Page 10 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Day 11: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
The next day, Darcy followed the pattern he had established the day before. Wickham once more made himself scarce, and amidst Mr. Collins’s interruptions, Miss Elizabeth shared her preference for Shakespeare’s comedies over his tragedies and her dislike of riding due to an unfortunate incident in her childhood involving her father’s horse.
That afternoon he dragged Bingley along various circuitous routes around Netherfield’s lands until it was time to return to Netherfield and prepare for dinner at Mrs. Phillips’s. After a scant greeting to his hostess, Darcy strode over to Miss Elizabeth, who was once more seated in the far corner.
His lips stretched into a broad smile as he bowed to her. Being able to simply sit next to her without pretending to do anything else was something he fully intended to cherish. After exchanging the customary pleasantries and further discussing their literary preferences, Darcy introduced another topic. “I am curious: you do not enjoy riding; do you enjoy any of the common accomplishments?”
Miss Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. “You mean, do I enjoy music, singing, drawing, dancing, the modern languages, and cultivating an air of hauteur?”
“You neglected to include reading in that list,” Darcy pointed out, his lips turning up in remembrance of their conversation at Netherfield.
Miss Elizabeth’s other eyebrow rose to meet its fellow. “I see you recall the conversation—then you know that I enjoy reading. You have heard me play and sing and seen me dance.”
“You do not draw or speak the modern languages?”
“No, I do not draw,” Miss Elizabeth said, her curls bouncing against her cheek as she shook her head. “I have never cared to develop the skill. As far as languages go, my father taught me Latin and Greek. I also speak French, though not fluently, and have a rudimentary knowledge of Italian.”
“Your father taught you Latin and Greek? I would not consider those languages vital for a young lady’s education.”
“My father believes they are vital for everyone’s education. After all, is not our society built upon principles espoused by those such as Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates? Man or woman, we encounter the masters in every area of our lives if we but have the eyes to see.”
Darcy suppressed a wide grin, sensing a debate in the offing. Unfortunately, the card tables were brought out. Though he joined Miss Elizabeth at lottery, he knew attempting such a debate while in Miss Lydia’s presence would be pointless. He would have to wait until tomorrow to return to the topic.
Day 12: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
As Darcy mechanically followed his valet’s instructions, he pondered the prior evening. He had spent much of yesterday in Miss Elizabeth’s company and the only result had been that he wished to spend even more time with her. It had not diminished his interest in the slightest. She had been uniformly enchanting in sunshine and by candlelight.
“Mr. Darcy?” his faithful valet queried, apparently concerned by Darcy’s abstraction and offering a listening ear.
Darcy shook his head as his valet began helping him into his riding boots. “Merely considering the Bennets.” A thought struck him. “Hawkin, what have you learned about them?”
A slight crease appeared on Hawkin’s brow. “Mr. Bennet is regarded as a recluse. He rarely engages in society and is apparently something of a scholar. Mrs. Bennet suffers from a nervous complaint and is quite—invested in marrying off her daughters, presumably due to the entail.”
“Do you know the details of the entail?” Miss Bingley had mentioned that Longbourn was entailed on a distant cousin, but she had been less than kind to the Bennets and often attempted to paint them in the worst light.
“The servants here believe Longbourn is entailed on Mr. Bennet’s distant cousin, Mr. Collins.”
“Mr. Collins?” That toad would receive Longbourn upon Mr. Bennet’s death? The man would likely evict the Bennet ladies the moment it was considered even remotely proper. Not to mention that Lady Catherine would not counsel kindness.
Hawkin nodded. “As he arrived at Longbourn yesterday, you may encounter him during his stay.”
“I see. What else?”
“Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are highly regarded in the community. Both are reputed to care for their tenants and even to do what they might for Netherfield’s tenants. I believe the owner has been somewhat remiss during the intervals where the property has been without an occupant.”
“I have noticed,” Darcy said. Netherfield had been kept in adequate repair, but many small repairs had been left undone and no improvements had been made to the estate since the current owner had inherited it, supposedly because he lived in Bath and had no desire to relocate to Hertfordshire. Had it been Darcy’s property, he would have instructed a steward to do more than the bare minimum.
“Both young ladies are considered to be the jewels of Hertfordshire, and Miss Bennet’s kindness is well-known, as is Miss Elizabeth’s wit. Miss Mary is acknowledged to be one of the most accomplished young ladies in Hertfordshire. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia are lively sorts and considered good fun by many of the young people in the area—though their elders deplore their lack of decorum.”
Darcy wandered to the window and clasped his hands behind his back, unsure what else he wished to know. Most of the questions he wished answered would be things only Miss Elizabeth or those close to her could answer. “Thank you, Hawkin.”
“Of course, sir.”
Standing in the sunshine, Darcy took a deep breath, revelling in the warmth against his skin. His lips twitched up as he recalled Miss Elizabeth’s prescription, and he allowed himself to relax for a moment longer than was his wont.
Day 13: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
Another day spent in Miss Elizabeth’s company had not at all lessened his intrigue, and so he determined to spend this day with her as well. Yesterday, they had discussed Greek philosophy and ranged into Roman forms of government. Today he intended to steer the conversation towards her views on tenants as he was curious about her involvement with Netherfield’s tenants and it had occurred to him that she might be able to supplement the information he and Bingley already possessed.
All went well until that evening when Miss Elizabeth commented that he appeared to be quite single-minded in his focus on estate business.
“Perhaps I simply need more fun in my life,” Darcy had said with a slight smile. “I―”
Miss Elizabeth had looked at him blankly, and the truth had crashed into him like a runaway horse.
Of course she did not remember their conversation. He had known this would happen—had even counted on it so that he could pursue her without consequences—and yet he had still fallen into the trap of believing their conversations were as meaningful for her as they had been for him.
He had known it would happen; why had a sudden chasm opened in his chest?
How many conversations would they have that she could not recall?
If he continued spending time with Miss Elizabeth, the erased moments would soon outnumber the sum of the moments they had experienced together prior to this interminable Tuesday.
Darcy’s stomach lurched, and he fell silent, fixing his eyes on the cards in front of him. Speaking with Miss Elizabeth had always been a sort of torture—he could not marry such a woman, yet his fascination led him to seek her out anyway. The past few days had been like cozying up to a warm fire on a cold winter’s day—her warmth, kindness, and wit both soothed his soul and intrigued him. But if he allowed himself to draw too near that fire, he would be burnt.
He glanced over at her, struck anew by her beauty. She was watching him curiously, apparently awaiting further elaboration. He had been about to say that he had begun trying to take her prescription to heart—to find the small pleasures spread throughout his day: the warmth of the sunshine, the cheerful sounds of birds, even the joy of simply sitting here with her... but this Miss Elizabeth would not understand.
This Miss Elizabeth had never had those conversations with him. And so, Darcy cleared his throat, made some stiff reply about the importance of managing one’s responsibilities, and then fled the moment escape was possible.
Day 14: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
Staring up at the bed’s canopy, Darcy considered how best to spend the day that stretched in front of him. A part of him longed to continue seeking out Miss Elizabeth and discussing whatever she wished. But her blank look from the evening before haunted him. The more conversations he built up with her, the harder it would be to recall which things he had already said, which things she would respond to and which she had forgotten. Not to mention that he desired to know more and more intimate things about her—things that she was unlikely to tell a mere acquaintance.
He had felt, by the end of each Tuesday, that they had crossed over into the realm of tentative friendship and that he could have asked deeper questions without crossing the lines of propriety.
But did he really want to start over again every day?
With a huff of frustration and a lump in his throat, he shoved the question aside to ponder another day.
Once more, Darcy took a packed lunch and escaped into the country, riding Sisyphus around Netherfield and beyond. The thought of Miss Elizabeth and Bingley meeting Wickham and spending the evening with that gentleman pained Darcy, but at least they would not retain any friendly feelings for Wickham beyond this day.
As the sunshine warmed the earth and various sights unfolded to his eyes, he wished Miss Elizabeth were with him. She would have made the day even better.