Darcy fondly remembered his childhood as he carefully crafted a small boat out of tree bark and leaves and placed it in the stream. He walked beside the miniature vessel as it drifted until it collided with a rock and fell apart. He was in the middle of making another such boat when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, expecting Richard, but it was Miss Bennet instead.
"Good morning, Sir. I had not expected to encounter anyone on my walk so early," she said with a very proper curtsy.
"Good morning, Miss Bennet." He hastily set aside the leaves and twigs he had been assembling into a sail, rose and bowed to her. "I fear we are never to meet with me showing myself to any credit," he said with a smile.
"Indeed, sir," said Elizabeth. She looked down in embarrassment as she recalled the previous day.
"It was a letter from my mother," Mr. Darcy said suddenly.
"Indeed, sir?" asked Elizabeth. She had not realised his mother was alive. She was never mentioned by Miss Bingley or anyone else, for that matter. "Is she unwell?"
"She has been dead for some time. My cousin Anne found the letters."
"Oh." Elizabeth did not know what the proper response to this was. She expressed her sympathies for his loss, then fell silent again.
Darcy thanked her and then offered her his arm so they might walk together. Elizabeth looked up at him curiously. First, she came across him sobbing and today he was building something with leaves and sticks. She would have never imagined such a thing. Even if she had tried to imagine Mr. Darcy as a child, she would have thought he wouldn't have played in the dirt and leaves. In her mind, she saw him as a smaller version of himself, looking disapprovingly at the other children as they played and rolled hoops.
"She died when I was twelve. She wrote letters to me and my sister, but they were lost. My cousin found them, as I said, and gave them to me." Darcy was not entirely certain why he was sharing so much with Elizabeth, except that he felt the need to talk to someone.
"It must be both very difficult and a great blessing to read such letters from a beloved mother," said Elizabeth.
Elizabeth thought of her own mother. They had never been close as some mothers and daughters were, but she loved her mother and knew her mother loved her in return. Mrs. Bennet might not be the most sensible woman, but she cared for her family. Almost too much, actually, given her constant worry and nerves.
"There are over twenty letters in all. They were meant for each birthday, and various other times, such as during illness."
"What a lovely thing for her to do for you and your sister," said Elizabeth with real feeling. Who was this man? Certainly this was not the same Mr. Darcy that she had known in the autumn. Had his mother's words made so great an impact on him?
They walked on in silence together. Surprisingly, the lack of conversation between them felt natural and not in any way uncomfortable. Mr. Darcy was quite obviously lost in thought and Elizabeth did not wish to interrupt him.
"The speedwells look beautiful," said he suddenly, gesturing to the purple, cone-shaped blooms.
"They do, although I have always heard them referred to as Veronicas," said Elizabeth.
"I believe both names are accurate. Although, perhaps the different colours are called by different names. I shall have to look that up if my aunt has a book on botany."
"I would be interested to know what you find," admitted Elizabeth, for she had never heard the name Speedwell regarding the plant in question.
"You remind me of my mother at times," said Mr. Darcy.
"I do?" Elizabeth could not have been more surprised. She had thought Mr. Darcy disapproved of everything about her.
"You have a mix of sweetness and archness about you, just as she did. She would often tease my father, though not out of malice. He could be quite dour, and she said it was her mission to make him smile more often, for he looked more handsome when he smiled."
"I thank you for the compliment." Elizabeth was sure her face was reddening from the unanticipated praise. "It sounds like your parents were very happy together."
"I believe they were," said Mr. Darcy.
His thoughts went back to the letter from that morning and the story about his mother's first love. He could not be sorry that his mother had married his father, for he otherwise would not exist. At the same time, he thought about how such a loss must have grieved his mother.
"Mr. Darcy?" said Elizabeth, her voice full of concern.
"I'm sorry, Miss Elizabeth. I was remembering my mother's letter. I was not attending."
"You just looked very distraught." Elizabeth's voice was so earnest. She looked up at him, her fine eyes glimmering in the light, her long, thin lashes casting a gentle shadow across them.
"I shall be well. I just, well, it has been a difficult few days. I wish to read the letters and my mother's advice to me, but it is like losing her all over again, reliving everything."
"I cannot imagine," said Elizabeth. "I do not mean to be insensitive, but I am very glad to have both my parents and all my sisters still living."
"It is not insensitive for you to say so. It shows your affection for your family. It is good that you appreciate them while you have them."
"I do," said Elizabeth. "Although sometimes we have differences of opinion or frustrate each other, I love them all very dearly. I am closest to Jane, but they are all very precious to me."
"That is good."
Darcy fell silent again, and they walked together back to the parsonage. As they did so, he considered what Elizabeth had said about her family. He often wondered how such fine ladies as her and her elder sister had come from such a mother and could have such sisters. He had expected to find out that Elizabeth and Miss Bennet were from a previous marriage, but they were not. Despite their faults, Elizabeth loved her family very deeply. In order to earn such deep devotion, they had to have hidden qualities that Darcy was not aware of. Certainly he could not see much to praise in them.
"If you wish to come in for breakfast, I am certain you are welcome," said Elizabeth, "but if you do not, you had better turn back now, else Mr. Collins will see you." She gestured to where the path turned, as they would come into view of the parsonage.
Darcy debated for a moment. He did not like Mr. Collins, but Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins were both very fine company. Was it worth spending the meal with the ridiculous parson to spend another half hour in Elizabeth's company?
"I have not yet paid my respects to the Collinses. I ought to do so," said Mr. Darcy.
"You are very brave, sir!" said Elizabeth with a laugh as they continued around the bend.
"Here he comes," she whispered when she saw the curtains in one of the windows move. "Last chance to change your mind."
Darcy smiled in response, but did not retreat.
"Mr. Darcy! How kind of you to escort my dear Cousin Elizabeth home. I trust you are well this morning?" asked Mr. Collins as he ran towards them and bowed simultaneously. He did not pause long enough for Mr. Darcy to do more than open his mouth to reply. Further thanks and praise flowed from Elizabeth's cousin to Mr. Darcy as they were ushered inside the parsonage to break their fasts.
"Dearest," said Mrs. Collins when there was the slightest break in Mr. Collins' speech, for no one could go without air forever, "Will you go ask for a fresh pot of tea to be brought up? This one has gone cold."
Mr. Collins agreed, for they could not serve cold tea to their illustrious guest. He hurried off to follow his wife's instructions while Mrs. Collins ensured that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had everything they need. "If you would like tea now, it is not actually cold. I just thought Mr. Darcy might wish to sit down."
Elizabeth restrained a laugh as Mr. Darcy accepted a cup of tea. He drank it quite quickly. She did not know if he had simply been thirsty or if he wished not to give away Mrs. Collins to her husband. Either way, by the time Mr. Collins returned, his tea was gone, and a fresh pot was brought up shortly thereafter.
Elizabeth was surprised when Mr. Darcy actually engaged in conversation during the meal. She was quite certain that between their walk that morning and the breakfast, she had heard him speak more than in all their previous acquaintance. Mr. Darcy had learned from his aunt that Mr. Collins had taken up beekeeping. Pemberley had a great many hives purposely placed about the estate to pollinate the nearby crops. Apparently, Mr. Darcy was something of a beekeeper himself. One of his hives had recently lost its queen, and the population had thus begun to dwindle. Mr. Darcy explained that he had simply purchased a queen bee from a local beekeeper and introduced it to his hive. Mr. Collins, still new to being an apiarist, was amazed that the insects would simply accept the new monarch.
"Do we not do the same?" asked Elizabeth. "God save the King, but everybody will eventually pass on. When he dies, the Prince Regent will become king."
"I suppose that is essentially the same," said Darcy.
Mr. Collins, full of his own importance, made a comment between bites of toast about his inheriting Longbourn. Mr. Darcy frowned at him, for he did not think Elizabeth appreciated such a reminder. Not only was it her beloved father who would pass, but she could not like the prospect of her childhood home being left to such a man as Mr. Collins. Hopefully, since Mr. Collins had at least married a lady of sense and understanding, the estate would not fare too poorly under his management.
After breakfast, although Mr. Collins invited him to stay longer, Mr. Darcy took his leave. The thought of seeing Lady Catherine made his stomach turn, but he ought to see Anne and Richard. He had hardly even spoken with them since his arrival. He needed to thank Anne for giving him the letters.
