Part VIII.
Night. Two hours away from dawn. Guided by candlelight, two greyhounds run down the Long Gallery, their master following behind at a much more dignified pace. Obedient as ever, they stop at the stairs, waiting for his command. Surprised to be allowed, the greyhounds eagerly trail him down the main staircase and into the main hallway beyond. Curiosity piqued, the dogs hardly notice their master slipping away from them and into the Music Room.
Completely empty, but with parted curtains making the magic of the night before still imaginable, the master comes to a stop by the marble mantelpiece. Leaning on one bent arm, he directs his gaze to the far corner where the pianoforte stands. Briefly, the emptiness fades and an image appears before him, of a significant look from a woman with dark hair and fine eyes.
Smiling at the memory, relishing in that it is not a dream but reality for the first time, his gaze moves to the prospect ahead shown by the window. A few minutes later, resolution in hand, he returns to the corridor to the dogs that have been waiting patiently, ready for the day ahead.
Some hours later, as the greyhounds happily loll about on the bed, a valet quietly helps their master into his apparel, not reacting at all when hurriedly told "no, no, the green one," concerning choice of jackets and later when dismissed from brushing the back free of creases.
A knock on the door disturbs the peace and the dogs upon sighting the intruder, eagerly quit their past occupation in order to greet her.
Georgiana stood in the doorway with a smile of amusement upon her face. "Brother, Charles asks if you are likely to be any longer."
Barely even acknowledging her presence, Darcy replies somewhat anxiously to his sister's message. "Tell him I am almost done."
Still smiling, his sister runs a careful eye over his appearance. "You look very well, William."
"Only very well?" He repeats, concerned.
She chuckles. "I am hardly allowed to call you handsome, being your sister." Pausing she closes the door and steps closer, greyhounds prancing about either side. "However, I am certain that Miss Elizabeth will approve."
Darcy turned to face her. "You do not think I am being too eager, Georgiana?"
His sister shrugged. "You have more experience in matters such as these, William."
Darcy laughed half-heartedly. "I think not. Usually it is me who is being pursued, not the other way round."
"I think I would welcome such an attentive suitor," Georgiana replied, adding hurriedly "when I am old enough to have one," as her brother's features turned to concern. "Go, William, before your courage fades."
"What courage?" Her brother replied rhetorically, then following her out of the room.
Elizabeth rose early that morning, her mind consumed with reflections from the night before. Much of what she had done last night had been pure impulse and most of it surprised her even now. Her conversation with Mr Darcy in particular; such a thing she had not even contemplated occurring until she was actually sitting across from him, praising his sister.
Not that it was not genuine praise, indeed Elizabeth was still most pleased to find Miss Darcy the opposite to everything she had previously assumed and was not afraid of reproving herself on that subject. No, it was the feelings and emotions that she might have unconsciously placed in the brother's mind which concerned her more.
Not to mention her feelings and the confused state that they were very much in at this moment. That she was ashamed of her past dislike for Mr Darcy was now certain. However, whether she wished him to eventually renew his addresses to her, was another matter. She was pleased to see that her refusal had not made him bitter, but the altered state of his behaviour to her and her relatives drew up disturbing conclusions.
There were two ways in which she could judge his behaviour, neither of which at all pleasing at present. Firstly, that he had changed for her, which was flattering, but not entirely selfless; secondly, that he had always been like this and she had been too prejudiced to see through his reserve. Both conclusions were sound, yet for some inexplicable reason, her mind secretly hoped the latter was true. The self-reproach she could well cope with, although she also did not feel that she deserved to see his real nature, if indeed it was.
Her feelings were a confusing muddle right now, which was why Elizabeth had risen at this hour in what was proving to be a vain attempt to both understand and order them. She had not expected to meet Mr Darcy ever again after Hunsford, and as a result she had not contemplated what emotions and feelings if any would arise from such a meeting. Her emotions upon first seeing him had surprised her the most, in particular the fact that she had thought him to be handsome in a wet shirt.
When she had acquired this idea of his good looks was unfathomable. She could not remember ever thinking of him as handsome. The notion however was not unwelcome, as terrifying as it was. Elizabeth had begun to realise that at some moment in time between her refusal and their meeting two days ago, she had formed the opinion that Mr Darcy was a handsome man.
The sound of a footstep in the hall way from their rooms to parlour disturbed her then, although she would not notice until the origin was standing right in front of her.
"Lizzy?"
Elizabeth blinked and found her Aunt standing in front of her.
"Are you okay?" Mrs Gardiner asked.
"I'm fine, Aunt," Elizabeth quickly replied. Too quickly, for her Aunt, instead of accepting the lie, looked at her quizzically. After a little hesitation, Elizabeth finally sighed and admitted to her Aunt that no, she was not fine.
"Is this uneasiness to do with Mr Darcy?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. Aunt, I am not sure how to begin." She paused, briefly. "There are so many things that puzzle me right now concerning him, that I do not think I would be able to explain myself with any deal of sense."
Mrs Gardiner kissed her niece's cheek. "Do not worry, my dear. I am sure things will sort themselves out soon enough."
Four miles away on some patch of green, that was of a reasonable enough height to overlook both the grand house that lay behind it and the village that lay ahead, a horseman brought his horse to a stop as another finally joined him on the mount. "Darcy, at last!"
His friend looked at him. "Bingley, are you not nervous?"
Bingley grinned. "Are you joking? I have been up since five because of nerves! Come on, or we might miss them!"
One horseman started off at a gallop, rapidly disappearing over the crest. His friend hesitated briefly, then followed suit. The horses soon drew level and then the last to start took the lead, as the village of Lambton appeared overhead.
