approach that Jane and Mary applied to him, it was clear that Elizabeth was the only daughter who had been informed of Mr. Bennet’s plans. As the night wore on, Mr. Collins could reliably be found by Jane’s side, inquiring after her taste in books, asking after her health, and endeavoring to secure her the best chair by the fire when they retired after the meal. Jane received these attentions with politeness, but alarm flared within Elizabeth’s chest as she realized that her cousin appeared to have already selected his preferred future wife.
But by the next morning, suddenly everything had changed. Mr. Collins was now situated firmly by Elizabeth’s side at all meals, and it was her company he was requesting on a walk into Meryton. One glance at her mother’s intensely anxious glances confirmed all that Elizabeth had begun to suspect: Anticipating a further relationship between her and Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Bennet had warned Mr. Collins off of Jane and onto Elizabeth.
For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt in agreement with her mother’s schemes. Though she had no desire in the world to marry Mr. Collins, she was relieved to know that the man’s presence would not interfere with Jane and Mr. Bingley’s growing relationship.
She felt sure that, in time, Mr. Collins would see that Mary was a far more suitable match for a parson’s wife; and if he did not, then she would reflect on her commitment to her family duty and ancestral magic at a later date.
Though she may one day have to resign herself to the reality of such a marriage, that day was not yet upon her, and so she endeavored at every opportunity to avoid Mr. Collin’s company. Her preferred mode of diversion was her early morning walk. She would leave before dawn, so as to ensure the gentleman was not up, and return just as breakfast was beginning. This meant she was last to the room and often avoided a seat near him, and allowed her the ability to disappear after breakfast for a time to ready herself for the day.
These morning hours became sacred to her, as with Mr. Collins in the house it was increasingly more difficult to practice her magic in the open. She needed the morning before dawn to sit among the nature, calming her thoughts and centering her spirit.
Elizabeth was determined to use these exercises to aid in her new quest of controlling her temper. Twice now she had allowed her anger to overcome her in Mr. Darcy’s company, and while he could not prove she had made him fall the first time, she was mortified when she remembered her harsh and severe response to his truly innocuous offer of a coat.
Even worse than her words had been her actions — she knew, from experience, that her magic could become apparent when she lost control of her emotions, and she considered it lucky indeed that she had not lost control so fully that Mr. Darcy had seen her powers.
But she was determined that it would not happen again. And thus, one morning as she was clearing her mind and seeking to center her emotions, the very subject of her anger intruded upon her solitude once more.
Elizabeth looked up, her eyes snapping open as she peered through the trees at the horse coming near her. She had thought that the copse of trees at the base of Oakham Mount was private and obscure enough that she would avoid company, but sure enough, there in the morning light was Mr. Darcy’s black horse gliding toward her.
She stood, shaking out her skirts just in time to curtsy to the gentleman as he came upon her. He tipped his hat in greeting, and, without a word, swung from his horse.
“Miss Elizabeth. You look well,” he said, coming around the side of his horse to greet her. “And much more reasonably dressed for the weather,” he added dryly.
Elizabeth had the grace to blush slightly before nodding.
“You have once again come upon me in my daily ritual, sir,” she said, reaching out instinctively to pat the side of his horse’s mane. The beast jerked its head suddenly, and she pulled back reflexively as Mr. Darcy hastened to quiet his horse.
“I thought you had said your ritual was to take an amble among the grounds. It rather looked more like you were sleeping than ambling,” he responded, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. Elizabeth looked at him in confusion. Was he attempting to tease her?
She laughed lightly and took a further step back from the horse that was now eyeing her suspiciously.
“You are correct sir, I do enjoy my morning walk. But I find myself with a great many things to think over and adjust to, and as such, I was appreciating a brief moment of silence in which to dissect them,” she answered in kind.
“May I offer any assistance? I have found, on occasion, that the thoughts that most trouble me find a quick resolution the moment I share them with a friend,” he said quietly, watching as she slowly attempted to hold her hand out to his horse to inspect. The horse snorted quickly through its nostrils and shook its head violently, rejecting Elizabeth’s attempt at peace.
She stepped farther back still, putting a larger distance between her and the horse, and shook her head in wonder.
“I have always had a fear of horses, but I believed it to be rather foolish. As a child, my father told me that horses could sense if you—” she broke off suddenly, her eyes wide. “Well, I was inclined to believe that they would not like me, and it appears that I am correct.”
Mr. Darcy’s horse snorted again, as if agreeing to a mutual dislike. Mr. Darcy patted his horse’s head and gently pushed him away.
“Please do not take Mercury’s rude manners personally, Miss Elizabeth. I am afraid that he is rather like his master, and tends to be ill at ease around strangers,” the gentleman said quietly.
Elizabeth shot him a brief, astonished look. Never before had she heard the proud Mr. Darcy say anything remotely self-deprecating. Though she allowed that he certainly often seemed ill at ease, she had never owed the reason to any kind of shyness.
“I thought you said that we were friends, Mr. Darcy. Has my rocky relationship with your horse downgraded me back to stranger?” she asked coyly, arching her brow at him. The small smile she had seen at the corner of his mouth earlier returned, widening ever so slightly.
“I believe I simply suggested the assistance of a friend, but applied no such label to myself. Are we friends, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked her after a
pause.
“Well, I admit I would not like to be enemies with both you and your horse, sir. And I appreciate your offer — both of assistance and of friendship.”
She bit her lip and glanced up the hill toward the crest of Oakham Mount. She had intended to walk up there alone to continue her solitary quest for answers, but a solution to one of her worries had presented itself, and she was determined to make at least one thing in her life right.
“Would you like to walk with me, Mr. Darcy? I was on my way up Oakham Mount, just there. It is quite a view when the sun has fully crested, and I believe it offers the best view in Hertfordshire,” she said politely. The gentleman nodded silently, repositioned himself between Elizabeth and his horse, and the two set off up the hill in relative quiet.
Elizabeth chewed over how best to broach the subject, and at length chose to simply act, rather than deliberate.
“Mr. Darcy, I believe I owe you an apology. I must admit to no little embarrassment over how harshly I spoke to you the other morning, when you offered me your coat. I was quite out of sorts, I must admit, and very concerned for my sister, and I did not react accordingly,” she paused for a breath and glanced sideways at him. “I promise you I am not always so stubborn.”
Mr. Darcy was silent for a long moment before he nodded.
“I’m not sure I fully believe that,” he said with a slight smile. “But your apology is entirely unnecessary, Miss Elizabeth. Your distress over your sister was apparent, and not one of us can be expected to act ourselves while suffering such turmoil.”
Elizabeth was silent for a long moment, waiting to see if he would say more or perhaps offer his own apology for his refusal to accept her rejection, but none was forthcoming.
An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 5