Tact Page 9

  Elizabeth, on edge, shot a glance to the colonel, who looked ironically amused but shook his head at her. This silent exchange was not lost on Mr. Darcy, who shepherded him out of the room to hand his aunt into her carriage. Before quitting the room himself, he addressed Elizabeth.

  “Have you, in truth, been obliged to walk out less than you would wish?”

  “I have done so less than I am used to at Longbourn, yes, sir.”

  He sighed, “I see. I will have a man sent over every day to escort you while you are here then. I did not consider that there would not be a manservant readily available. It is little wonder that you were so quiet at Rosings that evening.”

  “You do not think that I was merely overawed by the exalted company in which I found myself, sir?”

  Unexpectedly, he laughed quietly and bowed over her hand in farewell, “I stand corrected, Miss Bennet. I had forgotten the small matter of your docility of spirit. What time do you habitually take your walks? I shall add it to the very top of my list of things that must be done in order to please Miss Bennet.”

  Feeling more in charity with him than she had ever done, she smiled and told him, and then he left.

  Those who lived at the parsonage returned to the room once their visitors had left them, feeling they had emerged from a very dangerous ordeal relatively unscathed.

  Mary looked at the too innocent expression on Elizabeth’s face.

  “Lizzy,” she said ponderously, “do you not suppose you could….”

  “No," said Elizabeth, very firmly, “I most certainly could not.”

  She went to bed that night with her thoughts in no better order than when she had awoken that morning. Her mind was crammed full of more bewildering information than she could possibly deal with at once – it must be sifted through, as Lydia did her ribbons to decide upon the prettiest.

  First, and most important – Mr. Darcy apparently loved her.

  Second – she had narrowly managed to avoid enraging her relatives and his in the process of heading him off. She would have to find a way of getting him to accept a refusal at some point. That could be thought of later.

  Third, and most surprising of all – Mr. Darcy had a very pleasant laugh.

  With that, Lizzy closed her eyes and knew no more until morning.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The time that Elizabeth had remaining in Kent seemed to her to pass with all the speed of Mrs. Garron’s funeral dirge. There was too much to be done, yet at the same time too much time was left to idleness.

  Mr. Darcy was true to his word and a man was sent every morning to accompany her on her walks. She did not know whose servant he was; they did not engage in conversation. He was there, said Mr. Darcy, to ensure her safety as she went wherever she was pleased to go. As a result of this, Elizabeth found herself, in the last week of her visit, able to see more of the beautiful countryside than she had in all the previous days she had been there.

  The return to regular exercise did much to cheer her and she found that when they were once again invited to dine at Rosings, she was able to bear the experience with greater equanimity than she might otherwise have done.

  Mercifully, the subject of Mr. Darcy’s strange affection for her was not audibly raised by anyone, yet the air was heavy with the knowledge of it. Whilst it was never openly discussed, it was clear that expectation was present; it was apparent for example, in the way the gentleman escorted her into dinner without so much as a blink from anyone else there, in the proprietary manner in which he pulled out her chair for her to be seated, and in the knowledgeable way he pressed her favourite dishes upon her notice – evidently he had been studying her preferences every previous time they had been together. It made her feel uneasy.

  The expectation was clearer than ever when the gentlemen from Rosings came to take their leave a few days before her own departure. Colonel Fitzwilliam was his usual affable self, but knowing of his cousin’s interest, was a little more reserved with his charm than on previous meetings. He at least, like his aunt, clearly considered a marriage to be a foregone conclusion. Mr. Darcy was at pains to better himself in her estimation and seemed to recognise instinctively that the courtship period had not yet begun and therefore ought not to be discussed before the actual fact. She was gently civil to him in return for his forbearance and she even went so far as to tease him lightly about the long competitive race to London that he was likely to have with his cousin. Such lively conversation from her seemed to please him immensely.

  Elizabeth felt a measure of flustered anxiety when he bowed solemnly over her hand on that last visit and pressed it between his own fingers as he straightened, looking down at her face as though she were something worthy of fascination. She ruthlessly chided herself for being so susceptible to the flattering attention of an important man. Really, she thought, it was far preferable when she had assumed that he held her in contempt.

  The last day, sans Mr. Darcy, was spent packing her trunks, willfully ignoring Lady Catherine’s advice on the correct way to do so, and taking leave of the few acquaintances she had made in Hunsford itself. She had become quite a favourite with the shopkeepers, being friendly enough despite her obvious quality, and any new face in a confined and unvarying society must be looked upon with great favour.

  She called also at Rosings, to take her leave of Lady Catherine and her daughter, Miss de Bourgh now being well enough to sit quietly by the fire again, and she knew a pang of remorse at her own glib thoughts of that young lady. Self-obsessed she might be, but looking at that pale drawn face and the sunken eyes that spoke of pain, Elizabeth despised herself for her lack of compassion. How could she have not seen it before? She was learning rapidly that her judgment was not so sound as she had thought it, but how was it that the clear signs of illness, not merely in the lady’s conversation, had so escaped her?

  She had blindly seen what she expected to see in a wealthy young lady related to so proud a man as Mr. Darcy, and it shamed her. She exerted herself that last morning to enquire, in her sweetest voice, as to the wellbeing of Miss de Bourgh, earning herself such a speaking look of approval and gratitude from the mother that she found herself shamed twice over.

  If she found the resultant enthusiastic monologue tiresome, she valiantly concealed it and felt that had she comported herself so from the beginning, she might have been prouder of herself. It was a lesson that she resolved to learn, even if it was a difficult one.

  Miss de Bourgh, when they rose to leave, was moved to extend a thin, shaking hand and wish her very well. “I have heard, Miss Bennet, that you may well become kin to us. I am glad of it – fresh healthy blood is what is needed in our family even if I may not benefit by it. I do not know if I will see you again so I must offer my felicitations in advance of them being necessary. No, don’t look so very embarrassed, Miss Bennet – I am merely finding that my mother’s plain speaking is occasionally necessary as time grows shorter. Should you wish to write to me, I will be glad to read any letter you send. You will forgive me for not seeing you to the door; I must retire to my room again. God bless you, Miss Bennet.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson escorted her charge out and Elizabeth found her eyes wet. Lady Catherine nodded briskly at her and turned away to mop her own eyes.

  “You will write, Miss Bennet – a lively, happy letter for my daughter? I am certain she will enjoy that.”

  There was naught Elizabeth could do, no wrangling words she could utter, to avoid it. It was impossible to do anything other than promise that she would – her smarting conscience would not permit her even to try.

  The next morning, a carriage awaited them outside the Hunsford parsonage. Mr. Collins and Mary were to accompany Elizabeth back to Meryton – no other escort was available and Mary had shyly and privately expressed a wish to her husband that she might consult her mother on one or two things. Mr. Collins, after a lengthy silence and a little more oblique hinting, had eventually understood what was not said, and caught his wife up in his arms with an exuberant joy that startled and delighted her.

  The trio of travellers did not converse a great deal on the journey home, too preoccupied with their own thoughts and feelings to desire entertainment. They passed the known landmarks with little more than a comment or two and then lapsed into companionable silence.

  They were met on the steps of Longbourn by Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, and a giggling Kitty and Lydia. The Collinses were very civilly made welcome and Mary made much fuss of by her mama. Mr. Bennet, having dismissed his married daughter with a pat on the cheek and a “Well well, my Mary – he has been taking good care of you, has he not? You are looking quite...quite pretty, my dear. Ah! Elizabeth…” and here he waved a sheet of closely written paper, “you will be able to spare your aged father a few moments of your time in my library once you have refreshed yourself, I daresay.”

  Curious beyond measure and half suspecting the identity of the writer of the letter in his hand, Elizabeth curtseyed with great formality and obsequiously assured him that her joy was to do his bidding as soon as was humanly possible.

  Mr. Collins, overhearing, nodded approvingly, and Mr. Bennet – upon whom sarcasm was not lost – chuckled and sent her on her way.

  She hastened to change out of her travelling clothes, and entered her father's private sanctuary with a light knock that belied the trepidation she was feeling.

  “Well, Papa, have you had numerous letters from the lords and dukes of London begging for the honour of Jane’s fair hand?”

  This opening volley earnt her a smirk and she began to relax.

  “Not this time, my dear, although such epistles would surprise me considerably less than the one I received yesterday morning. I do not suppose you would care to guess who would write me such an astonishin
g letter, would you, Lizzy?”

  “I fear my poor guessing abilities would only serve to disappoint you, but I can fetch Mama if that is the sort of entertainment you desire. Doubtless you will enlighten me as to your meaning before dinner this evening, sir?”

  “Hmmph. Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine de Bourgh haven’t managed to cure you of your impertinence, I see.” He attempted to look stern but was never proof against the mischievous sparkle in his favourite daughter’s bright eyes. “Ah, very well. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley has written to me. There now, it is time to be serious.”

  “Is his name Fitzwilliam? I had not heard that it was.” Was all Elizabeth would say, though she was now burning with curiosity.

  “Lizzy, you aren’t going to pretend ignorance, are you?” asked Mr. Bennet, sounding disappointed. “I had rather thought you above such feminine ploys.”

  “Did you, Papa? ‘Tis a dreadful thing to have one’s daughters demonstrate their more female faults, I am sure.”

  “Yes,” he said testily, “it can be quite irksome. Let us speak plainly now, if you please. Mr. Darcy has written this letter to me wishing to express his sincere contrition for his conduct and I require an explanation if you please. Has he harmed you?”

  “What?!” cried Elizabeth, exceedingly distressed. “No, Papa! He proposed to me in a less than flattering manner and that is all really. If he has described his manner as ungentlemanly then he has grossly exaggerated his faults. I am all amazement – did he indeed write such a thing?”

  “He proposed to you,” said Mr. Bennet flatly. “Is that all?”

  “Y-yes. I do not know what he was about; I daresay he would offer a servant a position in his household with more charm – I was offended, of course, and meant to refuse him outright but his aunt is Lady Catherine, you know, so it was necessary to speak to him calmly. He appears to have listened.”

  Mr. Bennet tossed the letter on his desk. “Very well then, your reports align. We may proceed with the matter knowing that I have the truth of it.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, feeling affronted at having been managed with such skill. “Would it not have been easier to just ask me, sir?”

  “I attempted to, Elizabeth – but you were being evasive.”

  “I beg your pardon then, Papa. It is a Gordian knot I have got myself into. So he didn’t actually write that he had behaved in an ungentlemanlike manner?”

  “Not in so many words, no, but I believe he meant to communicate that he has been raised to speak to a young lady with rather better manners than the ones he has shown you. No, I shan’t hand it over for your perusal, my dear. Perhaps one day. I will instead read you whichever passages I feel you would find helpful.”

  Elizabeth raised her brows at this and dropped the hand that had crept of its own volition across the desk. She did so dislike being coerced without knowing the point her father wished her to get to.

  “What do you advise me to do then, Papa? I have told Mr. Darcy that if he does not change his mind...I beg your pardon?”

  “Not a thing, Lizzy.”

  “Really? I was certain you were attempting to speak.”

  “No, no,” returned Mr. Bennet with equal gravity, “Do carry on – this is most entertaining. You were about to convince me that Mr. Darcy is a flighty, capricious young man who proposes to a young woman of limited connections and wealth at the drop of a handkerchief. Having done so and being put off, he writes a very proper letter to her father and then...then simply abandons his case? Do I have the right of it, my love?”

  Elizabeth opened and shut her mouth a few times before loftily ignoring the bait and continuing with dignity. “Should Mr. Darcy elect to come into Hertfordshire, and pending your gracious permission to court me, I have told him that he might do so but that I would make no promises as to the outcome.”

  “Ah. Very fair of you.”

  “Is it? I have no intention of marrying the man but I cannot see how he can be put off permanently without causing grave offence.”

  “You had better allow him to make his case then.” Mr. Bennet’s eyes were twinkling. “He is an intelligent fellow if I am any judge – which I am – and clearly very motivated.”

  “And when I reject him? What then?”

  “You are so very sure that you do not like him?”

  “I...well, of course, I do not yet....”

  “Yet what?”

  “Yet I am afraid that my judgment is not so accurate as all that. The evidence against him is...well I do not think it to be so very sound.”

  “So new judgments must be formed,” said Mr. Bennet, still vastly entertained but with a certain sternness in his face now.

  “I suppose so.”

  “You suppose so? Lizzy, I should not wish for you to wed a man you cannot respect, but to throw away a good man – of good sense and good character – on a whim is not what I think best for you.”

  “What was in that letter? It must have been a fascinating read if you are able to draw such conclusions from its contents. How do you know he has not misrepresented himself to you?”

  “Do you think the man a liar?”

  “I was not saying that at all, sir.” Lizzy grumbled, outmanoeuvred once again, “No, of course I do not. If anything he is a little too honest.”

  “Ahh. Now we come to the salient point. He has trampled on your pride and so he must needs be the worst of all men.”

  Elizabeth was silent as she digested this. “‘Tis a very lowering thought, Papa.” she said after a while in a small voice. “Have I been blinded by my vanity? It is possible, I suppose, but I do not see how I could have accepted such a proposal as the one he tendered.”

  “Yes, I should rather enjoy an account of that one day. My little Lizzy, you need not accept any man merely because he speaks eloquently and well of his all-encompassing passion for you – in fact such a man is probably very well practiced at making such speeches to other young ladies….”

  “Papa!”

  “But that is by the by. If Mr. Darcy, who I can assure you is not accustomed to demeaning himself by writing letters of apology to minor country squires, is able to humble himself in order to mend his bridges with you...surely that must speak in favour of his suit when he offers for you again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, it was a matter of some importance for Elizabeth to walk out, once breakfast was finished with, to call upon her friend Charlotte at Lucas Lodge.

  Charlotte was ever a fount of sensible, rational advice that Elizabeth valued greatly, and in her current state of uncertainty, she had set herself the task of gathering as many opinions from her loved ones as possible. Of all people, her friend had her best interests in mind and perhaps would present some argument either way that would aid her to come to a clearer understanding of her own mind in regards to Mr. Darcy.

  She was given a very ready welcome by the Lucas family, with whom she was quite a favourite and by whom she had been much missed. Lizzy patiently answered many questions regarding her visit to Kent, and by the time she had fully satisfied Sir William’s curiosity regarding the grandeur of Rosings she was very willing to accompany Charlotte to call upon the Brown family, who relied much upon the good works of the wealthier families in the neighbourhood.

  They set off, with Elizabeth commandeering the heavy basket on the short walk that took them to the overcrowded little cottage on the outskirts of town.

  “Oh how pleasant it is to be home, dear Charlotte – you cannot imagine how I have wished to see familiar faces this last week.”

  “And you with such a spirit for sightseeing, Eliza. Was Kent so very dull then?”

  “I protest such a poor drawing of my character, as though I should only miss those who are dear to me if I am suffering ennui. Surely my absence must have been a relief if I am so very shallow.”

  Smiling, Miss Lucas slipped her arm through her friend’s and matched her pace along the path.

  “You have been much missed, as well you must know, but I had been quite set in my mind that you should be so satisfied in exploring parts unknown that your father would well-nigh have had to order your return. I confess you have surprised me with your fondness for the familiar.”