“I am sorry you have experienced such an ordeal,” Darcy began gently. “I am certain that, once Mr. Collins turns his attentions to Miss Lucas, he will not bother you.”
Elizabeth flushed. “It is I who should apologise. You are such a keen listener that I am afraid I spoke as though to one of my sisters. I beg that you will wipe this incident from your memory.” She halted. “To Miss Lucas?”
Darcy’s heart leaped and fell all at once. She considered him a keen listener and had confided in him! Perhaps all was not lost. Yet, he had once again spoken of the future in his abstraction with the present. “You do not think your friend a worthy choice?” Without waiting for an answer he continued, smiling down at her reassuringly, “I do not think I can wipe it from my memory, but I do not hold it against you. It sounds as though you have had provocation.”
“Perhaps. I must admit that my patience for folly is somewhat lacking. Jane can always see the best in others, but I do not possess such a talent.”
“Though Miss Bennet’s ability is by no means unprofitable, I prefer a woman who can move through life with her eyes open to reality—whether it be good or bad. You seem very adept at such a perspective.”
Elizabeth’s flush grew. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly.
“I speak only the truth.”
Elizabeth turned to Apollo and began to stroke him.
“After all, as you are quite aware of, I am not practiced in flattery.”
Elizabeth chuckled weakly.
Darcy hesitated as Elizabeth remained silent. “If you—If you have further difficulties with this person, I beg you will not hesitate to allow me to stand confidant,” he said, hoping that he could at least prevent her marriage to Mr. Collins even if he could not yet propose to her.
Although . . . a thought struck him, practically bowling him over with the wonder of it. What if this had happened Before? He would not have known—he had not seen Elizabeth after the Netherfield Ball, not that she would have confided in him Before. If Mr. Collins had proposed Before, however, he had nothing to worry about. Mr. Collins would turn his attention to Miss Lucas and leave Elizabeth alone.
He did not hesitate to aver that Elizabeth would have rejected Mr. Collins Before; it was not hubris to recognise that Mr. Collins was even less suited to Elizabeth than his former self had been. The only question in his mind was whether her parents would force the issue. But if they had not done so Before . . . .
He could not know for certain, but the thought fanned his hope, bursting it into flame; he likely had time to woo Elizabeth.
“That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said evenly as she turned to meet his gaze.
Darcy suppressed a sigh, recognising the dismissal in her tone. He would hold his peace for now.
Apollo nuzzled Elizabeth’s hand.
“Yes, yes, I am petting you,” Elizabeth told him, resuming her ministrations. “I have missed you too.”
“I am glad we saw you this morning. I do not think Apollo would have forgiven me for spending more time with you than he has,” Darcy said lightly.
“Perhaps I ought to have gone out to the stables last night,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.
“I do not believe such a thing would be forgiven in one who is not known for being a ‘horse enthusiast.’ ”
Elizabeth laughed again. “I am certain such a thing would not be forgiven, even in one who was a noted horse enthusiast. Particularly if I rejoined the ball smelling of horses.”
“True. Bad behaviour at a ball is not easily forgotten; your reputation might suffer material consequences,” Darcy teased.
Elizabeth sobered at once. “I—I hope that you—that the Bingleys were not too distressed by their guests’ behaviour last night.”
Darcy studied her, replaying their last exchange. Perhaps it had brought to mind her family’s behaviour? If so, he desired to assure her that he did not hold such behaviour against her. But if he was wrong, would such assurances only distress and annoy?
“I am certain they were pleased with how the ball went,” Darcy said. Well, Bingley was at least. Miss Bingley was rather less pleased as Darcy had not danced with her and she had continued to lament the necessity of hiring locals even after the guests had left.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I—I’m glad.”
“I thoroughly enjoyed my time last night,” Darcy said, attempting to address her aborted statement.
Elizabeth gave him a skeptical glance.
“I did,” Darcy maintained. “In fact, I do not believe I have enjoyed any ball as much; the company was excellent.”
“Yes, having your cousin there must have been pleasant,” Elizabeth murmured.
“It was. However, I have had my cousin present at a great many balls.” Darcy took a deep breath. “I enjoyed my conversations with you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, then she returned her attention to Apollo. “I believe my sister Mary is indebted to you as well for your conversational skills.”
Darcy suppressed a sigh as Elizabeth once more turned the conversation away from his feelings for her. “I am indebted to her for dancing with me.”
Elizabeth now turned mirth-filled eyes on him. “I am certain that had she not taken pity on you, you would have lacked dance partners throughout the entirety of the evening. It must be a piteous state to be so undesired.”
“What was that about professing opinions not your own?” Darcy asked pointedly.
Elizabeth laughed. “Truly, thank you for dancing with her. I believe several officers danced with her later in the evening, probably following your excellent example. She rarely has many dance partners.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy began, hoping he would not offend Elizabeth, “when you have spoken to Miss Mary about her music—” How could he best phrase his question? “Your sister seems to enjoy the pianoforte, yet I see little resemblance between your style and hers.”
“As I have said, we did not have a music master.”
“Yes, but when you have spoken to each other about your playing—”
Elizabeth sighed. “We have not spoken about our playing. I am afraid I did not even know that she desires a master until last night.”
Surprise, then something more flowed through him. Elizabeth had not spoken to her own sister about her atrocious pianoforte playing? Such a thought had not even occurred to him. He had assumed that Miss Mary must have ignored Elizabeth’s good advice. Likely, Elizabeth had good reason for not having proffered such, he assured himself. Miss Mary’s disconsolate face when her father discounted her playing flashed through his mind, and it was all he could do to articulate even one word. “Why?” he asked hoarsely.
Elizabeth looked down. “I am not close to my sisters save for Jane. Mary—she does not listen to anyone. I suppose I never thought there to be any point in speaking with her about her playing.”
“But, if you could have saved her from distress—” Darcy began.
“Yes, I know,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I have already flagellated myself for not doing more. She seemed to—blossom last night under your care. I am ashamed to say that I have never taken the trouble to attempt what you accomplished in one evening.”
Darcy stared at her, flabbergasted. His Elizabeth neglecting her own flesh and blood? He had seen her kindness to many a shy miss or timid young man. How could she not have helped her sister?
Then again . . . . He recalled her parents’ examples. Perhaps she had always handled her embarrassment about her family’s behaviour the same way that Mr. Bennet handled his—whatever emotion it was that prompted him to disconnect from the real world. Elizabeth used humour to view the world—something Darcy had always found attractive. However, perhaps she had never turned her kindness on her family, feeling it would not help the situation and choosing instead to spend her prowess at helping others on those whose lack of growth would not be so painful.
Darcy softened. Elizabeth was human. He might have forgotten that in
his consistent quest to live his life in a way that would make her proud. She had been his own personal goddess. But she was human.
“From my conversation with her, she does not accept critique readily, but I believe it would be worth your efforts to utilise your gifts with her.”
Elizabeth’s brow creased. “My gifts?”
“You have a rare ability to see behind the masks others use and a talent in using your kindness to help the person underneath.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows flew up.
“I have seen it at work many times,” Darcy continued. “Your kindness with your sister, Miss Bennet, your many encouragements to various young people at the events we have attended together, the way you interact with Tommy, and—” he checked, realising he was about to add himself to that list, “—it is a rare gift to see others for who they truly are and even rarer to offer critique or encouragement as needed.”
“Mr. Darcy, I believe you have me confused with someone else,” Elizabeth said dryly.
Darcy shook his head. “No. Miss Elizabeth, do you not think that it is a talent to recognise why people behave as they do?”
Elizabeth frowned. “I enjoy studying characters, yes. But that is not so unusual.” She looked down. “Nor am I as adept at it as I would like to believe.”
Darcy hesitated. “If you are speaking of your assessment of my character, I have already told you that you were correct. I was proud and disdainful of others’ feelings.” Reminded of her mistakes with Wickham, he changed tactics. “You are human. If you have made mistakes in assessing someone’s character, you have but to take responsibility for your mistakes, learn from them, and move forward.”
“I am afraid I am less sanguine about my mistakes, particularly considering the way I have treated my own sister.”
“I am only ‘sanguine’ because I have experienced my own mistakes. It is—difficult to admit when you are wrong, but you will be a stronger person for it.”
“Mr. Darcy, have I told you that I greatly appreciate your sound wisdom?”
Darcy gave her a bewildered look. “My sound wisdom?”
“Yes. You have several times in the past weeks offered me good advice and generally been a good friend. Do not think that I did not notice your heroic efforts to interpose yourself between me and Mr. Collins last night.”
Darcy shoved down a blush. “I—I am grateful for your friendship as well.”
“I believe we should return. I do not wish to be the cause of search parties,” Elizabeth said with a final caress for Apollo.
“Very well.” Darcy offered her his arm and, this time, she took it.
Chapter 28
When Darcy returned to Netherfield Park, the inhabitants had yet to emerge from their bedchambers. Darcy immediately went to his rooms to change out of his horse-scented clothing. Penn was, as usual, waiting for him. However, before Darcy had finished changing, Fitzwilliam arrived.
“Good morning, Penn,” Fitzwilliam said.
Penn bowed. “Good morning, sir.”
“Already been for your morning ride, eh, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam asked, throwing himself into a chair.
As Penn helped Darcy with his coat, Darcy nodded.
“Meeting Miss Elizabeth?” Fitzwilliam probed.
“What?”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that farewell last night,” Fitzwilliam said with a smirk.
Darcy stilled. Had he been indiscreet? Had anyone else gotten wind of their assignation and, if so, would it affect Elizabeth’s reputation?
“Don’t worry: I doubt anyone else realised what you were doing. If Miss Elizabeth had not mentioned her fondness for walking in the mornings while we were dancing and I had not heard you mention Apollo’s name, I would not have put it together.”
Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.
Penn’s lips turned up. “The young lady appears to be most fond of Apollo if I have heard correctly.”
“Oh?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“I believe she was seen on at least two occasions bringing apples to your horse,” Penn said to Darcy.
Darcy opened his mouth and then closed it. Elizabeth was fond of Apollo, but he had not expected her to seek him out, particularly with her lack of fondness for horses in general. Perhaps she was merely visiting her young friend Tommy and took the opportunity to see Apollo.
Fitzwilliam’s smirk grew. “So the lady finds your horse as acceptable as your horse finds her. It is a strange method of flirtation, but then again, you have always been a bit—different, shall we say?”
Darcy glowered at Fitzwilliam.
“I would say her fondness for your horse may indicate a fondness for the horse’s master,” Fitzwilliam continued. “Don’t you agree, Penn?”
Penn nodded. Then, as Darcy had completed his grooming, he excused himself, a smile still fixed on his face.
The smile fell from Fitzwilliam’s face as he studied Darcy. “So?” he demanded.
“So what?”
“Don’t be obtuse! What did she say when you asked for a courtship?”
Darcy’s eyebrows flew up. “Nothing. I did not ask for a courtship.”
Fitzwilliam sighed theatrically. “I told you last night that she has feelings for you. Why did you not follow through? I can see why, perhaps, you would hesitate to propose, but a courtship is well within your grasp.”
“I believe I have already explained why I have not pressed Miss Elizabeth. Regardless, this morning would not have been an appropriate time.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. Collins proposed to her.”
Fitzwilliam sat up straight, his hands flying to the arms of the chair as though he were poised for action. “What?”
“Apparently, you were right: Mr. Collins was pursuing Miss Elizabeth; however, I believe she rejected him.”
“Did you ask her?” Fitzwilliam asked in exasperation.
“Yes, however, she told me it was not my business, which is accurate at this time.”
Fitzwilliam looked heavenward as though praying for strength. “Darcy, you should have swept her off her feet! You could have asked her to reject Mr. Collins in favour of your offer!”
Darcy glared down at Fitzwilliam and began to pace. “I could have done no such thing! Elizabeth appeared agitated and prefaced her conversation by asking why men cannot believe a woman knows her own mind. She then expressed frustration that he had taken her politeness as encouragement.”
“And you suppose that she has given you no encouragement beyond common politeness?” Fitzwilliam asked as he leaned back in his chair. “Darcy, I will say it once more: if you stay on this course, you will lose her. This is not an ‘if’ but a ‘when.’ ”
Darcy halted.
“She has given you plenty of encouragement. Good god, man! She met you for a walk this morning. I don’t care what taradiddle you tell yourself about Apollo and her fondness for him. She met you. She did not have to do so, and—”
“She forgot our plans,” Darcy interjected roughly. “She did not—she was running away from Mr. Collins, not running towards me.” Darcy bowed his head, his stomach roiling.
Fitzwilliam threw his hands in the air. “Apparently, she did not ask you to leave, which means that she wished you to stay. What more encouragement do you need? The woman confided in you. She was practically uncivil during my dance with her. Her entire countenance lit up when she saw you last night. And you! You are so besotted you can barely hold a conversation with any other person while in her presence.”
“She was uncivil?” Darcy asked incredulously.
“She was occupied in watching you dance with Miss Lucas,” Fitzwilliam said in exasperation. “I am not saying that she was not a pleasant dance partner—I enjoyed what little conversation we had, however, more than once she lost the thread of our conversation because she was focused elsewhere. On you.” Fitzwilliam snorted. “Even if I had any desire to pursue her, I would know it is a lost cause. She is almost as besotted with you as you are
with her.”
“But—”
“But nothing! I don’t care what happened in your vision. You have changed what has happened. So take advantage of those changes and tell her how you feel! She will not wait forever, and if you make her wait much longer, she will think that you are not interested in her.”
“You truly believe it is not premature to speak of such things to her?”
Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. “No. It is not premature. If your connection with Miss Elizabeth were a pear, it would be in danger of spoiling if you leave it on the tree one more day.”
Darcy halted by the window, staring out over the half-naked trees, tracing the lines of the path to Longbourn. Was Fitzwilliam correct? Would Elizabeth welcome his suit? The words he had spoken to Bingley floated back to him. Like Bingley, he could only ask and if she rejected him, he would continue to try to change her mind, because Elizabeth was a treasure beyond price.
“All right,” he said quietly.
“You will ask her?” Fitzwilliam pressed. “As soon as possible?”
“If I am presented with an opportunity to do so.”
Fitzwilliam groaned loudly. “That is the same as a ‘no.’ Make your own opportunities. You cannot wait for one to fall from the Heavens. What about tomorrow? Are you meeting her?”
“I do not know. We did not speak of tomorrow.”
“Perhaps we should call on the Bennets if you do not encounter her tomorrow morning.”
“The youngest two girls would enjoy that,” Darcy said dryly. “I have never seen such officer-mad young ladies.”
“And yet, they would not dance with me last night,” Fitzwilliam remarked.
Darcy stared at him. “What?”
“Every time I was about to ask for a dance, they flitted off to speak to someone else.”
“Perhaps they were unaware of your intentions,” Darcy offered.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 29
