The ladies had barely left the room before Mr Collins started chatting excitably about Lady Catherine's plans for opening up a sun room on the other side of the house.
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded along kindly to Mr Collins's ramblings, but Darcy merely ignored him.
"And did you hear Mr. Darcy of Lady Catherine's desires for another, naturally more expensive, pianoforte?"
Darcy stood up abruptly and began pacing the room, though Mr Collins barely paused as he continued speaking of Lady Catherine's ventures.
"I am desperately sorry that my cousin, Miss Elizabeth could not be here…I fear that Lady Catherine was displeased…"
Darcy shot Mr Collins a threatening look. Mr Collins was not looking, rather he was admiring the intricate pattern on the fireplace as he rambled on. Colonel Fitzwilliam noticed, however; and inclined his head as Darcy turned around.
"…though I suppose it cannot be helped that she is feeling ill…"
If only she were here. She is the only lady who talks sense…indeed…apart from my cousin and myself, she is the only person to talk sense at all.
Darcy walked over to the window and stood, watching a gardener at his work. It was early evening, and the sun had not yet set.
I hope Miss Bennet…Elizabeth…is not too unwell.
The gardener was trimming one of the many hedges that lined the path up to the house. It was astounding that Lady Catherine allowed the man to work while she had guests.
If Mr Collins could see…
Darcy's gaze flicked away from the gardener towards a small grove, and beyond, to where Elizabeth Bennet was in Mr Collins's parsonage.
I could go…to see her…
"And what is your opinion cousin? On Lady Catherine's new barouche?" Colonel Fitzwilliam called across the room, biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself from laughing.
Darcy looked from one man to the other, and realised that one of his eyebrows was raised significantly higher than the other.
"Forgive me, Colonel, Mr Collins…I desire to take a turn in the garden a while", Darcy bowed as he spoke, and left the room.
Darcy stormed down a set of marble-topped stairs, and burst through the front door and out into the garden. He breathed deeply, relishing the fresh air that whipped his face.
All Mr Darcy could think of at that moment was visiting Elizabeth Bennet.
To just hear her speak is enough. Though her eyes…
Darcy paced around the garden, carefully avoiding the gardener, and staying out of view of the main windows.
Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were due to leave in a few days. But for once, Darcy did not want to leave his aunt's estate.
I can't bear to leave her…who knows when we shall meet again?
Darcy paused momentarily. He had come to the edge of manicured garden, where the grove spread out all around him. In the early sunset, little light came through; long shadows darkened the trees, making it look almost like a proper forest.
Darcy ventured through the grove, to a perfectly situated log that allowed him to sit for a while.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy had to leave shortly. It was their plan. Darcy could hardly convince the colonel to remain without arousing more suspicion – Colonel Fitzwilliam already seemed amused by Darcy's constant attentions to Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy desperately wanted to leave Lady Catherine's – he hated having that sickly, witless girl pushed on him. But he did not want to leave Elizabeth.
There is one solution…so that we will not be parted…
Darcy sighed heavily. He knew it was impossible. After telling Bingley that the eldest Miss Bennet was not right for him, how could Darcy propose to Miss Elizabeth? It was pure hypocrisy.
But Miss Bennet is merely a puppet for her mother, searching out the richest husband. Elizabeth is different…and she could come to love me…I know…
Darcy stood again, and continued pacing. He had to step over gnarled tree roots as the light began to fade.
On the one hand, proposing to Elizabeth meant owning up to everyone that he loved her. Against his better judgement, he hardly need add.
But the heart rarely chooses wisely. It merely falls in love with that which it so desperately craves.
In Darcy's case, it was a woman with whom he could actually speak without derision.
And Elizabeth is exactly the sort of woman I have always wanted to marry. She is even a fine beauty.
But she was not perfect. Her connections and relative poverty made it seem ridiculous that he should even consider her. She was also consistently rude, and remarkably headstrong for a woman of her age.
But is that not why I love her?
Darcy found himself on the other edge of the grove, staring at Mr Collins's parsonage. It was a fairly small home; barely more than a cottage. That he had even stepped foot in there had shocked Lady Catherine.
All he had to do was knock. He would enter, and propose.
He retreated back into the trees and leant against one.
What am I doing?
If he did this…it would change everything.
Darcy felt himself starting to sweat, and shake. He was suddenly full of nervous energy which would not abate, as he paced through the trees again.
Can I really do this? What if she says no?
Darcy paused again, and began taking deep breaths.
He knew it was ridiculous. He knew that his friends and family would be shocked.
What would Lady Catherine say?
Indeed, what would anyone say? Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, caught marrying a lady with hardly any means or property. A woman whose social standing was so decidedly below his own.
Darcy began to walk back through the trees, seemingly decided that he would not risk ridicule and rejection.
He stopped, and turned again. Mr Collins's parsonage was nearly out of sight.
If I do not do this, I will regret it forever.
He focused on his breathing as he set off, back towards the parsonage.
He took slow, careful steps out of the trees. Each step brought him closer to the front door. It hardly seemed real when he finally reached it. He hesitated, then knocked.
I shall conquer this. I can do it.
He removed his hat, and tried to slow his breathing. His heart was pounding in his chest, to the point where he was sure the servant who had promptly answered the door would hear it.
He seemed in a dream when he finally strolled into the small sitting room, where Elizabeth sat looking astounded by his visit.
"Forgive me for intruding…I hope you are feeling better", Mr Darcy exclaimed
"I am…thank you", Elizabeth replied.
Darcy's heart was still racing. He felt himself fidgeting as he stood…then sat…then stood…
I can't do this…
Elizabeth merely stared at Darcy with a confused sort of contempt.
Darcy felt himself going red as he continued pacing the room.
I must do this.
Darcy took a deep breath.
"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire, and love you."