Months passed. Elizabeth was not often present in Darcy's mind. He had learned a lesson, but the affair was past. He did not view Elizabeth poorly; she had been governed by vanity and prejudice, but he had been governed by an excess of pride and selfishness. It would be hypocritical to judge her harshly, but not himself.
However, she had disliked him the entire time. His behavior had been reprehensible, but hers had been foolish. It was a cold splash that doused the flame of ardour.
Beyond that, Darcy thought little about the matter. His mind was filled with the welfare of his sister and the entertainments of the season. Following their conversation on the night of Bingley's wedding, Darcy always sought to ask Georgiana her wishes instead of assuming them. Under this increased consideration she blossomed, and the melancholy which had lingered since the previous summer disappeared.
After their honeymoon Bingley and Jane settled in London for the season. At the first moment convenient for the couple, Darcy and Georgiana dined at Bingley's rented house. Georgiana and Jane immediately took to each other, and the next day Georgiana filled Darcy's ears with exclamations on how gracious, elegant, and sweet Mrs. Bingley was.
Soon Georgiana and Jane were the closest of friends, and they shopped together, exchanged confidences, and visited each other several times a week. Soon Georgiana started to imitate her older friend, adopting the same mannerisms and wearing gloves pushed down to her wrists in the same way as Jane. It amused both Darcy and Bingley. The friendship would be good for Georgiana. Jane was an excellent woman, and Georgiana needed female companionship closer to her own age and station than a paid companion.
In the middle of March, the Bingleys dined at Darcy's townhouse. It was a small party, just the four of them and Georgiana's companion, Mrs. Annesley. Near the end of the evening, Jane and Georgiana sat on the couch planning the alteration of a hat, and Darcy and Bingley had drawn up around the card table and set up a game of checkers. It was a dull way to spend an evening, but except Georgiana, they were exhausted due to a ball held by Darcy's uncle the previous night.
"I say" — Bingley yawned, tapping the back of his hand against his mouth — "have you any plans for Easter? Jane and I plan to get up a good party and hire musicians."
Darcy grimaced and pushed a piece forward. "I shall be out of town for two weeks; my annual visit to my Aunt Catherine. I leave for it in only a week's time."
"I forgot — you visit her every year. Oh well, we would have had an excellent time."
"I know. The entertainment at your house would be superior. But, blood and family."
Bingley rolled his dice. "Aye, even when you wish otherwise, you cannot escape them, not completely. At least I convinced Caroline and the Hursts to make their own party for the season."
Jane heard something of the conversation and walked to stand next to her husband. "You are to visit Lady Catherine at Rosings Park? In Kent?" At Darcy's assent she said, "You must give my greetings to Lizzy, she is visiting Charlotte — that is Mrs. Collins — I believe you know that our neighbor Charlotte Lucas married your aunt's parson."
"Miss Elizabeth? She is at Rosings?" She had not crossed his mind for several weeks, and now he was to meet her again.
Jane laughed merrily. "Nay, she is at Hunsford Parsonage. From Lizzy's letters, I understand it to be almost ten minutes' walk."
Darcy smiled at Jane's jest as his composure returned. He had known he would meet her again and was wholly prepared to greet her as an acquaintance. He was eager to see how she would behave. Would she appear different now?
Darcy said, "I will be happy to give her your greetings at the first opportunity. Might you wish to use me as a courier? I could save you the postage on some letters or bring some small object or gift."
"That is very kind. With your permission, I will also ask my aunt. Lizzy is a great favorite with her children, and they have produced some drawings for my sister that were to be given to her when she passes through London on her return, but are not worth paying the postage on."
Darcy nodded agreeably. Jane turned to his sister, who still studied the hat they had discussed. "Georgie, shall I lose your company for a few weeks?"
Georgiana almost shivered and shook her head vigorously side to side. "Lady Catherine frightens me — I never visit her if I can avoid it. Fitzwilliam does not make me anymore." Georgiana blushed and said, "I ought not to have spoken of my aunt so."
Bingley laughed. "No harm done, we all have difficult relations. She frightens me as well. I once went to a dinner here when she was present" — Bingley showed his friendly grin — "like the best dandies I decided I wouldn't change out of my riding jacket. I thought I was at the height of fashion. Lady Catherine delivered such a blistering lecture that the next week I was too terrified to wear my riding clothes even to ride and wore evening dress from morning till sup. Ruined a good coat and tails that way and made myself the joke of the week."
Everyone laughed at Bingley's manner of telling the story. Darcy remembered how embarrassed he had been by his aunt's behavior. To make such a speech; to another man's guest. It showed a great want of sense on his aunt's part.
Darcy said, "I apologized then, and I will apologize now. She should not have spoken so to you. But Lady Catherine is not to be gainsaid. When she wishes to speak her mind, she always shall. No matter the situation."
"Lizzy, in one of her letters, said your aunt is celebrated for the frankness of her advice." Jane smiled sweetly and patted her husband on the shoulder. "It was merely that. She realized how handsome you are in a white cravat and waistcoat."
Georgiana hugged herself. "I do not wish her advice. No matter how sound."
"Have you any plans for while your brother is in Kent?" Jane asked.
Georgiana shook her head.
"For it may be lonely with only your companion. If your brother is willing, I would like to invite you to stay with Bingley and me. I grew up with four sisters and would enjoy the company of another lady again for a few weeks."
Georgiana's eyes lit at Jane's offer. "Oh, please Fitzwilliam, might I?"
Darcy grinned at Georgiana's enthusiasm and after a quick glance at Bingley to see him nod and smile gave permission.
Jane wrote that Mr. Darcy was coming to Rosings. He would visit her to give his greetings and deliver her next letter. Elizabeth definitely would see him. What manner would he show? She had offended him badly. Likely he would treat her with an icy politeness and hidden contempt.
She did not want him to despise her.
Yes, she had misjudged him horridly. She had thought far worse of him than he deserved — yet, the idea of him thinking ill of her filled Elizabeth half with resentment and half with hurt. She had been prejudiced and vain. But, he had shown persistent rudeness towards the neighborhood. He did not have the right to despise her for her failings. Yet, she shied away from the next meeting; she would feel terribly rejected when he proved to hold her in contempt.
The day came when Mr. Darcy and his cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, made the trip to visit their aunt. Mr. Collins stood out at the edge of the road by his garden gate, so he could doff his cap and show them respect as the carriage passed. Given her curiosity to see Mr. Darcy again and perceive his manner towards her, Elizabeth had a brief urge to join Mr. Collins when the hour of their expected arrival drew near.
She was stopped by horrible embarrassment. What would Darcy think if he saw her waiting out for him?
Charlotte watched Elizabeth's agitation as she could not settle down and would look out the window at Mr. Collins standing next to the lane every few minutes.
Twenty minutes after Mr. Collins went out, for the third time Elizabeth stood up, looked through the window, sat back down, and ordered herself to focus on the needlework she did for the poor box. This time she really would think no more on Darcy.
Charlotte asked, "Eliza, pray tell, what has you so fascinated with Mr. Darcy's arrival? You dislike him."
Elizabeth threw the needlework to the side. "I do not. It was a mistake to dislike him. A terrible one. I believed Wickham when he attacked Darcy's character simply because Darcy had offended my vanity."
"So charming Mr. Wickham lost your favor? I expected he would in the end. He seemed insubstantial, but I was not the object of his attentions, hence I could hardly trust myself."
"In that you were my superior — for I took his attentions as confirmation of the wisdom of my preference. I see myself clearly now. Vanity and prejudice drove my behavior, not reason. I had not imagined I could be so foolish. I can see that you laugh at me." Elizabeth grinned back at her friend, enough time had passed for her to see the humor in the situation. "I admit the discovery of my own foolishness is humorous, but it was not pleasant."
Charlotte pursed her lips. "Poor Lizzy — she discovered that she is not always right! Why, as your friend, I had hoped you to at least reach thirty before that awful truth dawned upon you. I would not have believed you could take it so calmly."
Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at her friend.
Charlotte laughed. "How did this astonishing realization come to you? Perhaps it had something to do with that famous argument at your sister's wedding. The one my mother, and sister, and even my brother wrote me about?"
Elizabeth's cheeks flamed. Since Charlotte had made no comment on it before, she had hoped the story had not reached from Hertfordshire to Kent. To distract herself from the embarrassment, she teased back, "John wrote you a letter? I believed him not to know the art."
The oldest Lucas brother was famed amongst the intimates of the Lucases for writing home only twice in the entirety of the four years he was away at university, both times for money.
"Yes, it shocked me exceedingly as well. Your argument was a better joke than any he heard while away." Charlotte tilted her head to the side. "Though what prompted John's letter were the rumors of Wickham's debts and depravities, which had spread through Meryton. He found it terribly amusing that the clever Eliza Bennet had defended the gentleman just before everyone turned against him."
"I began those rumors."
"Yes — I heard that from my mother. She was impressed by how cleverly you did it."
Elizabeth blushed; the praise pleased her a little.
"Come, Lizzy, tell me the whole story. You wish to — and even if you do not, I wish very much to hear it. My curiosity has eaten at me for the past three months — I beg you to end my suffering."
"Just for that, I ought not to tell you." Since Elizabeth would likely see Darcy soon, she did wish a confidant besides her father. She looked away from Charlotte. "I chose to lecture him for all his failings when we sat together at Jane's wedding."
"You did?" Charlotte's eyes lit with enthusiasm. "I can see it clear. Elizabeth Bennet, full of a righteous fury, defending the honor of her dear friend Mr. Wickham from the despicable Mr. Darcy. At a wedding no less. Her own sister's even."
"I held off until Jane and Bingley had left — you cannot claim I lack affection for Jane. In fact, that began the argument — you see, your view of the situation was proved out. Mr. Darcy thought Jane indifferent to Bingley and discouraged his friend on those grounds — the ill-bred behavior of our family, except for myself and Jane, was an additional cause for his friend to avoid the entanglement. I proceeded to prove that all of us but Jane could show ill-bred behavior. Jane, of course, never shall."
"Oh my, if he were so rude as to say to your face that your family was ill bred, perhaps you had an excuse for incivility."
"No, the excuse had been his — I accused him of caring only for money and connections, and lacking all good Christian feeling."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows.
"He did attempt to detach Bingley from Jane. Was it unreasonable for me to think it was a matter only of money? And poor Wickham had told me this dreadful story about how Darcy stole the inheritance intended by his Godfather for him."
"And Mr. Darcy defended himself by claiming to believe Jane indifferent and your family improper?"
"Yes. And I would not believe him, for I knew he was cruel and unfeeling. Oh, I should not have said that — beyond the impropriety, it was not true, and I hurt him. I could see it in his eyes. Miss Bingley later told me that he had admired me. It must have been a terrible shock, and the worse for being undeserved."
"Miss Bingley? She told you that? What had she to do with the matter?"
Elizabeth laughed. "It is very ridiculous. Caroline — as she insisted I call her — became worried that Darcy's admiration might lead to marriage. She claimed she overheard Darcy admit he stole Wickham's inheritance because his father loved Wickham better. She did so to rouse me further against him in hope I would offend him and end any chance that Darcy's admiration might become more. Well, she succeeded. Though Jane wrote that Darcy refuses to speak to Miss Bingley or admit her to his house, so hers was a Pyrrhic victory."
Charlotte's mouth hung open. "Well, I cannot fault her for lack of audacity. I thought he admired you when he asked you to dance at Netherfield." Charlotte smiled smugly. "I told you not to offend a man with a hundred times Mr. Wickham's consequence."
Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively. "The reason you gave was not why it was a mistake."
"You would think that." Charlotte asked cautiously, "Have you some fear or hope for his behavior?"
Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. "Oh, he would see the effort of treating a silly girl such as myself as anything but an indifferent acquaintance as beneath him. I do not care how he treats me. I behaved abominably towards him, and he was right to call me a prejudiced, silly girl. The superiority of mind I admired in myself proved to be empty vanity."
Elizabeth violently stood and threw her hands in the air. "Lord! He acted quite as poorly as I. He is a clever man, perhaps he can see how his behavior gave us good excuse to dislike him. Yet, I imagine that he despises me and views himself wholly blameless. Oh, it makes me angry to imagine that arrogant sneer refuse to acknowledge any fault."
Charlotte turned away with a smile. Elizabeth flopped into one of the chairs around the writing table. Charlotte bit her lip and tilted her head in the manner she used when seeking a clever phrase to tease Elizabeth with.
It was silly to care what Mr. Darcy thought about their argument. Charlotte was a good friend. Elizabeth would never act as her friend had with Mr. Collins, but she had no right to look down upon her for it. After all, she could behave foolishly too.
At last Charlotte said, "I perceive you care a great deal for that gentleman's good opinion." Elizabeth grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it at Charlotte.
"I shall take that as confirmation. Do invite me to the wedding."
"Do not forget, that he is still rude, arrogant, un-talkative, and excessively fastidious."
"Oh, I had not!" Charlotte said with wide innocent eyes. "Still, if that be your sole objection — I daresay his tall handsome person and ability to argue you down will overcome those considerations."
It was ridiculous, but maybe the jokes would prove true. No reasonable man would maintain an infatuation to a woman who had called him cruel and selfish. She knew that.
But maybe — maybe he would treat her as he had before.
As early as practicable the next morning, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam wound their way down the neatly mowed lawn to call upon the parsonage. Darcy carried a bulky package filled with letters and drawings Mrs. Bingley had entrusted to him to deliver to her sister. It was as though he brought her a gift.
It would not matter. She probably despised him yet and still thought him the cruel gentleman who destroyed Wickham's hopes and endeavored to separate her sister from Bingley. Well he would prove her expectation false. He had practiced showing friendship to those socially beneath him for months. His manners were enormously improved — and to his own benefit. He could be polite.
He would show Elizabeth.
The parsonage was a solid timber framed building with two stories, and as they stepped towards the entry way, Darcy's eyes caught that an addition had been built to the kitchen since he passed by the parsonage last. The vegetable garden had been expanded and neatly fenced in. Knowing his destination for the morning, Lady Catherine had described the improvements she made when Mr. Collins took the parish and again when he had married. Darcy did not like his aunt's taste in ornamentation, but she was a sensible woman, and Mrs. Collins must appreciate many of the changes.
The fresh-faced young maid showed them in. Upon entering the drawing room, Darcy's eyes uncontrollably sought out Elizabeth's form. He felt a shock at seeing her, and there was still a glow around her pretty face and figure. But it was a quiet whisper compared to what he had felt at Bingley's wedding.
Elizabeth's face was red and she did not meet his eyes. She wore a yellow dress with a white lace collar around her neck. Darcy collected himself and stepped forward and sat near her. "Miss Bennet, you look well. I have been instructed by your excellent sister to deliver this."
Darcy handed her the wrapped parcel. "I understand it contains not only her letters, but also a collection of drawings from your young cousins. I can assure you from my own observation that your sister was in the very best of health only yesterday morning."
Elizabeth at last looked at his face, her blush darkened further, and she looked away again immediately. He recalled how striking her eyes could be.
Elizabeth said with a smile that did not reach her eyes, "I am glad to hear that. You are well enough acquainted with Jane to know that she would claim to be in the best of health until quite sick. I hear your sister stays with mine."
"Yes." Darcy filled his voice with amiability and good cheer. "They have become quite close. My sister has developed quite an enthusiasm for yours. Georgiana decided she must imitate Mrs. Bingley in every respect not expressly advised against by your sister."
No doubt, Elizabeth expected him to show disdain for her sister, due to the contempt he had shown before. But he would prove his feelings were quite the opposite. Darcy added, "I am grateful to your sister for allowing mine to come under her wing. Georgiana is backwards in company, but has blossomed under your sister's guidance. There is no woman I'd more like her to pattern herself after than Mrs. Bingley."
Elizabeth replied with a real smile, "Jane adores Miss Darcy. Since they met all my letters from her have been filled with her piano playing, their shopping trips, and their visits to various London sights. I begin to grow quite jealous."
Her manner did not show any ill will towards him, but he had before proven incapable of interpreting Elizabeth's emotions. He would not trust himself. He had greeted her warmly and politely, she must greet him in a similar manner no matter her feelings. He still had to prove that he had changed for the better and no longer held those of lower station in contempt.
After a few more polite requests after family and news had been exchanged, Darcy introduced Elizabeth to Colonel Fitzwilliam and started a conversation with Mrs. Collins. Darcy had only spoken with her a few times in Meryton, but he had always seen her as a sensible woman.
They conversed about parish topics and the parsonage. Darcy enjoyed the conversation. She was a clever woman. It was to be expected: She was Elizabeth's particular friend. Elizabeth's attention was partly on them. Likely, she expected him to suddenly revert to his former behavior and become silent and rude once again. He would disappoint her. He thought well of Mrs. Collins.
Colonel Fitzwilliam made Elizabeth laugh, and Darcy forced himself to not look. He no longer was infatuated, and he would not act as though he were. He still felt himself smile, and his spirits lift at her laugh.
Besides, Colonel Fitzwilliam had a plain square face and was short.
When it was nearly time for them to leave, Mr. Collins returned from a clerical call. Darcy remembered that he had thought very poorly of the man. Mr. Collins had presumed to introduce himself and proceeded to give a long winded description of the felicities he found as Lady Catherine's flatterer.
Surely his mood that evening had made him think worse of Mr. Collins than he deserved. If he'd been quite as much a fool as he remembered, a sensible woman such as Mrs. Collins would not have married him. On the man's entrance Darcy quickly said, "I am pleased that our call allowed us an opportunity to greet you. My aunt depends on you greatly, and you must be about a great deal."
Mr. Collins's eyes widened and he almost swooned in pleasure at Mr. Darcy's friendly greeting. "I thank you for those kind words. Like your aunt, you are all affability and condescension. My humble abode and dear wife and cousin do not deserve the visit of such an august personage as yourself. But, it shows the way your family graces and elevates its high rank that you nonetheless condescended to grant it. None in England deserve respect more than those of your blood."
He turned to Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins and said, "My dear ladies, are we not all very grateful for the visit of Mr. Darcy and his noble cousin. You must admit your gratefulness for the condescension."
Mrs. Collins calmly told her husband that they had already thanked their visitors for the friendliness they showed. Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes were a bit wide as he stared at Mr. Collins. Elizabeth frowned and did not look towards them. Her color was high. Did she expect him to disdain her cousin as he would have before?
Darcy could freely admit that was the most toadying speech ever directed at him. But Elizabeth watched. He would prove he could treat Mr. Collins with respect. "Sir, you underrate your own merit. A visit to this parsonage could never be a burden. I do not feel so far above you."
"You are too kind. Far too kind. But I know my place. I am happy to be your humble servant. Her Ladyship, your estimable and gentle aunt, has done so very much for me. All of my present happiness is owed to the patronage I have been so fortunate as to receive from her liberal hand. Every respect is due to her and to every person so profoundly blessed as to be connected to her great personage. Even all of my daily comforts depend upon her."
Mr. Collins made a minute description of every change and modification made to his home by Lady Catherine. It was dull. Why ever did Mrs. Collins marry him? Darcy recollected that Mr. Collins was to inherit Longbourn, and at twenty and seven Mrs. Collins must have grown desperate. It was a pity for her, though fortunate for Mr. Collins.
Darcy normally would have found some way, polite or otherwise, to escape the conversation. But not in front of Elizabeth. After ten minutes Colonel Fitzwilliam stood. "We shall head back to Rosings."
He saw Elizabeth gaze in his direction, as she stood with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Did she think he desired to escape conversation with her cousin? Darcy held up his hand. "I wish to wait a little longer — Mr. Collins, I meant to ask you about your sermon last week. On what subject did you speak? I shall not leave until I hear a full description of it."
Mr. Collins glowed from within, and he clutched his chest and looked at Darcy with an adoring smile. "You, sir — you are as good as your magnificent aunt! Of course, one of your noble blood would have a proper respect for matters of religion. You need not worry, I followed your aunt's instructions on how to prepare the sermon in every detail!"
Everyone else stared at Darcy in frank amazement. Elizabeth began to smirk and brought a hand up to hide it. Darcy found himself beginning to smile as he was forced to listen to Mr. Collins's detailed summary of his sermon, which included long digressions on the wisdom Lady Catherine had imparted on the art of writing sermons.
Nobody, except Lady Catherine, would ask Mr. Collins a question of that sort. At least Elizabeth must know he wished to be polite.
As soon as they escaped and stepped back into the sunlight, Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed, "Darcy! Have you taken leave of your senses? That was the most ridiculous man I have ever heard. I have never seen someone who better fit the type Lady Catherine seeks when she hires. Never. And you encouraged him."
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head, as Darcy made no reply. Elizabeth had shown no ill will towards him. Maybe she believed what he told her about Wickham. Perhaps they could meet as friendly acquaintances in the future.
"It was not a loss for me — I did have an opportunity for ten more minutes' conversation with that pretty Miss Bennet." Colonel Fitzwilliam halted and grabbed Darcy's arm, "Did you attempt to impress her? Is that why you pursued conversation with her cousin? You succeeded. She saw very clear how ridiculous you can be."
"No." Darcy replied stoutly, "Of course not."
"Ah. Of course not. Fitzwilliam Darcy would never make a fool of himself for a lady. It was absurd of me to suggest it."
Once the two gentlemen left, Mr. Collins exclaimed, "Were Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam not the very epitomes of affability? Did they not show the very essence of civility? I should never have expected such a compliment as for them to call upon us the day after their arrival. And Mr. Darcy showed a serious care for his own soul and those of inferiors. It is most becoming for one in his station. I have never been so pleased by an encounter. We must not expect such attentions in the future. As you know, Mr. Darcy is a very great gentleman."
Elizabeth decided not to undercut Mr. Collins's ecstasy by pointing out that Mr. Darcy had been required to visit so quick due to an errand entrusted to him by the wife of a dear friend. Elizabeth opened her parcel as Mr. Collins exulted in the triumph of the call. She set aside Jane and Mrs. Gardiner's letters for when she would have greater leisure and looked with a smile at the pictures drawn by her cousins.
Whatever did Darcy's manner mean?
Mr. Collins at last left the room and hummed a horribly off key tune as he walked down the hall to his study.
Charlotte exclaimed, "Lord! He must be in love with you. I can imagine no other cause which would make such a man seek conversation with my husband."
"I do not think so." Elizabeth had paid much attention to Darcy during the call, but he rarely looked at her. He talked with Charlotte and Mr. Collins far more than herself. That showed indifference. "He must realize he behaved a little wrong in Hertfordshire. He wished to prove to me he could behave better. It showed more resentment than admiration."
A part of her wanted to cry, but she would not let herself. She had made her choice. His behavior showed he could acknowledge when he behaved poorly. Perhaps he could have learned to respect her. Perhaps a marriage between them would have been happy if she had not destroyed his affection.
Charlotte peered at Elizabeth. "That is a perverse notion. You must truly wish to believe he dislikes you. I am sorry, but you are not right. He desires your good opinion and was most interested in how you took his conversations. You should find opportunity to apologize and see if you might rekindle what interest he had."
"Do you really believe that?" Elizabeth shook her head. "He is too silent and grave. I will not obsess over this, and I will not make myself unhappy over him."
Charlotte smirked. "There was nothing silent and grave in him today. He eagerly questioned my husband, and his conversation with me was amiable. You must find better objection."
For the next days Elizabeth saw nothing of Mr. Darcy. Rosings had more activity due to the guests. It affected Elizabeth mainly because with the presence of her nephews, Lady Catherine was not so inclined to call the Hunsford party to her side.
Elizabeth was not surprised. She could not blame him if he did not seek her company, or even if he avoided it, not after her treatment of him. But his evident indifference still stung. She did not let it make her unhappy though. She walked a great deal; the changing season showed the area to great advantage; and the conversations and calls made with Charlotte occupied her mind.
A little less than a week after Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had called upon the parsonage, Mr. Collins returned from a consultation with Lady Catherine to give them the momentous news — tomorrow they were to dine with Lady Catherine and her esteemed nephews.
Elizabeth set out for a walk. So she would dine with him tomorrow. How would it go? No doubt he would follow the pattern set when he called at the parsonage. Politeness to her and everyone else, but no special attentions. She wanted that. Anything else would unsettle her.
When Elizabeth reached a grove which had become a particular favorite of hers, she saw Mr. Darcy. He stood along the path. He could not see her because he studied trunk of a thick old oak tree. Darcy's hands were pulled behind his back, and he stood firm and tall with the tails of his green coat hanging behind him.
He was so handsome, and she had made such an awful fool of herself. Now that they were outside of company, he would treat her with the contempt she had earned. Elizabeth nearly turned to walk the other way. That would be silly; he would not behave that way, for he was not cruel.
She had no good reason to avoid Mr. Darcy, and she would grow quite frightened of him if she let herself. With a light step Elizabeth quickly walked towards Darcy and called out, "I can see you enjoy yourself this fine morning, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy blinked at seeing her and grinned. "I confess I do," he shouted back. "It is a fine day, and this grove has always been a favorite of mine when I visit my aunt." His smile showed in his eyes and cheeks, and he bowed as Elizabeth came near to him. "You look well this morning Miss Elizabeth — pardon me, I mean Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth laughed. At least he would treat her politely. "You may trust me not to take offense should you fail to give me proper precedence."
"I am pleased to hear that" — Darcy took Elizabeth's arm and they began to walk along the path — "for I once knew a girl, the sister of a Cambridge friend, who was terribly offended if someone referred to her as Miss Iphigenia after her sister's marriage."
"Oh, you can hardly blame her — Iphigenia is quite a mouthful, and was she not the girl who was burned alive by her parents to ensure good sailing to Troy? If that were my name, I would wish to escape it as well." Elizabeth laughed nervously and looked at Darcy, who showed an impenetrable smile. "That was Iphigenia? Not Antigone, or some other girl."
"Iphigenia was Agamemnon's daughter. Antigone was Oedipus's daughter." He frowned and added quickly, "Many women would not recollect the story at all."
"Oh." Elizabeth nodded. He was as handsome as ever. He'd once liked her. Did he now despise her? She would show him her best self. Elizabeth said gaily, "Antigone is another name with most unfortunate implications — should I marry, I will decidedly put my foot down and disallow classical names for any girls. Should he wish to saddle his sons with such stories that might be his prerogative."
Why had she spoken about children's names?
Darcy seemed entirely unruffled, and he replied with that steady manner of his, "Some classical names have fortunate implications — for example, Fortuna."
Elizabeth giggled. "That would be a fortunate name, I admit. Still, the best names for girls are those of reigning British monarchs. Such as, Elizabeth."
Darcy smiled. "Perhaps you are right — my mother's family agreed with you: an Anne in each generation, and Georgiana is almost the name of the reigning monarch. Catherine though is not." Darcy turned to Elizabeth with a serious expression that made her smile and asked, "Do consorts count? Three of Henry VIII's wives were named Catherine."
"Perhaps, but they are of an inferior order to those who actually reigned." Elizabeth froze. Even when she dearly wished to be friendly her conversations with Mr. Darcy would go astray. "I apologize, I mean no insult to your estimable aunt."
"None taken, of course. You need not fear I will mistake an attempt at levity by you as an insult. Quite the contrary."
There was something like resentment in Darcy's tone, and Elizabeth's stomach squirmed unhappily. Her behavior last autumn had been abominable. They walked along a shaded path. There was a mottling of light on the ground where the sunlight broke through the leaves.
Darcy snorted. Elizabeth turned to look at him, and his eyes were bright and mischievous. He said with a serious expression, "Perhaps you ought to discuss whether the name of a monarch regnant is intrinsically superior to that of a queen consort with my aunt when you dine with us tomorrow."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "I shall. Your aunt is a sensible woman, who has always been praised for the soundness of her advice. She shall set us right. We may trust her to not let the small matter of her own name not being that of a reigning monarch to bias her"
"I eagerly await the enlightenment I shall receive from your discussion."
Tension fell over the two, or at least over Elizabeth, as they silently walked through the woody thickets of Lady Catherine's estate. She had behaved badly. The horrible accusations she'd thrown at Mr. Darcy weighed on her. She would have been prickly and offended had he shown the reserved contempt she had half expected from him, but Darcy's unusual amiability left Elizabeth uncertain and guilty.
Elizabeth pulled away from Mr. Darcy and, wringing her hands, burst out, "Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to apologize, most profusely, for the abominable way I treated you in January. I accused you in the most vile manner with absolutely no justification and showed my poor judgement and extreme vanity. There is no justification for what I said, and I have long since realized that you are far better than what I accused you of being."
Mr. Darcy's deep blue eyes searched her face with a serious expression Elizabeth could not interpret for a seeming eternity. "Please, sir! I must know that I have not lost any hope of your good opinion forever — you once said you can be resentful. Please tell me I have not earned that resentment. I deserve it, but —"
"Elizabeth, do not fret so. You have quite as much to forgive as I do. More. While much of what you said was rude, it was amply justified by my own rudeness. And of what you said, little was not true. I did not, out of a selfish sense of my own superiority, give proper consideration to the feelings of others. I had given you cause to feel offense and made no effort to correct that offense. Mr. Wickham is a practiced liar, and I have no right to blame you for believing his stories, as I had given no reason to trust my character."
"Yes, but — there is ample evidence of inconsistency in Wickham's stories. Had I not been blinded by vanity, I would have seen it and seen your worth. I was blinded by prejudice. Before I thought myself clever. One who would not be so easily duped. I — I learned a great deal about myself and my own weaknesses. I can only hope to be less nitwitted in the future."
After completing the speech Elizabeth looked down in shame and then glanced up shyly to see how Darcy had taken it. His clear blue eyes met her gaze. "And I learned much as well. I found that I thought meanly of those with less consequence than myself. Since then I have striven to improve my manners, and I hope to never act or think as I did in Hertfordshire again. It was not pleasant to examine my own behavior and see so much to regret."
"You were not so very bad!"
Darcy replied with a broad smile that made one of his cheeks dimple and started butterflies fluttering in Elizabeth's stomach. "I was so very bad. And you knew it then, whatever you think now. Miss Bennet, as we both learned a valuable lesson from the occasion of our quarrel, I cannot regret it."
"I must. I could never look back on what I said with that much easiness. It was wrong of me and foolish, especially when I called you cruel. The way you appeared has burned in my memory for these many months. I have heartily regretted it."
Darcy smiled somberly. "I am glad you do not think that still."
His manner convinced Elizabeth he had felt the accusation deeply. Elizabeth's shoulders slumped, and she could not look at him. She had unjustly hurt him.
Darcy touched her shoulder. "Do not feel poorly. Please, you must come to see our argument as I do. I cannot have you remain unhappy. I will not allow it." Elizabeth looked into his eyes, and and they were warm. "If I were the perfect gentleman" — he smirked at her — "I would claim your behavior was unexceptionable, and hence that you had no need to censure yourself. But that would not be true. While you did nothing immoral — Miss Bingley's story was very ridiculous."
Elizabeth giggled. Darcy's smile was broad and pleased. Elizabeth felt as light as a hot air balloon. He took the sting out of her guilt by making her laugh. She said, "It always sounded odd. I thought it a mark of how very fascinating you were that you would say such a thing."
"So I fascinated you?" Elizabeth blushed, and Darcy's smile was a little lopsided. "Well, you have taken your lesson, and I have taken my lesson, and we both have committed to doing better. You have nothing left to feel guilt about. At least, you can have no more to be ashamed of than I do." Darcy showed a handsome smirk. "For myself, I would prefer not to feel too deeply shamed."
"You mean to say, if I insist on strongly feeling my misbehavior, you would take that as an insult to yourself?"
"That is a fair interpretation of my words."
"I had believed my true failing to be a propensity to willfully misunderstand everyone." Elizabeth smiled happily at him. The awful feeling she'd had because she wronged him had dissolved.
Darcy smiled back at her. But he then looked away. "Miss Bennet, last year I believed us to be friends." Darcy looked Elizabeth straight in the eyes. "I would very much like it if we were friends in truth. Can we be? Would you start afresh?"
Elizabeth felt another stab of guilt and an upwelling of hope. "I would like that very much. Very much indeed."
Darcy replied with an infectious smile that lit his eyes and made him yet more handsome than ever before. Elizabeth exclaimed, "Wait, if we are to begin afresh, we must be introduced anew. The trees will hardly do a creditable job, so we must do the honors ourselves."
Darcy's pleased expression made Elizabeth's heart skip. He said, "That is a capital idea."
Elizabeth thought she appeared as happy as a loon when she stepped back and gave an elaborate, deep curtsy to Mr. Darcy — such as those she had practiced with Jane years ago for an imaginary presentation to the Queen — "Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. Very pleased to meet you."
Darcy made his own elaborate bow. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire, at your service. Very pleased to meet you."
The two smiled at each other. She felt so light that her feet were barely tethered to the ground. He still smiled. She could not look away. At last Darcy spoke, "Tell me Miss Bennet, do you as a rule never talk about books in a wood?"
Elizabeth felt as though she could fly like a sparrow until dinner the next day. Even if Darcy only wanted her friendship, he still wanted that. It made life perfect. She was so happy. And he'd looked at her with those smiles. Perhaps he didn't admire her, but she didn't need that. She just needed his respect.
He'd chosen to improve himself. He completely forgave her. He hoped to be her friend. He made her laugh. He was near perfect, with only a few flaws that accentuated his other virtues.
Did he still admire her? If he did not, might she contrive to reawaken his admiration? Did she desire to?
Papa had feared he would regret the choice. But, if Darcy came to admire her again — surely he no longer cared so much about connections and wealth. He claimed he would never think so meanly of those beneath him in station again. Elizabeth believed him.
Further, the thought was disloyal, but Darcy was a better man than her father. He would not allow himself to treat his wife in a similar manner to how her father treated her mother.
At dinner the next evening, Elizabeth was seated next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy had been placed between his cousin Anne and Charlotte. Colonel Fitzwilliam was an excellent partner, and she enjoyed his conversation greatly. He had an easiness of manner that charmed, and he supplemented it with a well-informed mind.
Darcy always stayed in her attention. Colonel Fitzwilliam made her laugh, and Elizabeth surreptitiously looked to see how he took it. He glanced briefly in their direction and returned his attention to his conversation with Charlotte.
No sign of jealousy.
Damn.
At least he showed little interest in Anne. He had attempted to converse with his cousin, but when she responded in monosyllables he gave up with a tiny shrug. Though Mr. Wickham had said they were to marry, Elizabeth had long since come to disbelieve that story as she did every other given by him. Elizabeth liked to see her belief that it was a lie confirmed by Darcy's manner.
Their eyes met a few times when she glanced in his direction, and her heart skittered. She pushed out a bright smile each time, and he would smile back a little before looking away. She was being silly, but it was impossible to stop herself. She just wished he would look at her as he used to.
When the parties separated Lady Catherine settled on her throne-like chair in the middle of the drawing room and lectured or questioned the ladies in attendance upon her. Elizabeth had far less attention for her than usual. She mixed ecstatic high spirits with disappointment. He did not look at her as he once did, but he was here and her friend.
Darcy had spoken amiably to Charlotte as they talked about parish business. She had never seen him so friendly, not even when they were at Netherfield. If he often behaved so, her sole remaining objection to him, that he was too solemn and grave, would disappear.
But he did not admire her anymore. That was no matter, it was not as if she loved him. She just liked him. Very much.
Hopefully he would converse with her. They had promised to be friends.
The men did not linger long over their port, and while Mr. Collins immediately went to attend Lady Catherine, the other two gentlemen approached her. Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke first, "I have been informed you play. You must indulge us with music later tonight."
Elizabeth smiled and immediately tried to involve his cousin in the conversation. "Mr. Darcy can swear to the inferiority of my playing, but if you insist — I might be prevailed upon." She looked at Darcy with an arch smile. "You can vouch for me — you know I am not one of those girls who imposes her meager talents upon the listening public with no regard for their boredom. I know the limits of my skills."
"On the contrary, I have heard few performers I enjoyed more."
Darcy's smile was genuine. Elizabeth could not reply. She wanted to make him admire her. He had asked her to favor him with music several times at Netherfield. His admiration for her must have distorted his judgement, for his manner made clear he had really enjoyed her playing.
Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke, "Then, I look forward to your playing very much. Miss Bennet, I want to gain a clear understanding of your character. We have established you play better than you believe. At dinner you revealed your enthusiasm for Shakespeare and told me that you found the spring in Kent to be quite as green and wet as that in Hertfordshire. Tell me, what do you read besides the Bard?"
Elizabeth grinned at Darcy. "Your cousin can reveal what I do not read, for he knows my dreadful ignorance of Greek mythology."
Darcy smiled back, and she turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Yesterday, I encountered him in that delightful grove of your aunt's — the one… oh, a quarter mile south of the house, where the trees grow together above the pathway to form that delightful bower —"
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded his head. "I know the one you speak of."
"When I encountered Mr. Darcy in that pathway, I revealed to him my general ignorance of the classics. I confused Iphigenia, who was Oedipus's daughter, with Antigone, who Agamemnon burned to convince their wind God, Zeus, to give him good sailing to Troy."
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled. Darcy said, "Do not believe her, she pretends greater ignorance than her real level."
Elizabeth laughed at him and smiled impishly. "I will admit I have not yet forgotten that you specified Antigone to be Oedipus's daughter." She shook her head and looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam. "He will teach you not to trust a word I say. I had hoped to pass myself off with some credit here, but as a friend Mr. Darcy knows enough of my character to puncture my pretensions."
Darcy smiled widely, and Elizabeth lit up in response. He replied, "Were he not my cousin, as your friend, I would not have revealed your petty deception, but allowed Colonel Fitzwilliam to discover it on his own."
Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, "What is your real opinion on the classics? I, like all true warriors, keep a copy of the Iliad under my pillow while out on campaign."
Elizabeth laughed. "Do they all? I had not known that."
Darcy replied, "It was only Alexander the Great."
"I admit, I occasionally engage in petty deceptions as well." Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. "I do not have it under the pillow I sleep on — that would be uncomfortable. Instead it is under the pillow in my room at Matlock, and all the servants have strict instructions to leave it in place. I do dearly love Homer and thought it a good luck charm to follow Alexander's example. But I wanted the charm at a distance to avoid attracting his fate of a drunken death while still young."
Elizabeth smiled. "I must confess — I know this is horrid — my tastes have always been more for modern novels and poetry than history or classical literature."
Darcy replied, "That is a pity, for antiquity produced the most sublime and beautiful works of the human mind."
"Ah — I knew you would say that. For every university educated gentleman — with a scholarly bent — who I know is mad about them."
Darcy's eyes lit. "It is a sign of their greatness, and the virtues of our system of education that we all agree. In this case the rush of the madding crowd of Cambridge and Oxford students have settled upon the correct opinion. You will not shake my view by suggesting it to be popular."
"Ah. Then I shall fail. For I had intended to turn you against them, and now I have no idea what to say."
"That you intend to read the classics from end to end yourself, so that you might discover details with which to insult their lovers."
Elizabeth laughed in reply. "I am glad for the challenge. 'Tis a clever way to encourage me. And more like to succeed than the simple repetition of how sublime and beautiful they are. But I have attempted them in translation and found no pleasure."
"Perhaps —" Darcy began.
Elizabeth interrupted him and smiled happily into his face. She loved how he immediately entered the dispute with her. "I know what you mean to say. It is what you all say. That it is better in the original than when translated. But I do not know Greek nor Latin. You cannot blame my father in this — he did try to teach me when I took a notion to learn as a child — I had no taste for the level of application necessary."
"Perhaps," Darcy repeated with emphasis and a smile, "were you to find a better translation — there are many of Homer. This time, you cannot accuse my opinion of being too popular, for most such scholarly gentlemen, as you imagine me to be, would not admit any translation could have value."
Then he showed a smile that made his eyes warm and bright. "That image is very charming. I see you as a little girl struggling over declensions for a week or two before running to Ann Radcliffe or Frances Burney for easier entertainment."
Elizabeth laughed. "Your imagination drew a good picture, for as I recall that is how it went, except it was Robinson Crusoe I turned to. So you think I should find a superior translation. That does destroy my objection. Once someone has already learned the ancient language and translated the poet's words into readable English, what excuse could I offer for not putting forth the much lesser application to read their efforts?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke, "There is no excuse — it is Pope's translation that sits under my pillow; I can heartily recommend it."
"I attempted Pope's Homer already. I have begun the Iliad in more than one, though less than three, translations." Elizabeth gave Colonel Fitzwilliam an arch smile. "We disagree on the merit of Pope. I have never liked him — the heroic couplet is too refined and constricted for my taste. Unnatural — I see you both smile, you think I speak like every girl with an enthusiasm for contemporary poets. And I do. I own the ordinariness of my enthusiasm freely."
Darcy shifted about and said with a half frown, "You have a potent charm solely your own. Even should your opinion be shared by many other persons, it has distinction due to the possessor. I smiled because I agree about Pope. The poets between Milton and Cowper are rarely to my taste."
He had once said she was a fool like every other girl. And now he praised her in this manner. Elizabeth's spirit soared birdlike, and she exclaimed, "Ha! We have read the same books, with the same feelings."
"I never doubted it; you suggested the opposite."
Darcy's grin flashed his teeth, and Elizabeth replied, "Never have I been more pleased to be wrong."
Lady Catherine called out from where she sat on her stiff chair, attended by Mr. and Mrs. Collins, "What do you speak of? I must have my share of conversation."
Elizabeth saw a flash of irritation in Darcy's eyes. She held up her hand to stop him and Colonel Fitzwilliam from replying to Lady Catherine. With a mischievous smirk at Darcy she spoke, "We spoke of names, and I wished your advice on the matter. I think Greek or Roman names should be prohibited. The other day Mr. Darcy told me about a young lady named after a girl burned alive by her father. This lady forced her sister to marry a man she fancied not at all so that she could escape being Miss Iphigenia and become Miss…."
Elizabeth looked at Darcy for help. She hoped he was not offended by the levity with which she'd chosen to treat his aunt.
He grinned back at her. Elizabeth felt warm and happy. "The lady became Miss Webb."
Lady Catherine cried out, "Miss Webb, is she one of the —"
"No Madam, her father is a cousin of theirs though."
"I have met the man." She then said to Elizabeth in a firm voice, "You wish my advice on names?"
"I do."
"It is wise you put thought on this matter. Naming a child is a momentous consideration. The name influences how a man is perceived and through that changes their character and destiny. However, your opinion is wrong. Classical names are appropriate, even if the story is tragic. But, there is a common practice you must swear to avoid when you marry. Do not allow your husband to add a feminine ending to a man's name. It is silly. I never permit anyone I can prevent from doing so."
Elizabeth blinked, a little surprised by her vehemence. "Is not your niece named Georgiana?"
"I tried to prevent it!" Lady Catherine slammed her hand against the cushioned arm of her chair and directed her speech to Darcy, "Nephew, I counseled your father to seek a different name. But he did not listen to me. An illness of Sir Lewis's kept me in Kent at the time of your sister's birth, or else I would have prevented that horrid name. When I had opportunity to speak with him, your father was convinced it was too late to change. She had already been registered and baptized. I will have your promise that you will never act so."
Elizabeth watched Darcy to see how he would reply. He turned to her before he replied and smirked. His eyes were bright and mischievous, and he was very handsome. Darcy adopted a somber look. "Aunt, I apologize and must beg your pardon. But Fitzwilhelmina has a delightful ring in my ear. I have long desired to have a daughter named so."
As Lady Catherine sputtered in response, he looked around and caught her eye. Elizabeth was a foot behind him so he did not face Lady Catherine when he did. He winked at her. "Miss Bennet, I appeal to you, do you not think it a beautiful name?"
Lady Catherine ranted about how horrible of a name Fitzwilhelmina was and demanded he drop the notion. Elizabeth barely heard any of it, as she stared at Darcy with an astonished smile. She was lost. Perhaps he no longer cared for her affection, but this brilliant man who wished to make her laugh had it.
AN: Hello everyone. I hope you've enjoyed the new chapter. If anyone is interested in exploring another site, I've been posting this a bit faster at A Happy Assembly. It is a password protected JAFF site, and you need to set up an account before you can read the stories, but maybe there being another chapter of this there will provide a motivation to check it out. There are a lot of good and complete stories there that aren't on this site.