Page 26 of He Taught Me to Hope (Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest #1)

U pon observing Darcy’s eager attentions to Ben and his mother, Colonel Fitzwilliam had grown increasingly concerned over the matter.

Does Darcy suffer no awareness at all of how this must seem to the rest of us?

Not only is he taken with the child, his regard for the child’s mother is such that one would have to be blind not to see.

It had come with some measure of relief that the Hunsford party took their leave without having received an invitation to dine at Rosings that evening.

Richard took his cousin aside soon after the guests’ departure.

Judging by the looks that had passed between his aunt and his Cousin Anne, Richard was certain Darcy was in for a heated lecture.

First things first, his aunt’s dressing-down could wait. What he needed to say could not!

“Darcy, let me assure you of my willingness to stand as your second, but are you quite certain it is a step you are willing to take?”

“What are you rambling on about now?” Darcy asked his older cousin impatiently.

“Just how do you envision Collins responding to your unmasked regard for his intended? ”

“The lady is not yet married. Until such time as she is, she is free to change her mind.”

“As is the gentleman’s right to call you out,” Richard quipped.

“Do not be ridiculous. Duelling is illegal, the last I heard. I expect Collins and I might resolve any differences we might suffer in a civilised manner, if and when the time comes.”

“So, what exactly are your intentions towards Mrs. Carlton?”

“My immediate intention is to allow us to become better acquainted with each other. I am convinced she is perfect for me, but first I must persuade her not to accept Collins’s hand simply out of misguided familial sentiments.”

“I am afraid I do not take your meaning,” Richard expressed, his curiosity demanding satisfaction.

“To make a very long and unexciting story short, I am convinced she accepted the man’s proposal because her family’s home is entailed away from the female line.

He stands to inherit the estate upon her father’s passing.

In accepting his hand, she makes it possible for her mother and sisters always to have a home. ”

Richard was intrigued and, therefore, insisted upon knowing more of the story.

Darcy reluctantly obliged him with more of the sordid details whilst nursing his brandy.

Expanding on Lady Catherine’s account from the evening before, Darcy also told of his unflattering opinion of her family.

By the end of the account, Richard wondered even more of Darcy’s intentions.

“From your account of the Bennets of Hertfordshire—their unseemly behaviour, their lowly status, with no wealth, no connections, and nothing to recommend them—I question even more your true intentions towards the lovely Mrs. Carlton.”

“Trust me. She is nothing at all like the rest of her family. I would be honoured to have her in my life,” Darcy adamantly affirmed.

“If you insist, my friend, I have little choice other than to accept you at your word. Again, my offer to stand in as your second remains, but I rather urge you to be more guarded in your approach so it does not come to that.”

True to his word, Geoffrey Collins immediately set about taking young Ben under his wing.

He and his brother had a habit of driving out in the gig and seeing the country in the mornings.

Ben was made to accompany them, much to his dismay, for he had thought to spend the mornings with his best friend, just as they had done whilst in Hertfordshire.

The rest of their daily time together, Mr. Collins and Ben spent working with their hands, out of doors, either in the garden or crafting small wooden objects, a particularly favourite pastime of the elder man and one which might have captured young Ben’s fancy as well, would his tutor have displayed a semblance of patience.

Ben soon likened his part to looking but not touching.

Gillian and Emily were not early risers; therefore, with Ben relegated to Mr. Collins’s supervision, Elizabeth was at liberty to enjoy her solitary rambles on her favourite path along an open grove which edged the side of the park where there was a nice shelter that no one seemed to value but herself.

That was in the beginning. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, Mr. Darcy also had gained a fondness for the sheltered path.

Day after day, she would come across him.

She had often asked herself what might be his purpose.

His behaviour had been quite bewildering.

He had seemed changed, unfamiliar, and at times somewhat aloof, or perhaps it was her own determined effort to appear completely unaffected by him that had altered her perceptions of his demeanour.

Elizabeth had not met him privately on the morning after their mediaeval adventure, as he had requested.

It was not that she did not want to meet him; rather, it was only after long and careful deliberation that she had decided against it.

Elizabeth continued walking along the path, in recollection of her earlier struggles that had led to her decision not to meet him alone.

She had accepted the fact that the two of them would never be able to act on their mutual desire.

Still, those magical times when it seemed as if time stood still when they stared into each other’s eyes, would linger on in her mind for eternity.

Furthermore, she had resolved she would not allow herself to indulge in such flights of the imagination again.

No amount of lingering kisses to the back of her hand, longing looks, nor silent beckoning pleas would persuade her otherwise.

Endeavouring to rid herself of any notion of guilt, she began to view their past interludes as little more than harmless flirtations.

In point of fact, that was really all it had been—all it would ever be.

Why then was it that every look, every gesture, every touch was etched in her mind? Why was it that whenever Elizabeth considered her intended’s touches, she could not help comparing them to Mr. Darcy’s? Alas, her intended was found wanting time and time again.

She reckoned she simply was not being fair to the man whose hand she had accepted.

Not fair to him, not to herself, not to Mr. Darcy, and not even to her son.

Mr. Collins was offering her a home and a future whereas Mr. Darcy merely offered her a chance to escape the miserable path she had set upon—a chance to feel alive once again, but little more, as best she could tell.

Mr. Collins had invited her to Hunsford for the sole purpose of becoming acquainted with her, to woo her, as it were, before meeting her at the altar.

She owed it to him to allow the process to unfold—not just go through the motions accompanied by thoughts of trepidation whilst dreaming of being in the arms of another with thoughts of ecstasy. Surely, she owed him as much.

Elizabeth then recalled how her resolve had not been of a long standing before being tested.

Mr. William Collins, who had made it a habit of calling on Rosings with some regularity, returned from one of his near daily visits accompanied by Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam a few days later.

It appeared to her all her heartfelt soul searching, and her subsequent decision to keep up distance with the gentleman had been for naught.

Whilst Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation with everyone directly with readiness and ease, including a most enthusiastic debate with Geoffrey Collins, his cousin, after having attended to the pleasantries incumbent upon morning callers, sat for a time without speaking to anyone until soon the gentlemen went away.

Elizabeth certainly had not been a stranger to Darcy’s changeable moods, having recalled their earlier encounters during their initial acquaintance in Hertfordshire.

Still, she could not help wondering what, if any, influence her decision not to meet with him in privacy had had on his altered behaviour.

That was then. Once he had made a beginning, not a day went by, barring unpleasant weather, that he did not happen along the secluded path.

It all was arranged so amiably Elizabeth could hardly complain of any sort of impropriety.

None of the heated dialogue, the soul piercing looks, or the stirring touch of his hands had a part to play in their exchanges.

Rather their conversations tended towards innocuous, even mundane subjects.

Darcy inquired of her thoughts of Kent, her attachment to Hertfordshire, her parents, her sisters, and even the conditions of the roads, and expenses of travelling.

They exchanged accounts of their favourite authors, and of music and art.

Darcy was most animated when he spoke of his younger sister, how he adored her, and how he would welcome a chance to introduce Elizabeth to her.

On one morning, Darcy and Elizabeth strolled along, engaged in a contest of wills. Suffering no success whatsoever in persuading Elizabeth to join him for an early morning horseback ride—solely the two of them—on the following day, Darcy asked, “Has anyone ever told you just how stubborn you are?”

His tone conveyed a mixture of disappointment and teasing, and thus Elizabeth responded in kind.

“You have met my mother, sir. ‘Foolish, headstrong girl.’ Indeed, those words have been her constant companions, or so I have been told, since the day I was born. It seems I was in no hurry to make my entrance into the world,” Elizabeth exclaimed before remembering herself.

“Headstrong indeed—but foolish, I think not,” Darcy declared. “You are by far one of the most intelligent women I know.”

“I assure you that there are those who would disagree with you. My father, for one, would vigorously argue otherwise.”

“What evidence would he put forth in defence of such a stance?” Darcy asked, his voice disbelieving.