Page 8 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Day 6: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
His sixth Tuesday passed with little fanfare. Darcy could not stand the thought of encountering Wickham once again and feared Miss Elizabeth’s presence. He convinced Bingley that it would be unseemly to visit Miss Bennet so soon after her illness, and so they spent the day touring Netherfield’s land.
He missed Miss Elizabeth.
He did not miss Wickham.
Day 7: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
On his seventh Tuesday, he likewise spent the day out of doors; he and Bingley toured the rest of the estate. In fact, Bingley had dragged Darcy to inspect the east fields yet again, once more reminding Darcy why he had stopped inspecting them—there were only so many times he could stand to explain the same things to Bingley, only to have his friend forget them entirely.
In an attempt to free himself from Tuesday or at least witness the moment when time rewound, he stayed up as late as he could, but without even feeling that he had fallen asleep, he awoke in his bed the next morning.
He missed Miss Elizabeth.
He did not miss Wickham.
Day 8: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
His eighth Tuesday, he once again convinced Bingley to tour Netherfield with him, deciding the repetition was preferable to another encounter with Wickham. Unfortunately, conversation with a lovesick Bingley palled quickly. Yesterday, Bingley had been sufficiently interested in the estate and did not speak of Miss Bennet above a mere four or five times an hour. Today, Darcy could not muster up the energy to repeat his observations of the previous day and so Bingley’s conversation centred almost entirely on Miss Bennet specifically or on the Bennets in general. The constant inundation sent his own thoughts circling back to Miss Elizabeth countless times.
She would be a much more congenial companion. Did she enjoy riding? He ought to have asked her during their conversation about pleasure.
Eventually, Darcy cut their tour short, suggesting they return to Netherfield and note down the plans they had already made.
He missed Miss Elizabeth—too much. Almost enough to brave another encounter with the man he hated above all. Repeating his experiment of the previous night and staving off sleep for as long as possible merely provided the same results.
Day 9: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
On his ninth Tuesday, he decided he could not stomach another day spent listening to Bingley talk about the Bennets while he did his best not to dwell on Miss Elizabeth. Instead, he requested the kitchen staff pack him a simple lunch, and he spent the day with Sisyphus as his only company.
Even without Bingley prattling on, his thoughts slipped their leash and returned to Miss Elizabeth. She would have been better company than Sisyphus.
Day 10: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
Darcy stared at the bed curtains. Ten. Today marked ten Tuesdays. They did not seem to be diminishing. Yesterday had been pleasant—at least in the beginning. As the day had worn on though, he had become agitated. He was unused to having so much free time and felt at loose ends. Bingley had suggested Darcy accompany him to the Phillipses’, but he had declined. He longed to see Miss Elizabeth—too much. At Netherfield, he had managed to spend a day ignoring her, knowing that any sign of affection would be magnified by all the ladies present, but now, when each conversation need not be weighed and measured, when he could safely do all the things he would normally avoid... he was so tempted to spend the day with her.
The lingering fear of Wednesday’s arrival and of how attached he might become had kept him in check thus far, but might that be the wrong course of action?
Circumspection had always been a necessity before—but now he had the opportunity to indulge, to cure his attraction through a surfeit of her presence, rather than to continue the constant internal battle. Surely, her allure would not persist once the novelty had worn off.
Yes, he would do it.
With that resolved, he sprang out of bed and sent a message to Bingley, suggesting they leave a half hour earlier than had been their intention the night before. Bingley, of course, was so besotted with Miss Bennet that he sent back an immediate acceptance.
The trip to Longbourn passed in a haze as Darcy attempted to ignore his friend’s continued ramblings regarding Miss Bennet. He would certainly need to consider the best course of action once time resumed its flow; Bingley was far more attached than he had realised.
His stomach twisted and his palms began to sweat as they stood in the hallway waiting to be announced. Was he nervous? Him? The master of Pemberley nervous to interact with a woman who possessed neither connections nor wealth? Or nervous only to be stepping outside his habits and pursuing a woman?
After all, he had not done so in nearly five years. Ever since his father had died, the ton’s most skilled huntresses had pursued him assiduously. He had learned not to show even a hint of interest, to radiate disinterest at every turn, lest he find himself raising expectations or left open to a forced compromise.
The maid ushered them into the drawing room, and Darcy’s eyes immediately went to Miss Elizabeth. It had only been five days since he had seen her, but he could not seem to concentrate on anyone else. It was as though her vibrancy had washed the colour out of everyone else around her.
“Mr. Bingley! We are so happy to see you. It has been several days, has it not? Are you well? I do hope you did not catch Jane’s cold. As you can see, she is entirely recovered,” Mrs. Bennet said, her words tumbling out without pause like a pack of hounds hot on the heels of their quarry.
Bingley bowed to the woman. “Mrs. Bennet. I am quite well.” He turned his attention to Miss Bennet. “I am glad to hear that you are recovered, Miss Bennet.”
Darcy took his eyes off of Miss Elizabeth long enough to nod to Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat, and Mrs. Bennet introduced him.
Darcy glowered. He had forgotten that Mr. Collins was staying at Longbourn.
Mr. Collins bowed, bending like a sapling caught in an ocean breeze. “Are you Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“I am,” Darcy said with a sigh.
Mr. Collins then proceeded to give Darcy an almost word-for-word repetition of his enthusiastic assurances of Lady Catherine’s health and how fortunate he was to be in the presence of one of her esteemed relations.
With an internal huff and a reminder of how poorly his last attempt to shut the man up had gone, Darcy endured the flow until Mr. Collins began the whole thing over again, and then he turned to Miss Elizabeth, interjecting an inquiry regarding her health.
“I am well. And you?”
Darcy considered how best to prolong their conversation. “I have been quite enjoying the weather as of late. Have you been out this morning yet?”
“We were just discussing walking to Meryton this morning―”
“Of course, we would not dream of cutting your call short, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins rushed to add, apparently trying to simultaneously shoot an admonishing glare at Miss Elizabeth and maintain an obsequious air of humility before Darcy. He succeeded in neither. “Lady Catherine has impressed upon me the need for making oneself available to one’s betters, and we are quite at your leisure.”
“May we escort you to Meryton?” Darcy asked.
Miss Elizabeth’s brow furrowed.
Bingley grinned at Miss Bennet. “Yes, we would be glad to escort you to Meryton. The weather is quite fine and I have not yet spent much time there.”
“My daughters would be pleased with your company,” Mrs. Bennet jumped in. “They are very familiar with the area and may give you a complete tour of the town. Not to mention that my sister is expecting them to call today and would be very glad to receive you.”
“Excellent!” Bingley enthused, staring at Miss Bennet.
Darcy’s lips curved up. Now, if only he could get rid of Mr. Collins somehow, he would be able to speak to Miss Elizabeth in relative privacy.
It had been a simple matter to offer his arm to Miss Elizabeth before Mr. Collins could do so. Actually getting rid of the man, however, proved rather harder. Darcy had requested to escort Miss Lydia, thinking that she would quickly tire of his company, thus leaving Mr. Collins stuck escorting Miss Kitty. Unfortunately, Miss Lydia had refused with a laugh and so the path, still wide enough to admit three, left room for Mr. Collins to prattle on at him.
“Mr. Collins, you appear to enjoy your position as my aunt’s rector―” Darcy began.
Mr. Collins nodded vigorously. “Indeed. I do not know how anyone could dislike spending regular time in Lady Catherine’s presence―”
“What about you, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, looking down at her. “You said you are a studier of character, and I have observed your fondness for time with Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas. But what else do you enjoy?”
Miss Elizabeth blinked at him, her lips parted. “I am very partial to the outdoors and go for rambles about the countryside―”
“It is a testament to your industriousness, Cousin, that you rise early and partake in healthful exercise. I myself prefer to walk to see my parishioners when they are within an easy distance and, of course, I make it a practice to walk to Rosings daily to partake in my patroness’s wisdom. She is often aware of difficulties in the community even before they come to my attention and I have found great benefit in my regular visits—both for the purpose of conversing with Lady Catherine and in engaging in healthful exercise.”
“Do you have a favourite path, Miss Elizabeth?”
“There are several pretty paths around Longbourn. I particularly enjoy walking the path to Oakham Mount.”
“Oakham Mount? I do not believe I am familiar with it.”
Miss Elizabeth smiled. “It is the hill which lies between Longbourn and Netherfield. From the top, one may see several estates.”
“I have always appreciated being able to see for lengthy distances,” Mr. Collins put in. “Although I am not fond of the climb that is often necessary for such an activity. From Rosings one may see―”
As Mr. Collins blathered on, Darcy persevered in interrupting him and redirecting the conversation to Miss Elizabeth. He discovered that they both enjoyed unspoilt natural beauty (and that Mr. Collins believed nature had to be pruned and shaped in order to be beautiful, just as a person needed to be pruned and shaped in order to “avoid the pitfalls of fallen humanity”), and that Miss Elizabeth preferred spring.
When they reached Meryton and Wickham, Darcy clenched his teeth and through brute force of will managed not to say anything to Wickham, not to be driven away by his mere presence, and not to punch the man. It was oh so tempting to do so now that he was considering what could be done without consequence and he had already decided to avail himself of his situation in the matter of Miss Elizabeth. Fortunately, Wickham was not tardy in excusing himself on the grounds of needing to return to camp.
The trip to Mrs. Phillips’s was also accomplished to the accompaniment of Mr. Collins’s commentary. Darcy gratefully accepted her invitation to dinner; at least then Mr. Collins would be occupied.