Page 12

CHAPTER 12

Early Morning Encounter

2 OCTOBER 1811

R ising early the next morning, Darcy set out on a solitary ride.

The evening before had been interminable, and he could not help but compare it to the evening a few weeks ago that he had spent at Longbourn.

That evening had been lively, and the conversation had been engaging and interesting.

Last night, Miss Bingley dominated the conversation, allowing little opportunity for anyone else to contribute.

Much of the meal was spent with her complaining—about the house, the supposedly backward neighbours (most of whom she had yet to meet), and anything else she deemed beneath her.

She repeatedly compared everything to Pemberley—or rather, to the grandiose version of it she had conjured in her imagination.

Darcy did, indeed, love his home, but anyone listening solely to Miss Bingley might mistake it for a palace on par with the Palace of Versailles, so lavish and majestic were her descriptions.

He could barely reconcile her descriptions of it with the manor he had grown up in, and he wondered exactly where she obtained many of her ideas .

“Oh, Charles, I truly do not understand how you can be content in such an out-of-the-way place,” Miss Bingley had said, her nose wrinkling as she glanced around the dining room.

“The furnishings are…quaint, I suppose, and the company is charming in its rustic way, but it is nothing to Pemberley. The drawing room there is nearly twice the size of this entire floor, and Mrs. Reynolds is such a treasure—so efficient, so refined. I cannot imagine her refusing to do as the mistress orders and keeping her position. Why did you not take a house nearer to Pemberley, Charles? Netherfield is so lacking in comparison.”

She turned to Darcy with a simpering smile.

“Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy? There is truly no comparison between the society here and that of Derbyshire. One must make so many allowances for country manners in a place such as this.”

“Pemberley is in the country and much farther from London,” Darcy replied, his tone blank, as was his expression.

“In fact, when your brother was considering leasing this estate, its proximity to town was one of the advantages. I believe that was at your request. London is merely half a day’s journey.”

“Regardless,” Miss Bingley continued, once again glossing over information that did not agree with her opinion, “Netherfield is nothing to Pemberley.”

“So you have said,” came Darcy’s dry reply.

Miss Bingley carried on in this manner for the entirety of the meal and into the evening.

Hurst, as usual, contributed little to the conversation beyond the occasional grunt of agreement, and Mrs. Hurst’s rare remarks served only to echo her sister’s opinions.

Neither Darcy nor Bingley managed to say much; whenever Bingley attempted to speak, Miss Bingley would talk over him, and whenever she directed a question to Darcy, he offered only brief, noncommittal replies, carefully avoiding any statement that might suggest agreement .

Darcy had excused himself as early as he could manage, claiming that he was tired from his journey that day.

Miss Bingley pouted when he left the drawing room but could say little to dissuade him from his objective.

As he rode through the countryside, Darcy could not help but think about Elizabeth Bennet.

Her image had remained vivid in his thoughts ever since he had made her acquaintance that day in the fields.

He knew he ought not dwell on thoughts of her, and yet, he did not truly wish to forget her.

He tried telling himself he was only curious, intrigued by such a unique lady.

However, he kept replaying his father’s words from all those years ago, and his mind refused to let the memory of her go.

He knew that he needed to marry soon—he had heard it from his relatives with growing frequency—but he had thought to wait until he was at least thirty before he truly considered it.

Nonetheless, Elizabeth was unlike any woman he had ever known.

The ladies in town—particularly those pushed towards him by his uncle—were often beautiful, well-mannered, and completely uninspiring.

Their conversation was composed of flattery, fashion, and carefully curated opinions that matched whatever man they were attempting to ensnare.

In contrast, Elizabeth spoke her mind with intelligence and wit.

She challenged him, surprised him.

She made him think. She unsettled him, not in a way he wished to avoid, but in a way that left him wanting more.

Although his father had told him that a bride need not bring great wealth or grand connections to be worthy of marriage, making such a choice would still be far from simple.

If he were to choose to marry a woman like Elizabeth Bennet, it would not be the memory of his parents that haunted him.

No, it would be the very present voices of his Fitzwilliam relatives that would make themselves heard, loudly and frequently.

Lady Catherine would be the most vocal.

She had long determined that he would marry her daughter and spoke of it as though it were already arranged.

Despite him knowing otherwise, Lady Catherine attempted to claim his own mother had desired the match, but his father had assured him this was not so.

That did not prevent his aunt from vociferously expressing her opinion on the matter; he had been equally frank in his refusal.

That battle had been tiresome enough.

However, the greater resistance would come from his uncle, the Earl of Matlock.

The more he thought about it, the more his uncle’s threats troubled him.

In particular, the contrast between the evening in company with Miss Bingley and the dinner at Longbourn haunted him.

The marriage his uncle expected him to make would mean many evenings like the previous one.

Perhaps it would not have been so terrible if he had not also had the memory of the time spent with Elizabeth Bennet.

The more he thought about it, the more what his uncle threatened troubled him.

The earl had hinted, not very subtly, that he knew about what had happened to Georgiana this summer.

He could think of only two ways the earl could have had this information.

Either his aunt, Lady Matlock, told him, or he was somehow involved in Wickham’s pursuit of Georgiana.

He knew he could trust his aunt; he would not have sought out her help with Georgiana otherwise.

Urging his horse into a brisk canter, Darcy attempted to shake the weight of conflicting thoughts from his mind.

Although Elizabeth did have a modest dowry, her lack of a substantial fortune and her connections to trade would be the real obstacles in persuading society to accept her, at least according to his uncle.

Regardless, these concerns did not dissuade him.

He could not deny the admiration he felt for her, nor the way she lingered in his thoughts like no other woman ever had.

While he had not yet admitted—at least, not aloud—that his feelings for her went beyond mere regard, he could no longer pretend she meant nothing.

With time, perhaps he would discover some flaw that would make him forget her, but somehow, he doubted it.

Unaware that he did so, he was riding towards Longbourn and soon encountered the object of his ruminations.

He was gratified to see a groom following her at a discreet distance, recalling that conversation more than five years ago where he, barely out of school, had taken his father’s friend to task for allowing his daughters out without any concern for their safety.

He chuckled when this thought occurred to him, just as Elizabeth slowed her horse as she neared him.

“What is so amusing so early in the morning?” she called to him.

“Forgive me, but I was simply recalling my conversation with your father several years ago,” Darcy replied.

“I had only recently graduated from Cambridge, and, as you know, I visited Longbourn with my father as we travelled north. When your father mentioned your love of walking out unaccompanied, I was shocked that any father would allow a daughter to walk for miles without any form of protection, and I told him so.”

Elizabeth scowled at him.

“So I have you to blame for curtailing my walks,” she said after a moment.

“Had I known it at the time, I would have been most angry at you. However, I have learnt better now, and I know that my father was…unwise in allowing my sisters and me so much freedom. Although it was frustrating then, and still is occasionally now, I do recognise why such restrictions are necessary.”

“Yes,” Darcy agreed.

“If my father had restricted me in the same way, I would have been upset as well. It is just that women face so many greater dangers than does a man on his own, and while it may not be quite…fair…I suppose it is for the best.”

Although she frowned, Elizabeth knew she could not argue with his logic.

He dismounted and then moved to assist her to do the same, while the groom approached and remained nearby.

“I am pleased to see you again,” she said after he had helped her down from the horse.

Once again, his touch had caused her cheeks to pinken beautifully, and Darcy cherished seeing her affected by him.

He stepped back to allow her space, and for himself to regain his composure.

“Will you return to London soon, or will you be here now for some time?”

“I intend to remain for some weeks, at least until the first of December,” Darcy replied.

“My aunt and sister are set to arrive within a fortnight. My sister is…shy, so I have been trying to introduce you and your sisters to her through my letters. However, I have been unable to tell her much about your younger sisters since they only spoke a little when I was at Longbourn.”

“What if I were to write to her?” Elizabeth asked, sounding sincerely interested.

“I can introduce not only myself, but the rest of my sisters as well. You said she likes to play the piano and that she enjoys reading, did you not? ”

Darcy nodded in agreement, and Elizabeth continued.

“Would you like to include it in your next post? I could write it this afternoon and give it to you this evening.”

She considered it for a moment, and then cried, “Oh, that is a terrible idea, is it not? Perhaps I should have Papa give you the note, for it would be quite the scandal if I were caught handing you a missive, regardless of how innocent it might be.”

Darcy chuckled.

“I had not considered it, but, yes, you probably should not hand me a letter in the open this evening. It would do neither of us any favours to be caught exchanging a note.”

“No,” Elizabeth laughed.

“Mama might be delighted, but Papa would not. He would be rather angry with me, I am afraid.”

Despite his earlier thoughts about his relations, Darcy thought he would not mind at all if he were to become honour bound to this woman.

Like his other thoughts this morning, he pushed it from his mind and attempted to give his attention to the woman before him.

“I intend to call at Longbourn tomorrow afternoon, and you could give me your letter then,” Darcy replied.

“Is that sufficient time for you to write it? My sister is still too young to need to prepare for most social events, but even attending the theatre seems to require hours of preparation. Surely it is more difficult in a household with four daughters.”

Elizabeth laughed at this, her laugh a bright, tinkling sound that made Darcy wish to hear it again and again.

Smiling down at her, he was surprised at her response.

“Oh, it is best I stay well away from Mama on days like today, as long as I can. While Mama is much improved from when you first met her, she still views me as her most troublesome daughter. If she had her way, I would spend the entire day in my room receiving beauty treatments meant to enhance my ‘meagre charms.’ ”

Darcy opened his mouth as if to object, but Elizabeth spoke before he could.

“She does not mean what she says,” she began, her voice softening.

“Or at least, I prefer to believe she does not—and Papa encourages me in that belief.” She lifted her chin slightly and continued in a brighter tone.

“In any case, if I stay out for a few hours, I will avoid the worst of the arguments. Mama will be resting, and Jane and I will have time to prepare in peace. Mary and Catherine are attending tonight as well although they will not be dancing. Papa has allowed them to join us at most entertainments lately, and while Mary could dance, she prefers to keep Catherine company.”

“I recall something being said about that at Longbourn,” Darcy said, reluctantly honouring Elizabeth’s unspoken request not to comment on her mother’s opinion.

“I am looking forward to my dances with you and your sister, and with Miss Lucas. However, I have kept you here long enough, and I daresay we should both return to our breakfasts. The Bingleys are unused to keeping country hours, but my man intended to ensure I had something waiting for me upon my return.”

Elizabeth laughed again at this.

“Yes, you have said before that you are a ‘mere country farmer’ and prefer the country to London. I am looking forward to this evening and to meeting the rest of your party. Good morning,” she replied cheerily, looking around for a rock or something she could use to mount her horse.

Seeing this, Darcy stepped forward once again.

“Allow me,” he murmured, and at her acceptance, he placed his hands around her waist to assist her back onto the horse.

As had happened each time, he felt a jolt of something that seemed to go straight to his heart when he touched her.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice rough, as he stepped away.

“Until this evening.” He remained where he was until she vanished from sight.

Twice, she looked back over her shoulder, and each time, he raised his hand in a quiet farewell, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The groom, to his credit, said nothing though Darcy caught the glint of knowing in the man’s eye.

He would not be surprised if the entire scene was relayed to Bennet with great detail before the servant sought out his breakfast.