Chapter 3

Three

For Jane's sake, Elizabeth was glad Mr Bingley was attentive, but she would have appreciated a longer separation from Mr Darcy than the mere two days since they had last called. As soon as the hour was reasonable, he and Mr Bingley were at Longbourn on Wednesday. It was difficult being with him and having to acknowledge that the friendly intercourse they had experienced in Derbyshire was gone. To add to her present woe, her mother was acting oddly, following Elizabeth about the house and mentioning Mr Darcy, which she never used to do. She seemed to want to ask something or expect Elizabeth to share her thoughts of him, which she never would. While it might be a relief to tell someone of her disappointment, she did not wish to burden Jane, who had long been her dearest confidant, and she did not trust her mother and Kitty with her secrets. Mary would be disinterested or, worse, it would make her disgust with Lydia even more severe to know her actions had cost Elizabeth the man she had fallen in love with.

"Darcy and I came to ask if the Miss Bennets would care to take a walk," Mr Bingley said.

"An excellent notion! I am sure they would be most happy to accept. I always say nothing is quite as good for the body and soul as a country walk." Mrs Bennet's gaze went first to Jane, then to Elizabeth, who unaccountably felt her cheeks heat.

She spoke a little longer, Elizabeth inwardly laughing at her mother's purported appreciation for exercise in the open air. Even for the short journey to Lucas Lodge, Mrs Bennet preferred taking the carriage—unless the horses were not available and she had an urgent need to gossip with Lady Lucas, in which case, she would walk and complain about her sore knee and feet for days afterwards.

"I do not wish to go, but thank you, Mr Bingley," Mary said.

Mary gave the appearance of politeness, but beneath it, Elizabeth sensed her displeasure. Given his behaviour the previous year, Mary's opinion of him was low. Between that and her general dislike of society, Elizabeth was not surprised she had no wish to join a walking party.

"I think it is a jolly good idea! There is so little to do," Kitty said.

"Now, Kitty, you know that is not true. Why, you are ever so busy. Do you not recall our conversation the other day? Besides, you would find it too…hot and tiring, I am sure. You had much better stay at home where you can attend to your chores and rest." Mrs Bennet's voice was slightly higher than usual, and Elizabeth saw her wink at Kitty, who looked puzzled.

"But, Mama?—"

"Lizzy would never say no to such an excursion, and Jane will enjoy it immensely, will you not, my dear?" Mrs Bennet said.

"I-I would." Jane apparently had noticed the strangeness of their mother's manner.

"Excellent!" Mr Bingley predictably smiled at Jane.

The warmth in Elizabeth's cheeks grew as she felt someone—or some two —watching her. She knew her mother did, but she was too afraid to determine whether Mr Darcy was the other person whose eyes were upon her. How she wished he was and that it was because he wanted to be by her side, the two of them chatting about everything and nothing at the same time, just as they had in the gardens at Pemberley after their unexpected encounter. Elizabeth reflected on the memory with great fondness—the marks of his favour, his desire to please her, the feeling of comfort at having him so close, to say nothing of his readiness to explain what they saw and the history of his home, all offered in his smooth, deep voice.

If only I had known then that I should take care to recall each word he said because such occasions would be so few.

Jane and Mr Bingley would want to talk only to each other, and perhaps when they were alone, Mr Darcy would exhibit more friendliness. If Elizabeth saw any sort of mark that he might still care for her, she would latch on to it and never let go.

"I shall fetch my bonnet," Elizabeth said, feeling both anxious and hopeful.

Darcy found it impossible to stay away from Elizabeth, despite it being evident she did not wish for his company. Part of him knew he ought to return to town and leave her in peace, but it was as though a thick, strong band connected him to her. He supposed if she told him definitively to go away, it would break the binding, but until that happened, he would remain.

Miss Bennet and Bingley were soon some distance ahead of him and Elizabeth, evidently content to ignore their presence. Her hands were clasped behind her, and he longed to grasp one of them, to entwine their fingers. Her blue gown added warmth to her complexion and highlighted the richness of her hair, which was partly obscured by a straw bonnet. If only he could take it from her head and throw it into the tall grasses at the side of the path! Her lovely—and loved—face would be exposed to his greedy eyes.

Elizabeth took in their surroundings, but she never looked at him.

Just once , I want our gazes to meet so I might have the exquisite pleasure of looking into her beautiful, expressive eyes.

"It is a fine day. We…have been very fortunate in the weather," he said when he could no longer bear the silence. He thought he heard a soft chuckle before she replied, likely because it was an inane observation.

"I suppose it will change soon, now that September is almost over."

Nothing more was said for several minutes. Darcy then recalled a subject that might be easy for them to discuss.

"How do Mr and Mrs Gardiner fare?"

"I received a letter from my aunt just yesterday. They are both well. Thank you for asking."

Was that surprise in her voice, as though she did not expect him to wonder about the couple? A sort of tickle in Darcy's mind alerted him to the possibility of the observation. He carefully considered his next words.

"I am sorry your trip with them was cut short." Would she take the hint he was offering?

"As was I," she said after a noticeable pause.

"I believe you were finding it…agreeable." It? he silently repeated. It was such a small word for everything it meant—seeing him again and the changes he had made to his way of thinking and behaving towards others, viewing Pemberley, the home he so desperately wanted to give her, the evidence of his continued devotion and desire to take her as his wife.

Elizabeth turned her chin even further away from him, denying him even a tiny sliver of her face. Her response was a long time coming.

"I was. It is a shame it had to end as it did."

It felt as though the air was violently pulled out of him. Voices were screaming four words over and over again: it had to end. She did not love him, not enough to forgive him for allowing her sister to be left vulnerable to Wickham. Perhaps if they had had more time, if she had come to feel for him what he did for her, then they might have overcome the barrier of his past errors. But they had not, and she was lost to him forever.