Chapter 13
Mr. Darcy had visited Oakham Mount early every morning for three days only to be disappointed. He would walk slowly up the wooded incline until reaching the top of Oakham Mount, where he would linger for the length of the morning in anticipation of Elizabeth's appearance, and he even rode through other the countryside near Netherfield, hoping to find her on a different path, to no avail. He was beginning to wonder if he had imagined her appearance there earlier that week entirely.
His perseverance would soon be rewarded. On the morning of the fourth day, the clouded gray skies matched Darcy's mood. It was too cold for late summer. He arrived on foot to Oakham Mount with little hope, a book in his hand to pass the time, only to be greeted by the sight of Elizabeth standing at the edge of the prospect, looking out beyond, the chilly wind of the day blowing her coat around her. Darcy approached her cautiously, as if disrupting her may cause her to disappear entirely. He felt a pang in his chest at the peculiar thought.
He watched her from a distance for some time before she turned and approached a tree at the edge of the clearing. Darcy noticed she was carrying a book. She sat with her back reclined against the tree, her knees raised so that she may rest her book on them. Darcy allowed her to read a few pages before he approached.
Elizabeth's surprise was apparent; she colored as they exchanged greetings. Darcy was aware of the impropriety of an acquaintance formed not in the drawing rooms of a respectable home but in what was effectively wilderness, yet he found himself too animated by finding her there again after so many days of solitude to care. Her embarrassment at encountering him only recommended her to him more and assured him of her respectability.
"May I?" Darcy asked, seeing a space a suitable yet still close distance from her. He motioned towards the spot with the hand holding his own book. Elizabeth gave him a half-smile and nodded, then returned to reading. Darcy could not read the emotions on her face. He sat on the ground, stretching out his long legs.
"It seems we are of a common opinion," Darcy said, attempting to pull her into a conversation. He briefly wondered if he had ever attempted to draw anyone, besides Georgiana, into conversation.
"What do you mean, Sir?" Elizabeth responded, her eyes looking over her book to him.
"I have found this a pleasant place to read as well."
Her eyebrows raised as she asked, "Have you?"
"Yes, I have come here every morning," Darcy paused, hoping the implication behind his words would land. He had a desperate feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt compelled to let her know about all these strange things he had experienced, how he had been drawn to Oakham Mount, how he had searched for it only to find it by accident, and how he had been glad when he saw her there. Darcy knew it would be mad.
"Hertfordshire is a celebrated countryside, and this is a particularly pleasing area," she said simply. Darcy was unable to think of a response to this, so he simply looked at her as she returned to reading. They sat in silence for some time, Elizabeth engrossed in her reading, and Darcy engrossed in her. She did not seem especially surprised or bothered by his presence. In fact, she seemed determine now to acknowledge him further, until curiosity overset her.
Elizabeth glanced up at the book that lay untouched beside him. "Are you a fan of gothic novels, Sir?" Her tone was teasing.
Darcy, momentarily distracted by the glimmer in her eyes, was confused by her question. It was not until he himself glanced at the book he had brought that he remembered what title he had taken from his trunk.
"Ah. I am reading this one at the request of my sister. She is the one who enjoys them, and she needs someone to discuss it with, so I am usually reading the genre for her."
"That is very kind of you. I hope the frightful stories do not keep you up at night. Perhaps that is why you prefer reading them in the safety daylight provides," Elizabeth teased. Darcy smiled. He felt at ease in her company in a way that he previously only felt with his closest family.
"You have found me out, Miss—" he paused, unwilling to reveal that he knew her name was covertly spying on her at Pemberley. He raised an inquiring eyebrow to her instead. Elizabeth glanced upwards and to her right, before bringing her dark eyes to meet his.
"Elizabeth. Miss Elizabeth," she quietly offered.
"Miss Elizabeth," he repeated. The memory of a rainy Sunday passed fleetingly through his mind. "My name is Darcy. Of Pemberley in Derbyshire."
She gave him a small smile. If smiles were to be his reward for speaking, he set on continuing.
"Is your selection better suited that mine for reading outdoors on a summer morning?" Darcy inquired.
"Perfectly adequate, yes," Elizabeth replied. Darcy looked at her inquiringly and she held up her book so he could see the title—selected poems by Alexander Pope.
"Poetry! Yes, I daresay that is a much more fitting selection. In fact, I would enjoy that much better," Darcy spoke slowly, hoping his courage would catch up with him. "Would you mind reading it aloud? You may start wherever you are, no need to change anything on my account."
The blush that formed on Elizabeth's cheeks was very becoming. She hesitated, but then collected herself and began reading. Darcy was pleased to recognize the poem she was reading was a poem about love, even though the love story it was based on did not end well. He had always considered poetry as the food of love, and this suited him perfectly. He gazed at her intently as she read, and she seemed determined not to glance up at him.
"Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;
And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier tasks these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do…"
Darcy closed his eyes as she spoke, allowing himself to indulge in the pleasure of hearing this bewitching girl read to him.
"…How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd…"
The poem was long, and Elizabeth's steady rhythm would have lulled him to sleep if he had not opened his eyes to watch her again. When she finally reached the end, she looked up at him. Not the first time, he was moved by her beauty.
"Thank you," he said.
"I ought to return home," she said, closing the book. Darcy rose to his feet quickly and extended his hand to help her rise. Elizabeth shook her head and hoisted herself up on her own accord.
"Good day, Mr. Darcy," she said before departing. The sound of his name on her lips caused his heart to flutter.
Mr. Darcy was unable to keep himself away from Oakham Mount on every morning since this meeting. On the days he did not encounter her there, he would sometimes be lucky enough to see her rambling through a different part of Hertfordshire, and he would join her on these walks at all hours of the morning and afternoon. She was always alone. He spoke of her no more to Bingley or Georgiana, and neither of them brought up his solitary morning excursions.
Darcy and Elizabeth would sometimes walk in companionable silence, and at other times, Darcy tried to draw her out by asking her opinion on books, or a poem, or even the latest news from the front. When she spoke, she was everything that is charming and agreeable. Darcy felt a reticence in her, and he noticed that she spoke of her family rarely and in generalities. She was skilled in diverting the focus back to him, and he spoke with her more freely than anyone else he had met.
For Elizabeth's part, their almost daily meetings often distressed her. He was behaving much more amiable than he had during his first visit to Hertfordshire. His more easy manner offered her a glimpse into the man she could have married if she had not believed Wickham's lies, and if Darcy had not interfered with Jane and Mr. Bingley. The former was no longer of consequence, as Wickham's regiment had long left Hertfordshire and she believed Mr. Darcy's account of his behavior, and the latter concern was resolving itself with Mr. Bingley's frequent calls to Longbourn.
Darcy had given her no indication that he remembered their prior acquaintance, and Elizabeth herself sometimes did not think of their strange circumstances. She sometimes wondered and hoped this was a way for them to begin anew, but it was only a matter of time before he met her family, and his disapproval was sure to be the same. It was only for Jane's sake that she did not wish the Netherfield party to be removed entirely from the county.
She was returned from a trip into Meryton with Kitty when the house was in an uproar. Mr. Bingley had agreed to dine with them the following evening, and preparations were already beginning. Jane was clearly simultaneously pleased by this development and abashed at their mother's cries of joy. By Mrs. Bennet's behavior, one would think that Mr. Bingley's offer depended on how satisfying the meal would be.
"Are Mr. Bingley's friends joining us as well?" Elizabeth asked Jane as unaffectedly as she could manage while hanging her walking coat and bonnet.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet responded. "Yes! Mr. Darcy— that disagreeable man has not even called on us—will accompany him. It is most unavoidable. I hear his sister, Miss Darcy, is an elegant beauty—though she has nothing on my dear Jane, I am sure—and is quite the timid creature. It would do all of your girls well to try to befriend her. She may invite you to town! And we shan't fault her simply because she is related to Mr. Darcy. The poor girl cannot help it!"
Kitty and Lydia giggled, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm at her mother's impolite censure of Mr. Darcy but said nothing. Elizabeth had been careful in not mentioning her family name to Mr. Darcy, and she was certain he had not yet made a connection between her and Jane. How on earth was he going to react to seeing her here? What kind of confusion would it cause? Or perhaps this would be enough to reignite his memories? Is that what she wanted? Elizabeth grew more worried with each thought.
"Are you all right, Lizzy?" Jane asked when Elizabeth sat beside her on the sofa.
"Yes, Jane. I am just worried about mama's behavior towards Mr. Bingley's guests."
Jane smiled at touched Elizabeth's hand, "Are you now Mr. Darcy's defender, Lizzy?" she said with a smile. Elizabeth smiled at the teasing remark as Jane continued, "All will be well. They know what mama is like, and I am sure Miss Darcy will be delighted to spend some time in the company of girls her own age."
It occurred to Elizabeth then that Mr. Darcy may not remember exactly what her mother and family was like. She resolved to try to ease his discomfort as much as possible, and hope that she may soothe over any of Mr. Darcy's questions. At least now they would be formerly introduced and could meet less secretly. With a rush of concern, Elizabeth suddenly realized that he may no longer wish to see her again after this dinner. This thought would occupy her thoughts as she awaited dinner the following day.
Author's Note: My wonderful and patient readers! Thank you for reading. I look forward to every single review. So many frequent and familiar "faces" now, and I appreciate the long and short comments alike! I hope you enjoyed ODC time alone together- we'll see how long Darcy's bliss lasts, as the approaching dinner will cause issues! I'm anticipating 17 chapters now. Also, the poem referenced here is Alexander Pope's "Eloisa to Abelard." The love story it is based on is sad and gruesome, but it did inspire "some pretty verses", and it is the origin of the film title for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the film where I've borrowed the memory-erasing plot device from. Two strangers would probably not read this to each other as it is about the "sins of love," but I'll use my creative license here to pay homage. Thank you for sticking with this work-in-progress!