Page 12 of It Taught Me to Hope

I f their conversation on the hill did not prove to be a watershed moment, at least it allowed Elizabeth and Darcy to be in each other’s company more often, and with increasing comfort. In this, Georgiana joined them, and if Elizabeth did not suppose it was optimal for a gentleman with courting on his mind to have his sister underfoot, Mr. Darcy appeared to welcome her presence. Elizabeth was no less pleased with it, for she grew to esteem Georgiana in those days, and her attendance often allowed for a smoother exchange of ideas, introducing subjects of conversation that Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy might not have raised themselves.

There still existed between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy a sense of caution, as if neither wished to test the patience of the other. Continued meetings would bring greater ease, so Elizabeth thought little about the remaining issues or lingering discomfort between them.

Where this would all lead was yet unclear, though a casual observer might suspect partiality on the gentleman’s part. This rational and distinct reason for Mr. Darcy’s presence notwithstanding, Elizabeth decided against viewing it as a fait accompli. There may yet be many things that could disrupt their growing ease with each other, and she could not yet say that she welcomed the notion of Mr. Darcy as an overt suitor. With his sudden and unexpected proposal in Kent and her previous perception of them being at odds with each other, this business of considering Mr. Darcy as a suitor was still a curious one. Instead, she tried to regard him as an acquaintance, one with whom she was more comfortable than she had been before.

The one fly in the apothecary’s ointment was the continual, unwelcome, and persistent presence of Mr. Mason. While it had been Elizabeth’s practice to ignore the gentleman, not difficult as he rarely required a response, in those days he increased his level of intrusion on her notice, such that Elizabeth began trying to give him hints of her disinterest. Whether he misunderstood her or ignored her hints Elizabeth could not say, but nothing she said would induce him to desist. Over time, she avoided places and locations where she knew he would press his attention upon her, but this still made little difference to him, for he continued to bore her with his presence at every opportunity.

Mr. Mason aside, Elizabeth had little about which to complain, for she had much less time for the loneliness that had beset her in recent years—she was in company with her friends far more often than she had been since Mary left Longbourn for the parsonage. This did not go unnoticed, as evinced by Mary’s comments whenever they were together, and other observations from her friends.

“Our Lizzy appears to have made a conquest,” said Charlotte one day when they were visiting Penelope in Meryton’s parsonage.

“Oh, aye, for I heard much of it,” replied Penelope, not bothering to hide her glee at Elizabeth’s embarrassment. “I even saw Lizzy and Mr. Darcy a time or two in company, and what I saw has not disappointed me at all.”

“I am certain that I have no notion of what you speak,” replied Elizabeth, maintaining her composure in the face of their teasing. “Of late, I have been in Mr. Darcy’s company often, but his sister always attends us.”

“Do you suppose that is a protest against what we can all see?” asked Penelope.

“Perhaps it is,” replied Charlotte, enjoying herself. “To me, it shows nothing more than Miss Darcy’s eagerness to welcome Elizabeth as a sister.

“Take care, Jenny,” said Charlotte to her daughter; Jenny was on the floor playing with little David Scott, who was just old enough to sit up. “He is not a doll with whom you may play.”

“Yes, Mama,” said Jenny, holding a block out to David, who swiped at it, grasping it on his third attempt in one chubby fist.

The young master of the parsonage then stuffed it in his mouth as most babies are wont to do, to which Jenny tsked and tempted him with another block, trying to show him how to stack them. The child seemed to think this was great fun, for the block came out of his mouth, he lost hold of it, and it hit the rest of the blocks, toppling the tower Jenny was making. A childish giggle escaped his mouth as he waved his hands back and forth, while Jenny retrieved the blocks and began to build again.

“You should believe me, for it is the truth,” said Elizabeth, seizing the lapse in Charlotte’s attention to press her point. “On the surface, there appears to be no other reason for Mr. Darcy’s return, but he has shown me little of his purpose. I shall not deny his interest may become clear, but for the moment I have no notion of it.”

Charlotte sighed, though the twinkle in her eyes belied any notion of regret. “Then I suppose I shall not live with you at Longbourn, for I know how this matter with Mr. Darcy will turn out.”

“Is Lizzy still pestering you about that?” asked Penelope with interest.

“She had nigh convinced me before Mr. Darcy came. Now that Lizzy will go to the north, I must suppose it is impossible.”

“Do not be silly, Charlotte,” remonstrated Elizabeth. “If you recall, my invitation is open any time you wish. You could move into Longbourn with me tomorrow and I would welcome you with open arms.”

“You suggest I am silly,” retorted Charlotte. “Recall, however, that I was correct about Mr. Darcy’s interest in you before, and I cannot imagine my perception is mistaken now.”

Elizabeth glared at her friend, for Charlotte was speaking out of turn as Elizabeth had never betrayed this information to Penelope. Given what Charlotte had revealed, Penelope regarded her, curiosity warring with her innate sense of good behavior that warned her not to pry. At least Charlotte had the good grace to appear abashed, and when she saw it, Elizabeth essayed to explain.

“No one other than Jane and our verbose friend here knows; before today I might have thought Charlotte would guard a secret with her life.”

“Please be assured that I will not breathe a word of it to anyone,” said Penelope.

“When I was in Kent visiting Charlotte, Mr. Darcy made his interest in me clear. I rebuffed him and he departed from his aunt’s house. I have not seen him since.”

Though it was a miniscule part of the truth, Penelope did not think to question her further, for her eyes widened and her lips pursed in wonder.

“From what I remember of Mr. Darcy’s behavior, that is no less than a shock. Given this, I am curious you do not know exactly why the gentleman has appeared now. It seems no less than obvious.”

“Perhaps it appears that way,” said Elizabeth, confining herself to a simple response. “Yet I shall not consider it settled until the gentleman gives me some indication of his regard, and he has not done so yet.”

“You are considering it?” Penelope was perhaps more shocked than she had been before.

“I consider nothing, as there is nothing to consider at the moment.”

“That is where I disagree with you,” supplied Charlotte.

“I must fall on Charlotte’s side,” added Penelope. “When you ponder his behavior when he was here and especially his slight to you, Lizzy, that you have not already told him to leave you be is no less than astonishing.”

Elizabeth shifted in her chair, annoyed with Charlotte for putting her in this position.

“While in Kent, I observed Mr. Darcy and learned more about him. My opinion of him has improved, and Mr. Wickham’s charges against him proved false in a most spectacular fashion. While there remain some matters between us, our relations are not so poor as they were before.”

Charlotte and Penelope exchanged a glance carrying a wealth of meaning, but to Elizabeth’s relief neither spoke again on the subject. As they were her closest friends still in the neighborhood, Elizabeth knew she could speak to them of anything and they would not judge, and Charlotte’s incautious statement aside, they would not carry tales to others. The remaining ladies near Meryton Elizabeth counted as friends, though not on the same level, or mere acquaintances, and she would endure no such improper talk from them.

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D ARCY’S EXPERIENCES with the gentlemen of Meryton were similar in some ways to Elizabeth’s, though different. Gentlemen, by their very nature, acted with camaraderie, not straying as deep into the sort of conversation ladies preferred unless they were close friends of some duration. As Darcy was an outsider, yet known to most of them, the ties of acquaintance and affection were not so profound as those Elizabeth enjoyed, rendering him all but immune to the questioning she endured from her friends.

As a group, the gentlemen confirmed the opinion Darcy had formed of them during his previous stay in some ways and disproved it in others. They were, he found, concerned with crop prices, rotations, drainage, and other subjects pertinent to the successful operation of an estate, seasoned with such topics as hunting and the news of the day. As with most groups of men, some were tolerable, some objectionable, some clever, some rather dimwitted, and all were products of the small community in which they had lived all their lives. Darcy could not summon much interest in them, for he had little in common with them other than their mutual status as gentlemen, but he also knew no harm of them. His focus was on Miss Bennet, but Darcy allowed himself to mingle with the other gentlemen, knowing she would approve of such overtures.

While some, including Mason, intruded on his senses more often than he wished, Darcy remained focused on Miss Bennet whenever he could. Knowing of her propensity to enjoy nature, he often took advantage of this and her new status that accompanied an ability to ride, proposing excursions he, Miss Bennet, and his sister could all enjoy. One such occasion occurred a little more than a week after Darcy encountered Miss Bennet at the hill overlooking Longbourn.

“Perhaps we should picnic there,” said Miss Bennet after Darcy commented about the fine view they had seen at the hill. “The grass under the tree would be a perfect location for such an activity.”

“Oh yes, let us do so,” said Georgiana, her eagerness a match for Miss Bennet’s. “I have not picnicked since last summer.”

So, on the appointed day, Darcy and Georgiana rode onto Longbourn’s drive, Mr. Darcy on a tall, dappled stallion, Georgiana on a midnight black mare. When Miss Bennet mounted her mare, they cantered away to the north. The day was fine, a slight breath of wind marring what was otherwise a clear, glorious day. When they reached the hill, they did as Darcy and Miss Bennet had done on that previous occasion, picketing their horses on springy turf near the road where they could graze to their hearts’ content, and climbed the hill. At the top, Miss Bennet and Georgiana spread out blankets while Darcy opened the basket they brought from Breckonridge, and they sat down to enjoy each other’s company and partake in their meal.

For a time, they concentrated on the food, eating finger sandwiches, fruits, and crispy salads produced by the kitchen at Breckonridge, their conversation light and of little importance. Darcy did his best to contribute to it as he could, but he thought that was a miserable failure given the number of times he started and realized he had been silent for longer than he thought. It was not the impression he wished to give her, but he found himself helpless, for Miss Bennet was so alluring that morning that Darcy thought he might burst from the need to kiss her senseless.

At twenty, Miss Bennet had been a pretty and vivacious woman, a magnet to attract any man with the wit to understand her appeal. At six and twenty, she had matured into a confident and capable woman, seasoned by life’s inevitable cares, yet keeping her sunny outlook and youthful vigor. Had Darcy behaved better when he had first made her acquaintance and proposed to her, he could only wonder at the bliss he might have enjoyed in his life these past six years instead of his somber, regretful existence.

At the same time, however, Darcy wondered how matters might have proceeded had he thought of her feelings and made himself a man worthy of pleasing a desirable woman. The thought pierced him, for he had long confessed to thinking only of the happiness she would bring to his life. Part of giving of oneself, of pleasing another was the duty to make them happy rather than thinking only of oneself. Now that Darcy was in her presence again, the desire to induce her to approve of him such that she might find equal happiness in marriage was growing on his mind. Perhaps that was the path to further maturity, to improving oneself, the desire to set another’s wishes and happiness before one’s own. In that, Darcy thought he was coming to understand what it meant to live one’s life for another. It was a lesson from his parents he had neglected, for Robert and Anne Darcy had been devoted to each other. Yet it was better to learn the lesson late rather than never, as the saying went.

After a time, Darcy took more interest in the conversation, as Miss Bennet lapsed into her usual teasing.

“Georgiana my friend,” said she, “I must own that I am quite put out with you.”

“Is that so?” asked Georgiana, catching something of Miss Bennet’s playful tone. “Perhaps you should tell me why, so that I may correct whatever has prompted your anger.”

“Why, that I have before me a young woman so obviously in love with her fiancé, yet she has said nothing of him!”

As Darcy had expected she might, Georgiana’s expression became distant, her eyes unfocused, and Darcy thought she was perilously near to sighing. Miss Bennet saw the same, for she could not stifle a snicker, though Darcy thought her inclination had been to burst into laughter. Georgiana saw this too, for she shifted her attention back to Miss Bennet, fixing her with a haughty look.

“I shall have you know you would react the same way if your fiancé were the most perfect man alive.”

Darcy could not resist saying: “I thought I was the most perfect man alive.”

Georgiana and Miss Bennet exchanged glances and this time they allowed their mirth free rein, Darcy looking on, amused at his success in provoking them. Given what he knew of her initial opinion of him, including the exchange at Netherfield and Miss Bingley’s contention that Darcy was a man without fault, he thought Miss Bennet might have thought him capable of saying that with no hint of irony. The notion they had grown close enough to laugh at such things was evidence of their growing comfort, perhaps all that Darcy could hope for at that early stage.

“No, William,” said Georgiana, still chuckling, “I do not consider you a perfect man, though you are my beloved brother. Perhaps someone else will think that of you in time, but there is much you must do before you reach that status in Elizabeth’s eyes.”

“I shall have you know,” retorted Miss Bennet, “that I did not believe Miss Bingley when she proclaimed your brother a man without fault, nor would I believe it if he professed it himself.”

“Should you ever become enamored with him,” said Georgiana, “you will understand. For that matter, it need not be my brother who provokes your devotion.”

Darcy was a little pained at the notion, but Miss Bennet paid him no heed. “It is amusing to hear you say it, but I think we strayed a little from the original topic. Will you not speak of your beloved?”

“I have no objection. Andrew is a fine man, perhaps William’s height or a little shorter, possessing wavy blond hair and blue eyes. He is three or four years William’s junior, meaning he is about eight years my senior, but when I speak with him, I feel like I have known him my entire life. Our engagement was to end in the summer when we were to marry, but Andrew’s business in the West Indies will keep him away from England’s shores until at least then; I hope we shall marry in the autumn instead.”

“Does he live near Mr. Darcy’s estate?” asked Miss Bennet.

“Not near, but not far either. His estate is in Leicestershire, close enough that a journey between Pemberley and Rowan Downs consumes no more than a day.”

“That is near enough to visit as often as you like,” agreed Miss Bennet. She turned to Darcy. “Were you acquainted with him before he courted your sister?”

“I was, though not well,” replied Darcy. “Talbot is younger than I am, enough that our time in university did not overlap. We have several common acquaintances, but I did not know him well.”

“Well, this has upset all my expectations of you.” Miss Bennet offered an impish smile. “I would never have expected to learn the current members of the Darcy family were so sentimental.”

“No doubt you thought we married for dynastic reasons alone.”

“Is that not the custom among higher levels of society?”

“For many, it is. If you recall my aunt’s thoughts on the matter, I cannot wonder that you expected that of us.”

Miss Bennet laughed. “Yes, Lady Catherine was a more faithful representation of high society. Then again, as I already informed you, I suspected from the beginning that you were not interested in obliging your aunt.”

“Heavens no!” exclaimed Georgiana. “I loved Anne, but she never would have made William happy.”

“The Darcys, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, “have long been one of the most unfashionable fashionable families in England. While we boast more connections to prominent families, including the nobility, than we can recall, we have never cared much to follow society’s strictures when our hearts dictated otherwise. That is why there are as many brides of more modest circumstances in our history as those of prominence, and we never cared to gain a title that so many others are desperate to acquire.”

Miss Bennet considered this and responded with a slow nod. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense, Mr. Darcy. After all, you proposed to me when I had nothing, the... sentiments you expressed on the occasion notwithstanding.”

Had any woman of high society made such an observation to him, it would have contained a hidden barb. Miss Bennet, however, gave no indication of accusation, for she appeared interested in his response. That Georgiana was no less interested—though she knew the history herself—was clear in her scrutiny while they waited for him to speak.

“The sentiments I expressed, Miss Bennet, were both clear in my initial words, and misguided in those that followed. Had I considered the matter at all, the absurdity of any such statements would have been evident.”

Darcy paused, wondering if he should give voice to the thought that had popped into his mind. There was no danger in doing so, for Miss Bennet would not misunderstand him at that late date.

“As further evidence of my family’s liberality about their scions’ happiness, there was a time when I had considered the possibility of Georgiana marrying Bingley.”

Georgiana’s head whipped around to him, her slack-jawed stare enough to provoke Darcy to chuckle. Her eyes narrowed when witnessing his mirth, and she huffed with annoyance.

“Then Miss Bingley’s assertions on the subject make sense if you espoused such ambitions for my future.”

“There are several fallacies in your statement, my dear,” replied Darcy. “I had only ever considered the possibility, one that could not have come to fruition unless you and Bingley both wished it, and these ruminations were idle thoughts when you were still a girl. There was no possibility I would ever speak of such things with Miss Bingley, for I knew her character better than you did. Anything she said to you came from her schemes and not from anything she inferred from me.”

“And your reasons for this... most interesting speculation?”

Darcy shrugged. “The episode with Wickham was not long in the past and your spirits were low. I expected you to return to yourself with time and reflection, but at the time I was concerned. Bingley, the excellent fellow that he is, has my trust—I knew he would care for you, though I will note that you were yet too young to consider marriage.”

“And what of Andrew?”

“I have nothing but respect for your future husband Georgiana.”

Georgiana nodded as if satisfied.

“Then my question,” said Miss Bennet, “is what my current circumstances and my greater eligibility mean to you.”

“Nothing at all, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy without hesitation, heartened though he was at her ability to speak about the subject around which they were still dancing.

“No, I suppose not,” replied she, appearing a little easier with the notion. “You proposed to me at Hunsford, knowing that my portion was nonexistent. Given that, my possession of Longbourn must not be a concern.”

“If you prefer,” said Darcy, taking care to ensure she understood he was in earnest, “we may write the marriage articles in such a way as to keep the estate in your hands. Then you may leave it to whomever you choose. The only request I have is that you do not leave it to Mrs. Edwards.”

Darcy grinned and added: “Unless you take the same care to prevent it from falling into Edwards’s hands. I care little for him and would prefer he did not benefit from a future alliance between us.”

Miss Bennet did not disagree with his assessment as her satisfaction proved. “Then we think alike, Mr. Darcy, for I would not wish him to receive it either. It would make life even more difficult for Jane should I leave the estate to her yet beyond her husband’s grasp. In that situation, I would prefer to leave the estate to Mary, for she is the only one among us not married to a gentleman who owns property. My will already designates her son as my heir.”

“Then should we come to such an amicable conclusion, I believe we are in accord.”

Georgiana laughed and fixed her brother with no small measure of sternness. “Only you, Brother, would speak so laconically as to refer to marriage to the woman for whom you harbor deep affection, by your own admission, as an amicable conclusion.”

“It is rather prosaic,” said Miss Bennet.

What she thought of it was not apparent, though Darcy did not think of her as anything other than curious about the prospect. As it was so much better than angry refusals and pointed denunciations, he thought he was making progress.

“At present,” replied Darcy, ensuring she understood his meaning, “it is best to keep our connection to such general terms. For the moment, I have no interest in departing Hertfordshire; there is plenty of time to take matters at a leisurely pace.”

“Is that so?” asked she, arching a brow. “Yet you are a man in your thirties, Mr. Darcy, and I am six and twenty and near to being on the shelf. Is our advanced age not reason for haste?”

“Not when there are so many things in our past that require resolution. Trust me, Miss Bennet—I am more than content with our current situation and have no wish to hasten where there is no reason. We are still young enough that we may proceed with caution yet achieve our happiness and spend many years together, to say nothing of children.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, I must suppose you are correct.”

With that, they left the conversation for other matters of a much lighter and less consequential nature. Eager though he was to gain her good opinion and provoke her to accept his proposal, Darcy found he had spoken nothing more than the truth. Darcy was content.