by K C Kahler
* * *
“Was that not a wonderful visit?!” Lydia asked Jane for the third time that night.
“Yes, Lydia. I am happy you enjoyed yourself.”
“Did you notice how Mr Darcy made sure that I would be able to come on your walk tomorrow? Made sure you were here to attend me so that I could be well rested?”
Jane nodded. She had noticed Mr Darcy’s insistence on that detail. “Now, I suggest you make an effort to be well rested. Would you like me to read until you fall asleep?”
“Yes, please. You are the only one who can calm me down without boring me. You will make a good mother.”
Jane motioned for Lydia to climb into bed and get comfortable. She did not wish to think about motherhood, for that required thinking about marriage. She read from Lydia’s favourite novel for half an hour before her sister was soundly sleeping. Jane retired to Kitty’s empty bed. Kitty had switched rooms for the night to allow Lydia a better chance at rest.
In the quiet darkness, Jane had time to think on the gentlemen’s visit. She was sure Mr Collins had been about to offer her marriage that afternoon, and after endless hours of silent anxiety and indecision, she had determined to do what was best for her family. In that moment, she had decided to accept him.
But her resolve was tenuous at best. Elizabeth’s frantic intervention had only prolonged Jane’s internal struggles. She had to be sensible for the sake of her family—even though she could not escape the nagging reservation that “sensible” was merely a kinder way of saying “mercenary.”
When Mr Bingley had come into the sitting room, Jane’s tenuous resolve had fallen about her in tatters. How could she marry one man when she felt this way about another? It would have been so much easier to accept her fate if she had never met Mr Bingley. Every moment she spent with him made it more and more difficult to do what she knew she ought.
Whatever choice she made when the time came, someone would be disappointed in her, whether it was Lizzy, her mother, or the rest of her family.
Tomorrow, Jane would spend another day in the company of the man she was expected to marry and the one she considered the most agreeable man she had ever met. Her last thoughts of the day lingered on Mr Bingley.
Elizabeth was convinced Mr Darcy was a genius. For someone who supposedly abhorred disguise, he certainly had an innate talent for it. At the beginning of yesterday’s visit when he said so little, Elizabeth had doubted his presence was even necessary in light of Mr Bingley’s enthusiastic conversation skills. But now she realised Mr Darcy was merely being economical. He exerted himself when absolutely necessary, thus avoiding at least some interaction with Mr Collins and making his interference even more subtle. It was almost uncanny. Elizabeth wondered whether he amused himself in London in a similar manner.
But once again, she could not argue with his results. The day ahead was planned—from the walk, to tea at Netherfield, to dinner back at Longbourn. Jane would not be alone with Mr Collins for the entire day, and therefore could not receive his declarations. But even more ingenious had been Mr Darcy’s insistence that Jane attend to Lydia’s rest all evening. Unfortunately, his seeming concern for Lydia contradicted his earlier discouraging words about the suitable age for a young lady to wed; Lydia and Mrs Bennet did not quite know what to make of him.
The gentlemen arrived on horseback, leaving their mounts for the day in the care of Longbourn’s stables. After some light refreshments, the sextet set out in the pairs arranged by Mrs Bennet. It seemed Lydia was quite well enough to walk five miles, but only if she could lean on one of Mr Darcy’s famed arms. As Elizabeth walked next to Mr Bingley, she was fortunate to have the most agreeable partner and therefore the most agreeable conversation, yet she knew she must separate the other incompatible couples before too long. She supposed that physically pulling Jane away from Mr Collins would be too obvious, and she had no idea how to pry Lydia away from Mr Darcy.
“Mr Collins, here we come upon the smallest of Longbourn’s three ponds.” Elizabeth motioned for him to join her, prompting him to release Jane’s arm and step forward. Mr Bingley was happy to take the place her cousin relinquished. It was almost too easy.
“Lord, why would anyone care about this tiny pond? Lydia said as she and Mr Darcy reached the edge. “It is more like a puddle.”
“It may be small, but it is spring fed and therefore never dries up—even in drought.”
Lydia was unimpressed with this information, playing with the buttons on her pelisse.
Mr Darcy observed, “You seem to know much about your father’s estate, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, Lizzy fancies herself Papa’s little helper, constantly reporting back to him what she sees on her walks. She visits the tenants more often than he does. What a joke!”
“I am sure Mr Bennet appreciates Miss Elizabeth’s efforts.”
“That is kind of you to say, but in truth, I doubt my father cares one way or the other.” Elizabeth had begun to see every interaction with her father in a new light. When she thought she was being helpful to the estate, had she merely been aiding his desire to hide in the library?
She recalled herself. “Shall we proceed to the next wonder of Longbourn, gentlemen?”
Mr Collins’s clear intent was to restore the earlier groupings, but fortunately, for Elizabeth could think of no way to prevent it, Mr Darcy’s genius struck again. “Mr Collins, my friend here is considering some renovations to Netherfield’s main staircase, and I understand my aunt has made recent improvements to Rosings’ staircase. As I have not yet had the opportunity to view these enhancements, perhaps you would be so kind as to describe them to Mr Bingley.”
Elizabeth now had the pleasure of walking and talking alone with Jane through the beech trees while Mr Bingley was regaled with the grandeur of Rosings’ staircase. After a quarter of an hour, Mr Collins finally felt he had done justice to the subject, leaving an opportunity for Mr Bingley to reply.
“I thank you for all of the intricate detail, Mr Collins. I shall surely keep your descriptions in mind.” Mr Bingley then propelled himself ahead up the hill so that he was even with Jane and Elizabeth. He kicked a stone in front of him, scraping the ground with the toe of his boot. “I say, the ground is a strange grey colour here!”
“We are walking upon one of Hertfordshire’s famous chalk hills.” Elizabeth related what she knew of the geology of Hertfordshire.
Mr Bingley was delighted with everything he heard. “It seems we could not have asked for a better guide for this tour, Mr Collins. Miss Elizabeth is a veritable fount of local knowledge!” Mr Collins agreed readily and loquaciously about the superior knowledge of his fair cousin.
The constantly rearranging group descended into a wooded hollow. As the forest thinned, the ancient oaks were impossible to miss. Half the leaves had fallen already, but the trunks and branches of the giants were impressive enough on their own, even to Lydia’s usual disinterest in all things natural.
“Lord, but they are big! I doubt the three of us could reach around this one together.”
Lydia’s enthusiasm was such that she insisted they attempt the feat. “Stretch your arms, Jane! Oh! We are almost there! If we only touch fingertips instead of holding hands, I think it can be done! Ha, there!”
Lydia proceeded to drag her laughing sisters along to similarly surround each of the gnarled giant oaks and declared that only three trees were too wide for them.
Then she eyed the gentlemen. “You have longer arms. Do try it and see, will you? It would be such a pity not to.”
Mr Bingley easily acquiesced, and Mr Darcy tolerated Lydia’s entreaties with surprising good humour. Once Mr Darcy’s cooperation was acquired, Mr Collins became quite willing. The gentlemen were thus ordered about the grove by Lydia, who saved the biggest of the remaining trees for last.
“Come on, Mr Collins, you must put a little effort into stretching your arms.”
After much prodding and direction, and several circuits around
men and tree, Lydia was defeated. “If only you had another three or four inches between you, it would be done! What a shame Mr Collins has not longer arms. What fun this was! Did I not have an excellent idea? Lord, but this would be the most boring walk without me!”
No one contradicted Lydia’s assertions, and the various members of the group began to examine the grove at leisure. Mr Bingley accompanied Jane while Mr Collins and Lydia followed Mr Darcy around. Elizabeth was left briefly in blissful solitude to admire the trees.
* * *
Lydia was pleased with the expedition thus far. Two miles on the arm of Mr Darcy was certainly nothing to complain about. But, lord, it was hard work getting him to talk. He always seemed to be listening intently to whatever Lizzy said. Could he actually care about rocks and sand?
“Miss Elizabeth, before we leave this grove, I feel now would be the perfect time to hear your tree-climbing story.” Mr Bingley had not forgotten.
“Oh yes, Lizzy. Do tell it!” Lydia much preferred her sister’s funny stories to her boring geological narration. She did the voices and inflections so well.
“Come, I shall show you the very trees involved.” Elizabeth led them to a pair of oaks evenly matched in height and girth—not the largest in the grove, but still impressive.
“Do you see those branches?” She pointed up to a pair of branches about a quarter of the way up each tree. “John Lucas and I used them for a climbing race. As he is two years my senior, he had the advantage of longer limbs and should have always won. I was fast and fearless though, probably foolishly so, and I could beat him if I tried very, very hard. As I grew, I found that I wanted to climb higher.” She gestured to another, more highly situated branch. “I thought it was only natural that we should make the race more difficult as we got older. John adamantly refused, insisting it was too dangerous for me.”
Lizzy laughed, “This was the very worst thing he could have said to dissuade me. John did not often shy away from something daring or dangerous. To find myself willing to attempt some feat that he would not made me even more determined to prove him wrong. So the next time we had our typical climbing race—I was about eleven years old—I continued to climb after he had claimed his victory.
“‘Elizabeth Bennet, you stop that at once!’ John demanded.
“I ignored him. The higher I climbed, the more strident his threats became. He threatened to laugh at me when I fell. He threatened to never climb with me again. He threatened to tell Jane, to tell my father, and finally, to tell my mother. This was the ultimate betrayal. If Mama knew about my tree climbing, or half of the other activities I did with John, I would not be allowed to play with him anymore. And that was the worst possible thing that could happen.
“Finally, I reached the intended branch. In a voice shaking with emotion, I exclaimed, ‘See, it is perfectly safe, John Lucas. How could you ever think of telling my mother on me? I thought we were friends!’
“John was livid as he looked up at me. ‘We are not friends at all! I only play with you because there are no boys close to my age. But I would rather play alone than with a cry-baby girl who is too stupid for her own good!’
“I said, ‘You are scared to climb any higher in the tree. And if you tell my mother anything, everyone will know that John Lucas is too frightened to climb as high as this stupid, cry-baby girl!’
“‘I am not. I just do not want to encourage your stupidity.’
“‘I dare you. I dare you to climb up to that branch.’ I pointed angrily at the branch opposite mine.
“Of course he could not refuse a dare. John began climbing without looking down. When he reached the branch, we glared at each other across the distance.
“I regretted my actions and silently climbed down, dreading that John would refuse to play with me again. When my feet finally reached solid ground, I expected him to resume yelling at me. But then I looked up to see John still perched at the top branch. I asked him what was wrong.
“He answered in a clear but quiet voice. ‘I can’t look down. It is too high. Lizzy, I am afraid.’ This must have been very hard for him to admit.
“‘Oh, well, only look at the next lowest branch or at the trunk. Do not look all the way to the ground.’
“He did not move for several minutes. I began to climb. ‘I am coming to rescue you.’”
Mr Darcy barked out a laugh. Lydia stared at him with wide eyes. “Good lord, Mr Darcy, I have never seen you laugh. Jane, Lizzy—have you ever seen Mr Darcy laugh?” Jane shook her head.
“Oh, do not let Darcy’s drawing room demeanour fool you. No one could be so dreadfully grave all the time.” Mr Bingley, though, was staring at his friend with no little astonishment of his own.
Mr Darcy finally composed himself. “I apologise for the interruption, Miss Elizabeth. If I recall, the young girl was about to rescue the older boy from the clutches of the evil oak tree.”
Lizzy continued, “I soon reached the spot where John was perched, his eyes fixed on the great trunk in front of him. ‘You idiot,’ he said. ‘What good can you do up here?’
“‘Do not be mean, or I shall not help you.’
“‘What does it matter? You will tell everyone what a coward I am. Charlotte will laugh at me. I would rather stay up here forever.’
“‘What does it matter if you are afraid to climb very high or, rather, to climb down from very high? My fear is much worse than yours: I am afraid of horses.’
“‘Being afraid of horses is worse, I suppose,’ he muttered.
“‘Oh yes, I am quite ridiculous! Now follow me and criticise my technique as we climb down. Only look at me.’
“‘I am sorry I called you stupid. We are friends, even though you are a girl.’
“I smiled at him. All was forgiven. I descended more slowly than usual, and John followed close behind. When we got to the ground, we were not alone. My father and Sir William stood a short distance away, covering their mouths to keep from laughing. John groaned.
“‘Oh my Lizzy,’ said Mr Bennet, ‘your mother sent us to catch John putting you in danger. She was sure that he must be the bad influence on you, but I suspect it is the other way around.’
“From that point on, we always raced to the upper set of branches, and it became impossible for me to win.”
“And what was your mother’s reaction?” asked a chuckling Mr Darcy.
“She made me stay at home for a se’nnight to keep me away from John. It would have been longer had my father not intervened after tiring of my constant complaints. But poor John—all of our siblings heard the story often from our fathers. His only consolation was that I never did overcome my fear of horses.”
Jane looked up into the pair of trees. “I never knew how high you climbed. You should have listened to John.”
“If we are quite finished judging my youthful indiscretions, perhaps we should carry on with our walk. The hidden treasures of Netherfield await, Mr Bingley.”
Lydia was happy she could walk on Mr Darcy’s arm for another few miles. Unfortunately, he was again engrossed in Lizzy’s comments, often moving up to be closer to the other two couples. Lydia did not even pay attention anymore—something about the chalk again, and an aquifer, and the large number of springs. What an awful bore!
On they walked through woods and clearings until they came to a rocky path along the side of a sloping hill. Lizzy stopped to face the group. “This concludes the tour, gentlemen. Now we need only walk along this path to be brought to the lane and then Netherfield.”
Mr Collins and Mr Bingley expressed their gratitude, one long-winded and the other jovial. Finally, Lydia would have Mr Darcy to herself, and she would do her best to make him laugh—she had quite enjoyed the sight and sound of it. But after only a few minutes of walking with the taciturn gentleman, she was again foiled.
“Mr Collins, I imagine you would be interested to know I received a letter from my aunt yesterday. She is well.”
“I am much gratified to hear
it. How kind of you to pass such welcome intelligence to me. Do you have any other news to impart from Kent?”
The pairings were suddenly rearranged, much to Lydia’s disappointment. Mr Bingley offered Jane his arm while the other two gentlemen walked together discussing Lady Catherine. Lydia had had quite enough of this new arrangement. She moved to resume her place next to Mr Darcy.
“Lydia,” Elizabeth said as she took her sister’s arm, “how do you fare? Are you quite well?”
Lydia tried to pull ahead. “I am well, but I wish to walk with Mr Darcy. Mama said I should, and you should be with Mr Bingley.”
“I think we can be excused for letting our intendeds escape our control for one half mile out of five.”
Lydia snorted but still attempted to pull ahead.
“Mr Collins and Mr Darcy are having a discussion. Do not disturb them. We still have tea and dinner to spend with the gentlemen from Netherfield.”
“Let go of me.” Lydia yanked her arm, pulling her sister forward. This caused Lizzy to stumble, her ankle twisting awkwardly as her foot came down unevenly on the rocky path. Drat!
* * *
Despite his fatigue after such a long walk, the Reverend William Collins listened very carefully to Mr Darcy’s words about the letter he had received from Lady Catherine.
“Lady Catherine writes to me of the engagement of a neighbour’s son. Have you had the opportunity to meet the Grantly family?”
“I have met Mr and Mrs Grantly and their eldest son, but he is already married. They are a respectable family whose estate is nearby. Lady Catherine approves of them, though their rank is of course considerably lower, and their estate is nothing to Rosings. I understand Miss Grantly is so fortunate as to share a friendship with Miss de Bourgh, which is proof enough of Lady Catherine’s approbation.”
