HAPPY NEW YEAR! May you all have a wonderful 2015! X So, here's chapter 11, we're going to start getting to points in the next few chapters where I'll be tempted to just throw them together but I wont, it will, however, become a bit more mushy so I hope you don't mind but I can't resist it ha! Thank you so much for the reviews, they spur me along as any writer will tell you, knowing you have readers who are enjoying your work is motivation personified. So, please, please tell me what you think, are you enjoying it, is it interesting enough, too much talking, etc? Love, Steph.
Chapter 11
Darcy made polite conversation with a few gentlemen and he sipped politely at his glass of whiskey, not even noticing the burning sensation of the liquid as his mind was miles away, or rather, down the hall and in the saloon. She had smiled at him. Not just a slight, dismissive smile, but a beautiful, full, albeit slightly tentative smile. He was eager, no, desperate to return to her smiling lips and enchanting eyes. He resolved to speak with her, if he had even the slightest opportunity to apologize he was determined to take it, propriety be damned. He'd relay the apology through Caroline if it meant Elizabeth would hear it. He smiled at his desperation for a moment before draining his glass and moving toward Bingley.
Since his marriage, Charles had developed a tendency to arrive late and leave early to any event, so eager was he to spend each spare moment with his blushing new bride. It was somewhat vexing, though Darcy could understand Bingleys reasons better than some, but tonight Darcy was immensely thankful for his friend's inability to remain separated from his dear wife for too long as Charles imbibed his whiskey much too quickly and subsequently called for the men to join the ladies.
Elizabeth's mind was in a state of suspension, she couldn't decide how to feel about what had just passed at the dinner table. It was a surreal experience, as if all things expected and accepted had been brushed under the large ornate rug beneath the Bingley's dinner table. She half expected Darcy to come into the room and pretend it had never happened; in fact she herself questioned whether it had truly occurred. She shook her head as she felt the familiar sensation of worry creep up her spine and darken her thoughts. She was resolved to take whatever opportunity she could grasp to say her piece, propriety be damned, if he already thought ill of her then her forwardness will come as no surprise. And if he had given her an opening to begin again, as she hoped their exchange at the dinner table indicated, then she wanted to start with a clear conscience and a clean slate.
When the gentleman joined the ladies she didn't immediately notice, they had been gone for less than twenty minutes and she had expected at least half an hour to compose her statement. It was at the sickly sweet cooing of Miss. Caroline Bingley that she realised the arrival of the men. "Mr. Darcy, allow me to prepare your coffee, I know just how you take it." She said as she batted her lashes at him and all but pushed dear Jane away from the coffee pot. Her scheming worked for a moment as she 'prepared' him a black coffee by simply pouring it from the pot into a dainty cup and handing it to him. It was now that she realised the fault in her plan to capture his attention as the rest of the gentlemen applied to her for their refreshments after Charles had managed to abscond with his wife to the other end of the room since Caroline had 'so kindly' offered to take over the duty.
Elizabeth had been stood with her aunt and the colonel's wife making polite conversation at first but becoming quieter as her thoughts took a stronger hold. By now she was simply smiling a nodding politely. When she did notice the gentlemen's return she panicked for a moment and cast her eyes downward as she drew a calming breath to steady her agitation. 'By the end of tonight I will have an expert knowledge of all the floors and carpets in this house,' she mused.
Darcy held his cup and saucer tightly as he attempted to search the room with nonchalance, he was determined to find her before his resolve slackened and he lost his nerve. He moved to the far left of the room so he could observe all of its occupants and still be afforded some privacy. She was standing at the same end of the room speaking with her aunt and Mrs. Martin, her body was angled slightly toward the door so he could make out her profile well. He was fairly certain that she would have seen the gentlemen re-joining the group, that is until he noticed where her attention was fixed; she had her eyes set upon the floor by Mrs. Martin's feet and an unreadable expression on her face. She lifted her eyes and smiled at something Mrs. Martin said before he watched her gaze dance lightly over the rest of the room before her.
Elizabeth noticed her aunt smile at the comment Mrs. Martin had just made and so she did the same and gave thanks that her opinion was clearly not required at present. She had seen the gentlemen come in and watched Mr. Darcy as he was served first by Caroline but as she looked over the room he was nowhere to be seen.
Her mind realised his presence before her eyes did and she was thankful to some degree as it gave her a chance to school her expression. Upon failing to locate him amongst the small clutch of guests before her she had instantly drawn from her knowledge his tendency to retreat to a more secluded part of the room and observe. Without much thought she spun her head to the left. There he stood staring at her with the same intent glare he had all those months ago back in Hertfordshire and she whipped her head back to the floor before her as she felt her stomach knot. Somewhere at the very back of her mind she mused that she'd had enough nervous fluttering in the past few hours to rival even her own mother, but she didn't pay any attention to that thought for now.
"Lizzy, are you alright? You've grown very pale," asked Mrs. Gardiner, who had her back to the rest of the room and so had not the opportunity to observe what had prompted her niece's sudden drain in colour.
"Oh. Yes, I thank you aunt," Elizabeth swallowed. "If you will excuse me though, I think I may take a turn about the room," she said with a reassuring smile.
Neither woman minded in the least but suggested she might sit for a while and regain some colour first, Elizabeth smiled and turned away, walking to the back of the parlour where no one saw fit to gather yet. She was careful not to make eye contact with a certain gentleman for a moment but her own sense began to interrupt her reticence as she realised her opportunity to speak was now and would be fleeting.
He watched her leave the two women and retreat to the window at his right, she was closer now in body but seemed distant. It would have been the opportune moment to speak to her but her demeanour held him back and he felt his agitation grow. He was still determined not to lose this fleeting chance though and so continued to watch her for any sign that he might take as a welcoming to join her; even if she would simply relax her stiff posture slightly that would be enough.
She chastised herself for her foolish procrastination, she was being childlike, she had wished for this very occurrence and now she was skulking in a corner in a petulant attempt to avoid it! 'Enough.' She drew a deep breath and turned to her right so she would be facing him directly. He was still watching her, his expression now one of concern. She redirected her gaze to her left and drew a deep breath then turned back with every intention to walk over to him. But her feet remained rooted to the spot in which she stood as she watched Mr. Darcy approaching her when she looked back.
Before he could ruminate on his decision his feet were leading him to her, she had turned directly to him and looked directly at him. He needed no more than that to prompt him and he moved to join her at her semi-secluded space.
He stopped at a proper distance from her and greeted her with a perfunctory nod and a customary utterance of "Miss. Bennet." She nodded and replied in kind. The tension was palpable and thick like molasses. They were, to all who would look, in a perfectly acceptable social situation but as far as both Darcy and Elizabeth were concerned they may as well have been in a cage on display such a spectacle they were making.
He cleared his throat and she flinched slightly, he almost apologised at reflex but refrained as he tried to order his thoughts. Elizabeth was the first to regain enough composure to react, his cough pulling her from her thoughts and to the present.
``Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express." He said nothing for a moment but looked troubled as he glanced around her and over her shoulder.
"Who was it that informed you of my interference?" He said the words with such distaste as to make her feel she was being upbraided as one would a small child for telling lies.
"Please, do not blame Jane, Sir, or your friend; they each had their own reasons for disclosing the truth to me."
He nodded. "Your thanks are not necessary," he said. He was nonplussed completely; she was thanking him for his help. He was sure that she should blame him for not having warned the whole of Meryton against that scoundrel, Bingley must not have told her of his previous dealings with Wickham. He sighed.
She watched his expression darken after he told her that he didn't want her thanks and she felt her chest tighten. 'No, he doesn't need you to thank him for what he did for his friend. He is expecting his apology. Lord, perhaps he is expecting me to stand here and grovel whilst I admit his superiority!' She felt her thoughts taking a dangerously sharp turn but was unable to prevent herself from voicing the bitterness she felt at said musings.
"You may not think it necessary but you have it nonetheless, Mr. Darcy," she said, managing to make it sound like an insult somehow. "Though I imagine it was not what you expected considering the direction of our earlier discourse," she stated flatly before she drew a deep breath in preparation for her next declaration. "In regards to said conversation, I would like to…" her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "I feel I must offer you my sincerest apologies, Sir, for the erroneous and egregious accusations I directed at you when you were last in Hertfordshire… I …I was…" She exhaled heavily and looked about the room in desperation.
He was sure he had misheard her for a moment and he let her continue, staring at her as though she were speaking in a foreign tongue. "You are…" he started but then caught himself. "You have nothing to apologise for Miss. Bennet." She looked back to him immediately and saw such a stern yet open expression in his dark eyes that she stared in stunned silence for a moment.
"It is not my design in coming here to frighten you but it would appear that I will achieve little else at present," he said with a little contempt directed inwardly. He sighed sharply and gave a cursory glance about them to ensure their continued privacy then looked at her once again with intention. "It seems, Miss. Elizabeth," he began, his voice lower and deeper than only a moment ago. "That we have sought each other this evening with the same intention. To offer an apology and…" He paused as she stared at him in shock. He wanted to apologise? 'And' he said… and what? They stared at each other for a long moment, he went to speak again but she had her attention pulled away from him
"Ah! There you are, Miss. Bennet." The colonel approached them both. "I was hoping to catch you again this evening, I'm in need of a lively debate and a fresh opponent is always so very exciting," he spoke with a teasing grin which made Elizabeth blush and smile in spite of herself.
"Mr. Darcy and I have had many a heated discussion over the years, I'm sure he can vouch for my ability and agility at the sport," continued he, feigning a pretentious expression.
Elizabeth smiled openly now and glanced back to Mr. Darcy. He hadn't taken his eyes from her for a moment. He smiled tightly as he gave a gentle nod of agreement to the colonel's words. She continued to look into his eyes for an extended instant before she spoke.
"Colonel, I fear I must disappoint this evening, I'm afraid I am not up to any debates for I would prove an ill opponent indeed in my current state, perhaps another time."
"A shame indeed," said the colonel who now examined Darcy a little more closely.
"Miss. Bennet," Darcy began, uncomfortable with the interest that the colonel now beheld him with. "Would you mind playing something for us?" He asked, already offering his arm to accompany her to the pianoforte.
She smiled politely at the colonel before she turned back to Mr. Darcy. He stood before her with his head inclined, he looked at her so pointedly that she felt she could neither acquiesce nor refuse and, instead, she simply took his arm. His free hand, as if by reflex, went to her wrist and placed her small hand more firmly in the crook of his arm. They both recognised the sensation it elicited, it was the same as when he had held her arm to prevent her leaving the room all those months ago. He dropped his hand quickly, as if burned and then, without another word, lead her to the instrument.
"You choose to punish me, Mr. Darcy, by having me display my deficiency so openly to a crowd of new acquaintances," she said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere which shrouded them as she sat before the pianoforte and he on the chair beside her.
"You are wrong, Madame, if you think I seek to unsettle you. I confess I thought rather selfishly in my appellation for you to play. After all, no one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting."
She searched for the sarcasm she expected and found none in his words and voice. He truly wanted to hear her play. 'So be it.'
"What would you like to hear, Sir?"
"Whatever you wish to play."
She selected a sonata by Beethoven which she knew well and began to play. As he leaned in to turn her page he spoke very lowly and very close to her ear. "Miss. Bennet, I fear that we, neither of us will find the opportunity to continue our discussion this evening," he said before he sat back again.
She waited for him to turn her page once again before she replied. "I believe, sir, you are correct and I fear we are at odds in said conversation. I have much to say," she said, finding her words much easier now that she didn't have to look at him whilst she spoke.
There were a few people paying attention to her performance and now even some gathered at the pianoforte to watch directly, there was no conceivable way for them to discuss anything with any modicum of privacy in such a situation.
When she had finished there was a general applause and a few appeals for her to play again but she politely declined when Caroline Bingley sidled up to the instrument and told Darcy he would now be allowed to turn pages for her. He assented grudgingly and Caroline took the seat Elizabeth had held only moments ago as he watched the latter walk to her aunt and uncle.
He was more than grateful when the interminable song finally died away in the last few notes, all expertly played by Miss. Bingley.
He stood with perhaps a little too much alacrity, but such was his impatience to reach some form of conclusion to his mangled and distorted discourse with Elizabeth. He'd been forced to sit and suffer Caroline Bingley 'accidentally' brushing his arm with her chest as she leaned forward when he turned her pages whilst he watched Elizabeth circulate about the room and make easy conversation with everyone and anyone who was lucky enough to be near her. He smiled to himself as he approached where she stood speaking with the colonel and the impertinent young man who had passed judgement on her earlier at dinner. She wore a knowing smile, as if she was laughing at something only she could understand and her eyes sparkled with restrained mischief as the colonel seemed to be making an effort to affront the younger, opinionated man. Darcy's own smile deepened and he felt the strain of time spent with Caroline Bingley melt away as he drew closer.
When he was upon them he was greeted politely by each of the men and silently by Elizabeth. He doubted he would find a way to say anything of any relevance but he couldn't help but try. What's more, even had he decided to give up on his efforts to apologise, the lure he felt to be near her after watching her bestow such bright smiles on all asunder was too strong to counter. He felt like Tantalus being given a piece of the sweet, divine fruit whenever he was close to her.*
The colonel looked between the two with some curiosity. He didn't know Darcy overly well but, given his reputation throughout the Ton and from the colonel's own prior impressions, he was certain that Darcy was not a man to display his emotions too clearly to all present. And yet each time the man stood within the vicinity of the lovely Miss. Bennet he was either entirely discomposed or held the appearance of a man who's every prayer had just been answered.
The colonel gave Elizabeth a knowing look which she answered with a confused expression. She didn't strike him as one to play coy; she must be truly oblivious to her effect on the man, he almost laughed aloud. "Mr. Darcy, I hope you've not come to steal Miss. Bennet from us, Williams and I have been coercing her into some fine debates," he said, gesturing to the younger man who wore a look of some distaste.
Darcy blushed slightly at the idea of his attentions being so transparent but he had determined to speak with Elizabeth and damn the consequences so he stood fast and merely nodded to the colonel. "I assure you, Colonel Martin, I will make no such attempt, though for a share in the debate I might ask. Miss. Bennet and I have frequently crossed swords in our past encounters; I need no convincing to see the pleasure in sparring with such an eloquent and well informed opponent." He appeared calm and collected with a soft smirk on his face as he stated his piece but beneath his serene exterior Darcy could practically feel his heart batter his ribs and his throat slowly closing. He was mad, what in God's name did he expect her to reply with?
She fared no better. What did he expect her to say? Were they to simply pretend that they were affable past acquaintances, that they did not have a multitude of sins against one another and no possible way of immediate absolution? Were they to barefaced lie? Was it a lie? 'Lord what a mess!' With no solution at hand she simply smiled nervously and said, "your praise is too high, Sir, surely. I don't believe I managed to change your mind very often when we did 'spar' and you say."
"But had you held a truly decided credence in what you were attempting to convince me of you may have," he said, smiling a little smugly.
"Oh! Colonel, Mr. Darcy will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit," she exclaimed with a slightly nervous laugh but a fiery glint to her eye.
"You could not really believe me to entertain any design of doing your character any discredit," he said almost too earnestly. "However, I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own,'' he concluded with a raised brow and a subtle smile.
She thought for a moment; her first reaction to Mr. Darcy was to assume he was insulting her, proving her inferiority, but that was simply her old defence reacting to the man she once believed him to be. Now, she had no idea what man he was, but she knew she had been mistaken in her previous assertion. She smiled and met his eyes, he looked ever so smug and she felt an impulse to set him down but when she looked closer, past what she expected to see, she realised he was in fact nervous. He looked at her with more trepidation than triumph, he was not insulting her; he was bating her, teasing her.
"I find it helps to discern character. Though it's reliability has become questionable recently," she said before she turned back to the other members of their small party.
Both Darcy and Elizabeth, and perhaps the colonel, could feel the strain on the conversation despite all appearances of an easy nature but to act as unsettled as they truly felt meant exposure and would not be achieved within the bounds of parlour conversation. And to act indifferent was… well… impossible, somehow.
"Miss. Bennet," said Williams, the significance eluding him entirely. "I believe we were discussing the best way for a woman to employ her time were we not?" he smirked, believing that not only did he have the upper hand in their previous discussion but that he may now have acquired an ally in the highly proper Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth and the colonel smiled. She bit her lip to keep for grinning to widely and instead politely responded. "I dare say it depends rather strongly on her circumstances, does it not sir?"
"Yes," piped in the colonel. "Let us have the particulars, Williams."
The gentleman feigned a contemplative look before he stated his points with a conceited air. He reminded Elizabeth, she realised of a strange combination of Caroline Bingley and Mr. Collins. The thought sent a shiver down her spine and she swallowed her distaste as he spoke.
"I quite simply ask what any gentleman's daughter could be expected to do before her married life, what practices are most important to her gaining a husband and securing her future, what education should she have and what requirements must be met? That will answer how she should employ her time." He finished with a look on his face which suggested that he might have just explained one of the great mysteries of the universe.
The colonel guffawed and Darcy's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he supressed an eye roll. Elizabeth kept from laughing and put her quick wit to practice as the first to respond. "I might pose the question directly back to yourself, Mr. Williams, for surely it is only a married man who can illustrate what requirements your wife had to meet before…'securing' you as her husband."
His smile twisted into a sneer at this but he calmly replied, "I know what particulars make for an accomplished young lady, Miss. Bennet. I am curious to hear what you think a woman should be practiced in in order to hold such a moniker," he ground out with a feigned softness.
The colonel laughed lightly at the young man becoming so riled by such a slip of a young country miss and Darcy shifted on his feet, uncomfortable due to so very many aspects of the conversation at hand as he recalled the night at Netherfield when they had discussed accomplished young ladies.
"I am afraid you may find me a poor source for what the majority of young ladies would deem accomplished, I much prefer a book or ramble through the wilds of the countryside to printing screens and the like," she said, giving Darcy a wry grin to lessen the gravity of his own expression. "You did hear my performance on the pianoforte, did you not? I ask as it is a prime example of my deficiency in the accomplished arts a young lady is expected to possess, you see," she laughed with the colonel who then complimented her performance admirably.
Mr. Williams wore a satisfied smile which no one else cared to take note of and the conversation continued without him. Darcy felt a little reassured at her light tone and the smile she had directed at him and relaxed enough to have heard an opening and an opportunity in what she had said last.
"I imagine you are missing you walks, Miss. Bennet, London hardly affords the same pleasures of a ramble through the countryside on an early morning," he said pointedly, hopefully.
She was not confused or suspicious, in fact, she thought he was merely being gallant and changing the subject away from her deficiencies. She smiled sweetly but with an air of guilt due to the fact that he once again displayed his courteous nature quite plainly, something she would have entirely missed or misinterpreted only a few months pervious. "I do miss them yes, though…" she stopped for a moment, a thought occurring to her and she turned to face Darcy fully, directing her next words significantly to him. "Though, I do not miss it entirely, I walk the park each morning before breakfast you see. At seven thirty I walk through the park opposite the house for just under an hour before I return to break my fast with Jane and Charles." The use of such familiar names made it clear enough that she was speaking to him personally whilst still remaining abstruse enough to belly suspicion from any other quarter.
She was sure she was not wrong in thinking that he wanted, just as much as she, to find a way for them to speak. After what he had said at the piano… Surely he would understand her invitation. She continued to look at him to search for any indication that he might have understood what she was imparting.
He almost sighed aloud. She had understood what he was asking. He smiled lightly and made some seemingly mundane comment about the park. "I believe there is a very fine path which leads around the fountain is there not, it is also adorned with some very pretty wild flowers this time of year, might I suggest you make that walk?" He said boldly. He had all but forgotten about the other two men who watched, one with amused interest and the other with undisguised boredom & pure disinterest.
"I thank you, Sir… I will be sure to, perhaps, tomorrow morning?" She had not meant to ask it. She knew it was dreadfully soon but the desire to resolve the tumult of emotions which their earlier conversations had wrought won out over her sense of pride.
He hesitated and looked to the colonel briefly, what he saw he tempered his response, not wishing to draw too much attention to either himself or Elizabeth. "I believe the weather should be accommodating. I hope you will enjoy it, Miss. Bennet. Please excuse me," he finished with a curt bow to each and left three very differing expressions; one, a satisfied smirk, the next one of indifference and the last was a wide eyed confusion. She could not tell if he had been displeased or simply finished with the conversation but she could not help feel that there was a certain abruptness to his departure. She looked to the colonel, about to excuse herself, and noted the laughing grin he wore. She flushed red then and mimicked Darcy's last movements almost perfectly.
~oOo~
The morning dawned crisp and clear, the sunlight streaming softly through her window, illuminating the thin white drapes with an ethereal radiance. Elizabeth turned her head to feel the soft pillow against her cheek as she slowly woke, she breathed deeply as contentment swept away any other emotions. But relief was fleeting as the sense of serenity she had initially greeted the bright new day with was soon disturbed by a delayed recollection of what this morning was to bring. She sat up stiffly as she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. It was still early, about a quarter past six she noted as she glanced at the clock on her mantle, she sighed, relived she had time to consider what she was to say and still be sufficiently ready to leave the house.
Darcy stirred from his broken slumber, the heavy drapes which covered his bed allowing in only a measure of the light afforded by the large windows. He heaved himself up to sit, dropping his feet to the floor and pulling away the forest green drape, allowing the light to spill in and flood the dark canopy. He rubbed a heavy hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the sleep to leave him, as the other hand automatically pulled the covers away. He heaved a deep sigh at the thought of what torture another day locked up in his study would be when his sleep addled mind was suddenly invaded by the delayed recollection of what this morning was truly to bring. A heady blend of excitement, anxiety and anticipation overwhelmed his emotions and he relaxed back against the headboard closing his eyes as he contemplated what he wished to say; He wished to tell her so much and yet nothing at all for fear of… he didn't know what. He knew he had to apologise, and he would, but that could not be all. Was he to simply ask for forgiveness and then be on his way and would she forgive him for all his wrongs? He could not forgive himself, why should Elizabeth? He groaned and, sinking back into his vast bed, tried to imagine a speech which might absolve him, even in the slightest degree, in her eyes.
The park was quiet and empty save for three or four other persons who were well dispersed around the verdure. She opened the gate silently and closed it behind her before walking in the direction of the small, flower lined path around the fountain. She had discovered it last week and made it her preferred walk, the fact that Darcy had suggested she might enjoy it made her laugh nervously to herself. Lord give her strength.
He entered the park fifteen minutes early, determined not to miss her, he made for the agreed path and… 'The agreed path? We never did truly agree to anything. What if she didn't understand my meaning and she is surprised by my being here?'
She meandered down the walkway, tilting her head back to allow the sun's rays to dapple her face as it shone through the trees above. She considered her words carefully, reminding herself of what exactly she wanted to say to him. 'If he comes,' she thought as she suddenly wondered at the possibility that he may not have understood her meaning the night previous. She had not long, however, to dwell on the possibility as she walked around a large tree, only to behold Mr. Darcy himself.
He looked up instantly when she appeared from around the large oak, the sun lighting her soft skin, the chill in the morning air painting her lips and cheeks a delicate red and her sublime eyes shining with their own lustre. He was lost once again, last night he had been so engaged in securing a moment alone with her that his earlier observations of her when she had first come down the staircase had been dismissed to the recesses of his mind. But now, now that he could look upon her without reservation and without the scrutinising eyes of others, he recalled just how enchanting she was and how her eyes entranced him. 'Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces,'*1 he mused, conveniently forgetting that though he may not have to worry about prying eyes he still had the very eyes he was contemplating to contend with.
She stood motionless as he, neither one of them knowing what was to be done next. She surveyed him from his top hat to his riding boots, he was immaculately dressed and she began to worry that in her haste she may have taken less care than she ought. Her hand went reflexively to the loose curls which strayed from the confines of her bonnet.
Her movent awoke him from his trance and he felt immediately like a foolish school boy caught amidst mischief. The only other woman to have said effect on Fitzwilliam Darcy was miles away in Derbyshire, though Mrs. Reynolds did so intentionally and the feeling transpired for very different reasons. He shook his head indiscernibly and greeted her with every appearance of insouciance.
"Miss. Bennet, I trust this fair morning finds you well?"
She looked around herself, observing the fine morning he referred to. "yes, very well, thank you." She kept her head turned in the direction of the path but let her eyes seek his somewhat cautiously as she asked, "and you are well, Sir?" She spoke calmly, her expression and posture also denoting little discomfort; the only sign of her true unease was the tight clasping of her hands before her.
He beheld her for a moment, still unable to credit her presence; she had not only come but, for all intents and purposes, invited him. She was willing, and if he had not been mistaken last evening, wanting, to speak with him, it was almost too much for his heart to bear; the implications were great but he knew not what to make of them such was the tumult of his mind. He realised his staring could have nothing but an adverse effect at present and he wrenched his gaze from her and looked on down the path. "That is yet to be decided, Miss. Bennet," he said, his voice now laden with unconcealable meaning and thick with restrained emotion. He was already having difficulty remaining composed, to ask that he curtail all and every thought and sentiment was too much for Darcy and, as a result of his acquitting himself of some of his intense restraint, he spoke with considerable daring. He did not believe that she could discern just how vulnerable he was in her presence; this was enough conciliation when he considered his frankness and what its inferences might suggest. Though one part of him screamed out to confess all to her and display for all the world, and especially Elizabeth, just how very vulnerable he was where she was concerned, another part of him was vehemently terrified of the rejection he expected.
On her part, Elizabeth had felt she was dealing with the vagaries of her emotions rather well at present. His demeanour when she arrived suggested that this whole experience might be swift and to the point and his greeting of her gave some vague indication of how lightly they might approach the subject they had come to discuss. Yes, all in all she felt that her composure would be resilient in this. That is until he shattered that composure with but eight simple words. His words may have been simple but their meaning could not be mistaken, nor could the intensity or the ache in his voice which she instantly recognised. Was he truly telling her that his wellbeing was to be governed by the outcome of their meeting here and, by extension, her? That she could hold such a power over any person was astonishing and disconcerting but that she could exert such influence over Mr. Darcy was unimaginable.
She regarded him with a grave expression, a slight confusion and wariness under her features and all the levity of her previous sentiments now dissipated. Instead of elaborating unnecessarily or revealing more than he wished to at present, Mr. Darcy motioned toward the path in invitation to make their way along it.
She began walking by his side, keeping a more than proper distance between them in an attempt to separate and organise her thoughts. He did not offer her his arm so raw were his emotions and tumultuous his thoughts and instead he maintained a steadfast gaze on the path before him.
They were both acutely alert to the others presence and every motion as each wrought havoc on the other's sensibilities, neither venturing to speak for some moments until, as if prompted by the same cue, they both began at once.
"Pray, continue, Sir," Elizabeth said, sighing imperceptibly as relief of the burden to broach the topic washed over her.
Darcy cleared his throat and turned slightly to face her as they slowed their pace. "Miss. Bennet, I hope… I am aware of the… I hope that you are not too," He cleared his throat once again and now stopped walking. He turned to face her fully and, to some degree unknowingly, she mirrored him. "Please forgive me my method in securing a moment of privacy with you, had a better opportunity presented itself you may rest assured I would have grasped it. But, as it is, this appears to be the only means of ensuring either of us the chance to speak openly." He spoke with earnest passion which took her aback at first, so unaccustomed to seeing any such emotion from the stoic and staid Mr. Darcy was she, but, soon recovering, she replied.
"I believe, Sir, that it was I who instigated this meeting, I am only glad that you were able to recognise the meaning behind its coded delivery. Though I do thank you for the opportunity to speak freely, I believe there is much to be said, apparently on both our parts." She gave him a tight, forced smile which did nothing to conceal her nerves but indicated the return of a small measure of her wit and natural levity.
He sighed with relief. Perhaps it was her like-minded words or the mere feeling of being in her presence, but he relaxed more than he had intended and spoke before he knew what he was about. "I confess after our last meeting in Hertfordshire I was apprehensive over how you might react upon our next encounter," he spoke to the emptiness before him, almost to himself before her sharp intake of breath drew him back to her; she was blushing furiously and looked to be holding her breath.
He was about to apologise for his careless words, the sight of her distressed again because of him cutting him to the quick, but she interjected before he could. "Mr. Darcy, please, I know its mention cannot be avoided but I beg you do not credit anything I said that day, I was misinformed and obstinate. The apology which I owe you… and now the gratitude also, should be forthcoming with great alacrity but I find my lips are fixed shut, so much have I to say. I confess I know not what order to put my opinions into, I grasp one coherent thought and another vanishes." He was about to stop her from continuing unnecessarily, having regained his own speech, but she held out a hand to prevent him.
"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding your's. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express." She closed her eyes for a moment in pain and his heart ached. He stepped closer to her.
"I know what it must have cost you personally, as well as financially." She opened her eyes but did not meet his and failed to notice the diminished distance between them. "Ever since my sister and Charles told me the full extent of your relation to Mr. Wickham and what you did to save Lydia, regardless of the degradation and mortification you must have felt at dealing with such a man who has already caused you so much suffering, I have felt not only intense gratitude for your benevolence but…" she looked up into his eyes as if searching for the rest of her words, Darcy held his breath, his dreams willing him to see what he so desperately wished to find in her and a harsh reality denying him at every turn. Elizabeth watched emotions at war behind his eyes and, though she could not identify each, she saw not a trace of the resentment she expected and it was clear he was far from indifferent. She felt her own fear lessen and her guilt deepen at the knowledge that he, a man of such warranted pride, could acquit her of her childish mistakes after having been the subject to their derision and degradation. She dropped her gaze in a wave of conflicting pride and humiliation. "But also." She swallowed the shame which rose in her throat and again met his eyes as she said, "deeply ashamed over my own conduct towards you." Here, drawing from some unknown well of confidence and strength, she held his gaze. "I was wrong, Sir. I was foolish, I allowed myself to be misled by hearsay and a then painted my own very elaborate character to serve as my impression of you. Had I been more astute in my observations and less blinded I might have perceived you for the man you really were," she looked away with a rueful expression on her face. "Instead I was misguided by a petty slight and a fancy tale of woe," she said to herself before recollecting his presence again. She looked up at him, now noticing he stood closer. She spoke more quietly, "I only hope that you can accept my most sincere apologies for maligning you so viciously and my deepest thanks for all you bared of the burden with my sister. If I am not mistaken I believe all thanks are owed solely to you," she finished; her voice serious and her eyes fixed on his cravat before she dropped her gaze to the floor.
He stood in mute shock as he listened to her thank him, then exonerate him of his wrongs, and finally plead with him to forgive her. HE forgive her? The notion was incomprehensible. He was well aware that she wanted to apologise last night but for what he had been unable to imagine. And now she was before him damning her pride and laying her contrition at his feet. She was ashamed of herself? He could hardly fault her for being fooled by Wickham, his own sister and father were deceived and seduced respectively by the cad's charming, false nature, the only reason he himself was privy to the true Wickham was because the scoundrel needed someone of means to clean up after him and he knew Darcy was too good to cause his father any sorrow in finding out the true profligate nature of a man he saw almost as a son. Her words rang out in his ears, her thanks, her regret, her apology, everything she had said was now imprinted on his mind yet he could not form a coherent thought to voice. He moved to speak but then redirected his gaze and words turned into a harsh exhale. His eyes darted and his brow furrowed in thought as if the answers were written on the air before him. He could grasp one fact at present and that was that she knew of all the role he played in retrieving her sister and though she was aware of most of his past with Wickham, she did not know the full truth of it and so could not imagine his guilt nor rightly deal him his portion of blame for not exposing Wickham sooner, if she did, she may not be apologising nor thanking him so profusely, or at all for that matter. His gaze finally settled on the space beyond her right shoulder as he spoke in low tones and with an air of disappointment. "Your thanks are not necessary; it was my pride which prevented me for exposing Wickham in the first place, had I done so sooner perhaps much of this could have been avoided, since I did not, the expense and any mortification was my burden to bear alone. The object of his deceit being your sister only served to further my determination." He allowed his eyes back to her face as he said the last more softly but with a guarded emotion.
Elizabeth felt a sudden urge to defend him and relieve him of any guilt he felt for Wickham's sins but saw the futility in arguing with the pride of a man so accustomed to holding such high responsibility over the lives of so many. At his final words she felt a spark of something entirely different, not guilt or shame and not even gratitude, there was something else, not new by any means, the emotions which had shrouded the relationship between her and Darcy from the start had been vast and varied. So this twinge of something was not novel but rather, now that some of the misperception and animosity had been cleared, this something new could be seen. She saw it now in his gaze and heard the trace of it in his words but since her tumultuous sentiments only moments ago were still so chaotic she allowed the only piece of rational thought she could find to take precedence. "Mr. Bingley is very fortunate to have you as such a loyal friend and by extension, so are my family, Sir. My thanks may not be necessary, by your mind, but in my own, my family and I owe you more than we could repay in both morale and money. Regardless of what you may feel was your duty to your friend or because of your previous acquaintance with Mr. Wickham it was my sister whose folly in believing, so blindly, the same lies I myself was misled by which rests at the cause of this. However, had I been more discerning and not so naïve, I might have seen through his deception and prevented this myself, I must apologise not only for my own foolishness but for imagining you capable of such cruelty without ever having tried to know your true character since establishing it based on one unfortunate encounter. " Her words, whilst sensible, tumbled forth in a less than well-formed manner but she could not stop them and she cared not. The desire to acquit him of guilt and to convey her contrition overwhelmed her sense of propriety.
He could not decide if he was relieved or disappointed at the way she had taken his words; that she believed he had helped her sister because his friend was to become attached to her family was a safer assumption and yet a lie to a large degree. He decided it best to leave it as it stood, not feeling quite up to the task of explaining the entire truth of the matter.
"I would not have you apologise for believing his 'fancy tale of woe' as you so put it, he has charming manners which allow him to deceive the most astute and take advantage of a person's good nature, Miss. Bennet. And since you, like my father, are both astute and good natured you were an easy object, it does not make you witless or naïve," he said. In another light she would have heard this as a great compliment but he spoke with such a detached air about him that it was stated not for the purpose of flattery but more as fact. She was not offended by it now, his propensity to appear somewhat removed when he spoke on matters which should, by all rights, be severely personal, she recognised it now for the first time for what it was; his method of approaching the subject in a rational light and at the same time shield his own emotions. She felt a surge of admiration upon her realisation and the familiar pang of remorse for her early misjudgement of him. He paused for a moment in contemplation before he motioned for them to continue walking further down the secluded path and only after they had resumed a leisurely pace did her speak. "Your apology for your so called misjudgement of my character is wholly unwarranted, Miss. Bennet. I gave you no reason to think well of me and every reason to come to the conclusions which you did. On our first meeting I believe you may have discerned my character perfectly. I was assured of my own superiority, convinced that all was before me for my own judgement and I was of a mind to think ill of everything, no matter what falsehood I had to tell to do so," he said. "I recall one particular such falsehood which has haunted me since I spoke it," he said in an attempt to belie his nerves with humour.
Elizabeth needed but a moment to realise his attempt at levity and jumped at the opportunity. She clasped her hands behind her back and took on a contemplative air in an attempt to appear earnest and philosophical as she replied, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Sir."*2 She said before her smile won over and she regarded him with an arch expression.
He relaxed considerably at her jest and allowed a small smile. The smile soon became a smirk as his traitorous mind willed him to test the fragile ground they were now treading on. "It is interesting to hear a woman quote Congreve, especially one who claims to be 'not a great reader.'"
Elizabeth laughed with relief and true amusement so happy was she to be on agreeable terms now. The sound was reassuring to his mind and like manna to his heart; he allowed his smile to widen.
They continued to walk for a short moment, enjoying the calm which now set the tone, before they came to the turn in the path which would bring them back. The path was like any other but for them both held more meaning than either could explain. The past half an hour had been suspended from all rules and customs, they had shared an openness and honesty which is rarely found, though both failed to truly recognise it, and they had come to some unspoken understanding which sufficed well enough her in their haven, but once they re-entered the society they knew the understanding may not uphold.
Elizabeth could not decide what she wished to come of this now; this morning she had wanted to simply apologise and thank Darcy, yet, after all that had been said, it did not feel enough to simply return to mere acquaintances.
Darcy knew he could not ask too much of her, he could see she was just as affected as he was by the encounter but he could not bring himself to make peace with her leaving now and returning to the status of acquaintance. He wanted so much more but was strongly assured that what he truly wanted was impossible. He supressed the wrenching feeling in his heart as he considered the truth of it and resolved to gain as much as he could from what had just passed, he did not want to consider the consequences of forming an even stronger attachment to Elizabeth if she would allow it. He thought at a desperate speed in an attempt to find the words which would mean their continued cordiality but failed to find them as they progressed down the traitorous path which lead back to his reality.
It was Elizabeth who found the words he had searched for, she had been contemplating how different their encounters may have been had they begun in such an agreeable fashion, in fact, she was of a mind to think she would have thought him a rather interesting gentleman had her early opinion not have been so coloured. She was busy regretting this lost friendship when she had the sudden and somewhat dubious thought to, for want of a better phrase, begin again. He had attempted to forge cordiality between them at the wedding; she recognised that now, even if he only did so for the sake of her Jane and Charles, so she could attempt to do so now.
She slowed her pace further under the pretence of showing some interest in low hanging leaves on a branch just above her. "Mr. Darcy, I believe it may be… beneficial for all concerned if you and I were to begin anew, tabula rasa*3 as it were," she said with a timid smile.
Darcy wondered momentarily if he were imagining what she had said, she was offering him the chance to begin their acquaintance again from scratch and discount the contemptible history between them. He regarded her with a look of disbelief and confusion and she faltered, obviously misconstruing his lack of response for reticence to acquiesce. This prompted his tongue and he spoke before he knew what he was saying. "It would be my honour to claim a friendship with you, Miss Bennet." She looked a little taken aback at the strength in his words and he cursed himself for not moderating his words, he could have used the Bingleys as justification enough, but then Elizabeth smiled the most genuine, heartfelt smile she had ever bestowed upon him and any regret at his effusive honesty was swept away with the very same breeze which danced through the loose curls about her face.
Elizabeth's smile soon turned into a wicked one as an idea entered her mind; she looked at the man before her as he stood with an expression she didn't fully understand and she extended her hand toward him. "Miss. Elizabeth Bennet, Sir. Impertinent and opinionated at best and naïve and opinionated on my bad days," she said as she still held her hand out to him.
He smiled at her ploy and then, with a tenderness she did not expect and which he was unaware he conveyed, he took her hand gently into his and held her gloved finger as he said, "Fitzwilliam Darcy, madam, tacit and condescending at best selfish and prejudice on my bad days," was his rejoinder. He inclined his head over her delicate hand, even that small contact wreaking havoc upon him as he debated the danger of kissing even her gloved hand. He did not and instead straightened to his full height and smiled amiably as he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, taking her with him at a slow pace back up the path.
They walked in companionable silence for a moment, he allowing himself the feeling of joy which overcame him at having Elizabeth close and she experiencing the relief she had craved for so long, until Darcy saw the park gates come into view and knew their moment of serenity would not last much longer. He cleared his throat and said "Tomorrow evening The Theatre Royal in Drury Lane is staging a production of Othello, I intended to invite Charles and Mrs. Bingley yesterday evening to accompany myself but it slipped my mind." The last was said with a knowing smile which maintained the flippancy and dismissed any gravity that might attempt to taint his words. "Of course having only just met you I should not assume you know anything about Shakespeare, but I should very much like to be the one to introduce you to the bard if you do not and very much like to share his work with you if you do," he said, continuing their play.
Elizabeth smiled, both at his joviality and his offer. "I am a greater lover of the bard, Sir and it is very good of you to offer. I do not believe Mr. and Mrs. Bingley have any prior engagements for tomorrow evening but you shall have to ask my brother for yourself I am afraid, much as I should like to accept now for I have yet to see Othello, or many of Shakespeare's works, performed." She said.
Darcy supressed many emotions as she not only agreed to join him but also expressed how she would like to accept immediately, but he could not supress a smile of joy at her words. "Well, I have been told in the past, by your brother himself, since I am such a great tall fellow, in comparison with himself, he pays me a great deal of deference," he smirked and stopped as they reached the park gates and turned to her. The Bingley's house could be seen from where they stood and he knew she would be gone in just a moment but wanted to take advantage of any precious seconds he had with her. "I shall pay him a call at a more acceptable hour and see if I cannot use my stature to suit our end, Miss. Bennet," he said, standing to his full height. Elizabeth laughed both at his antics and in disbelief that it was Mr. Darcy who was jesting so.
"Well then, Sir. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance and I hope that your plan is a success." She smiled once more and curtsied, never breaking their gaze as he inclined his head and said, "The pleasure has been mine, Miss. Bennet and I look forward to knowing you further."
They continued to smile at each other for a moment before hers became a more earnest expression. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said so earnestly he immediately knew she was not referring to their 'newfound acquaintance' or the play. His smile remained but lessened into a subtle upturn in the corners of his lips. "If you will thank me, then allowing me this opportunity at redemption is more than thanks enough," he said with a gravity which mercifully did not destroy their current temperament.
She smiled fully again "Good day, Mr. Darcy," she said, the lilt returning to her voice. "Good day, Miss. Bennet," he said with a wistful smile. "I hope to find you well this afternoon and greet you with the happy news of my success and an invitation to see the bard's work first hand," he finish, touching the brim of his top hat. She gave him one last nod of her ad and said, "I look forward to it, Sir." Before she turned and made her way toward the house.
Darcy watched her walk away from him and began counting the minutes before he could see her again and attempting to maintain sight of her in reassurance that he hadn't just dreamed the morning away until she turned the corner and was lost from his line of view. 'I'll threaten Charles into that theatre if I have to' he thought before turning himself to return home and relive every smile and laugh Elizabeth had bestowed upon him that morning. Had it been the fashionable hour, there may have been a crowd of spectators to witness the formidable Mr. Darcy smiling blithely to himself as he strolled toward his townhouse, but it was perhaps to his advantage that there was not.
*Tantalus was a figure in Greek Mythology who was eternally punished by being forced to stand in a pool of water that sat bellow the low hanging braches of a tree which bore a delicious fruit. The fruit ever eluding his grasp, and the water always receding before he could take a drink.
*1: William Shakespeare.
*2: William Congreve.
*3: Latin equivalent of 'blank slate.