Page 42 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elizabeth sat in Charlotte’s drawing room, contentedly observing the view from the front window.

It overlooked the garden and the lane that led to Rosings Park.

Beyond the lane, woods and walking paths stretched into the distance.

She had explored one of those trails earlier that morning and had come upon a bluebell meadow.

The dismal mood that had clouded the previous day had lifted, and now she conversed pleasantly with her friend.

Maria and Sir William had gone to the village, and Mr. Collins was engaged in a meeting with Lady Catherine, thus the parsonage enjoyed a rare peace.

Their relative solitude was broken by Mr. Collins’s abrupt entrance. He burst into the room, gasping for breath. “My dear Charlotte, you must make haste! We are to have callers in but a moment. I rushed back as quickly as I could, for it would not do to welcome such exalted guests into our—”

“Mr. Collins,” Charlotte interrupted, speaking firmly, yet kindly.

“Pray compose yourself. We can scarcely understand you. Why do you not sit and tell us who is expected?” She did not look up from her work, nor did she reveal any outward sign of exasperation.

Her calm demeanor had its desired effect, and her husband soon gathered himself and replied in a more measured tone.

“Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are at Rosings Park. Their early arrival has both pleased and vexed Lady Catherine. The gentlemen informed me of their intention to call this morning as I quitted the manor.” He slowly sank into the nearest chair.

“I am very sorry, my dear—I allowed my excitement to overcome me. Never did I imagine such condescension!”

“Mr. Darcy is already acquainted with all the current residents of the parsonage,” his wife reminded him in the same calm tone.

“It is only proper that he should call. His cousin likely accompanies him in search of diversion.” She set aside her work basket and offered Mr. Collins a pleased smile.

“I thank you for alerting us to their imminent arrival so I might call for tea.” Rising, she briefly pressed his hand.

“Why do you not look over your sermon and determine whether Lady Catherine’s advice may be applied? ”

Mr. Collins nodded, visibly more relaxed than he had been but moments earlier. “Yes, very good. I shall join you when the gentlemen arrive. Perhaps Maria and Sir William will have returned by then.” He ambled off, and once he had gone, Elizabeth turned to her friend.

“Brava, Charlotte. ’Tis a fine match you have made. I congratulate you.” She grinned and gave a conspiratorial wink.

“My husband is an excitable man—a curious mixture of several personalities familiar to us. At times, I see my father, my mother, or even Lydia in his demeanor. Yet he is a wonderful husband. Did you note the flowers on the breakfast table? He picked them for me just this morning.” Charlotte sighed in quiet satisfaction.

“Yes, he bears some interesting traits, but as we grow together, I believe we shall have a pleasing life.”

“A vast deal more than pleasing, I should say. He may not have loved you when he proposed, but it is plain to see that he adores you now. More than that, he respects your guidance. What a rare treasure!” Elizabeth returned her gaze to her embroidery.

Charlotte chuckled. “Do not tell me you now regret not having secured him for Mary!” The two ladies descended into laughter.

When their mirth subsided, Elizabeth wiped a tear from her eye. “Mary has not your temperament. It was not long ago that she looked on us all with condescension and self-importance. I fear she would have brought out the worst in Mr. Collins, rather than the best.”

“Before I go to order tea…Lizzy, we did not expect Mr. Darcy for several weeks. Will you be well? Will the call discompose you?” Charlotte’s genuine concern warmed Elizabeth’s heart.

“I can manage. I may choose to speak with others, but I shall not shrink in his presence.” A knot formed in her stomach, but she struggled to maintain her cheerful demeanor. It would not do to betray weakness.

Her friend nodded and left to see to the tea and biscuits.

Elizabeth tried to concentrate on her embroidery but found the effort futile.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where she watched for the gentlemen.

Before Charlotte returned, she espied their approach—both walking briskly and bearing sticks.

Mr. Darcy was immediately recognizable, accompanied by another gentleman in a blue coat.

Sir William and Maria had, regrettably, not returned, and thus would not be present to serve as a buffer between her and Mr. Darcy. Charlotte reappeared just before the bell rang, and when the gentlemen were shown in, Mr. Collins entered the parlor as well.

“Mr. Darcy, welcome to our home.” Charlotte curtsied, as did Elizabeth, though she avoided looking directly at the guests.

“Mrs. Collins, thank you. Will you allow me to present my cousin, The Honorable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam?” He stepped forward, and Elizabeth glanced up.

He was not a handsome man. In truth, he was quite ordinary in appearance, but his ready smile made his countenance pleasing.

Unlike his cousin’s, his features were smooth and clear.

Not that it signified. Perhaps I look for some likeness to Mr. Darcy, she thought.

Still, she did not turn her gaze upon that gentleman; she did not yet feel equal to it.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Charlotte’s voice drew Elizabeth back to the moment. “You have met Mr. Collins, of course. This is my dear friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, in Hertfordshire. I am afraid my father and sister are in the village. They will be sorry to have missed you.”

“Never fear! My aunt sent me with an invitation for you all to dine after church services. As I understand it, you were all at Rosings just two days ago. Still, she insists you join us on the morrow. I hope it will not disrupt your plans.” Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned.

“If it should, pray tell me, and I shall impart your regrets to Lady Catherine.”

“We shall be pleased to accept,” Charlotte replied. “We have no fixed engagements. Is that not right, Mr. Collins?” Her husband nodded with enthusiasm. Elizabeth could see the effort he exerted to restrain his wayward tongue and silently applauded his success.

After they seated themselves, Elizabeth felt a measure of relief when Charlotte joined her on the settee in silent support.

Mr. Darcy took a chair on her left, and Colonel Fitzwilliam sat to Charlotte’s right.

Mr. Collins occupied the final seat and began conversing with Mr. Darcy as his wife poured the tea, which had just been brought in by a maid.

“How long are you in Kent, Miss Bennet?” Colonel Fitzwilliam addressed her kindly, and Elizabeth angled her body away from Mr. Darcy as she replied.

“Sir William shall return to Hertfordshire in a few days. Miss Lucas and I are to remain for six weeks. My uncle will send his carriage and a servant to retrieve us. After that, I shall go to London, while Miss Lucas returns home.”

She felt Mr. Darcy shift beside her. Part of her wondered why he said nothing; the other part felt relieved that he did not.

Colonel Fitzwilliam continued his inquiries, and before Elizabeth knew it, the call had ended—without a single word exchanged between her and the gentleman seated at her side.

She knew it had been impolite to ignore him, yet she could not bring herself to care.

Besides, he did not lack for conversation.

Mr. Collins did very well entertaining his guest.

The callers stood to take their leave, the others rising with them. As they turned toward the door, Mr. Darcy addressed her. “Do you still walk out in the mornings?” he asked.

Something desperate colored his tone. Elizabeth could not help but meet his gaze. In his eyes, she saw sorrow, remorse, apology, and something more—tenderness. It pierced her heart, and she nodded with effort, swallowing the hard lump that had risen in her throat. I still love him.

He granted her a small smile and departed, following his cousin out the door.

“Well, Lizzy, that went better than I imagined. Mr. Darcy is clearly suffering.”

Mr. Collins, ever alert to speak, responded to his wife’s words. “Mr. Darcy is suffering, my dear? I thought both gentlemen looked very well, indeed. You know, Lady Catherine attributes their early arrival to Mr. Darcy’s growing affection for Miss de Bourgh.”

Charlotte turned a sharp look upon her husband.

“And we have agreed that we shall do nothing to interfere in that matter, have we not?” She shot him a disapproving glance.

“I recall you telling me Mr. Darcy declared he was not engaged to his cousin. The situation is none of our concern.” She folded her arms and arched an expectant brow.

Her husband did not exactly quail, but he nodded, chagrined. “Yes, my dear. I remember. I shall not mention it again.” With that, he excused himself, citing the need to complete his sermon before the afternoon ended.

By either fate or good fortune, Elizabeth did not meet Mr. Darcy on her walk the next day.

It was hardly surprising; the area about the parsonage offered numerous paths, and without a prior arrangement, the chance of encountering someone was slim.

She would have preferred to speak with him before that evening’s dinner, but now the opportunity had passed.

Neither did she see him at church. Colonel Fitzwilliam gave no explanation, offering only a vague hello before hurrying out after his aunt.

Rather than fret, she intended to assist Charlotte with her parish duties and perhaps walk into Hunsford.