Page 13 of Mistress of Pemberley

During her walks through the park, Elizabeth unexpectedly crossed paths with Mr Darcy several times. Despite her attempts to avoid him, her efforts were in vain. She even took care to inform him which parts of the park were her favourite, hoping that he would understand and stay away, but it proved to be useless.

These encounters happened not just once but three times. It seemed as though Mr Darcy deliberately walked the park to meet her. Or perhaps it is a self-imposed punishment , she pondered, more amused than annoyed, as their meetings consisted of brief formal enquiries followed by awkward silences and hasty departures.

But she, too, had noticed which paths were favoured by Mr Darcy. He was drawn to open spaces devoid of trees and dense vegetation, preferring to admire the park in its splendour waking up to life with delicate shades of green and the first flowers of the season. Aware of this, Elizabeth strolled away from the places where she might chance upon him.

As she walked, reading her latest letter from Jane, her thoughts dwelling on passages that clearly showed her sister’s profound sadness, she unexpectedly found herself not in Mr Darcy’s company this time but in the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Quickly putting away her letter and forcing a smile, she greeted him, saying, “I did not know that you ever walked this way, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“I have been making my tour of the park,” he replied, “and I had planned to end it with a visit to the Parsonage. Do you intend to go much farther?”

“No,” she replied. “I should have turned in a moment.”

And so, they continued together, back towards the Parsonage.

“Will you truly be leaving Kent this Saturday?” she asked.

“Yes, unless Darcy decides otherwise. I am at his disposal—he arranges matters as he pleases.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth pondered. “Mr Darcy seems to relish his power of choice. I can think of few who derive as much pleasure from doing as they please as he does.”

“He does enjoy having his own way,” the colonel admitted. “As do we all. However, his means of achieving it far exceeds that of many, for he is wealthy while others are not. I speak from experience, as a younger son must grow accustomed to self-denial and dependency.”

“In my opinion,” Elizabeth countered, “a younger son of an earl can scarcely claim familiarity with either. Honestly, what experience have you had with self-denial and dependence? When has a lack of funds ever hindered you from pursuing your desires or procuring whatever you wished for?”

“These are good questions,” the colonel conceded. “I cannot claim to have suffered many hardships in that regard. However, I may experience a shortage of funds in matters of greater consequence. Younger sons are not always free to marry as they wish.”

Elizabeth was surprised by his sincerity. “So they favour women of fortune?”

“Perhaps. Unfortunately, our habits of expense make us too dependent,” the colonel explained, “and few of my rank can afford to marry without some financial consideration.”

“That happens to most ladies, compelled by circumstances and familial expectations to marry for a secure future,” Elizabeth commented. “Love is rarely discussed. Even my dear father, who has always encouraged us to follow our hearts in marriage, is now taking back his promises and has lately told me to seek a man instead of fall in love—” She stopped abruptly with a wry smile, prompting the colonel to scrutinise her as though searching for hidden meaning in her words.

“I must admit,” he remarked, “that I find your father’s counsel rather sound. Falling in love can often be a blind occurrence that neglects a person’s inner qualities or flaws in favour of superficial beauty or talents.”

Elizabeth returned his gaze with curiosity. “I am surprised that a gentleman your age would approve of my father’s notions.”

“I sustain any notion that makes sense and holds merit,” the colonel asserted. “Some men, for instance, may find it difficult to inspire instant affection. This may occur for various reasons that are of little importance. I might even venture to say that such men often reveal their flaws at the outset, inadvertently overshadowing their finer qualities.”

Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering whether he was speaking of Mr Darcy. And if so, why would he share such sentiments with her, unless…

“Consider my cousin,” the colonel continued. “He is often perceived as excessively serious, and some may mistake his reserved demeanour for aloofness.”

Elizabeth could not suppress a sarcastic smile, which the colonel observed. Undeterred, he continued in the same wistful tone. “I admit it can be aloofness sometimes, but tell me of, or better show me, a person free of faults. Is it not better to know from the beginning the faults of someone and discover later the qualities that are not evident but essential, instead of a blind attraction that often leads to overlooking truly profound faults until it is too late?”

“So your cousin is full of concealed qualities?”

“I did not say full… I said he possesses important qualities that make his aloofness and pride fade.”

“Such as?” Elizabeth was intrigued; her opinion of Mr Darcy was somewhat different.

“Such as a total devotion to his family, generosity, impetuosity—”

“Impetuosity?” Elizabeth asked and laughed lightly. Mr Darcy appeared to her as far from impetuosity as a wary fox.

“Would courage be better?” the colonel asked in the same playful tone, yet Elizabeth could see he meant what he said.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied. She was tempted to add ‘dullness’, but decorum restrained her from speaking unkindly of a man the colonel clearly held in high regard.

Furthermore, she could not deny that she had not found him dull when they first met in Hertfordshire. The enigma surrounding Mr Darcy’s behaviour and the colonel’s peculiar praise left her utterly confounded.

“Darcy is also a great friend, looking after Bingley in that area where he seems to have a genuine weakness—with the ladies,” the colonel remarked. “From what Darcy confided during our journey here, I believe that Bingley owes him a considerable debt. However, I cannot be certain he was the individual in question. It was all conjecture on my part.”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth pressed.

“It is a matter that Darcy would not wish to divulge entirely,” the colonel explained, “for should it become known to the lady’s family, it would undoubtedly prove unpleasant.”

“You may trust in my discretion,” Elizabeth assured him.

“I have little reason to assume it was Bingley. It could have been another friend. In any case, Darcy told me that he congratulated himself on saving a friend from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage without divulging names or specific details. I surmised it was Bingley due to his propensity to find himself entangled in such affairs and from knowing they had been together last autumn.”

“Did Mr Darcy provide any reason for his intervention or how he achieved such a rescue?” Elizabeth asked.

“He told me about a calculated lady in search of money and not love,” the colonel said using the terms of their conversation. “Yet I do not know the means he employed,” he continued, a faint smile gracing his lips. “He only related to me what I have just told you.”

Elizabeth fell silent, her heart swelling with indignation. After observing her, the colonel asked why she appeared so lost in thought.

“Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Meryton is a small town.”

“So, you know the story?”

“Let us say that I know the story from the other side…and you can imagine it appears very different.” Elizabeth spoke with such vehemence that the colonel looked away.

“Then who is the lady?” he asked, disturbed.

But she had no time or wish to respond, for Charlotte and Maria emerged from the Parsonage, calling to her. She excused herself, hastening into the house with a quick farewell, leaving the colonel standing alone in the road, slightly disconcerted by the abrupt interruption to their pleasant walk. He even felt that Miss Bennet had listened intently to how he had described Darcy.

∞∞∞

It took the colonel another five minutes and several hundred yards of brisk walking to understand Miss Bennet’s behaviour and the gravity of his blunder, and despair washed over him. The lady had four sisters, and her anger was justified only if she knew well who the lady was. His mistake was inexcusable. He rushed to find Georgiana, fervently hoping to catch her alone, and indeed, she was in the library, writing letters.

“What has happened?” she exclaimed, standing up in haste, seeing her cousin’s distressed face.

“I have made a colossal blunder, a terrible mistake,” the colonel confessed. “I finally had the opportunity to walk with Miss Bennet, and everything proceeded as planned. Then, the idiot that I am, I told her that Darcy had saved a friend, perhaps even Mr Bingley, from an ill-fated marriage. I think the lady is one of Miss Bennet’s sisters.”

“Oh, dear God!” poor Georgiana gasped, and she let herself fall back into her chair, comprehending the seriousness of the situation.

“I am such an idiot. I have ruined everything,” the colonel lamented.

Georgiana sighed as tears began to stream down her cheeks while she whispered, “What misfortune to encounter her now—”

“What do you mean?” the colonel asked.

“We went upstairs together after breakfast, and Fitzwilliam seemed somewhat more at ease for the first time since we arrived. He accompanied me to my room, and there, in a tone that was almost cheerful, he said he might have some news for us this evening—”

“No!” the colonel cried in anguish, for he had seen Elizabeth’s face just before they parted, and it bore only anger and frustration. “Do you think I should tell him what I unwittingly revealed?”

“I believe it might be best to tell him,” his cousin said.

With a deep sense of foreboding, the colonel approached Darcy’s rooms, only to be told by his valet that he had gone out. After grappling with his remorse alone for a while, he decided it would be best to go after his cousin and tell him what had happened; seeing Miss Bennet without knowing what had transpired could end in disaster. He looked desperately around the park, but there was no sign of Darcy. He went to the stables, hoping that he had taken his horse for a ride, but he was told his cousin had already departed on foot.

“I saw Mr Darcy walking in the direction of Hunsford,” a young groom told him, and the colonel froze because the Parsonage was in that direction. His cousin had no reason to walk to the village.

Darcy must have gone to the Parsonage, and as they intended to leave Kent soon, it could be his last chance to ask Miss Bennet for her hand.The colonel mused in despair that the proposal would occur immediately after his blunder.

He ran to the Parsonage, hoping to arrive in time and save what could still be saved, but as he approached, he saw his cousin leaving the house, and the sight made him sick with worry. Darcy was broken, and indeed, meeting his cousin, he murmured, “She said no!” and walked off in haste, leaving the colonel profoundly concerned. Then Darcy stopped, and turning back, he spoke roughly. “Please, tell nobody! And I mean nobody!”

The colonel nodded but knew it was impossible to keep such a secret from Georgiana, who knew her brother too well.