Chapter 29

Elizabeth woke to the sound of a steady rain and the faint headache that always accompanied unsettled weather. She lay in bed for a long while, staring at the ceiling and wondering whether she should remain in her chamber all morning. Bingley had arranged for them to see the second estate on the morrow, wishing instead to show Jane the neighbourhood today; Elizabeth was to go with them. They had talked of it on the way back to Pemberley the day before, and Bingley had said he would invite the Darcys. Even if one or both were to accompany them, Elizabeth had been looking forward to the distraction. As much as anywhere in the area would revive memories that were best left buried, going to Lambton and seeing some of the picturesque and otherwise interesting spots near Pemberley would be preferable to staying at the estate with little to do. But given the strength of the rain, the excursion would have to be postponed.

There is nothing else for it!She pushed herself out of bed and asked the maid to fetch some tea; that was usually enough to ease her headaches. As she sipped, she considered what she might do during the coming hours that would allow her to avoid the Darcys.

It was a quiet day and one Elizabeth spent largely alone. Her hopes that the rain would cease long enough for her to take a walk in the open air were never fulfilled, though she managed a short excursion that involved pacing back and forth on a sheltered terrace. Jane and Bingley walked about the house, and Elizabeth did likewise but on her own, wanting not to intrude on the couple’s time together. Jane also sat with Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley, and Bingley and Mr Darcy amused themselves somehow, while Elizabeth sneaked into the library for long enough to find several volumes to occupy herself. She would not remain there to read, however, fearing Mr Darcy would find her and attempt to have another private conversation.

While she succeeded in avoiding him, she was not so fortunate as to avoid his sister. Elizabeth almost ran into Miss Darcy as she rounded a corner in a corridor.

“Oh! Pardon me.” Elizabeth gave a quick nod and continued, but Miss Darcy spoke, arresting her movement.

“You must hate me.” Her tone was odd to Elizabeth, almost as if she spoke a challenge.

Elizabeth turned to face her, puzzled by the young lady’s intentions. “I do not. It is not my right to judge you.” She struggled for a polite way to express herself. “I know how disagreeable it is to have that man in one’s family. I wish I could forget it, and I have not suffered at his hands as you did.”

“You ought to hate me. I know you expected to marry my brother, and because I said I could not bear it, he did not propose. It must have made you very unhappy.”

Again, it was more how Miss Darcy spoke rather than what she said that drew Elizabeth’s notice. She sounded as though she wanted Elizabeth to be angry with her and blame her, but Elizabeth could not understand why.

“What purpose would that serve? Should I convince myself to despise you despite understanding why you do not want me as a sister-in-law? I am not so foolish as to think it will remain thus always, not unless I let it, and I shall not.” It was only after she fell silent that she realised what she had said. She had not wanted to admit she was unhappy, though if pressed, she would say it was only because she was at Pemberley and knew she ought not to have come.

Miss Darcy scratched at her arm, and Elizabeth almost took a step forwards, wanting to stop her, but she was afraid she would scare the girl.

“What he did to you was horrible! I cannot even imagine— I wish there was some way I could be of use to you. Perhaps the only way I can is to tell you I do not judge you or hate you. You should not judge or hate yourself,” she said.

Red splotches appeared on Miss Darcy’s face, and her entire body looked taut enough to snap in half if disturbed by the barest whisper of wind. “How can I not?”

Elizabeth longed to embrace her but only allowed herself a brief touch to direct Miss Darcy’s hand away from its task of digging into her skin. Speaking as softly and gently as she ever had in her life, Elizabeth said, “Because he was a grown man, and you were little more than a child. What did you know of the world compared to him?” Miss Darcy bristled at this, but Elizabeth continued, insisting on being heard. “Unfortunately, I have met the man. He excels at deceiving people, and he set out to use you. A lady older than you could easily be taken in by him and soon find herself behaving in a manner she knew was wrong.”

Her cheeks bright pink, Miss Darcy spun round and strode away. Elizabeth remained where she was a moment longer, her head bowed, rubbing her forehead and hoping she had not made Miss Darcy’s suffering worse.

All day, Darcy said silent prayers that he would find an occasion to speak to Elizabeth again, if only for a moment. Her unexpected visit had been a gift to him, a gift of time, but he knew his opportunities to have her to himself were rapidly diminishing. She and the Bingleys would depart soon, and he had no notion when they would next see each other.

His hopes were fulfilled shortly before dinner. Once prepared for the evening, he had gone to the drawing room, intending to be present whenever his guests or sister appeared. It was then that he noticed the clouds had cleared, and he stepped out to take the fresh air for a few minutes. Although intending to remain on the terrace, when he stood at its edge, he saw a figure on the stone path through the nearest garden, and his heart cried out that it was Elizabeth. Before he knew what he was about, he was walking towards her.

“I see you also decided to take advantage of the improving weather,” he said when they met.

“I did.” Her eyes were directed to the side rather than at him.

“If I recall correctly, it was close to here where we saw each other last year. I was never so surprised in my life. I knew at once that I must seize the moment to show you that I had attended to the reproofs you so rightly gave me in Kent. Within a minute, I knew I wanted more than to demonstrate I could behave as a gentleman ought,” he said.

His wonderful Elizabeth offered him a smile that he interpreted as combining fond remembrance and sorrow. “I was surprised that you were so welcoming, despite how I had abused you the last time we met, that you were kind to my aunt and uncle, and…”

“Pray, go on.”

She shook her head, her dark curls gently swaying. “I should not. It serves no purpose.”

“Perhaps not, but I would still like to know.”

“It was all so long ago. So much has happened since then. Does it not feel like an age has passed?”

Something in her voice struck him, and he immediately thought of Mr Grey and how attentive he had been to her in town. Darcy leapt to the conclusion that he might have already offered for her, that she had promised herself to another, despite her lingering feelings for him, and his heart began to race.

But if she was engaged, Bingley would have told me!

No, he decided, she could not be betrothed, but possibly she was anticipating receiving a proposal soon. At present, he would not concern himself with the future; he would relish every second they had together.

“To me, it feels like it was only yesterday,” he said, meaning to imply that his love for her had not changed. That day, he had known that what he wanted most was to win her regard, and it was still true. “Will you walk with me? We have only a minute or two before the others come down.”

She hesitated, looking about them and evidently struggling with her response. “I-I should not. What if someone sees us?”

He knew she meant Georgiana. “My sister was still in her apartment when I came down, and she will not make an appearance until after everyone else has.”

Elizabeth regarded him for a long moment before nodding. They strolled side-by-side, Darcy adjusting his long stride to match hers. She kept her hands clasped behind her back, while his hung by his side, ever ready to reach for her should an excuse appear—perhaps an uneven stone or puddle she might need his support to traverse without getting wet. He glanced at her as often as he could while watching the path ahead of him.

For a minute or two, nothing was said. The simple act of being beside her calmed him in a way nothing else could, and as much as he wanted to clasp her hand and declare his love, he knew a serious conversation would drive her away. Besides, what he most wanted currently was to prolong the sense of peace he felt.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked. She gave him a puzzled look, and he explained. “This morning, at breakfast, I believe you had a headache. I recall you telling me last year that unsettled weather often left you feeling ill.”

Her eyes still on him, she graced him with a smile. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.”

She blushed and averted her gaze. “You are correct about this morning, but it is gone now.” There was a slight pause before she continued. “Thank you for-for asking and remembering.”

Again, they strolled without speaking. He wanted to tell her that everything she had ever told him was securely locked into his memory. How often had he sought comfort in their past, the all too brief period they had enjoyed when they were happy! Elizabeth next broke the silence.

“It is very beautiful here, and I have always found that the world seems brighter, the air fresher after a heavy rain. I might not like the rain because it stops me from going out as I would like, but apart from recognising the necessity of such weather, I truly do appreciate how it…I am not sure of the best word to use. Perhaps restores or rejuvenates the world.”

He made a noise that signified agreement, at first feeling too much to respond properly. Her comment was like one she would have made before he disappointed her, and it gave him hope at the same time that it emphasised how much he had lost. She was sharing a piece of herself, and listening to her observations and thoughts had always enticed him.

“I cannot claim I appreciate winter storms, but I understand what you mean about summer ones,” Darcy said at length. He chuckled. “Once, when Bramwell and Fitzwilliam were staying here, there was a mighty storm, and we sneaked out of the nursery to run about in it. I must have been seven or eight years old. It had been so hot for days, and it only began to rain after nightfall. I have no notion what time it was when Fitzwilliam woke me, but he and Bramwell wanted to go out of doors, and I thought it was an excellent idea.”

She laughed and covered her mouth with a hand. “Did you? Were you discovered?”

“Oh yes, and our parents were very displeased. My father and the earl went on and on about the danger we had put ourselves in, and I do not know what else. By that time, I was too tired to really listen—to say nothing of uncomfortable, given I was drenched and my feet and legs were covered with mud.”

“I see how it is,” she said. “When I have a little bit of mud on my skirts because I dared to walk to Netherfield to tend my ill sister, I am judged, but it is perfectly acceptable for you?—”

“I was a child!” he interjected.

Elizabeth had stopped walking. Her eyes danced, and one of her fingers was pointed in his direction. By instinct, he grabbed it and kept her hand in his. It was such a small thing, this interlude in which he told a silly story of his past, but they had spent so much of her time in Derbyshire the previous summer doing just that. It had allowed them to grow closer, to know more about each other, and, oh, how he wanted that feeling again!

They stood where they were, their eyes fixed upon each other’s. Her chest began to rise and fall quickly, and her lips were parted. If he dared, Darcy would kiss her. He believed she would let him, but foreseeing she would later regret it, he did not. What he did permit himself, however, was to caress her cheek, feel her warmth and the shape of her beloved visage. Her eyes closed, and she gently sighed.

Soon, they had no choice but to return to the house. As they walked, Elizabeth kept her arm wrapped around his, only removing it when they were within sight of the manor.