Page 12 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)
Chapter Seven
The gentlemen from Netherfield called upon Longbourn frequently, much to Jane’s—and Elizabeth’s—delight.
Mrs. Bennet ignored Mr. Darcy in favor of flattering Mr. Bingley.
Her behavior perplexed Elizabeth. It was not like her mother to disregard any man in possession of a large fortune.
Something about Mr. Darcy seemed to displease her, though Elizabeth knew not what.
Rather than dwell on the strangeness of her mother’s conduct, Elizabeth made it her object to be as attentive and kind as she could to the gentleman—only to make amends for Mrs. Bennet’s poor manners, of course.
In truth, she liked Mr. Darcy very much.
His conversation was always stimulating, and his manners beyond reproach.
He tried to converse with Elizabeth’s younger sisters, though with only limited success.
Mary proved the most receptive, though she soon abandoned all discourse for solitary pursuits.
Kitty and Lydia behaved abominably, pulling faces and whispering behind their hands.
It was abundantly clear to all what—or who—was the subject of their mirth.
Mr. Darcy bore it all with admirable composure, still striving to be civil despite their discourtesy.
As it happened—much to the chagrin of Bingley and Darcy—Miss Bingley and the Hursts accompanied the gentlemen after all.
The former kept close to Mr. Darcy whenever possible, though it appeared to Elizabeth that she was torn between restraining her brother’s growing attachment to Jane and maintaining her own imagined claim upon her brother’s friend.
Mrs. Hurst seemed content to follow her sister’s lead and preserved an air of superiority whenever she called.
Her husband usually selected a chair in a distant corner and was content to ignore everyone.
Mr. Darcy appeared to enjoy Mr. Bennet’s company.
He frequently stepped out of the parlor to join her father in his study.
Elizabeth occasionally followed, but more often refrained, suspecting the gentlemen preferred the privacy of their discussion.
She wondered what they spoke of, but she could not learn much from her father who only gave her a cryptic grin whenever she inquired.
Yet, she gathered some insight from the chessboard, whose arrangement shifted each time Mr. Darcy withdrew.
The morning proved gray and overcast. If she wished to avoid the coming rain, her walk must be brief.
She donned her outerwear and set off, fixed upon reaching Oakham Mount and returning without delay.
It had been some time since she had last met Mr. Darcy upon the summit, and she could not deny her hope that he might appear again.
Private discourse was impossible in company.
Elizabeth found their unguarded conversations far more engaging when they could speak without fear of interruption.
There was still much of the gentleman that intrigued her, and she was determined to learn more.
Today the mount was deserted. She barely had time to swallow her disappointment when she espied Mr. Darcy’s horse cantering across the field.
Her heart leaped as she stepped to the edge of the rise, ensuring she might be seen.
He reigned in for but a moment before turning his mount toward her, and within minutes, he arrived.
Dismounting, he secured the reins to an obliging branch, then turned and bowed.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted her, ever courteous. The warmth in his tone pleased her, and when he straightened and smiled, she felt again that strange stirring. He would never be called handsome, yet something enigmatic about him captivated her.
“Good morning, sir!” she returned, offering a curtsy and a smile warm with genuine pleasure. “The sky threatens, and I must curtail my usual walk. Naturally, I came to my favorite spot.”
“I am very pleased to see you here today.” He moved to take a seat on the large oak log.
She joined him as was her custom, and they sat in silence, observing the landscape stretching out before them.
Elizabeth could see smoke rising in the distance, likely from Netherfield’s chimneys.
Something startled a flock of birds in the field; they flew up in a flurry before dispersing.
“Well, sir,” she finally said. “You have now been in Hertfordshire for nearly a month complete. What do you think of our quaint community? I believe Miss Bingley finds it too rustic for her tastes.”
He made a face, and she laughed.
“I have ever felt more welcome in the country than in town,” he replied, rubbing his hands along his thighs in a distracted fashion. “The posturing and false friendships are wearisome.”
“I can readily believe them to be so,” Elizabeth concurred. “I hope our company is agreeable enough that you remain for some time. Mr. Bingley, I am sure, will be pleased to have you.”
He smiled, though he did not look directly at her. Mr. Darcy’s gaze was distant, and a pleasant smile played about his lips.
“I have no plans to depart at present,” he said. “Though I may need to go to London and retrieve my sister at some point. She is with my aunt and uncle now—I am attempting to persuade her to join me, but the thought of strangers deters her.”
Elizabeth kicked at the ground in front of her.
“Yes, Mary is much the same. You may have noticed how she retreats soon after guests arrive. Even those familiar to her are not often favored with her company. And Mama is no help. She puts such stock in appearances, and Mary is, unfortunately, the least well-favored of the Bennet sisters.”
“There is nothing wrong with your sister’s appearance.” Mr. Darcy sounded almost affronted on Mary’s behalf, and it warmed Elizabeth’s heart.
“Yes, I know. My father has tried his best to impress upon our minds the importance of seeking an intellectual match—and a gentleman of good character.” She left it unsaid that he had erred in choosing based on outward beauty alone when he courted her mother.
“Mary tries very hard to be seen and heard. She goes about it in all the wrong ways and will not listen to correction. She will learn someday, I hope.”
Mr. Darcy rubbed his cheek. Elizabeth noted the stubble along his chin and wondered whether he had ridden out before permitting his valet to shave him.
An absurd longing seized her—to touch his cheek and feel the roughness of his scruff beneath her fingertips.
Her throat grew suddenly dry, and she swallowed, glancing away lest she yield to the impulse.
“Bingley, Hurst, and I are to dine with the officers.” Mr. Darcy’s change of subject was sudden but not unwelcome. “My cousin has bid me to convey his regards to Colonel Forster. They served as comrades-in-arms once.”
“Indeed? I had no notion our local militia colonel had seen battle.” Elizabeth thought most militiamen had never seen true combat; it seemed she had been mistaken.
“Yes. They were both at the Battle of Corunna. My cousin saved the colonel’s life, though not before being wounded himself. Colonel Forster can no longer serve in the regulars, but his experience remains valuable to the Crown, and he was therefore granted command of the —shire militia.”
Elizabeth was impressed. Her father had read to her of the battle, which had taken place in 1809 in a coastal city in northern Spain.
There had been nearly one thousand casualties, including the dead, wounded, and captured.
British forces had since rallied in their efforts to thwart the Little Corsican.
“I am glad your cousin was not lost,” Elizabeth murmured.
“I thank you.” He shifted slightly, scuffing the toe of his boot against the earth. “My aunt was beside herself with worry when we received no word of him. He is now stationed at the Home Office. Lady Matlock is determined he should marry, so he may sell his commission.”
“I wish your aunt success in her endeavor.” She smiled, though he did not meet her gaze. “And I hope you enjoy your time with the officers.”
He chuckled. “Yes, it may prove to be an interesting afternoon. Bingley can befriend anyone. Do I sound too bitter if I confess I suspect I shall end up in a corner, alone and entirely unnoticed?”
Her heart ached for him. She reached out and lightly touched the top of his hand before withdrawing. “There is no shame in acknowledging what may be,” she said gently. “Perhaps you shall be proven wrong?”
“An idle fancy, I think, Miss Elizabeth. Never fear—I came to terms with my lot in life long ago. Cruel words no longer wound as they once did.”
She frowned. “You ought not speak so meanly of yourself. I value your friendship and look forward to our conversations.”
He turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. No matter his features, his eyes were entrancing—dark and warm, with a mysterious depth that drew her in. They stirred something within her, though she could neither name the feeling nor fully understand it.
“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for reminding me of my mother’s lessons. I know my worth—I assure you. But there are days when my burdens feel heavier than others.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Allow me to assist you. I must return to Netherfield.”
She accepted his hand and rose to her feet.
“I must go as well. ’Tis nearly time for breakfast, and my father will miss me.
” She paused, then lifted her brow with a playful smile.
“He relies on my ‘good sense’ to shield him from my silly sisters.” She released his hand—which she only then realized she had held far too long—and stepped back. “Until we meet again, Mr. Darcy.”
He inclined his head and turned away. Elizabeth did the same, skipping lightly down the path and out of sight. She did not see the gentleman pause and glance back, watching until she disappeared from view.