“How can we be so missish now? We have crossed words readily enough any other time, surely we can do so again.”
Darcy hesitantly agreed. Elizabeth motioned to the path, and they began walking. After ambling in silence for a few minutes, Darcy said smilingly, “I am afraid I must defer to you and allow you to begin as usual.”
“Why is that?” she blurted out. He looked startled. “I beg your pardon, forgive my impertinence.”
“No, no it is well. Have I not explained twice now how I feel when I must speak to others?”
“You explained it was so when you were only first getting to know a person, yet you believe you know me well enough to marry me but not converse with me?” She was only half teasing.
She expected him to be offended, but instead, he laughed. “How did I ever think you would accept me? You honestly do not know, do you?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Have you never been hesitant to speak to someone whose opinion you valued? Coveted, even?” Her blank expression must have been answer enough. “Of course not! You have never known such reluctance to speak your opinion in your life, have you?”
“Am I to take that as a compliment, Mr. Darcy? For you are very near to insulting me again,” she reprimanded.
“And yet when I do speak, I only make a muddle of it! I lose my wits around you, Elizabeth. That fear is part of my hesitancy!”
She blushed but felt it necessary to scold. “You must not take such liberties!”
He ceased walking and looked her directly in the eye. “I mean no offence, but I have called you such in my mind for a very long time now.” He paused and then seemed to make some kind of resolution. “I see now that my attempts at quelling my attraction to you from the beginning of our acquaintance have only served to make you believe I dislike you. I will no longer hide my admiration for you; I never want you to doubt it again.”
“You must not think so. Your foolish fancy will soon end, and you will learn to admire a worthier young lady.”
“There is no one worthier, and it is I that must learn to be worthy of you, Elizabeth.”
His eyes had turned a very dark shade of blue, and the earnestness in his expression made her breath hitch. She blushed again, but would not give way. “Still, you should not call me by my given name.”
Darcy took a step closer. “Why? Because it implies an understanding between us? An intimacy?”
Slowly, he reached for her hand. Her eyes fixed where they met. White kid leather rest against his black. It ought to have provided some protection against his searing touch, but it did not. Her pulse quickened as new sensations pricked up her arm.
“It signifies a close friendship at the very least. I want all this and more.”
Instantly, the spell was over, and she attempted to withdraw her digits. “It is not solely about your desires!”
He squeezed her hand to quell her anger. “No, but it displays them openly to you. I cannot give speeches or write poetry but perhaps with one word, simply your name, I may convey a portion of my regard to you. When I call you Elizabeth you will know what is in my heart: only you.”
It was fortunate he then placed her hand on his arm and resumed walking. She felt unaccountably light-headed.
“I am still open to your course of discussion, Elizabeth.”
Ignoring the speeding of her heart when he said her name, she boldly began her prepared speech. “I must apologise for my unjust accusations yesterday. My words were unforgivable, and I am heartily ashamed of myself.”
Darcy shook his head. “What did you say to me that I did not deserve? I have been selfish and thought only of my own comfort, of my own opinion. Even with matters between your sister and my friend, my interference was the worst kind of officiousness. I presumed to know what kind of marriage he desired and what would be best for him.”
“It rather seems you acted in Jane’s best interest.” The vehemence in her voice surprised Elizabeth.
“Bingley is not so bad, I cannot understand why he would act thusly, and I apologise profusely for his harming your sister. I can only think it must be due to me and my words, in deference to my opinion. Perhaps…”
“No, please do not make excuses for him. Unless you were decidedly forceful or cruelly kept him imprisoned in some way, then this only shows a weakness in his own character. He is so eager to please everyone he could not resolve to ask for her hand or even see her again and court her good opinion. There can be no love in this.”
“I wish I could disagree, but I have learned love must be selfless, Elizabeth.”
He slowly said her name. It was almost a caress, confusing her. Yesterday, he had admitted to only admiring her and finding her a worthy marriage partner. Today… She shut off that train of thought. Some things had not changed in one night.
Clearing her throat to break the spell and signalling they should turn, she asked, “What did your letter contain?”
“An apology of sorts.”
“Of sorts?”
“An apology for my behaviour in Hertfordshire, even on the first night of our acquaintance. An apology for making you believe I disliked you. And an apology for stating my sentiments when you did not wish to hear them.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, “You did not seem so penitent a moment ago when you insisted on telling me your feelings once again, and in using my Christian name.”
“I never said all of my apology was sincere,” he smirked. “I thought I wrote in the clearest of minds, but I see now I was incorrect. I do not regret declaring my feelings and wishes. I understand now what it must take to please such a worthy woman, and I see what work must be done in my own character.”
“Please, you must not change for my sake. And who am I? Just a silly, foolish girl! My head was turned by Wickham’s flattery and attention; I was blinded by Jane’s pain.”
“Elizabeth, I do not evaluate my failings to win your regard, but because your reproofs were just. Do you not think you are as capable of sound judgment as others?”
Elizabeth scoffed. “I had. I had thought my opinion was superior to most, but I see now my father was correct in calling all of his daughters silly, ignorant things.”
Darcy’s face turned stony. “He has said that of you?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “He enjoys teasing us, but I have indeed displayed there is some sense to it. I believe I am as intelligent as any woman, and yet I have been entirely confounded by the actions of nearly every gentleman of my acquaintance. Perhaps there is some merit in concluding my sex is prone to sensibility and lacking intelligence.” As she said it emptiness filled her.
Darcy ceased their movement, and she looked at him expectantly. He seemed to need a moment to gather his thoughts. Instead of his usual well-thought dialogue, he nearly blurted, “You cannot possibly mean that!”
“And why not? Is it not what your professors have taught you? Women are weak-willed and silly?” There was no use in attempting to convince him of all people that she was something more. He had seen her at her worse.
“And you presume I would believe such horrible nonsense?”
She began walking to avoid seeing his triumphant look. “I have never met a man who does not.”
His long legs quickly caught her up to him. He stopped in front of her, halting her progress. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your service.” He elegantly bowed.
Elizabeth shook her head and looked at him with incredulity. “Did you not agree with the most ridiculous list of accomplishments for a lady I have ever heard? Your standards were so fastidious that I could not imagine you knowing a single woman who met them!”
He held up his hands to stave off her angry retorts. “I only stated a woman should improve her mind by extensive reading. I firmly believe a lady can be educated the same as a man.”
“So, are you to learn embroidery then?” Elizabeth huffed.
“As you already know how,” folding his arms across his chest, he smirked, “I shall leave
it to you, but you may teach our sons if you wish. My cousin tells me sewing is indispensable in the military.”
“Sir!”
“Let us speak plainly. I believe any woman can learn as well as any man, but we see not every man chooses to learn, just as not every woman does.”
Uncomfortable with his words she turned them on him. “Everything is a matter of education, is it? I suppose you ought to take your aunt’s advice and practice conversation with strangers more!”
Apparently unfazed by her angry words after so many encounters, he remained stalwart without so much as blinking. “You mean to anger or embarrass me, but it only proves my point. You are as capable of intelligently reprimanding my behaviour as any schoolmaster. And a great deal prettier as well!”
“’Tis a comfort to know that I could take the role of a governess,” Elizabeth frowned.
Darcy released his hands to his side and took a step toward her. “I can see you are uncomfortable with this.”
Elizabeth hated that he knew her so well.
“I will desist, but I believe I have more experience with debating gentlemen than you do, and you already know I do not falsely praise. Please trust me; you are a worthy foe in a battle of words.”
She allowed his last words to pass without comment. Looking past him, she could see the parsonage in the distance. “I received a letter from my aunt. She says I am welcome in two weeks. She thanks you for your offer to be of service.”
“Does that date suit you? I had thought you wished to conclude this matter earlier.”
Elizabeth thought for a moment. “We should make my father see reason and settle any problems in Meryton as soon as possible, but you refuse to call on the Gardiners without my presence.”
She did not hide her displeasure in her voice, and Darcy looked at her for a long moment.
“You understand why, do you not?”
“Yes, you fear they will be like my mother and Aunt Philips, but I promise you, you are mistaken. They are very genteel.” She could have added that they behaved better than even his own aunt, but did not.
Darcy shook his head. “You think I desire your presence because I would need assistance dealing with inappropriate relations? You have met my aunt.”
He smiled, and Elizabeth repressed the urge to laugh.
“I wish to call on your family when you are there so it may not be construed that I paid a visit to your sister.”
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. “Does it follow then that you would want it said that you paid a call only once I was in residence?” She did not welcome his attachment so why did her heart thrill at the thought that he still desired a future with her?
“Yes,” he said emphatically. “I do not mean to accuse your relatives of gossip. I mostly associate with people who would not gossip, and yet much of the ton believes they know my every movement. If they must talk, let it be on my terms. I have made my choice. Our acquaintance from Hertfordshire and meeting again in Kent cannot be kept secret as Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst know it. I will escort you to London and call on your relatives once you are within.”
Elizabeth paled as her mind rapidly drew the conclusion that all of London would be linking her name with his. A match would be expected between them, and she could not consent to such a plan as it would damage her reputation when nothing resulted. She was only beginning to appreciate the gentleman, she did not wish to have her freedom of choice taken from her.
“Nay, you must arrive in London separately and when you visit bring your sister,” Elizabeth hoped to keep a tone of panic out of her voice. “Surely you must see I cannot agree to such a plan as yours.”
He looked at her, surprised and offended but remained silent. Finally resigned acceptance entered his eyes. “I do not mean to set your course or push your hand.”
“No, you just wish for all of London to talk about it!” Elizabeth dashed around him and surged forward again.
“Surely not.” Again, he quickly matched her pace. “I only do not wish my name to be linked with another or to make them not accept you later, should I be fortunate enough to win your hand.” He reached for her hand, and she glared at him. “Please, allow me to still ride alongside you, but the following day I will call on the Gardiners with my sister.”
Elizabeth slid her hand from his while shaking her head. “It truly is not necessary to escort me to London.”
“It is most likely foolish of me, but I will worry if you go with only a maid and manservant. Please, Elizabeth.”
She had intended to move around him, but the tone of his voice brought her up short. Looking into his eyes, which pleaded for her to allow him this, and she found she had no wish to deny him. He was not trying to force her into an understanding, nor did he seek to take away her independence. He only desired to care for her, something, so few people asked to do. Would she let him?
He motioned to the path, and he placed her hand on his strong arm. They remained silent as they walked. She knew he would allow her to decide the matter, but the choice was made harder by his presence and masculine scent. She made her decision only steps from the parsonage gate. “It seems a fair compromise, sir.”
Immediately, she felt the tension release from his form and heard a soft exhale. He squeezed her hand still on his arm and then bowed over it, nearly kissing it.
He spoke when he finished. “Thank you. Until tomorrow, Elizabeth.”
Her brow furrowed as he left and she thought over the course of the afternoon. Not the least on her mind was why she cared to ease his discomfort so much.
Dearest Niece,
I was delighted with your description of Miss More and when it is convenient to you, I invite you both to Bath. Her writing sounds exemplary. I suppose London is leaving its period of mourning after the death of the King’s mother behind. I must wonder what she would think of this act regarding all royal marriages being determined by the King. That not only one brother but both married commoners and kept it a secret, I found shocking but refreshing. I should hope the King treats his sons and daughters better than he treated his brothers.
Yours,
A.F.
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Darcy awaited Elizabeth at their grove. Their grove. Darcy shook his head. She had made her feelings very clear numerous times. There was no them. However, he thought she might not be so indifferent to him as she once was.
As Darcy reconsidered their last few meetings, he began to think that Elizabeth might feel lonely despite her companions at the parsonage. He knew that she sought solitude away from the Collinses and had never accompanied her friend on her morning visits to Rosings. However, requiring isolation from unlikeable companions did not mean one did not feel alone and desire pleasant company. He knew that well from experience. During the dinners at Rosings, Elizabeth seldom spoke. Afterwards, she was often “invited” to perform on the pianoforte. Elizabeth was not the sort to be intimidated by his aunt’s commands or critique, but neither was she the kind that expected to be listened to in silence. At Lucas Lodge, she had laughed with her friend, now Mrs. Collins.
He sensed there was now a coolness in feeling between the two ladies. Mrs. Collins’ younger sister did not seem to provide Elizabeth with any company. What must it be like for Elizabeth, so used to the liveliness of Longbourn? He did not think he could understand fully what she felt, having lived in quiet for so long, but he could empathise. He would provide her company, if she allowed, and try not to irritate her. For once, he considered her needs while he waited for her arrival.
Casting his eyes down the path, he noted her silhouette against the rising sun. Each day, she came earlier and earlier. Was she so eager to leave the parsonage? Or was it a desire to see him that propelled her? His heart sped at the thought. Logic told him to cool his desires and expectations, but he could not. She approached with a smile on her face, and Darcy knew, no matter where he went in the world or what the future held, he would never feel at home again unle
ss he was looking into her smiling face.
“Good day, Miss Elizabeth,” he said when he could make his mouth move.
“Good day,” she smiled back at him.
“May I walk with you?”
“Certainly.”
She took his extended arm, and a thrill shot up the limb. Some of her usual reserve seemed gone, adding to the heady sensation. Darcy forced his brain to focus on conversation and not the light pressure of her hand on his body.
“Did you bring your sketchbook?”
She held up her other hand and grinned. “You know me well, sir.”
“I am beginning to believe such a thing is impossible. However, I dearly enjoy learning about you and guessing what you might do next.”
Elizabeth laughed at the image he created, and Darcy realised he had never known the joy in giving someone else happiness.
“Well, I am waiting. What do you think I will do next?”
She gave him an impish grin, and the desire to feel it against his lips consumed him. A raw hungering burned in him. Men in his clubs boasted of bedding the most beautiful courtesans in England. Poets claimed love would drive you mad. And yet nothing he had read or heard in his life prepared him for this feeling, this need to consume and allow himself to be consumed, not with carnal pleasures, but with enjoying — in needing — another’s presence and to be the source of their bliss.
“I am that much of a conundrum, am I?” she teased when he remained silent but her smile slipped.
“Forgive me,” he rasped. Desire still coursed through him. “I do not dare guess what you will do next. Your path is unmappable by any but you. However, I would like to show you something, if you will follow.”
Elizabeth tilted her head; insatiable curiosity lit her eyes. The image of her looking up at him thusly from where she lay on his bed jolted to the front of his mind.
“This way,” he motioned to a narrow path off the main grove while cursing his dishonourable thoughts.
They walked in silence and Darcy mourned the loss of her hand on his arm as the lane was too narrow to allow them to walk side by side. After nearly a quarter of a mile, the route curved sharply and then opened to a grassy area filled with newly blooming meadows, a pond, and the foundation and one ivy-covered wall of an old church. Coming up next to him, Elizabeth gasped.
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