Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Darcy had arrived in Hertfordshire, he had been made aware of seven planned engagements. Two of them, the evening at the Robinsons' and the assembly, had been wasted by his own reticence. But the dinner at the Simpsons'? That one he had no idea about.

What he did know was that if there was to be an open door, it had opened last evening when he told Elizabeth he still held her in dear regard. Even that was not what he truly wished to say, which was that no matter what had gone between them, his love held true. That, he knew, he must show her.

Four events remained—a picnic, a ball, and a family dinner at Netherfield, and then the wedding and wedding breakfast. Beyond that, he had no expectation to remain in Hertfordshire.

"Four days to make her understand I love her and for her to have feeling enough to accept another proposal." He nodded grimly at his reflection in the mirror, grateful Fields was not there to witness him talking to himself.

The servants, led by Mrs Nicholls and Miss Bingley, had set up the picnic just beyond the maze on a shady spot overlooking the winding countryside and, at some distance, the river. It was a lovely view, with the gently rolling countryside stretched out like a patchwork quilt, dotted with trees and the occasional stone cottage.

Darcy had arrived early, but many guests were already there. Alas, the guest he was most interested in was not, and so he paused briefly at a distance, pretending to admire the brightly coloured fabrics and paper lanterns that were hung from the trees and the sounds of the small group of musicians who were set up on one end.

He had been watching for the Bennets' carriage but Elizabeth appeared, suddenly, with only her eldest sister, and Darcy realised Bingley must have sent his carriage for them. The two ladies were descended upon immediately, the guests surging towards them to kiss Miss Bennet and hug Elizabeth and chatter happily about how soon the wedding was. Determined to join the group, he strode towards them, frowning when he saw his cousin approaching her as well. Never mind him.

He greeted the bride first and then turned to her sister. "Miss Elizabeth, how do you do," he said, bowing to her. Fitzwilliam, close beside him, echoed his salutations.

"Mr Darcy, Colonel." She smiled, sunshine and laughter in her eyes as she curtseyed.

"You are looking very lovely today." It was true. She wore a gown Darcy had never seen before—palest green with a sash of cornflower blue that matched the ribbons of her bonnet and the embroidery of her skirt.

"Only today, eh?" Fitzwilliam made a scolding sound with his tongue. "Ungenerous, Darcy. I say Miss Elizabeth is lovely every day."

"Happily, Miss Elizabeth is clever enough to comprehend that no slight was intended in my comment," Darcy replied evenly.

"Not this time, no. Now if we speak of last autumn, it is a different matter entirely!" Fitzwilliam chuckled and winked at her. Darcy was satisfied to see that she did not laugh in reply; indeed, she appeared rather mortified. It stoked Darcy's anger at his cousin.

"I have been, in the past, prodigiously uncivil, it is true, but Miss Elizabeth, I pray you take care. My cousin is an adept flatterer. Some might say he could charm the birds from the trees."

"So I can," Fitzwilliam agreed laughingly. "And Darcy here would then give them one of his infamous scowls and send them right back up."

Darcy remembered himself just in time to prevent a scowl that would have proved his cousin's point. "Miss Elizabeth, how well I do know of your fondness for nature and?—"

"As do I!" the colonel interrupted. "How I have missed our walks in the groves of Rosings!"

"So you have said," Elizabeth remarked. Darcy wondered whether he heard a small note of irritation in her voice, or if that was merely wishful thinking.

"Are you fond of birds?" Darcy asked, then cursed himself. Such a stupid question! "I mean, I am fond of birds. Some birds. Songbirds, or, um?—"

"I have always admired your playing and singing." Fitzwilliam very nearly leered at her. "It puts the songbirds to shame."

For a moment, Elizabeth only stared at him, then glanced at Darcy. He was about to say something—though he knew not what that something was—when she dropped into a curtsey. "If you will both excuse me," she said and then, without waiting for anything more, left them.

"Well, that was all quite idiotic." Unseen by Darcy, Saye had arrived. "Really, men, telling her she's a bird? Short of allowing Florizel to hump her leg, I doubt there could be worse attempts at flirtation."

"Come. Now." Darcy gestured towards the edge of the maze nearby, a place where he could properly dress down his cousin without fear of being overheard. With a vexatious smirk on his countenance, Fitzwilliam did as ordered. Darcy followed him with Saye hard on their heels.

"What are you about, bringing up my insult?" Darcy rounded on Fitzwilliam as soon as he felt them concealed. "If you cannot win her by your own charms?—"

"I do not think it unseemly to remind the lady which of us has been kind to her," his cousin replied loftily.

"Perhaps I should tell her how you are in a brothel every third night," Darcy spat.

"Perhaps I should tell her how well acquainted you are with your own handkerchiefs," Fitzwilliam retorted, stepping closer.

"Putting a handkerchief near that bump of yours would near suffocate the fellow," Darcy said, also taking a step forwards. "And we all know he has difficulty enough standing to attention."

"Take that back." Fitzwilliam gave Darcy a little shove.

"Why?" Darcy shoved back. "You cannot deny it, can you?"

"Stand down," Saye said, sounding irritated. He put one hand on his brother's chest, forcing him to step back, while he gave Darcy a look. The colonel shoved his hand away and, with a glare in Darcy's direction, cursed and then turned and stalked away.

"He is doing it up a bit too brown, do you not think?" Darcy asked.

"Perhaps he is," Saye replied, "but I would say you need to go browner. Have you truly never wooed a woman before?"

"I am doing everything I know to do." Darcy ran his hand through his hair.

"Then you must not know very much. Something as trite as telling her she is pretty sounds like her maiden aunt commending her for not showing too much bosom. It is better than insulting her, I shall grant you that, but scarcely."

"I said she was lovely, not pretty."

"Still stupid-sounding."

"I cannot arrange pretty compliments, Saye!"

"You can and you must. You are not amiable enough to think of things in the moment, so plan accordingly. Do not say ‘you look lovely' say…" He thought briefly, then said, "Your beauty and grace have captivated my heart and my admiration of you is like nothing I have ever known before. Every inch of you is perfection and I am in awe of your beauty. You have an effortless way of moving that is so graceful and elegant, I am often left speechless in your presence."

With a smirk, he said, "So there, you have three. And if all else fails, think of a poem and tell her it seems as if it was written for her."

"It all sounds rather overdone, in my estimation."

Saye shrugged. "You had better think of something. Calling her Cousin Elizabeth will not be to your liking."

Elizabeth sat with a glass of lemonade in hand, listening to Jane and Bingley make love to one another. All three of them were seated on a blanket under a tree, with Elizabeth as far off the blanket as she could manage without risking grass stains on her skirt. Bingley and Jane occupied the corner farthest from her, nuzzling together, whispering, and laughing softly. She hardly supposed they needed a chaperon three days before the wedding, and in broad daylight no less, but in truth she was glad to sit and think.

She had turned it over in her mind again and again, what Mr Darcy had said the evening prior. ‘I was angry, at first, but my deep regard for you would not let it remain.' Was it possible that he loved her still? Could it be that the changes she saw in him truly were a result of what she had said? The idea that she, Elizabeth Bennet, had such a man as Mr Darcy in her power was astonishing. To imagine that he had altered something within himself for her? Even more astonishing.

Her eyes slipped towards Jane and Bingley and for a brief, mad moment, she imagined herself thus with Mr Darcy. Then she nearly laughed, the moment coinciding unfortunately with a sip of lemonade that made her sputter and spit. Happily, she recovered herself before anyone, even her companions, noticed.

Then again, I could probably choke to death before those two would notice, she mused, watching Bingley give Jane what appeared to be a kiss on the ear. I do not believe Mr Darcy would act like that, not in full view of an entire party of people , she decided. But I do not know that I would either. We have that much in common at least; our more tender feelings are held close.

Tender feelings for Mr Darcy. The very notion of that would have revolted her only a few weeks ago, but every time she spoke to him, everything they spoke about, revealed more of his good character. It had amazed her to learn he had first come into Hertfordshire, very likely heartsick with fear and sorrow for his own beloved sister, only a month after the near-disaster. Then to see Mr Wickham on the street! Such exemplary forbearance! She wondered that he had not thrown the man to the ground and pummelled him.

But it was not this which had occupied her thoughts since the night prior. She was lost in debating with herself whether he might still love her. At times it seemed impossible, but other times… She hardly knew what to think, particularly with the added complication of the colonel.

There was something amiss in Colonel Fitzwilliam's attentions to her. Looking out over the picnickers, she saw that he had joined the group playing quoits. He made a fine figure tossing the rings, but nevertheless he held no appeal for her. Over the last days, if she was honest, she had begun to dread seeing him approach. His behaviour did not strike her as genuine. It was why she had left him and Mr Darcy previously; his boldness was truly almost repulsive.

He had not been so in Kent, so why was he that way now? It defied sense, just like refusing to go and attend to land you had just inherited also defied sense. But she had no explanation for it, unless he merely wished to stymie his cousin? That seemed too cruel. Round and round she went, finding explanations and discarding them and never once arriving at a satisfactory answer.

Mr Darcy had left Lord Saye and was walking towards her. Her heart leapt at the look of determination upon his countenance as he came, and her chest seemed to somehow empty of air. She took a large swallow of her lemonade to calm herself as the truth she had been trying to set aside continued to prick at her consciousness. As it happens, I just might wish to marry Mr Darcy after all. Quite ardently, in fact.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said when he arrived at their party. His voice was a trifle too loud. Even Jane was startled from her love haze to look over at him.

He looked sheepish as he said, "I wonder if I might persuade you to take a walk?"

"A walk would be wonderful, thank you."

He looked pleased as he extended one arm to help her to her feet.

"I can only hope," she said conspiratorially, "that my two blanket-mates will not too long repine my absence."

They both glanced to where Jane and Bingley had resumed their lovemaking, and Mr Darcy chuckled. "I think they will shift along without you."

With no true direction, they set off, walking side by side. He asked whether she was having a pleasant day, and she assured him she was, then asked the same of him. They had not gone far before the colonel—who was beginning to remind Elizabeth of a horsefly—came trotting after them. "Where do you go, Darcy?"

Without looking at his cousin, Mr Darcy said, "Miss Elizabeth and I are taking a short walk."

"An excellent notion! I do not doubt Miss Elizabeth has any number of favourite paths she might show us."

Mr Darcy looked like he was clenching his jaw, but before he could speak, Elizabeth interceded, "I do, to be sure…but I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you, sir."

The colonel's grin dimmed very slightly. "Oh?"

"You see, I have just learnt of some important, um, wedding…things. Changes. And I must acquaint Mr Darcy with them at once." She smiled. "You will understand, I am sure. Perhaps later we might all play lawn bowls."

The colonel glanced between her and his cousin while Elizabeth willed him to move on. At last, he conceded. "That sounds excellent. I shall see you both in a bit, then." He turned on his heel and moved back towards the quoits game.

Elizabeth looked up at Mr Darcy, wondering what he thought of her boldness and surprised by her own unexpected wish be with him, and him alone.

"Shall we go into the garden?" Mr Darcy asked. "I understand some of the roses are beginning to bloom."

"By all means," she agreed.