The following day, Lizzy and Jane conferred about their return home to Longbourn. Jane could tell that Elizabeth was anxious to return; her sister's well of patience was running dry.
"You are certain you are well enough to travel, Jane?" Elizabeth asked as she brushed her sister's long golden hair, in preparation for a fresh braid.
"Yes, Lizzy." Jane stated for the third time.
"Well- if you are convinced, I will rejoice at this news; and not just for your health. For I am sick of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley, and am quite prepared to never claim their conversation again."
"Lizzy, they have been very kind to us." Jane admonished.
"Kind to you, true. But to me- did you not attend to Mr. Darcy's wretched conversation last night? But no, why would you." Lizzy teased. "I am sure your conference with Mr. Bingley was much more pleasant. So, I will not hold it against you that you are ignorant of Mr. Darcy's abominable pride. I suppose it is for the best, since my behavior was, perhaps, not as becoming as you believe fitting of me. So neither Mr. Darcy or myself will lose an ounce of your esteem. There!" Her braiding was finished, and while it was not as beautiful as when completed by her sister Kitty, Elizabeth found it serviceable.
A short missive was sent to their home, requesting that the carriage be sent over the course of the day, but Mrs. Bennet responded that the horses certainly could not be spared, and that Jane was encouraged to take as much time as she needed to be completely well before returning. The sisters then requested the Bingley carriage of their hosts to return them home. When Mr. Bingley caught wind of the plan, as he happened upon Lizzy and Caroline in the morning room, he was insistent that the Bennet sisters wait one more day. They would gladly bring them to Sunday services, and there they could rejoin their family. And so it would be.
The skies threatened rain, which forced Lizzy inside for the day. Her sister no longer required constant rest, and with their departure scheduled, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst attended to Jane. Elizabeth had tired of the company of those sisters, so she retreated to the library in search of distraction.
Her body was filled with a restless energy to return home, so she spent her first twenty minutes in the room pacing, hoping to expel some of her disquiet. When she had walked enough to relieve a fraction of her anxiety, she searched for a book capable of holding her attention. She felt too disheartened to read poetry, and instead pulled a book on livestock varieties from the shelves. Perhaps she could find some recommendations for Mr. Richard's struggling Ryeland flock. Pleased with her selection, she situated herself on a chair, tucking her feet underneath her in the most unladylike fashion.
After an hour of reading, the door to the library was opened, and in came Mr. Darcy. Silently, he stiffly bowed and quickly moved to the shelves in search of some volume. Elizabeth politely nodded to him from her comfortable position, and took no action to appear more decorous. She cared too little for his opinion, and found herself pleased to dismay him with her salacious manners.
Mr. Darcy had come to the library in search of his own distraction from his thoughts of Miss Elizabeth, and instead found her lounging about like a cat with cream. He swore to himself as he looked for a book, whispering he should have chanced the rain and gone for a ride. But now that he was within her view, the spell had been cast and he was stranded in her company. He frowned, as he found nothing to his taste upon the shelves. If Bingley had not been such a dear friend already, he might have been disappointed in the owners collection. Grabbing a small volume of poetry from his coat, he slowly walked to another chair opposite Miss Bennet, and sat stiffly there.
Lizzy peered over her pages, watching his rigid demeanor and quietly inspecting his small pocket book. When squinting, she could see the author "Byron" written across the cover. She could not help but lurch back into the plush seat with surprise. This was far more romantic reading than she would have expected from such a detached man. Indeed, Lord Byron was considered scandalous to many! It certainly clashed with his character as she had painted it. She returned to her pages, and forced her own interest in the text. She reminded herself: she was not surprised that he had not graced her with even the slightest of polite conversation as of yet. That thought helped assure her of powers of perception and understanding of character. This skill had already been shaken by her reassessment of Mr. Bingley; she simply could not be stretched to believe her opinion of Mr. Darcy was also flawed.
Darcy tried his best to keep his eyes upon the page of his book, but he could not keep his eyes from traveling to Miss Bennet's lovely face as she read her book. Her eyebrows would quirk, her lips would frown, her eyes would squint. Every sentence garnered some small reaction displayed across her features. After a few moments, he would admonish himself and return to his poem, only to find himself re-reading the same stanza:
I hate you, ye cold compositions of art!
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove,
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,
Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.
And then the words would cause him pause, and his gaze would creep up to her lips, and then he would be caught in her enchanting charm again. And then a self reproof, returning his eyes to the pages, and then again and again.
Lizzy felt his gaze upon her several times over the course of a half hour, but she would not be goaded. This room was her only means of escape, and she was not willing to retreat.
After the sixth time reading the beguiling poem, Darcy finally admitted his defeat, and abandoned his reading. Closing the small volume, he dared conversation with her. "Miss Bennet, I must inquire what you are reading. I have observed it has you quite enthralled. What subject has intrigued you thus?"
Lizzy fought the urge to glare at him, for she assumed sarcasm from his tone. Instead, she kept her eyes glued to the page, though she could not continue reading. "If I answer you honestly, I fear I shall shock you and further disparage myself in your estimation," she nonchalantly said. "You cannot ask me to invite your scorn."
"Come now, Miss Bennet. I do not believe Mr. Bingley has such a book in his inventory." Darcy replied, quietly relishing in her teasing manner.
"Livestock."
"What?" Darcy frowned, not following her reply.
"Livestock, Mr. Darcy. My book is on new methods in improving yields in livestock."
"Well." Mr. Darcy faltered, "That was certainly not what I was expecting from such a preamble. But I suppose some might find it unseemly for a lady to read about such topics."
"Like Miss Bingley…" Lizzy could not hold her tongue, though she still kept her gaze upon the volume.
"But not me. Miss Bennet - I thought I had made myself clear. A woman who values the improvement of her mind through extensive reading should never be ridiculed."
This speech did break her resolve, and her eyes darted up to find his gaze fully upon her face. It seemed as if he was not just looking at her, but that he was seeing her. Knowing her. She felt a shiver tingle from her toes to the back of her neck. She struggled to respond, "I … I suppose you did say that. Though … You … You did not quantify that the proficiencies could include farming." His scrutiny upon her rattled her brain and tied her tongue. She felt sluggish and exposed. She suddenly became very aware how very alone they were in the room.
After a few moments of silence, eyes locked in a slightly uncomfortable manner, Mr. Darcy felt the moment slipping away. He determined now was as good a time as ever to right his injustice. "Miss Bennet, I do not wish to …" He could not force himself to utter the words - raise your expectations. Perhaps he did wish to peak her interest to his attention. She had misinterpreted his words before. "I just… I feel I must beg your forgiveness for my loathsome, erroneous words that night at the assembly. I was appalled when I understood that you had heard that misguided statement. I cannot excuse my behavior, and can only hope in your happy attitude, you can absolve an unhappy man." Throughout this stilted speech, his cold tone warmed to something much more sad than commanding. Indeed, he was asking her, begging her.
Lizzy thought she was shocked before: now the turn of their conversation rendered her utterly awed. To think that Mr. Darcy would beg anyone, let alone her! She parted her lips as her eyebrows furrowed, and her thoughts poured out of her mouth like drizzle from a cloud. "You … You, whose good opinion once lost is irreparable, are asking me to forgive you for awful, painful words which embarrassed me to my entire community."
He fought his initial surprise to her response. If it had been anyone else, he would have expected forgiveness immediately. But Miss Elizabeth continued to reaffirm her resolute ways. He felt further chastised and guilty at her utterly honest expression of her feelings. But he pushed forward and asked: "An unforgiving nature is my fault. Do you now find you, too, share in this defect?"
With this question turned upon her, Lizzy felt she could no longer remain upon the settee. When she rose, she felt she could no longer remain within the room. She had always found compassion for her fellow man in the past- could she not call upon it for Mr. Darcy? Here eyes filled with a confused gaze finally tore away from his passionate look, as she curtsied and left the room and the confounding Mr. Darcy behind.
Darcy watched her go - question unanswered.
The evening was uneventful, as Lizzy insisted that Jane rest in order to prepare for their return home upon the following morning. She reminded her dear sister that this was the last night to indulge in the large bed and the quiet atmosphere; for once they returned home peace would be left in the halls of Netherfield.
And although they did return home to the typical chaos of the Bennet household, Lizzy could not mourn the loss of their previous hosts. She had never been so happy to return to the shelter of an understanding, if not fully polite, home. Her father was particularly pleased to see her return, and they two spent a fair amount of time together in his book room over the course of the following week. Although much smaller than Mr. Bingley's library, it was stocked far better. Lizzy lounged in comfort; but at times found her satisfaction broken by the unsettling memory of a pair of dark piercing eyes, shifting from contempt to regret.
One day, her father ushered her from the library and convened the entire family together in the sitting room, and announced to Mrs. Bennet that a guest, Mr. Collins - the future owner of Longbourn, would be joining them for the upcoming weeks. This caused quite the frenzy, as Mrs. Bennet was first convinced the man was coming to inspect his future belongings. Then, after his outlandish letter was read for all to hear, she was placated by the concept of this new prospect for her daughters. Finally, she returned back to her fretting, over what sort of looks the pastor would prefer in a potential wife.
The man joined them at 4 in the afternoon, in exact agreement with his letter. Lizzy was amused at their cousin's pompous yet oblique manners. He highly admired his lovely cousins, the delightful hall, the modest dining room, and the delicious dinner. The abundance of praise led Mrs. Bennet to question his purpose, while Mr. Bennet and Lizzy shared a quiet amusement in his absurd behavior. His extreme deference to his patronage, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and his astute understanding of her better understanding of the world was the topic of constant conversation. There was no subject which was safe from his knowledge of her opinion. As suggested in his letter, he confirmed many times over that he came to Longbourn to put their family unhappiness behind them, and offer peace in the form of marriage. Elizabeth could hardly believe his overt manner, and could only hope she would not be put in the uncomfortable position of declining him and, by extension, her mother.
But - it was not meant to be. Whereas the first few days Mr. Collins doted upon all five sisters, over that morning his attention fell fully upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Although he first tended toward Jane, he was discretely set straight by Mrs. Bennet.
"You see, my dear Jane has been called upon by the amiable Mr. Bingley. We are all expecting a very happy occasion in the near future. I beg you not tare her heart in two directions. But my other daughters, I cannot speak of any prior complications."
Mrs. Bennet actually questioned whether her second daughter held an understanding with Charlie Lucas. But to be mistress of Longbourn was a far brighter future than running Lucas Lodge. And, selfishly, Mrs. Bennet could not abide the thought of a lifetime of Mrs. Lucas instructing her daughter. Mr. Collins would provide for Lizzy much better.
The day was fair and the sisters determined to walk to Meryton. Mr. Collins was encouraged by Mr. Bennet to attend to the women, as he was most anxious to be rid of him. His enjoyment of his ridiculous manner did not extend into his beloved book room, which had been invaded the past two days. Mr. Collins was pleased to be of service, and struggled to keep pace with his cousin Elizabeth. He began the walk by describing his very happy home to her, and leaving all manner of hints to his desire for a woman's touch to the cottage. Lizzy gave a tight smile, and answered with as few words as possible, and continued with her quick steps. Mr. Collins would tire and soon trail behind her, only to spurt ahead with a dash of energy. This would bring him back to her side, but his panting would keep him from speaking more than a few sentences. Then he would struggle again and trail back to the foolish younger sisters, only to rest and then call forth another rush of exertion. And so the whole of the walk, Lizzy spent counting the moments before she would leave him behind again.
Two quick notes:
1- I have returned to work from maternity leave, so I'll be finding a new routine/schedule. I will still try to post once a week.
2- I'm pretty sure that Austen's Darcy wouldn't be caught dead with a pocket book of Byron's poetry. (maybe Joe Wright's 2005 Darcy would read Byron) But I like to believe Darcy IS a romantic at heart, and in this FF, it works as another clue for Lizzy to puzzle over. The poem quoted is "The First Kiss of Love."
