What if Elizabeth asked Darcy to clarify what he meant on some of those walks at Rosings? Very short one-shot.
Wade
More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, unexpectedly meet Mr Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions—about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr and Mrs Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage.
P&P Chapter 33
Though every instinct told Elizabeth to leave the infuriating man behind, his last words were too confusing to ignore. Most of what Mr Darcy said amounted to either silence or confusing statements; but that day's conversation was more puzzling than any that preceded it. Elizabeth's natural curiosity overrode her desire to return to the dubious safety of the parsonage. After all, regardless of how confounding Mr Darcy might be, or how much harder he was to talk to than Colonel Fitzwilliam—he still easily thrashed Mr Collins as a conversation partner.
She paused and faced the gentleman so her bonnet did not obstruct her view of his countenance. "Mr Darcy… today's words make even less sense than usual. Might you elaborate?"
His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Less sense than usual… what do you mean?"
"I mean what you have said thus far on these walks, sparse as it is, rarely makes any sense. You ask odd, disconnected questions about things I cannot imagine you care about."
She paused to see him staring at her blankly.
"Today, you implied I might reside at Rosings, which seems far-fetched even by that standard. My father seems unlikely to collapse soon, so I will not need to take up employment as a companion to Miss de Bourgh, and I doubt Lady Catherine would hire me if I did. The grand lady made it clear she considers me barely of sufficient station to visit the parsonage, so I am unlikely to be her guest. None of my sisters are likely to marry a man of consequence, so I will not be one of their guests. In short, I cannot imagine any scenario where I might stay at Rosings."
She was surprised to see the gentleman smile slightly, and even more surprised that the expression did not seem to cause undue pain. He was apparently capable of looking less forbidding—he simply chose not to most of the time.
"The premise is simple enough. I believe you might stay with your husband."
She stared at him in consternation, and finally burst out half-angry and half-confused. "If you mean the colonel, I have not known him a fortnight. Presuming a match would be aggressive even for my mother. Besides that, I doubt he is a marrying man… at least, not at this stage of his life."
"Not the colonel," Darcy said, still wearing that infuriating something between a smirk and a grin.
Elizabeth scrunched her face in confusion. "Are you implying I am likely to be married?"
"I am."
"To whom, if I might be so bold as to ask?"
"You cannot guess?"
"I cannot. I do not know a single eligible man who would come close to qualifying."
"Search your mind."
She thought about it a moment and decided to try a guessing game since it seemed more polite than smacking him on the head with her reticule (tempting as it was).
"I shall try. You assert that I am likely to marry in the next year, but not to the colonel?"
"Correct."
"Do I know the man?"
"You do."
She thought he must have a connection to the Gardiners she was previously unaware of. "Does he live in London?"
"He has a house in town."
The way he did not simply say 'yes' indicated he did not live in London all the time; but Uncle Gardiner knew plenty of tradesmen, and even some gentlemen who were only in town part of the year.
"Is he a gentleman?"
"He is."
She searched her mind for a suitable candidate, came up blank, searched again, drew yet another blank—and finally asked, "Has he been to Hertfordshire?"
"He has," he said, with the same slight smile on his face. Ordinarily it would have annoyed her, but this was the most diversion the taciturn man had ever provided. He obviously was going to throw out some unsuitable candidate Lady Catherine picked, but the game was at least worth a few moments' amusement.
"Did I meet him in Hertfordshire?"
"You did."
Now she thought even more furiously. It was obviously nobody in Meryton, so she cast her mind to men she vaguely knew in Luton, Hatfield, and Harpenden, as well as the few houseguests that visited from time to time. She still came up empty.
"And he is a gentleman with sufficient connexions to reside at Rosings, thus at least making your original assertion make a little bit of sense."
"That is correct."
She thought about it furiously for quite some time. "I admit to being flummoxed, Mr Darcy."
She looked carefully and noticed his face no longer had the teasing half-smile. She was surprised to learn she half-missed it. His face in fact showed something like consternation, which she thought she had never seen before. Perhaps… just perhaps, she had somehow peeked through the mask he habitually wore?
"Let me be certain I understand," she asked. "You posit that there is a gentleman, who likes me enough to marry me, is more or less of my station, yet is of sufficient status to reside at Rosings."
"Exactly!"
"I believe you have bested my wit, sir. Perhaps, you might give me one last clue before I admit utter defeat," she replied with a slight grimace, but then forced herself to smile lightly to try to lighten the mood.
He looked at her intently with an expression she could not decipher.
"The gentleman has sufficient connexions to visit Rosings. In fact, he is a guest there, right now!"
She stared in consternation and sputtered incoherently. "But… but… but… but… that could only mean… YOU!"
He gave a slight bow, but the confident half-smile from earlier was entirely gone, and replaced with a nervous frown, while she stared in stupefaction.
"You seem stunned," he sighed resignedly.
"You, sir, are a master of understatement! I am all astonishment!"
He looked at her carefully for quite some time. "Does it seem so far-fetched?"
She found herself matching him stare for stare, and finally blurted out. "Your supposed match fails the first two criteria. You can hardly be surprised I failed the guessing game."
Now he looked perplexed. "First two criteria?" he finally asked confusedly.
"A gentleman of my station is clearly a mismatch. While it is true that you are a gentleman and I a gentleman's daughter, we certainly do not come remotely close to matching in terms of consequence or ancestry. Would it be reasonable for me to expect you to connect yourself with my mother or younger sisters. At Netherfield, Miss Bingley was busy denigrating my uncles and you asserted that it must very materially lessen our chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world. I take you at your word."
She was not entirely certain repeating words she had accidentally overheard was such a good idea, but he had said them.
The gentleman looked stunned into incoherence.
She continued, "You can hardly be surprised when I did not consider you among my list of viable candidates!"
He frowned, and she suspected the conversation was about to take an abrupt exit. She was not entirely certain what she thought about that, but since he started the whole mess, he could finish it.
He finally sighed. "I suppose I must concede defeat on that point. I admit I gave that exact subject far more time and consternation than it was worth over the last four months."
"And?"
"I concluded those things do not matter."
She sighed. "I do not live in your world, so I cannot give an opinion, aside from the fact that you are contradicting yourself."
He shrugged. "That happens sometimes in matters of the heart."
She had no idea how to react to that, since ten minutes earlier she was not entirely convinced he had one.
He added, "I will admit I was concerned about those issues when we were in Hertfordshire, so I tried to ensure I did not raise expectations. Since then, I have given it a great deal of thought and concluded that such things do not matter all that much."
"You can be well-assured you did not raise expectations. Quite the opposite if I am honest."
He stared thoughtfully a moment, then shook himself out of his malaise, and asked timidly, "You said I failed two criteria?"
She blushed and stared down, not liking what had to finally be said after all those months. "I was of the firmest opinion we disliked each other, though your words today seem to contradict that."
"Disliked each other?" he said, staring in stupefaction.
She answered angrily. "I can assure you that no woman wants to be called not handsome enough to tempt me, or nothing but an excellent walker, or not worthy of a man of any consideration in the world."
He frowned ferociously, though Elizabeth suspected he was chastising himself more than her.
He finally let out a great sigh. "That is quite a list of offenses. Have I anything else to apologise for?"
"You stared at me a lot with a disapproving look."
He sighed again. "I will admit that my attraction snuck up on me in Hertfordshire. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. Naturally, being quite the lunkhead, it never occurred to me to apologise and make things right."
"No, you did not!"
He sighed again. "I apologise profusely, as I should have months ago. I had hoped you never heard that first comment, made when I had not even looked at you."
"Even worse for you."
"True… too true. I had hoped that initial error might have been somewhat ameliorated by asking thrice to be gifted with a single dance."
She frowned. "That one did not work out all that well."
"Agreed," he said with another frown.
He rather boldly reached out to take her hand, and she allowed it without fuss. "I must confess, I went to town thinking I would forget you… eventually."
"How did that work out?"
"Not as well as I expected… and when I saw you here, well all the feelings I had in November returned, stronger still."
"And yet, you were conflicted. You need not lie—I will not hold it against you."
He nodded, looking too nervous to answer.
She squeezed his hand and said, "So, attending the parsonage almost daily, even though you said almost nothing… all these walks… was that your attempt at wooing?"
"Yes," he said resignedly.
"You are not very good at it," she said, but gave a squeeze to his hand to remove some of the sting.
"Agreed… Fortunately, I only need to succeed once."
"I suppose rakes like the colonel or Mr Bingley get much more practice—but to be honest, I prefer your awkward honesty… although you will have to overcome your reticence."
"Are you saying I have reason to hope?"
She thought about it for some time, as it was a lot to take in over a five-minute conversation. She was thankful she stopped to challenge him before the lunkhead did something stupid like proposing. She had endured enough awkward proposals for one year.
She finally said, "Are you willing to explain to me why Mr Bingley broke my sister's heart, and the unvarnished truth about Mr Wickham?"
"I will, though I will have to admit to some fault in your sister's issue."
"Unless you shot Mr Bingley's horse, nothing in my mind will excuse his part in the debacle. That said, if you had a part, we are likely to quarrel vociferously about it."
"I doubt very much it will be our last quarrel… probably not even our worst."
She laughed in surprise. "You are funny when you want to be, Mr Darcy."
"Would you like me to be… funny more often that is?" he asked, looking more terrified than ever.
She thought about it quite hard for a moment. "Back at Netherfield you asked me not to sketch your character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either. Are you saying now is a better time?"
"Now is the perfect time."
She smiled with an intensity that surprised herself.
"Very well, Mr Darcy. You may commence wooing at your leisure."
~~ Finis ~~