Chapter Sixteen: Solitary Walks
Elizabeth stepped into a large breakfast parlor (which was, perhaps, smaller than most of the rooms in Rosings, though still larger than an entire floor in Hunsford), tired from sleep deprivation. She had not been at all comfortable with staying at Rosings, and was constantly listening for the sound of her mother rousing in the adjoining guestroom, so that she might find sufficient enough distraction for her. However, she had completely forgotten her task by this point, for she was weary, and the smell of hot food was really all that occupied her thoughts. She cared not for what Lady Catherine's opinion on education or dancing was, nor what elegant little compliments Mr. Collins had contrived to arrange in response to said opinions. She saw a table. She saw food. She wanted to eat, leave, and then go to sleep.
Servants who lined the room stepped forward to allow Elizabeth to sit, which she impatiently waited for them to do. Then, nearly forgetting all her manners, she began to eat, almost ravenously. Mr. Darcy, whose eyes had been studying her as soon as she had entered the room, and whose thoughts had centered around her for the past four-and-twenty hours, was a bit surprised to see such behavior, but found it a bit endearing all the same. She certainly was more courageous than her two youngest sisters, who were barely eating, and mostly cutting up their sausage into very small pieces and holding their silverware prettily. Mrs. Bennet observed her second daughter, and then observed Mr. Darcy observing her second daughter, and wasn't quite sure if this was the sort of attention she wanted Elizabeth to attract.
"Lizzy, for goodness sakes, you will surely choke if you do not eat a bit slower," scolded Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth pretended not to hear; and it was probably only half-pretending, as she was barely conscious of what was around her. Disconcerted, Mrs. Bennet decided on settling for her Plan B, which was to distract Mr. Darcy from Elizabeth's less-than-ladylike table manners.
"Mr. Darcy! Did you observe what very nice weather we are having now? Why, one would never know that only yesterday it was raining and thundering with reckless abandon!"
"Indeed," said Mr. Darcy distractedly. It was rather an obvious statement, for the sunlight poured through the windows and onto the tables, and was almost a blinding for those unfortunate enough to be facing the windows.
Elizabeth quickly finished, with Mrs. Bennet continuing to make indifferent remarks (which really grew a bit irksome after a while), and yawned. Lady Catherine had just finished asking her a question, but Elizabeth had not noticed.
"Miss Elizabeth," said Lady Catherine severely.
"Hmm?" responded Elizabeth, mapping out an escape route from Rosings in her mind.
"I asked, was my accommodation to your liking?"
"Oh!—sorry—yes, very much so, thank you; very hospitable. Now, if you will excuse me," said Elizabeth, standing from the table and quickly curtseying, though she could not have been at the breakfast table above fifteen minutes. Lady Catherine murmured some disparaging remark of Elizabeth's lack of propriety as a servant held the door for her, which either no one else heard, or no one else chose to hear.
Elizabeth, deciding it might be straying a little too far away from decorum to simply take off and walk to Hunsford, resolved on only taking a morning walk. The air was cool, and certainly the exercise would be invigorating, so that she might not fall asleep during the rest of the day's engagements. She found a path which led over some low, rolling hills, and bordered a small wood, which was to her taste. To be sure, the ground was a bit muddy from the rainstorm of the night before, but Elizabeth had never regarded mud all that much. If she kept to where the sun had been shining longest, she found that the trail was remarkably dry.
She came upon a large, old elm tree along the trail, with long branches stretching in every direction, and supposed that it might be an ideal place for her to take a quick rest, as she had walked round the house several times before she had come upon the trail, and was a bit winded. The tree had a convenient split down the center of its trunk, which made a perfectly adequate seat. Elizabeth yawned again, and, leaning her head against it, almost instantaneously fell asleep.
Mr. Darcy had been searching around the interior of Rosings Hall in vain for Elizabeth, hoping that he might "accidentally" meet her. However, he had no such luck. He recalled that she had seemed a bit tired, and had perhaps returned to her bedchamber; though he also recalled what Mrs. Bennet had told him about solitary walks the night before, and what Elizabeth herself had said on the subject. Since he had little else to do, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was in a nearby parlor conversing with Jane, he supposed that he might take a ramble about the park and see if he could not find her. When he exited, he found that there were vast mud puddles here and there, and the ground was very much saturated; but that had not kept her from walking three miles to Netherfield when her sister had been ill. He supposed that he had little chance of finding her, if she had taken a walk, in the vast property of his aunt; but, as he passed by the wood, noticed a patch of purple wildflowers. He leaned over to examine them more carefully, and recalled that Elizabeth had worn one in her hair when he had first discovered she was in Kent. With a small smile, he plucked one from its plant and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.
He had been walking about for some time, and was nearly resolved on returning to the house, when he happened to look up at just the right time, and observed Elizabeth asleep, beside a tree. He wondered if he ought to wake her—she might be missed if she remained absent much longer—but she seemed so absolutely serene as she slept, and, in his opinion, something descended from the heavens. He carefully approached, examining her, and was relieved when she did not stir. After deciding that kidnapping her might not be an entirely advisable idea, he remembered the wildflower in his pocket, and produced it. He held it to her sleeping form, deciding that the soft shade of purple complimented her smooth, creamy complexion well. It seemed very natural, then, for him to place it in her hair. However, this did cause her to stir; and, supposing he would not want to be discovered, quickly stood and hastily set off towards the house.
Elizabeth opened her eyes. She looked about groggily, only then recalling that she had fallen asleep beneath the tree. How long had she been there? She looked up towards the sky and saw that the sun was not in so very different a position; though it was much closer to midday than it had been when she had originally come upon the spot. She shifted her gaze back to her eye-level, though she felt something brush against the back of her hand. She looked down, and saw that a purple wildflower had fallen from her hair. She stared at it as it lay on the trail, contemplating where she had gotten it from. She did recall it—though she was certain it had been several days since she had harvested it. But, she could only vaguely remember breakfast, and therefore decided that she simply did not remember discovering it. She picked it up, shrugged, and put it back into her hair.
As she re-entered Rosings Hall, she was pleased that the hem of her dress was not very muddy at all. She looked about and saw Jane speaking with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. With a demure smile, she approached the three, and greeted them all.
"There you are, Lizzy! Where had you gone off to?" asked Jane innocently.
"I took a walk," explained Elizabeth.
"Of course—Mama was seeking you out, I believe. You were gone a long while."
"I do enjoy long walks," said Elizabeth, not entirely willing to confess that she had fallen asleep. This produced a curious look from Mr. Darcy which Elizabeth did not at all comprehend.
The subject then shifted to music, though Mr. Darcy could not help smiling to himself when he observed that the wildflower remained in her hair. Had she not noticed? But there was a looking glass just across from where they were all standing; surely she must have noticed. He flattered himself that she thought it looked well on her.
It was not long before one of Lady Catherine's carriages was ordered for the Bennets and Collinses, and they were soon setting off to return to the parsonage, much to Elizabeth's delight (and, inevitably, Jane's as well). Mrs. Bennet was in high spirits, Mr. Bennet not sorry to go (he had never had much of a taste for extravagance), Lydia and Kitty relieved (for they would no longer have to prance about like high-classed ladies), and Mr. and Mrs. Collins exceedingly gracious. They were all invited to dine at Rosings again the following week, which was gratefully accepted by Mr. Collins preceding a long speech on the merits of his esteemed patroness. Colonel Fitzwilliam handed the ladies into the carriage, and soon they were only a very short drive from Hunsford.
"What a splendid stay!" cried Mrs. Bennet; "I only wish that the weather had been foul again today! And to return to Rosings next week; I could not have wished for anything else. Especially since a certain gentleman is staying there."
Mrs. Bennet looked earnestly at Elizabeth after her final comment, though the latter pretended not to hear, and began speaking to Jane.
"Lady Catherine! Ah!" said Mr. Collins; "The very best of patronesses! I could not have met with a better—my Mary and I are blessed with her happy manners quite constantly!"
"And she permitted me to practice on the pianoforte in the housekeeper's room," added Mary cheerfully, which was followed by many exultations from Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth was relieved to remove herself from the tiresome company of her relations when they had all returned, and even more so of that of those at Rosings (excepting Colonel Fitzwilliam). Colonel Fitzwilliam, she observed, had not been quite so attentive to her as he had been the day before; but she thought little of it, for they were slightly better acquainted now, and one could not make a first impression twice. But the worst of it, she believed, was now over; she had effectively evaded her mother's ill-judged comments, and was still in tact after almost a full twenty-four hours within the same walls as Lady Catherine, her daughter, and her disagreeable nephew, Mr. Darcy.
Jane then entered their bedroom, and passed a letter to Elizabeth, explaining that it was from Charlotte. She smiled, and quickly tore it open, eager to read any news from Hertfordshire from her most intimate friend.
