This is one of my favorite chapters so far! Enjoy.
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The morning after the assembly saw Mr. Darcy in a far gentler fame of mind than he rightfully expected. He attributed this welcome change to a full night of restful sleep rather than the peculiar absence of a certain nighttime tableau.
The previous day had been quite emotionally exhaustive, after all.
Whatever the reason, he felt a certain lightness of being that had been absent for some time. He rose at his usual hour to heavy skies that promised rain before the day's end. Though he planned to ride, he was surprised to find that the foreboding weather did little in the way of dimming his brightened mien.
First to the breakfast room, Darcy selected his meal with care and sipped his coffee slowly, anxious that nothing intrude too abruptly upon his unusual tranquility. That he'd been waiting for such a moment to reflect upon the previous evening was quite conveniently forgotten. It was as though his body was finally returned to full health after a long convalescence. Even the clarity of his mind felt sharper, more orderly and calm. The food tasted somehow fuller, more potent to his palette.
If Darcy chose not to inspect the true impetus for this marked change, one must forgive him at this juncture. In any case, he hardly would have found the answer to his liking.
He passed a pleasant half hour in solitude and had just begun reading the paper when Bingley entered, looking slightly harried. For a moment, he didn't acknowledge Darcy's presence. It felt much more natural than had the previous morning when their roles had been rather backward.
"Ah…Good morning, Darcy," he muttered, pulling at his already crumpled cravat. "It looks like rain." Darcy hummed his acknowledgement, following Bingley with his eyes as the younger man paced next to the table for a moment. Finally, he took up a plate and filled it at random with quick, agitated movements.
Darcy waited.
After some more pacing, Bingley situated himself across the table and set about cutting a piece of ham into ridiculously small bites. Darcy raised his brows slightly in amusement before resuming his perusal of the paper. Bingley's unwitting display belied a great under-current of anxiety about which Darcy expected he would soon speak. He doubted whether Charles knew how clearly matters weighing on his mind were typically conveyed in the tension of his person. He was as an eager little boy might be, waiting to ask permission for something he dearly wanted but expected to be denied.
Similarly, Darcy anticipated the source of worry was a certain golden haired maiden. Bingley appeared very serious in his consideration of this one.
Hmm… I really must keep an eye on this.
"Darcy," he said after a few minutes spent pushing the small bites of food around. "I wonder, would it be unseemly for me to call at Longbourn today? Or perhaps invite Miss Bennet to dine here this evening?" Darcy paused, torn between indulging a possibly harmless flirtation and facilitating a potentially imprudent match.
"Oh, Charles," a droll voice said from the door, having heard his question. "How soon you forget. I believe you already committed yourself and Mr. Darcy to dine in the village tonight though why you should wish to do so, I *cannot* imagine." Caroline swung gracefully into the room and perched at the table with a flourish. "And you mustn't appear too eager."
"*Too* eager?" he repeated, clearly concerned he'd done that very thing.
"What if," his sister spoke as though to a child, "I invited her here to dine with me? She does seem to be a sweet girl, even if she does smile a bit too much. I should like to know her better." She blinked innocently at him.
Darcy frowned, thinking it far more likely Caroline desired information rather than companionship, but held his tongue. Bingley still appeared uncertain.
"Do you not think she may find it strange to dine here if I am out?" His brow furrowed.
"Nonsense. She will merely think you wish her to know your dear sister better. It's perfectly true, is it not? Do not fret so, Dear Brother, all will be well," she soothed.
Darcy's frown deepened. At times, it mystified him how Bingley failed to recognize the manipulations of others. He continually expected no less than the best of intentions in everyone he encountered. But Darcy hesitated to interfere in any schemes set forth by Caroline Bingley lest she mistake his interest in the matter as increased interest in herself. She was very good at assuming she could understand the intentions and desires of others.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he sighed faintly, looking to Darcy.
"Caroline is well equipped to entertain Miss Bennet in your stead, Charles," Darcy said. Caroline lowered her eyes modestly at the small compliment. "We agreed to dine with Colonel Forster some time ago. We cannot break the engagement now for so trivial a reason. I'm sure there will be ample opportunity to meet Miss Bennet again." Bingley acquiesced, though still appeared crestfallen.
Caroline shot Darcy a look of mute exasperation over her brother's obvious infatuation. Darcy showed no reaction, but could hardly lament the absence of someone who would naturally remind him of… someone else.
"Very well, Charles. If it will ease your mind, I will tell you that I anticipated your agreement of our plan," Caroline sighed after a short pause. She snapped her fingers at one of the hovering servants, causing Darcy to blink in surprise. "Have one of the maids bring me the letter on the silver tray in my dressing room," she ordered brusquely.
As they waited, Bingley began to eat slowly but still seemed troubled by his perception of what Caroline so generously referred to as their plain. Within five minutes, Caroline had in her hand a short missive that she then handed to Bingley for his approval. Propriety forbade a single man from sending private correspondence to a single woman, but indirect means of communication were commonly employed as an acceptable means of circumventing this social restriction.
Bingley's eyes traveled over the written words and presently, a smile spread slowly across his features and he looked gratefully at his sister. "Oh, thank you, Caroline," he grinned at last, looking more like himself. "I'm sure this will do nicely."
Darcy carefully attended his newspaper, wondering again what game Caroline had undertaken in inviting Miss Bennet to Netherfield. After her spoken reflections during the assembly, he was very sure she shared his evaluation of the Bennet family as being too far beneath their level of society for the promotion of any of the daughters as viable matches. Perhaps he had missed some interaction between Caroline and Miss Bennet last night. It was true his attention had been compromised by considerations of … another matter.
With a sigh, he realized the presence of a physical reminder was unnecessary if he ended up dwelling upon the subject without assistance. The morning's tranquility crumbled and faded to dust. He felt seized with restless energy, the pent up frustration of yesterday coming belatedly to the fore.
"If you will both excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," he stated. With a curt bow, he quit the room.
The turn in the weather meant their tour of Netherfield would likely be delayed again; another day spent inside in idle occupation held little appeal. Nevertheless, he dedicated the morning to several letters and papers from Pemberley that demanded his attention. The socialization that had been required by their arrival to the neighborhood had delayed his responsibilities. As was his habit, he was thorough and meticulous as he wrote instructions and news to various parties. Though Bingley and Caroline eventually joined him in the library where he worked, he spoke to them but little until they all retired for refreshment shortly after noon.
While the silence of his presence was nothing new to his present companions, they could hardly have guessed the growing disquiet of his inner thoughts. Without the employment of business to occupy his mind during the meal, he found himself going over each word spoken by Miss Elizabeth the previous night, trying to determine her motives.
More than once, he ruminated upon the moment when he heard her laugh and the intense emotion that had overtaken him at the sound. How could her presence affect him so powerfully? He now came to the conclusion that his sleep must have been accompanied by dreams that he simply could not recall once he awoke. Otherwise, there was no other earthly reason why thoughts of her intruded on a perfectly innocuous day yet again.
At this frustration, his earlier restlessness made itself known again. Without a word, he pushed back from the table and stood, motioning quietly to a servant. He gave told the man to have his mount prepared and then announced his intentions to the Bingleys.
"But, sir," Caroline purred, "Surely you must not ride today. If you were to get caught in a downpour you could catch your death! Perhaps your ride could wait until dryer conditions?"
"I thank you for your concern, Caroline. I don't intend to stay out long and there are plenty of trees to provide shelter."
"Shall I accompany you, Darcy?" Charles roused himself from the absent-minded trance in which he'd lingered periodically throughout the morning.
"No, I thank you," Darcy answered a bit too quickly, for he was anxious to be alone. "I'll return in time to accompany you to the village."
In truth, he needed nothing so simple as a blinding rush through the countryside with only his horse for company. He dearly wished for the familiar rise and fall of Derbyshire's landscape where his stallion Admiral required little if any guidance so acclimated to the terrain was he.
If he were riding there, he wouldn't have to think at all.
Briefly, he returned to his rooms to don more appropriate attire and an oilcloth overcoat in deference to the infinitesimal chance Miss Bingley's dire prediction came true. Inside of ten minutes, he was entering the stable and was pleased to see Admiral saddled and waiting as per his instruction. As he approached, the horsed whickered softly in recognition.
"How are you, old boy?" Darcy murmured, running his hand down the animal's soft nose. From his pocket, he drew half an apple and held it out on the flat of his palm. Admiral lipped it delicately and then nudged Darcy's shoulder in affection.
As he mounted, another distant rumble of thunder came to his ears. The same had been happening all morning and he prayed it would hold off long enough for a decent ride. He feared his mood would be tarnished irrevocably if he were denied this short stretch away from burden and worry.
Luckily, Admiral was not afraid of storms.
He warmed the horse slowly against the slight chill, though he longed for the mindless sprint of a gallop. It would not do for the Master of Pemberley to get caught in the rain, fall ill, and cause injury to his own horse. Not that any one disaster was really better than the occurrence all three. He considered his horses almost as members of family and Admiral was a particular favorite. He almost never rode any other mount.
When Darcy was but eight years old, his father bought a stallion with an illustrious bloodline from Spain. The horse was said to be the descendent of Andalusian destriers used by conquistadors under the command of Juan Ponce de León, and was to enrich the stock at Pemberley by disseminating amongst several mares, including Darcy's mother's favorite horse, Ambrosia.
As young Darcy watched Ambrosia's belly grow, his father told him the foal, should it be male, would become his horse. Should it be female, she would be added to the brood stock and Darcy would have his choice of any other colt amongst the other yearlings.
He remembered watching Ambrosia graze delicately in the pasture, dreaming of the adventures on which he and his colt would embark together. On one particular occasion, his father came up beside him, apparently having sought out his company, which was a rarity in itself.
"Look closely," he father said in hushed tones. "Look very closely at her flank just in front of the hip. Do you see that small movement there? That is the foal moving within her." It was an uncharacteristically tender moment between them that neither Darcy would never forget.
When Ambrosia finally came to foal, the offspring was female. Darcy was allowed into the barn to bear witness. He watched in terrified awe as Ambrosia paced her stall fretfully before finally laying down in a fresh bed of straw. The colt came out in a rush of fluids, encased in a milky white birth sack. She struggled free from the membrane as her mother roused herself to begin cleaning the tiny thing. Within minutes, the beautiful dappled filly was attempting to stand upon legs so thin and spindly, Darcy worried they would snap like dry kindling. He'd never seen a horse so small.
When he expressed concern to the head groom, a man called Deems, he was met with an amused chuckle and a patient lesson on what would happen now the horse was born, how it would grow into maturity and grow plenty of strength to carry itself.
Darcy Senior would not allow his son to foster or ride a female horse, however. Nevertheless, Darcy became attached to her and named her Aster and though he was not supposed to care, he kept abreast of her development and loved her dearly.
Aster had died in an accident some ten years ago, but her progeny at Pemberly were still amongst his favorites in temperament and beauty.
Darcy was thirteen by the time the horse he chose to be his own was born, for he'd wanted to wait rather than choose another of the colts the year Aster was born. None of the foals for several years following appealed to him, though they made perfectly acceptable mounts.
No, Darcy wanted a special horse. A horse that he knew was his the moment he saw it. Because of this, Darcy also remembered how his father had grown frustrated with his 'dithering' and had to wonder if that was why his father showed no interest in continuing to guide him in this right of passage.
It turned out to be Aster's first foal that caught his eye. Again, he was allowed into the barn to bear witness, an event for which he would have been present in any case.
As surely as the sun that rose above the horizon the very moment the colt was born, Darcy knew that this was meant to be his horse. The foal was a solid, uninterrupted, silky black color; he stood tall and dignified from the moment he took his first steps.
Darcy's mother insisted he should be the one to name the foal despite his father's grumbling that a he was too fanciful and would be inclined to silly or foolish titles. In the end, he reserved the right to change the horse's name if such frivolity came to pass. Darcy, being at the time harboring a secret desire to sail the high seas, arrived at the name Admiral with the intention that it would honor both his mother, Anne, and Admiral's dam Aster, in the use of the names' first letter, and would provide proper dignity once the horse was grown. His father agreed to the name with some surprise. (His father simultaneously tended to underestimate his son of whom he never had anything but the highest expectations, a dissonance Darcy could never quite live up to, let alone wrap his mind around.)
Nearly every day for a month strait, Darcy rushed to the stable first thing in the morning and spent time with the two under Deems's watchful eye, approaching slowly by increments until Aster trusted him with the foal, which didn't take long since she already knew him. He would talk to Admiral for hours about whatever came to mind. Gradually, he began teaching Admiral to follow on a rope lead and get used to the weight of a saddle upon his back. When the horse was old enough, he and Deems worked to break him, which also took very little time. Admiral seemed born for his lot in life and was never anything but loyal, if occasionally prone to high sprits.
Just before the death of his mother, Darcy was well on his way to becoming an accomplished rider and rarely rode any horse but Admiral, who would grow to stand a full sixteen hands. (This was fortunate, since Darcy at thirteen was clearly bound to achieve greater stature than most men once he was of age.)
Eventually, Admiral came to mean much more to Darcy than the usual attachment of a possession or even a pet. Admiral represented the last meaningful gift his father would ever give him for after the death of his wife, little pleased him except for the occasional obsequious company of George Wickham. While he knew the elder Darcy loved him, the expression of that emotion was rarely undertaken before Lady Anne passed, and never afterward until his own death. Darcy favored his father in looks but was far more in temperament like his mother, an unfortunate happenstance that failed to promote the bridging of the cleft that came between father and son.
Admiral and Aster were the only living creatures to behold the tears the young man shed the day his mother died and Admiral alone when some years later, the elder Darcy passed away.
By the time Darcy had ridden a reasonable distance from the house, he was in an open expanse of field that ran alongside the road to the village. He urged Admiral into a canter, then a full run until they approached a fence with a broken top rail they cleared easily. Darcy lost track of time, focusing only on the movement of the horse beneath him and the possible perils of the ground in front of them.
They came to a small stream that cut across the road and flowed into a small lake. At their approach, a flock of geese were startled from its surface and took flight. Darcy pulled up, easing the pace down to a walk, dismounting to give the horse a chance to water before their return. The rumbles of thunder had increased in their frequency.
He rolled up the sleeves of his overcoat and crouched at the edge, dipping his hands in the cool water. As he splashed a handful over his face and neck, he was halted by the sudden realization that he wasn't alone.
Across the water came the sound of a feminine voice humming a simple tune. He half rose, expecting to see a housemaid gathering herbs or rushes along the bank. Though normally not one for covert observation, he espied a young woman in a dark gray-blue dress trailing her hand along the wide trunk of a tree as she sang. He recognized the melody from a piece of music played for the previous night's entertainment. Her hands were slender and long fingered, tracing lightly over the textured bark as though to memorize its surface. The pale stretch of her neck above the plain gown arched elegantly upward, her hair bound in an equally uncomplicated style. As he watched, she tipped her head back, looking through the branches to the top of the tree. Then, with a deep sigh of contentment, she resumed her song and turned in his direction.
It was her. Elizabeth—that is, Miss Elizabeth. Elizabeth Bennet—her.
Abruptly, Darcy bit back an oath and hurriedly resumed his crouch behind the reeds. As he did, he overbalanced precariously on the balls of his feet and nearly fell forward into the water. Through the reed's slender stalks, he saw she didn't seem to have detected his presence. She continued humming, and thankfully, resumed her circling of the tree. When she reached the far side, he moved swiftly, concealing himself behind the tree nearest him. Admiral, surprised by this movement and apparently possessing a sense of irony his master did not, took a few steps toward him, stepping upon a dry twig that cracked loudly in the process.
Darcy glared at him, fully aware of the ridiculous position he now occupied, hiding from a mere girl he had no reason to fear.
The humming stopped and for a moment there was silence. Obviously, Admiral's misstep had drawn her attention.
"Is someone there?" She paused. "Lydia? Kitty? I've told you before, it is not amusing to sneak up on people! …Hmm." Her footsteps stopped. Apparently, she couldn't see Admiral from where she stood and thought her sisters were playing a trick on her. He dared not breathe with the relief he felt. Of course Admiral, completely unaware of any misdeed, resumed grazing quietly nearby.
Darcy began frantically considering any justification that might allow him to retain some dignity should she discover him. Really, he prayed that something, *anything* would prevent her from discovering him at all. Yet, he refused to be caught totally unawares and quickly moved from behind the tree to kneel near a shrubbery whose branches were spaced enough to see through.
As he watched, she made a small sound of dismissal and leaned back against the tree, having decided she was, indeed, alone. Idly, she reached up among the low hanging branches and plucked loose a large leaf, which she then twirled between her fingers. Suddenly, she smiled and spoke, affecting an unnaturally deep tone.
"Perfectly tolerable," she intoned. "But not handsome enough to tempt me."
His eyes widened. She was thinking of him! Granted, she was thinking of him with mocking amusement, but thinking of him even so. He felt the shock through his entire body.
She continued twirling the leaf, watching it intently. Then, abruptly, a wide smile broke out on her face; she laughed gaily and dropped the leaf into the water. Just as abruptly, the shock he'd been feeling turned into a strong sense of what he would later identify as hurt.
Suddenly, the light seemed to brighten, causing them both to look skyward as the sun broke through a gap in the clouds. A visible shaft of light pierced the gloom, filling the glade surrounding Elizabeth with a gentle heat. With another deep sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself, tilted her head back again, and closed her eyes to take in the warmth.
Despite his earlier offense, he couldn't have guessed how long he was lost to the intoxication of witnessing her obvious joy in the simple comfort of a ray of sunshine.
"Lizzie!" The distant call jarred them both from the reverie. "Lizzie, where are you?" Darcy blinked, recognizing the strident tones of Mrs. Bennet.
"Coming, Mamá!"
With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Elizabeth gathered her skirts and began to run along the bank of the lake in the opposite direction. Quite unintentionally, Darcy spied a glimpse of her bare leg above the top of her boots that stirred improper warmth in his blood.
As she passed from his view, Darcy stood. Through the trees, he could just make out the shape of a structure he hadn't seen before in the distance. *So this is Longbourn*, he thought wryly. He'd ridden farther than he intended.
Finally breathing easier, he took Admiral's reins but was unable to consider returning to Netherfield for several minutes. Still greatly disturbed by his starkly dissimilar reactions to Elizabeth, he lingered by the lake for some time, trying to convince himself he had no investment in her whatsoever.
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"Mr. Darcy," a commanding voice called from across the table. His head came up sharply. "Am I given to understand you are related to Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Darcy took a sip of wine to cover his inattentiveness.
"Yes, he is a first cousin on my mother's side," he managed after a moment. The sudden interest took him by surprise; he resorted to that which was most likely to impress without thinking. "He is the second son of the Earl of Matlock who is my late mother's brother."
"I say, the second son of an earl, indeed… Do you know him well?" Colonel Forster looked at him expectantly.
"Very well. We played often together as boys and I meet him frequently in matters of business and family when his schedule allows it," Darcy said. He was further surprised at the level of the Colonel's inquiry and hoped he would stop there. The fact that some of his dealing with Fitzwilliam included their joint guardianship of Georgiana was not something he shared readily and he knew little of Fitzwilliam's responsibilities when it came to his military service.
"Capital young man, Fitzwilliam," Forster intoned pedantically. "Yes—I believe I met him briefly in London during a recent training summit. Very, very competent in his work, indeed."
"I thank you, I will pass along the compliment," Darcy said mildly. With that, Forster's attention fell to the man at Darcy's right, sparing him from further inane questioning. Oddly enough, this was nearly the extent to which Darcy had been required to speak so far that evening.
Despite the absence of the actual militia, which would in fact arrive the next day, Colonel Forster had taken up residence in Meryton with several of his higher-ranking officers. Determined to get a sense of the neighboring custom and community, he set up something of an informal gentlemen's club in the public meetinghouse and invited members of the local gentry to dine with him. The rest of the men were slated to arrive in state the next morning and would march into town from the newly constructed barracks in a large parade encompassing the whole village.
After his return to Netherfield, Darcy had barely had time to make himself presentable before he and Charles boarded the carriage for the trip into town. Bingley, still caught up in his thoughts of Miss Bennet, spoke barely a word during the trip, an absence that bothered Darcy not a whit as he too had a Bennet family member to think on, though with distinctly different sentiments involved.
He'd allowed Admiral to return to Netherfield at a sedate pace that afternoon, as he was very much lost in thought. They arrived back just before the skies finally opened up. He once again found his thoughts and emotions in disarray and was no closer to enjoying the sensation than he'd been at the assembly. In the wake of his secret observation of Elizabeth, he became increasingly galled and confused by her indifference to him. For the first time he could recall, he felt the lack of that regard usually paid to one of his elevation. What could induce a girl whose circumstances were so lowered to turn her nose up at a single man of his affluence?
Again, he felt the absurdity of his position, that he should be insulted by her lack of attention when he'd never felt any injury in the past, especially when it came to women.
That she also scoffed at his behavior was another mark against her in his books. Most people had the good grace to at least be conscious, if not offended by his immense self-possession and sense of superiority. But not Elizabeth, he thought darkly. She apparently feels secure enough in her independence that she need not follow society's mandates for proper behavior. She's probably as bad as the rest of her family.
On that score he had to check himself, however. Except in a moment of private reflection she could not know he witnessed, she hadn't yet shown any real lack of propriety he felt bound to criticize. If anything, she displayed a greater understanding than her own mother and younger sisters, which was to be commended.
Elizabeth and Jane at least, seemed to have some good judgment.
He continued contemplating his dilemma up until the time that he and Bingley arrived in Meryton. He did his best to be somewhat sociable with the other gentlemen, finding that several of the officers hailed from regions near Derbyshire he was familiar with. Their conversation, though less sophisticated than he was used to, couldn't be described as poor. As the evening wore on, however, he found their company became somewhat tedious. Often, he found his mind straying again to subjects he would rather avoid.
After dinner, he joined the rest in several games of billiards and then cards. Though Bingley was amiable as always, Darcy noticed a delay in his replies and a distant look in his eye on occasion that suggested his mind too strayed elsewhere. By the end of the night, they both felt relieved to be arriving back at Netherfield and hence to retire to their respective rooms.
As the carriage pulled up in the drive, it soon became clear that their relief was to be short lived. The steward, Mr. Myles, came out to meet them, an unusual occurrence to be sure. As Bingley had yet to decide whether he would fill out the house staff with a regular butler, Mr. Myles was kindly fulfilling both rolls for the time being.
What is it now? Darcy wondered. His life, it seemed, was doomed to a course of one conflict after another of late.
Once they had gained their footing, Mr. Myles bowed and gave them reason to understand that during the heavy rain of the afternoon, Miss Bennet had journeyed to Netherfield on horseback. She had become so saturated and chilled that almost directly after her arrival, she took ill with a fierce cold and had to be ensconced in one of the guest rooms for the night.
"Oh, no!" Bingley exclaimed. "Taken ill? Oh dear, I shall never forgive myself. I ought to have sent the carriage to collect her."
In the drawing room, Bingley paced heavily, as stormy an expression on his face as any Darcy had ever seen. He wondered aloud several times if he ought to check on Miss Bennet personally, a plan Darcy heartily vetoed as it would be improper for a gentlemen to visit her rooms with only a maid as chaperone, given the hour. Bingley acquiesced, but couldn't settle himself. He alternately walked the length of the room, stood at the fireplace watching the flames pensively, and sat down only to jump up and resume his pattern over and over.
"I cannot imagine what possessed her mother, sending her out in such weather," Darcy grumbled after several rotations of this. Bingley nodded absently but made no reply, finally deciding to give strict instructions to the staff as to how to attend to Miss Bennet's comfort and to wake him immediately if she needed something during the night.
More troublesome still, was the incongruent behavior of Caroline, who had already retired before informing her brother of these events. It seemed her earlier eagerness to entertain Miss Bennet on behalf of her brother had faded after being forced to play hostess for longer than a few hours.