A/N: Since all us fans have given quite a bit of thought and words and stories to the famous walks in the woods at Rosings, I thought I would go back to canon and bone up on it. Guess what I found! Exactly 1 paragraph. Granted it's a bit of a run‑on paragraph of 250 words, but one paragraph. I am all astonishment. He met her exactly 3 times on walks in canon between his awkward meeting at the parsonage and her encounter with Fitzwilliam, along with an unspecified number of visits with the Colonel where he said little between March 30 and April 9. Is it any wonder Elizabeth had no idea what he was about?
Most of you seem to be enjoying this, despite a precipitous drop in the math and a noticeable trend towards fluff – or maybe it's because of that. Sometimes it's hard to tell a feature from a bug. At any rate, it's not all rainbows and puppies from her on out, so the fluff will not go on forever… but… well, let's just get on with it.
In this chapter, you will get a tiny bit of math, but as an added bonus, you will also get a lesson in civics, and on a topic that is actually relevant today.
Wade
"Mr. Darcy", Elizabeth exclaimed upon meeting him unexpectedly on her morning walk.
To be fair, she was walking quite near to Rosings Park, on a very nice path, and the gentleman was staying at Rosings, so his presence on the path was not really shocking. Of course, she had never noticed him walking at Rosings, but he had walked any number of times with the sisters whose name was no longer spoken, so he was familiar with the basic operation of his feet and legs in a park situation.
"Miss Bennet, good morning", he replied with an odd expression.
Elizabeth looked askance at his haughty expression, and then with almost a gasp, she remembered her promise to herself back in the parsonage. As subtly as possible, she pinched her arm to remind her of her promise, then set about implementing it. She promised to try out thinking about the man differently by substituting words in her inner thoughts. Elizabeth looked carefully at his bashful expression and gave him a small curtsy.
"Good morning, Sir. Your presence was unexpected. I did not know you walked this way."
Careful to reword her every thought, with the idea the exercise might eventually train her recalcitrant mind to follow her edicts; Elizabeth watched the man give his awkward reply (see there, not prideful at all).
"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, Miss Bennet?" said he, as he joined her.
"You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome."
"Might I join you?"
Elizabeth on general principle liked to be as mathematically precise in her language as possible, whilst maintaining the necessary fudges politeness demanded. Fortunately, in this case, it was easy enough to make the answer that was both precise and polite.
"I do not object, Sir."
There it was. She did not object to his presence, a substantial improvement. Neither did she particularly desire his presence, but such a declaration was unnecessary. She had to admit to some curiosity, so perhaps her lack of objection could more precisely be defined as being closer to desiring than objecting, but then she thought she might consider less playing of confusing word games and more paying of attention to her companion.
She expected him to turn and walk with her, like he tried to do with the Netherfield Huntress. That lady grabbed his arm like a fishmonger hooking a fish, which was amusing in its own way. However, quite against her expectations, he smiled a bit, and offered his arm. She surprised herself by taking it without complaint, and even had to sheepishly admit to a small bit of enjoyment in the act.
Elizabeth had walked with any number of men in the past, but none of quite the caliber of her current partner. There were of course all the elder gentlemen of her father's generation she had grown up with, and the equally familiar (though mostly disagreeable) progeny, who had graduated from hair pulls and frogs to dancing and walking, without ever quite managing to attract any of her admiration. She had never had a beau, which she always considered to be quite unsurprising since she spent all her time with Jane and wondered idly what it would be like. Of course, Mr. Darcy was not any such creature, but if she did one day have a beau who looked like Mr. Darcy but was not quite so haughty… GRRRR… bashful, she thought it might not be the worst thing in the world.
They walked for a few minutes in contented silence, and Elizabeth found she liked it. Mr. Darcy was a man of few words in the best of situations, and when Elizabeth saw him with women before, they generally talked enough for any three people, so his lack of participation was never an issue.
After a bit, Mr. Darcy apparently decided it was his turn to start a conversation, so he asked, "Is this a favorite walk, Miss Elizabeth… err… Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth found the slip endearing rather than insulting, and said, "Be at ease, Mr. Darcy. I am Miss Elizabeth most of the time and am not offended if you find it easier to use."
She made the statement because she truly was not offended if he used her usual name, but also to subtly let him know that Jane remained unmarried. He of course had no need to know that, but considering how acrimonious their last meeting in Hertfordshire was, and the fact that his best friend was still very much in her brown books, she thought it might be useful information.
However, as she found her thoughts running down entirely too many rabbit holes, she supposed it was time to at least answer his question.
"To answer your question, Sir, it depends on how you define a 'favorite'. This walk has met the threshold of a plurality, which some would assert is enough to call it a favorite, but it has not met the higher bar of a majority.' You will have to narrow the question down to get a reasonable answer."
The gentleman smiled, and said, "Ah, are we back to mathematics, or is it to be philosophy today."
Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Well, actually that is… well, I do not know the correct term for the subject. I have been reading about voting in the Americas, and it has a use there. I should probably be reading about our own parliamentary procedures, but if I can reveal a dark secret, well, I find them tedious and uninteresting."
Darcy said, "I do as well. In fact, I have no idea what a plurality even is."
"Well, sir. A plurality is where one candidate has the most votes, but not an outright majority. Suppose you have ten men, almost evenly matched standing for an office. One has 11% of the vote and another has only 9%. The man with 11% would have a plurality, but perhaps only because he has more brothers and uncles. Otherwise, there is no clear victor, and that minor difference could be considered… err… noise. In such cases, they cannot declare him the winner, and need to narrow the field. Of course, they never are that close, so they usually eliminate the lowest contenders, and vote again."
Darcy nodded, which Elizabeth took as sufficient encouragement.
"To answer your question, I keep a rough running total of my walks in my head. I have taken this one around 30% of the time. My second most common is near the lake with the white bench, which accounts for perhaps 25%. The path that goes around the village accounts for 20% and the remainder are in the few percents."
"So, this walk has the plurality because you have 'voted' for it more times than any other, but the margin is slim, so to call it 'the favorite' would be overstating the case and unfair to the poor white bench."
Elizabeth replied gaily, "Exactly, Sir! If it had a clear majority, then I would consider it 'the favorite'. Since I do not, I imagine I could call it 'a favorite' without censure."
Darcy chuckled, and said, "Why do I suspect you have just been having it on with me, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth noticed the reversion to her usual name and wondered about it. For most men, she would argue that it was pure laziness. He had accustomed himself to calling her that and calling her something different was more trouble than sticking with habit. However, that did not match what she was beginning to think was his nature.
Elizabeth had talked to various people at Rosings about the gentleman, including parishioners, tenants, and even a few pensioners. It was wonderful how much access she had to people as the sister of the parson's wife. Everyone without exception spoke to how careful he was in all of his dealings. According to all the people she had asked, he was a good master, scrupulous in his interactions, far in his dealings and trustworthy in every way. Of course, Lady Catherine ran the estate and Mr. Darcy was simply there to assist his aunt, but he took the job very seriously, according to all she had asked. Colonel Fitzwilliam visited the parsonage frequently because he was bored while Mr. Darcy was busy.
For a moment, Elizabeth was struck by a stray thought that forced her feet to stop moving momentarily.
"Miss Elizabeth?", Mr. Darcy asked very sweetly.
Abandoning the need for clear speaking, as Elizabeth did not want to discuss her thoughts, she said, "A momentary stumble, Mr. Darcy. All is well!"
Then she matched deeds to words, and tugged him back into motion, while he looked at her with his haughty GRRRRR perplexed expression.
The thought that had so confused Elizabeth was mathematical in nature. She loved percentages. They were so simple. Any child could understand them, and they told a wonderful story… almost painted it in words. The whole problem was – she could easily imagine the number of people she should or typically would talk to about a man with such a thin connection to herself, and not an auspicious one at that. There was naturally a range of values, but all within a reasonable range. If she recalled all the conversation she had actually had about the man, it amounted to 350-450% of the usual. Yes… it was a clear and undisputed fact… Elizabeth Bennet had been gossiping about Mr. Darcy… a lot.
Somewhat chagrinned, and wanting to change the topic, she said, "I rode out with your cousin, Miss de Bourgh yesterday. It was fascinating."
"Did you learn anything unexpected?"
"I have never known someone who was chronically ill, so everything was unexpected. I will not break her confidence…"
The man nodded, and said, "Of course not. I respect that."
She nodded, and said, "But there is one thing that I do not believe she would mind me telling you."
He paused a moment and looked at her.
She said, "I hope you do not consider this gossip or prying, but she does not seem very inclined to marry you."
Darcy chuckled, and said, "That is a relief, as I have no intention of marrying her. I wish I could make her happy, but since marrying her would create the opposite of her happiness, it would seem a bad strategy. In your favorite mathematical terms, it would be an action of the correct magnitude but the incorrect polarity."
Elizabeth smiled and chuckled, liking the interchange a bit too much for her own comfort.
"She assured me you understood her. Do you know what bothers her the most about it now!"
He shook his head, and said, "To my shame, I have no idea."
"What bothers her now is that everyone she knows is accustomed to her being ill, and they all seem to take it as a given that it has always been that way and it always will. Nobody expects any more of her, and…"
Elizabeth paused again, and said, "I should not tell you this… I have no idea why I am gossiping with you…"
To her surprise, Mr. Darcy put his hand over hers, which was surprisingly still attached to his elbow.
"Be at ease, Miss Elizabeth. I can see you are more concerned for my cousin than curious…"
"How can you say that?"
Elizabeth was quite perplexed by the sudden turn of conversation.
"Because you are a caring person. When you talk about Anne, you use the same tone you use when you talk about your sisters. It is simple deduction, really. The fact is derived from well-known principles."
Elizabeth raised one eyebrow in either amazement or consternation. She would decide later, but for the moment it was time to answer.
Stuttering a bit, she finally said, "Well, sir… she says she does not even expect it of herself."
Darcy looked quite sad at the revelation, and then his face fell into a fierce scowl, which half frightened Elizabeth.
He saw her look of alarm she could not suppress, and replied, "Please excuse me, Miss Elizabeth. This scowl is not aimed at you."
With her dander fully engaged, Elizabeth spit out, "For who then. Perhaps your cousin does not meet your expectations, but she is…"
She was surprised when he quite boldly put his finger between her lips to silence her. By all rights she should have bitten a chunk out of it, but she allowed the forward maneuver… once.
"Please, Miss Elizabeth. Let us not be at odds. May I explain, and I assure you, I will satisfy your mathematical mind at the very least."
Elizabeth acquiesced grudgingly.
Darcy continued, "You told me yourself you study characters, and complex ones are more interesting."
She nodded, unwilling to fault his logic, although to be truthful, all she could remember of that disastrous visit of her mother to Netherfield was spending a half hour wishing she could crawl into a hole and pull a blanket over her head… but she did vaguely remember saying that.
"And you told me you use mathematics, as often as you can, to make sense of the world."
Again, she nodded.
"Are you familiar with the term 'skew'?"
She searched her memory, and said, "Well, it seems to have many meanings, but the most common being a bias toward one thing or group. A good example would be that English law is wildly skewed in favor of men."
She thought the last would probably send the man running if he was as prideful as she supposed, but he surprisingly smiled at her, and she had to admit… his rarely bestowed smile was glorious. He nearly took her breath away, both with the sensation, and the surprise of experiencing it.
The gentleman said, "A perfect example if I ever heard one. Well, I must admit that I have a…"
She found herself on pins and needles waiting for an answer.
"… a skew in my facial expressions. It is an old problem I have been unable to resolve. When I am not paying attention, my expressions are skewed towards aloofness, anger, haughtiness… that sort of thing. When I consciously try to control it, I become somewhat wooden, but at least less frightening."
By that time, Elizabeth's mouth was hanging open in wonder. She had to admit that she kind of liked this particular version of Mr. Darcy, and she was ever so happy she would never have to worry about him pursuing a country nobody. She might actually be vulnerable.
She simply said, "That explains a lot, Mr. Darcy."
She did not feel the need to explain in any detail that she had quite detested the man a few days ago.
He continued, "So you see, Miss Elizabeth. My look of rage was directed at myself. I have known Anne for my entire life. Lady Catherine has been pressing me to marry her since before my age of majority. But you learned more about her in one afternoon in her phaeton than I did in all that time."
Feeling somewhat guilty on behalf of both Mr. Darcy and his cousin, she said, "Well, Sir! That was not my intention. I have a conversation about boxes with…"
She stopped herself just before that particular story completed. Stumbling a bit, she continued, "well, that is a story for another day. Sometimes it is easier for outsiders to see what is happening just because they have fresh eyes. Do not chastise yourself. I have recently had to apply fresh eyes to a whole host of… err… issues."
She stopped talking, feeling embarrassed and staring at the ground, but then came back to life and blurted out, "I do hope you will not do anything rash."
Darcy nodded, and said, "No, I never do anything rash, Miss Elizabeth. Never in my life can I remember a single act that would be considered rash or imprudent. My cousin Richard teases me mercilessly about it every chance he gets, but I mostly ignore him. I will not do anything precipitous, but I will think long and hard about what I can do to help Anne. There must be something."
Elizabeth stopped a moment and dragged the man to a halt.
She stared at him and asked, "You are in earnest?"
"Of course. As I told you once, Miss Elizabeth. I have as many faults as any man, and perhaps more than most. I have no more discernment of my own character than most, but I do try my best to understand my faults and correct them."
"That is to be commended, Sir. If you are feeling ambitious, might I suggest something?"
"Of course!"
"Get her out of Rosings, somehow, without raising all sorts of expectations. Get the Colonel to take her to Ramsgate or Brighton for a holiday. Send your sister and her on some type of trip and make Miss de Bourgh responsible for their itinerary. Give her a chance to change her environment and see if she has a real desire to be different. For all we know, she may enjoy being pampered and would happily continue status quo for her entire life."
Quite to Elizabeth's surprise, Darcy said, "Maybe I should send her to stay at Longbourn."
Elizabeth gasped. A joke from Mr. Darcy. A joke. The world had run amok. She gaily required, "That would be fine, Sir. I doubt my parents would even notice only one more girl."
For the first time, the two laughed together and not at each other. Elizabeth knew full well that the man was not in any way serious, but she thought it might be nice to have a friend that had no expectations.
They reached the parsonage right as that conversation wound down, so Mr. Darcy came inside to greet Mr. and Mrs. Collins, then took his leave.
