Chapter Thirteen: Sources of Discomfort

Elizabeth had found a small, winding trail which led through a hanging wood. She was relieved to have escaped her mother, though feared how she would act in front of Mr. Darcy. She blushed at the very thought of her mother making such a display! She breathed in deeply, and as she walked along, a patch of wildflowers caught her eye amongst the brush and trees. They had small, purple blossoms, with each petal coming to a point. She kneeled down and plucked one from its plant, twirling the small flower between her fingers.

She smiled, placing the tiny flower into her hair, and stood. She had only begun to continue down the trail when she saw the very man who had been just haunting her thoughts. Fate would have it that he should come early! She instantly turned the other way, determined on returning to the parsonage, where she might have to put up with the ridiculousness of her family; but she would at least be spared another meeting with Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Bennet?" he called, seeming surprised to see her. She sighed and turned around, realizing that she could no longer avoid the meeting now.

"Mr. Darcy," she said archly as she curtseyed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with unabashed wonder.

"I am visiting my sister."

"Oh! Of course."

She was set on departing then, but to her confusion and surprise, Mr. Darcy approached her still, and actually began to walk alongside her. She bit her lip, wondering why it was that she had to endure such torture. She began to idly play with the wildflower in her hair, hoping that he would soon go away.

"So—you enjoy solitary walks?" asked Mr. Darcy.

"Yes," responded Elizabeth coldly; "I do. Did you not come early? Lady Catherine said you would not be here for three days."

"I concluded some business earlier than I had expected; I have only just arrived. And your sister is—"

"—married to Mr. Collins, yes."

"And, are they well? Do you think that they are happy?"

"Very well, thank you. As for their happiness, there is no doubt that it is a very eligible match. But you know eligibility is not the only ingredient for a happy marriage."

She stole a sly look at him, wondering what he would make of her last comment. She imagined it would be such a shock that perhaps, there can be pleasure in a situation which is not wholly based on fortune. Dear Jane! What could have been, if not for Mr. Bingley's officious sisters and friend!

"I know," he replied seriously, stopping and turning towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable with these questions, and quickly backed away. And what was she to make of such an answer? As if he knew anything about love!

"I will be wanted at the parsonage now. Good day, Mr. Darcy."

With a slight curtsey, she quickly set off in the opposite direction. Insufferable man! What did he mean by asking her such questions? He spoke to her as if they were good friends! Nonsense! And he was so sedate, so relaxed through it all! She knew not what to make of him. He was certainly a mystery to her. She could not account for such behavior!

"Could it be?" she mused, "Could it be as Aunt Gardiner suggested? Mr. Darcy in love with me—no, no, that cannot be so! It exactly contradicts his behavior which I suspect he had something to do with in separating Jane from Mr. Bingley! If he cared at all for me, how could he do such a thing to my sister?"

When she returned to Hunsford, she perceived Jane walking about the garden. She quickly joined her, eager to announce the news of Mr. Darcy having come. She was in need of some of Jane's unvarying optimism. Jane, on seeing her sister, smiled demurely and began to say:

"I am sorry that Mama kept speaking of—"

"I saw Mr. Darcy," divulged Elizabeth.

"Just now! Really?"

"I do not think he was a mirage, Jane."

"Of course not; but three days early! He must have a real regard for his aunt. You see, Lizzy, she is not so unworthy."

"I would consider being highly regarded by Mr. Darcy a fault."

"On the contrary—judging by your opinion of Mr. Darcy, his good opinion would be most unwillingly bestowed—and therefore its being earned would certainly say something of the object of his regard."

"I am obstinate, Jane; and I resolve on remaining skeptical of any who can boast having procured the good opinion of Mr. Darcy."

Jane then muttered something inaudible beneath her breath, which entirely escaped Elizabeth's notice. They continued walking about, as Elizabeth explained in full her encounter, and pointing out his impertinence in asking such strange, unconnected questions. Jane then, as was her nature, dismissed any possible malice meant on Mr. Darcy's part; and Elizabeth was nearly resolved on revealing her fears regarding the subject, when Kitty and Lydia ran out into the garden in joyous uproar.

"A ball! There is to be a ball tomorrow fortnight!" cried Lydia.

"We had set out, determined on discovering one," explained Kitty, "and here we have been informed of a public ball in Westerham!"

"It is not but three miles away!" added Lydia, "Oh! I shall not die of boredom!"

Before either Jane or Elizabeth could get a word in edgewise of their opinion on attending a ball in Westerham, Mrs. Bennet threw open the door and entered into the garden, singing the praises of a ball as the two youngest Miss Bennets had just done.

"Of course, Mr. Darcy will be at the ball, will he not, Lizzy? It is such a perfect opportunity!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet.

"Mr. Darcy hates balls," said Elizabeth dryly.

"Does he?—Ah! But you shall be inducement enough to make him go."

"Then you may persuade Mr. Darcy, for I certainly will not."

"Well, Lizzy; you shall stay at home, and not go to the ball, so that you may see Mr. Darcy."

"If you insist," responded Elizabeth unenthusiastically, not entirely willing to quarrel with her mother on the subject.

Her mother continued raving till they resolved on going inside, where they were then informed by Mr. Collins that Miss de Bourgh had just come by in her phaeton and ponies, and had invited them all for dinner on the morrow, for Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived at Rosings. This new intelligence had such a blissful effect on Mrs. Bennet that is scarcely to be described; she quickly set to scheming ways to throw her second daughter and Mr. Darcy together, and had convinced herself that he had come early solely because of Elizabeth (though he hadn't any idea that she was even to be there).

"What an agreeable surprise! Take care, Lizzy, to dress with exceptional care for Mr. Darcy!"

At such a comment, Mr. Collins, who was still standing nearby, directed a knowing glance at Elizabeth which the latter failed to comprehend. However, he was not done triumphing over his knowing their secret, so he proceeded to smirk at Jane, which made the eldest Miss Bennet look quite uneasy. None of this nonverbal discourse escaped Elizabeth's notice, though it only seemed to confuse and vex her increasingly. However, Mrs. Bennet was not so keen an observer, nor was she unhappy enough to be silent, so she continued to rail on about how very well it would be necessary for Elizabeth to look for Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was quite disconcerted, as she wished her mother would not blurt such things out in front of the entire family. Keen on escaping such tiresome conversation, she quickly took Jane's arm and led her off up the small stairway at the end of the room.

"Now, Jane, you must reveal to me the meaning behind the looks Mr. Collins was giving the both of us," demanded Elizabeth.

"What ever do you mean?" asked Jane innocently.

"You are the worst liar I know. You perfectly comprehend my meaning. I simply must know."

"Why do you suppose I know any—?"

"You undervalue my talents of observation. I saw how his immovable smirk distressed you."

"Lizzy—I will tell you—but pray, let us go to our bedroom. And you must promise to not be angry."

"It is impossible for me to be angry with someone with so much sweetness as you, Jane," Elizabeth assured her sister.

As Jane closed the door and joined her sister, who was already sitting on the bed, she was growing more vexed by the moment. It was the very thing which she had wished to not tell her most! At that moment, she probably felt the closest thing to resentment that she had ever felt towards Mr. Collins. Secrets were such terrible things, especially when they had to be revealed! She quickly grabbed her needlework off the side table so that she might not have to see her sister's immediate reaction when she had finished explaining.

"Do you remember Mary's wedding?" began Jane, consoling herself with thoughts that it would at least take no great amount of time to enlighten Elizabeth.

"Of course; but what has this got—?"

"It relates perfectly, believe me. Now, do you remember the conversation you had with Charlotte and me privately?"

"You mean when I explained—?"

"Yes," said Jane decisively, but could not gather the courage to communicate the most important information pertaining it.

"Jane? What is it?" pleaded Elizabeth, burning with curiosity.

"Mr. Collins heard it—all of it," said Jane quietly.

Elizabeth went pale immediately; Mr. Collins, to know of her darkest secret and greatest lie! And she recalled with horror the particular things that she had said of him! What he must have thought of her—what he must still think of her! And then she recalled that very night, saying to Jane how very vexing it would be if someone such as Mr. Collins had overheard it! Now the nervous laughter which was Jane's response to this was perfectly understood. It was the last person she would have ever wished to have confided in! Oh, and Lady Catherine probably knew everything of it!

"You discovered this how?" asked Elizabeth nervously.

"When you left, I saw him; and he told me then that he had heard," explained Jane, then quickly added, "but do not vex yourself! He promised me of his secrecy!"

"Confiding in Mr. Collins is like—is like—trying to hide some information by hanging it on a great giant sign," said Elizabeth uneasily, not quite sure if her analogy was all that clever.

"I must disagree. Has Mr. Collins ever proved himself to be incapable of secrecy?"

"Well—no—I suppose not; but he does not seem the sort—to keep a secret."

"People will do many things which they do not seem to be 'the sort' to do," said Jane bitterly, with tears welling in her eyes. Elizabeth easily comprehended to whom she referred. She quickly offered her apologies, and then swiftly changed the subject to something light and indifferent.

Elizabeth was in a most distressing situation. Her conscience was constantly weighing on her mind for what she had said to her mother that fateful evening after the Netherfield Ball; and there was Mr. Collins to have known of it for a long while! And still Elizabeth could hardly pity her mother for having been deceived, for she was acting in such a wild manner concerning Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth was thoroughly convinced that only her mother's death could possibly get her to be serene and anything close to rational. And then there was Mr. Darcy himself! Such odd behavior and questionable motives! She did not believe her circumstances could possibly be any worse.