Author: Alix James
Category: Other
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“I tried that, and he gave no answer. What you tell me of Mrs. Long is very strange, for surely, she knows where Sarah is and is refusing to say. She would not have sent Sarah into any danger, I am quite certain, but what scandal is she trying to cover up?”
Charlotte lifted her shoulders. “I suppose we have but to wait and see. As you say, I cannot believe she is in any true danger.”
15
He was in great danger.
It was difficult enough to tell himself that Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her very reasonable misgivings must be relegated to the rear of his concerns when she was not standing directly before him. But when he and Richard returned to Netherfield after another conversation with Anne and found half the Bennet family calling on Bingley’s sisters, it was nearly impossible to keep his thoughts untangled and his objectives clear.
“Ah, Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley exclaimed upon their entry. “And Colonel Fitzwilliam—what excellent timing you both have. Why, I was only just telling our guests that I haven’t the slightest idea when my brother shall return from his business in town this afternoon. There seems no point in trying to wait on him or predict his coming and going.” She spoke this between teeth clenched into a forced smile. Apparently, she was quite ready to shuffle the Bennets out the door.
Darcy bowed and glanced at Miss Elizabeth, who was appraising Richard in some curiosity. “I do not know when to expect Bingley’s return,” he replied, “but allow me to present my cousin to your guests. Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Richard made his fair gallantries to the ladies in his typical manner, and, as usual, at least two of them would have kissed his boots by the time he had stopped speaking. Remarkable, that. Richard was not the handsomest among men, nor was he possessed of much fortune, but women found him fascinating enough that even Darcy with his great wealth often felt invisible at his cousin’s side. Which was one reason he was fond of being in company with Richard… until now.
He was watching Miss Elizabeth again, taking in the way she was evaluating Richard’s person and manner. Indeed, she seemed to find him intriguing, but not in the same way as her younger sisters, who were all wide mouths and awe over his red coat. Elizabeth Bennet’s eyes were guarded, analytical as they swept him from head to toe. And then, there it was—she turned to Darcy himself and seemed to ask a silent question, but to his disappointment, she did not wait for an answer. She rose from her seat and curtsied to her hostess.
“Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, it has been a pleasure, but I am afraid we must take our leave.”
Jane Bennet was quickly following her sister’s lead, though the younger sisters appeared more reluctant. Miss Bingley only looked relieved.
“A pity you are to go so soon,” Richard protested when Miss Elizabeth neared them. “We have scarcely been introduced. Will you permit us to see you to your carriage?”
She inclined her head, but then Richard did something surprising; he offered his arm to the elder Miss Bennet, leaving Darcy standing directly before Elizabeth. She looked to him expectantly, and he gave his arm. Her hand rested gently on his sleeve, and she stared up at him for an instant before they turned together.
“You look as if you mean to say something, Miss Elizabeth,” he observed.
“Not precisely. I am merely trying to make out your character.”
“During the last few minutes of a morning call? It seems hardly an auspicious opportunity for such an undertaking.”
“Nevertheless—” she turned up with an enigmatic smile—“it may be my only opportunity. You puzzle me exceedingly, Mr. Darcy.”
“Puzzle you? How so?”
“Why, one minute you are all cold imperiousness, with no apparent misgivings about your manner. The next, you seem as if you wish to be friendly. Even then, however, you can never fully bring yourself to open cordiality.”
He walked several steps before answering. “I do not possess the talent that many do, of speaking easily with people I do not know well.”
“But why trouble yourself at all, if the task is so odious to you?”
“I did not say it was odious. You seem to have assumed that simply because I do not find it natural to converse with new acquaintances, that I must be attempting it only out of duty. I assure you, that is not the case.”
The door was in sight now, and Richard was already taking his leave of Miss Bennet just before them. Miss Elizabeth appeared to be considering Darcy’s words, but just before the door opened, she looked up to him with a fresh intensity.
“Mr. Darcy, I will think on what you have said. I had not appreciated it before, but I can readily comprehend that a thing I find easy and pleasurable might seem daunting to someone else. I shall try to understand by a comparison to my musical efforts. I wish I played better, and I take pride and even enjoyment in a piece well executed, but it does not come naturally to me as it does to others. I can only hope to become competent through consistent practice, and, when I can get it, the advice of someone more experienced than myself.”
Darcy felt a ripple over his flesh. Was she inviting him to practice… with her? Such a speech from a London girl would be enough to send her admirer off to speak with her father. Had clever Elizabeth Bennet perceived his interest, after all his efforts to the contrary? Or was she seeking masculine attention from someone other than that oaf Collins? He could hardly blame her, if that were the case, but could there be more behind her invitation?
Rather than horror, as he might have expected, the notion brought a sense of… relief. Even elation, for he had not accounted how heavily all his deceptions of late had weighed upon him, and this was one truth he might at last confess. And the prospect weighing upon that confession… the hope of happiness, over all the objections he had thrown against it. With Anne committed elsewhere…
The door of the coach was open before her now. Her hand fell from his arm, and he bowed, though he wondered if she could see the way his pulse was hammering against his cravat. “I shall consider your recommendation, Miss Elizabeth. I wish you a very pleasant afternoon.”
“The same to you, Mr. Darcy.” Her figure disappeared inside, but his ears were tuned to her voice until long after the door closed, and the wheels began to turn.
Richard’s hand fell on his shoulder, startling him back to the present. “Very interesting.”
“What is? The Bennet family?”
Richard offered him one of his cryptic smiles. “No, you.”
Darcy could induce him to say no more on the subject.
16
Elizabeth lashed her bonnet under her chin and nearly ran for the door, eager for an hour all her own. The skies promised rain, as her mother had feared all week, but she was absolutely bursting with need to escape. The ball at Netherfield was on the morrow, and if she had to hear Lydia’s crowing about her many conquests or Mr. Collins’ “generous” intentions to offer his hand to “each of his fair cousins” one more time, she was sure to tear her hair out.
A short walk, that was all—enough to clear the itch from her limbs and the fog from her head. She would not be gone long enough for that ominous-looking cloud to pose any real threat. Her feet hurried along the path. If she was quick enough, she might make it beyond Purvis Lodge, beyond the small wood, and perhaps up to the top of Oakham Mount before she needed to turn back.
Halfway up the rise, she noticed the rider coming from the opposite direction. He seemed to be planning to intercept her, and when she stopped to watch his approach, he saw it and urged his mount to a trot. Elizabeth sighed.
Mr. Darcy. Again.
His eyes were fixed on the ground as he drew near as if he were uncomfortable looking at her, although it was clear that he intended to reach her. Finally, at twenty feet away, he lifted his gaze and looked full into her face… and smiled. How very odd.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.”
She dipped her head. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. You seem to have the
misfortune of encountering me often on your private outings.”
He dismounted and pulled the rein from his horse’s neck. “I do not call it a misfortune, Miss Elizabeth. I understand this is a favorite prospect of yours.”
Elizabeth glanced over the rock formation and down into the lower valley. “Indeed, I come here quite often when I wish to be alone.”
He walked closer, his smile still in place and apparently deaf to her hints of desired solitude. “A fine vantage, indeed.” He found a tree branch to hook the horse’s rein on and then came to stand before her, doffing his hat. “I hope I am not intruding, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You are,” she informed him, “but the intrusion need not be seen as unwelcome.”
His smile wavered, then grew bolder. It seemed he had taken her reluctant reception for a warm invitation.
“Would you mind if I imposed on you with my questions?” he asked. “I do not know the region. That small pond I can see in the distance—on whose land is it?”
Elizabeth looked. “That belongs to Sir William Lucas. I am sorry to tell you it is not good for fishing, if that is your question.”
He nodded, slowly scanning the trees. “And that wood just behind you, does it have a name?”
“Ah…” She turned her head. “No, sir. It is not accounted anything special—merely a copse of trees, and as half are on my father’s land and half on land belonging to the Purvis family, no one has ever called it anything.”
“Purvis.” His smile faded somewhat, and he gave a brief nod. “I see.” Five awkward minutes of silence followed, with Mr. Darcy glancing from one object to the next, all the while looking as if he were trying to think of something to say about each, and then failing to produce any thoughts interesting enough to voice.
If Elizabeth had the security of Jane or Charlotte beside her, she would have been sending wordless, wide-eyed pleas, begging for an interruption to the silent interlude. Perhaps she might have broached some topic herself, but as Mr. Darcy had been the one to seek her company and not the reverse, she was determined to let him feel all the discomfort of it.
At last, it worked. He came near, turning his hat about in his hands with an anxious expression. “I struggle in vain, Miss Elizabeth. It was your recommendation, was it not, that I ought to practice conversing with others more gifted than myself?”
She shrank slightly. “I was not offering to become your tutor, sir. I do not know how you could have perceived such an intent.”
“But you are of an easy wit, Miss Elizabeth. Each time we are in conversation, I find you two steps ahead of myself. As I have found you to be a generous soul, and more than gifted in this capacity, I beseech you, tell me what I ought to say next.”
Elizabeth glanced uncomfortably to the side, her hand unconsciously seeking a rock to brace herself against. “I suppose,” she began haltingly, “that all depends on what you mean to convey.”
He lowered his head, a hint of a smile returning. “I am afraid I do not even know that much.”
“Come, Mr. Darcy,” she said, growing bolder, “as we have discussed before, you are not deficient. You are quite the opposite of my cousin, who has no original thoughts but a bountiful flow of verbiage to express his ignorance. Surely, you have many things you wish to speak of, and your difficulty is merely finding the proper words.”
“Perhaps it is. And perhaps I may depend on your good patience while I stumble about in search of them.” He replaced his hat and looked thoughtfully over the rise. “You may readily believe that I am perfectly forthright and directed where the conversation, where the issue is clear. When my feelings do not enter into it.”
Elizabeth gave a patient nod. “Ah, I believe I understand.”
He blinked and turned to her. “Do you?”
“Of course. Our interactions have rarely involved matters of business or social generalities. Rather, they have been more… challenging.”
His eyes lit. “Yes… yes precisely, Miss Elizabeth. I am glad to know that you understand. We have much unspoken between us, have we not?”
“If, by ‘unspoken,’ you mean questions raised that shall forever remain unanswered, then—”
“Not ‘forever,’ Miss Elizabeth. I dearly hope not ‘forever.’”
She thinned her lips. “Very well, Mr. Darcy, do you intend to clear the air by answering one of them for me?”
He opened his mouth, fixing his eyes on her face and nodded very slowly. “I shall. You may have wondered at my reticence in speaking of it—indeed, I do not know how you could have done otherwise.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Naturally.”
“As to that, I have only the excuse that I was raised with the strictest principles. Why, even the notion of stooping so far would have had my ancestors vowing to haunt me from the great beyond. Every feeling of decency and propriety must protest, and yet, I can see no other logical path but this one.”
Elizabeth fought an impatient roll of her eyes. “Yes, yes, Mr. Darcy. You are despicable, indeed. What is this atrocious deed you have committed?”
“I should hope it is not atrocious—no! The very best thing I think I have ever done—I am quite sure of it. But in certain circles…”
“What? You have a mistress?” she goaded, expecting such a forceful denial that he would at last come out and say whatever shocking thing he had to say.
“A mistress? Good heavens! I would never offer anything so disgraceful, though the circumstances of your birth and your family’s situation are not at all what I might have desired. The behavior of your younger sisters, the utter lack of decorum—”
Elizabeth was bristling now. “What have my sisters to do with this? It is other ladies I speak of, and would ask questions about. Why insult my family?”
His brow furrowed. “Why do you ask about others when I am speaking of you? I—I confess I did struggle, particularly when I considered your connections. Still, when I understood the truth of it, that you would welcome the conversation, I resolved to relieve myself of my agony at once.”
Elizabeth clenched her jaw, tightened one fist, and tried not to pound it against her forehead. “Your agony? And what agony is that?”
“Why, that I am in love with you,” he stated, as boldly and clearly as if he had just called for his butler. “It is a tremendous relief to speak it aloud, and now I must beg you to dispel my suffering, and… Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth refused to stay and hear the rest of his infuriating madness. She ran straight down the hill, along the smoothest path, and never turned back.
17
Darcy watched her go, the words still warm on his tongue as his hand extended helplessly after her. What could have set her off?
“Miss Elizabeth!” he cried.
She whirled back. “Stop, sir! Do not come another step nearer.”
Darcy stopped, but only because his strides faltered in sheer dismay. “I do not understand. Are you to make me no answer?”
She threw up her arms. “How can I be clearer? I wish to depart from you.”
“But you have not said why. Have I given offense?”
Her eyes widened incredulously. “Offense! You have insulted my mother, my sisters, and whether you know it or not, you have spoken meanly of an aunt and uncle whom I dearly love. And this was your means of a proposal? Was that truly your intent?”
He stiffened and took a bold step closer. “What else could it have been? Am I to suppose that men confess their feelings for you so often that you think it a matter of course?”
She drew back. “The only feelings I am confident you possess are disdain and disapproval.”
Darcy’s core flushed—heat filled his vision, and he could barely sputter a response. “Is this what you think of me, then?”
She shook her head, her body inching toward the rock formation. “I think a great deal more. I think you are dishonest—that others have trusted you, and now, no none can account for them.”
“Dis—” Darcy c
hoked on the word, his eyes staring and the very hair of his head standing on end. He took a long stop closer. “Dishonest? Miss Elizabeth, you go too far. Do you dare—”
“Stop!” she cried. Her hand slipped between two boulders and withdrew a palm-sized rock. “I shall defend myself if I must.”
Darcy lowered his hands and backed away at once. “You have nothing to fear from me, but what is this you accuse me of?”
“Sarah Long! Robert and Mary Brown! Where have they gone, sir? You know the truth, and you will not confess it. And we both know I saw you outside the inn with another woman, of whom not a word has ever been said. Where has she gone? You took her away somewhere, did you not? Do you deny it?”
“I deny nothing. There are matters at play that I am not at liberty to divulge. I do not know what you believe or what has been suggested, but do you think I am capable of posing a danger to anyone?”
She lifted her rock. “I think you are a powerful man, to whom no one would dare refuse anything, if you desired it. I believe no one thinks to defy you, and you are accustomed to carrying your way over all claims of decency and humanity. I submit your unkindnesses to Lieutenant Wickham as evidence!”
Darcy’s breath came hot and fast, and all rational thought fled. “Wickham! You take up his cause, hold his words against my own?”
Her chin raised, those fiery eyes wide and sparking. “I only claim the facts I know for certain—that he is amiable and irrevocably harmed by your deeds. Can you say that he is the only person to suffer for your acquaintance?”
Darcy stalked closer, heedless of her rock. “I thought you were wiser than to trust George Wickham. If this is your resolve, then I shall leave you to your folly. Good day, Miss Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth’s fingers slackened, and the rock fell as Mr. Darcy swung onto his horse. With one last, wrathful look at her, he slashed the reins and was gone.