Chapter 7

D uring her walks through the park, Elizabeth unexpectedly crossed paths with Mr Darcy on several occasions. Despite her attempts to avoid him, her efforts were in vain. She even took care to inform him which parts of the park were her favourite, hoping that he would understand and stay away, but it proved to be useless.

These encounters did happen, not just once but three times. It seemed as though Mr Darcy deliberately walked the park in order to meet her. Or perhaps it is a self-imposed punishment , she pondered, amused, as their meetings did not simply consist of brief formal enquiries followed by awkward silences and hasty departures. No, he took it further by joining her for a stroll. Their conversations were usually short, and she did not make much effort to talk to him or pay him much attention. However, on this particular morning, she resolved to seek him out, determined to engage him in conversation. She could not give up her quest to learn more about Mr Bingley, and who better to get information from than the man who knew everything that had happened at Netherfield? Also, a particular curiosity had begun to gnaw at her, a desire to uncover the reasons behind his persistent presence around her.

As she walked, absorbed in reading her latest letter from Jane, her thoughts dwelling on passages that hinted at her sister’s profound sadness, she unexpectedly found herself not in Mr Darcy’s company this time but in the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Quickly putting away her letter and forcing a smile, she greeted him, saying, “I did not know that you ever walked this way, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“I have been making my tour of the park,” he replied, “and I had planned to end it with a visit to the Parsonage. Do you intend to go much farther?”

“No,” she replied. “I should have turned in a moment.”

And so, they continued together, back towards the Parsonage.

“Will you truly be leaving Kent this Saturday?” she asked.

“Yes, unless Darcy decides otherwise. I am at his disposal—he arranges matters as he pleases.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth pondered, “Mr Darcy seems to relish his power of choice. I can think of few who derive as much pleasure from doing as they please as he does.”

“He does enjoy having his own way,” the colonel admitted, “as do we all. However, his means of achieving it far exceed those of many, for he is wealthy, while others are not. I speak from experience, as a younger son must grow accustomed to self-denial and dependency. ”

“In my opinion,” Elizabeth countered, “a younger son of an earl can scarcely claim familiarity with either. Honestly, what experience have you had with self-denial and dependence? When has a lack of funds ever hindered you from pursuing your desires or procuring your wishes?”

“These are good questions,” the colonel conceded. “I cannot claim to have suffered many hardships in that regard. However, I may experience a shortage of funds in matters of greater consequence. Younger sons are not always free to marry as they wish.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth interjected, surprised by his sincerity. “So they favour women of fortune?”

“Perhaps. Unfortunately, our habits of expense make us too dependent,” the colonel explained, “and few of my rank can afford to marry without some financial consideration.”

“This happens to many ladies as well, compelled by circumstances and familial expectations to marry for a secure future,” Elizabeth commented. “Love is rarely discussed. Even my dear father, who has always encouraged us to follow our hearts in marriage, is now taking back his promises, and has lately told me to pursue love instead of fall—” She stopped abruptly with a wry smile, prompting the colonel to scrutinise her as though searching for hidden meaning in her words.

“I must admit,” he remarked, “that I find your father’s counsel rather sound. Falling in love can often be a blind occurrence that neglects a person’s inner qualities in favour of superficial beauty or talents.”

Elizabeth returned his gaze with curiosity. “I am surprised that a gentleman your age would endorse my father’s notions.”

“I endorse any notion that makes sense and holds merit,” the colonel asserted. “Some men, for instance, may find it difficult to inspire instant affection. This may occur for various reasons that are of little importance. I might even venture to say that such men often reveal their flaws at the outset, inadvertently overshadowing their finer qualities. Yet, getting to know such a man and uncovering those hidden virtues can be a gratifying pursuit, for the love of such a man is priceless, sincere, and profound.”

Elizabeth remained silent, waiting for him to continue. However, she sensed an underlying message in his words.

Is he speaking of Mr Darcy? she wondered. And if so, why would he choose to share such sentiments with her, unless…

“Consider my cousin,” the colonel continued. “He is often perceived as excessively serious, and some may mistake his reserved demeanour for aloofness.”

Elizabeth could not suppress a sarcastic smile, which the colonel observed. Undeterred, he continued in the same wistful tone. “I admit it can be aloofness sometimes, but tell me of, or better show me, a person free of faults. Is it not better to know from the beginning the faults of someone and discover later the qualities that are not evident but essential, instead of a blind attraction that leads so often to overlooking truly profound faults until it is too late?”

“So your cousin is full of concealed qualities.”

“I did not say full…I said he possesses important qualities that make his aloofness and pride fade.”

“Such as?” Elizabeth was quite intrigued; her opinion of Mr Darcy was rather different.

“Such as a total devotion to his family, generosity, impetuosity—”

“Impetuosity?” Elizabeth asked and laughed lightly. Mr Darcy appeared to her to be as far from impetuosity as a wary fox.

“Would courage be better?” the colonel asked in the same playful tone, yet Elizabeth could see he meant what he said.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied. She was tempted to add ‘dull’, but decorum restrained her from speaking unkindly of a man the colonel clearly held in high regard.

Furthermore, she could not deny that when she first met Mr Darcy in Hertfordshire, she had not found him dull. The enigma surrounding Mr Darcy’s behaviour, as well as the colonel’s peculiar praise, left her utterly confounded.

Just a few days ago, during her encounters with Mr Darcy in the park, she had sensed that his odd enquiries were designed to draw her attention to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Were the two cousins trying to persuade her to favour the other? It was the most bizarre situation imaginable.

And comic , she mused. Resolved to say nothing further, she allowed the colonel to continue his discourse.

“In my view,” he continued, “the pursuit of love may also mean discovery. I am convinced a lady can unearth fine qualities that hold greater importance in a marriage than a lively presence in society.”

“Are you still speaking of your cousin?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity piqued yet tinged with a hint of irritation as she was still uncertain about why the colonel wished to tell her such things.

“Yes, whether it is him or another man. But speaking of him, he assumed the weighty responsibilities of his family after his father’s premature death. I support him in one aspect—in our joint guardianship of Miss Darcy.”

“Indeed?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “And what kind of guardians do you make? Does Miss Darcy give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age can sometimes be quite difficult. If she possesses the true Darcy spirit, she may be inclined to claim her independence.”

As she spoke, she observed the colonel studying her. Then, immediately, he asked why she believed Miss Darcy might pose any difficulty, confirming to Elizabeth that she had come relatively close to the truth.

But she replied without hesitation. “You need not be concerned. I have heard nothing but praise for her. Her friends consider her one of the kindest and most accomplished young ladies one could hope to encounter. She is a great favourite with some ladies I know—Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley.”

“I hardly know those ladies, but Bingley is a friend. I understand you know him, as he leased a house in Hertfordshire.”

“Oh, indeed,” Elizabeth replied dryly. “I am well acquainted with him.”

“Darcy is a great friend, looking after Bingley in that direction where he seems to have a genuine weakness—with the ladies,” the colonel remarked. “From what Darcy confided during our journey here, I believe that Bingley owes him a considerable debt. However, I cannot be certain he was the individual in question. It was all conjecture on my part.”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth pressed.

“It is a matter that Darcy would not wish to divulge entirely,” the colonel explained, “for should it become known to the lady’s family, it would undoubtedly prove unpleasant.”

“You may trust in my discretion,” Elizabeth assured him.

“Furthermore,” the colonel added, “I have little reason to assume it was Bingley, it could have been another friend. In any case, Darcy told me that he congratulated himself on having saved a friend from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage—yet without divulging names or specific details. I surmised it was Bingley due to his propensity to find himself entangled in such affairs and from knowing they had been together last autumn.”

“Did Mr Darcy provide any reason for his intervention or how he achieved such a rescue?” Elizabeth asked.

“He did not share his own motives with me, nor the means he employed,” the colonel replied, a faint smile gracing his lips. “He only related to me what I have just told you.”

Elizabeth fell silent, her heart swelling with indignation. After observing her for a moment, the colonel asked why she appeared so lost in thought.

“Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Meryton is a small town.”

“So, you know the story?”

“Let us say that I know the story from the other side…and you can imagine that it appears very different.” El izabeth spoke with such vehemence that the colonel looked away.

“Then who is the lady?” he asked, disturbed.

But she had no time or wish to respond, for Mrs Collins and Miss Lucas emerged from the Parsonage, calling to Elizabeth. She excused herself, hastening into the house with a quick farewell, leaving the colonel standing alone in the road, slightly disconcerted by the abrupt interruption to their pleasant walk. He even felt that Miss Bennet had listened intently to how he had described Darcy.

???

It took the colonel another five minutes and several hundred yards of brisk walking to understand Miss Bennet’s behaviour and the gravity of his blunder, and despair washed over him. Miss Bennet had four sisters, and her anger was justified only if she knew well who the lady was. His mistake was inexcusable. He rushed to find Mrs Barstow, fervently hoping to catch her alone. The maid kept him waiting for a few minutes until her mistress emerged from her bedroom.

“What has happened?” Mrs Barstow exclaimed, seeing the colonel’s distressed face.

“I have made a colossal blunder, a terrible mistake,” the colonel confessed. “I finally had the opportunity to walk with Miss Bennet, and everything proceeded as planned. Then…the idiot that I am…I told her that Darcy had saved a friend, perhaps even Mr Bingley, from an ill-fated marriage. I think the lady is one of Miss Bennet’s sisters. ”

“Oh, dear God!” Mrs Barstow gasped, comprehending the seriousness of the situation.

She could not help but wonder why she had ever trusted the colonel and encouraged him to speak to Miss Bennet. However, she felt sympathy for the distraught man and sat beside him on the sofa, taking his hand.

“Calm yourself, my dear,” she said soothingly. “In the end, you did not tell a lie. In no circumstance can a marriage be built on lies and pretence—if Fitzwilliam indeed intends to marry Miss Bennet. A prospect I begin to doubt as you are leaving on Sunday, and nothing seems to have occurred between them.”

“Do you advise me to tell him what I said?”

“Has he confessed his intention to marry her?”

“No, but there have been hints,” the colonel replied.

“I believe it might be best to tell him,” Mrs Barstow advised.

With a deep sense of foreboding, the colonel approached Darcy’s rooms, only to be told by his valet that he had gone out. After grappling with his remorse alone for a while, he decided it would be best to go after his cousin and tell him what had happened; seeing Miss Bennet without knowing what had transpired could end in disaster. He looked desperately around the park, but there was no sign of Darcy. He went to the stables hoping that he had taken his horse for a ride, but there he was told Darcy had already ridden early that morning.

“I saw Mr Darcy walking in the direction of Hunsford,” a young groom told him, and the colonel froze because the Parsonage was in that direction. His cousin had no reason to walk to the village.

Darcy must have gone to the Parsonage, and as they intended to leave Kent soon, it could be his last chance to ask Miss Bennet for her hand. And what a calamity! the colonel mused in despair if that occurred immediately after his blunder.

He ran to the Parsonage, hoping to arrive in time and save what could still be saved, but as he approached, he saw his cousin leaving the house, and the sight made him sick with worry. Darcy was broken, and indeed, meeting his cousin, he just murmured, “She said no!” and walked off in haste, leaving the colonel profoundly perplexed. Then Darcy stopped and, turning to the colonel, he spoke roughly. “Please, tell nobody! And I mean nobody!”