Chapter 1

On one subject, Elizabeth was utterly and completely in agreement with Mr Collins: Rosings Park was beautiful in the spring. Of course, she had to agree on two further subjects too: Rosings House had hundreds of windows, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh had indeed invited them to dine twice already since she arrived in Kent. Just as Mr Collins had promised.

Elizabeth had accepted Charlotte’s invitation to visit her with reluctance. Jane was in London with the Gardiners, and her spirits were very low. Her heart had been broken by Mr Bingley’s departure and even more so by the realisation — gleaned from Miss Caroline Bingley — that he knew she was in town but did not wish to see her. Elizabeth had good reasons to doubt everything Miss Bingley said; Mr Bingley’s sisters had certainly put much effort into separating their brother from Jane — and in that, they had received the help of Mr Darcy, a gentleman who had caused so much sorrow to others due to his ill-tempered nature and selfish arrogance. He was a man she never wanted to see again, but she had been disappointed to be forced into his company quite often in the last week.

As if he had a purpose of ruining her enjoyment on every occasion, Mr Darcy had arrived at Rosings for his annual visit to his aunt shortly after Elizabeth had travelled to Hunsford herself. If she had known there was even a slight chance of such an unhappy coincidence, she would certainly have postponed her visit or even cancelled it.

If his involvement in Mr Bingley’s situation had not been publicly admitted and there could be some doubt, his cruel treatment of Mr Wickham was as certain as it was outrageous. Not only had he ruined his childhood companion’s chances in life, but he had disregarded his father’s dying wish—something that a gentleman would never do. Mr Darcy might be a gentleman by name, family, and education, but surely he was not by his character and behaviour.

Very much unlike his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, though not as handsome as Mr Darcy, was much more likeable due to his amiability.

From the first time he had visited to the Parsonage with Mr Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam had been admired, and his visits were considered a privilege. He seemed to enjoy the ladies’ company too; therefore he called daily on his usual rides around the park.

But why Mr Darcy came so often to the Parsonage was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there for ten minutes together without opening his lips; he always seemed to speak as a sacrifice to politeness, not for his own pleasure.

Colonel Fitzwilliam occasionally laughed at his cousin’s aloofness and claimed it was not his usual manner. Elizabeth contradicted him in her mind; to her, Mr Darcy was very much as usual — arrogant, haughty, staring at her and making her uncomfortable.

Even worse, Elizabeth had met Mr Darcy unexpectedly on her ramble in the park more than once. On several such occasions, she had deliberately mentioned the paths where she usually walked, hoping that would keep him away, but the effect had been rather the opposite — she kept meeting him, a fact that ruined her enjoyment.

That day, she decided to prevent any unpleasant meetings and completely changed her direction.

Soon, she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the palings opposite the Parsonage, in a small grove full of flowers and bushes blossoming in the spring.

She was walking with her eyes closed when suddenly she heard the sound of children’s voices and barking, then laughter and a male voice which made her quiver with disbelief. She stepped closer, moving to hide behind some high bushes, and found shelter behind a larger tree that obscured her presence entirely. Bewildered, she watched Mr Darcy— of all men! — sitting on the grass with two young children, a boy and a girl no older than seven, near him. With them was Mr Darcy’s dog — the Great Dane Elizabeth had seen at Netherfield — and two puppies.

“They have grown very much in only a week,” she heard Mr Darcy say. “It means you have taken good care of them.”

“I sleep with both of them,” the boy declared proudly.

“Mama said you sent us a lot of meat, and we all ate it and gave the puppies some too!” the girl exclaimed.

“Are you sure your mother is not looking for you?” Mr Darcy asked.

“No, no, look, our house is there — she can see us and call us if she wants,” the boy replied. “She and Tom are working in the garden. She said I am too young to work with them, but as soon as I am ten, she will give me some jobs to do. I am strong enough already.”

“Tom is fifteen, is he not?” Mr Darcy asked.

“Yes, nearly sixteen. He said he wants to be a sailor to go to sea, but he must stay and help Mama,” the boy continued.

“Mr Darcy, why are you so kind?” the girl enquired. “Mama said we should not disturb you because you are a very important man, and if you become angry with us, Lady Catherine will be angry too and throw us out of our home. Mama said she is afraid to speak to you. And she said she is afraid she can’t pay for all the food you send us.”

“Oh, Mama is a woman, and women are always fearful. I am not afraid to talk to Mr Darcy!” the boy declared.

“I am not afraid either!” the girl repeated bravely.

“That’s because you are a girl, not a woman,” the boy answered wisely.

Elizabeth was equally astonished and amused by the scene, which seemed implausible to her.

“Tell your mother I thank her, but you do not need to worry about bothering me,” Mr Darcy answered. “Tell her I congratulate her for having such kind, well-behaved, and clever children.”

“Oh, you mean us? the girl asked. “To be honest, we are not well-behaved,” she admitted. “We were at Rosings with Mama one day, and Lady Catherine said we are not allowed there because we are spoilt brats.”

Elizabeth was curious how Mr Darcy would respond. He seemed hesitant and finally said, “I shall still maintain my own opinion of you. You should always listen to your mother and obey her requests. I would be happy to know you are doing that.”

“I promise,” the girl said.

“And please tell your mother that she does not have to pay for what I send. It was for you because you took these small, dying puppies and took good care of them and fed them. That is all.”

Elizabeth was still in disbelief listening to the dialogue; she would never have imagined Mr Darcy would engage in such a tender conversation with small children who were unrelated to him.

She was curious about how the three unlikely friends had met, but she could not possibly ask. She turned to leave, feeling she had intruded long enough, and something creaked under her foot. The sound was no louder than a whisper but enough for Mr Darcy’s dog to hear it. With a bark, the hound ran towards her, its teeth bared, then at Mr Darcy’s command, he immediately sat, looking at her. Only moments later, the dog seemed to remember her and moved closer with his tongue out, wagging his tail.

Mr Darcy approached and so did the children, the puppies following them.

“Miss Bennet?”

“Mr Darcy! Forgive me for disturbing you, sir, I was just walking and—”

“Are you the miss who is visiting Mrs Collins?” the girl enquired.

“Yes. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Oh, really? My name is Elizabeth too, but my mama calls me Betsy! She only calls me Elizabeth when I do not behave.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Let me tell you a secret. My mother calls me Lizzy, and she also calls me Elizabeth when she is displeased with me.”

The girl watched her with her mouth open, clearly trying to ponder whether she was serious.

“You look like a lady. You cannot misbehave,” the girl finally concluded, and Elizabeth laughed again.

“You are right,” Mr Darcy suddenly interjected. “Miss Bennet’s behaviour is always without fault. I cannot imagine why anyone would be upset with her.”

He spoke in jest, but Elizabeth’s puzzlement changed into nervousness. Had he just complimented her, or was it only a mere joke?

“Allow me to introduce to you Miss Betsy and Peter. Their mother, Mrs Gilroy, is a tenant of Lady Catherine’s.”

“No, no,” Peter explained. “My father was the tenant, but he died last year. My mama is a seamstress, and she and my brother work in the garden so we have food for the winter.”

The boy’s explanation saddened Elizabeth, and she exchanged a glance with Mr Darcy.

“Peter is correct, of course,” the gentleman answered.

As they spoke, they heard someone calling the children, and a woman appeared. Elizabeth estimated she was Mrs Gardiner’s age, but she looked exceedingly thin and pale, her simple, dark clothes making her look much older.

Seeing them, the woman turned even paler, lowered her eyes, then attempted a curtsey with her head down.

“Mr Darcy…forgive me, sir…I am so sorry…I told the children not to bother you…”

“Ma’am, please do not apologise. You certainly have no reason to. The children are very pleasant company, and I enjoy our time together very much. I am glad to talk to them — unless of course you prefer not to allow them to speak to me.”

“Oh no, sir…it is just…I do not want to upset you.”

“I am not upset. Please trust me and let us not mention this again.”

“Mama, Mr Darcy said you do not have to pay for the food!” the girl said joyfully.

“Mrs Gilroy, I am sorry if my simple gesture made you uncomfortable. I assure you it is nothing but what I do regularly for my own tenants, especially those who most need it. If you wish to thank me, please just accept it for the children.”

“Thank you, sir,” the woman replied, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes still low. “You are very generous. I am not accustomed to…I mean…I do not want to upset Lady Catherine… she might be displeased…”

“Then the best solution would be not to tell her,” Mr Darcy responded with a trace of a smile on his lips. “Would you not agree, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes,” she replied, again surprised by his manner.

“Mama, Miss Bennet’s name is also Elizabeth, and she is called Lizzy! I think I like Lizzy more than Betsy. Can you call me that?”

“Be silent, child,” the mother requested with apparent mortification, but Elizabeth smiled and touched the top of the girl’s head.

“Betsy is quite lovely too.”

“Let us go now,” Mrs Gilroy said. “I beg you to forgive me, sir, miss…I must feed the children and then finish my work.”

“Of course.”

“Mama, can we come tomorrow and talk to Mr Darcy again?” Peter asked as they walked away. “I love his dog — did you see how large it is? These puppies will never be so big, Mr Darcy said. I think Mr Darcy knows everything. He is very clever. And very kind.”

Their mother tried to silence them, but the children continued to chat, glancing back and waving at Mr Darcy and Elizabeth.

When they were finally alone, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy looked at each other. Only then did she notice he was wearing no hat and there were some leaves in his hair from sitting under the trees.

“Miss Bennet, are you returning to the Parsonage?”

“Yes…”

“Do you mind if I keep you company?”

She was stunned again.

“No, not at all…”

She glanced back, seeing that both his dog and his horse were following him freely. Both were tall, impressive, and looked frightening, yet they followed their master so calmly.

“I am surprised Colonel Fitzwilliam is not with you.”

“He went to the village. He should be back soon. I preferred to spend a little time with my new friends.”

Elizabeth smiled and turned her head away. He looked at her, clearly intrigued, and she decided to reply.

“Calling those lovely children your friends and seeing you play with them is something I would have never imagined.”

“May I ask why not?”

“Why not? Because nothing I have seen since we first met suggested such partiality for playfulness or that sort of kindness.”

The last word slipped from her lips, and he gazed at her.

“I see…so your opinion of me forbade you from believing I might send food to a young widow who is raising three children,” he asked with some severity.

“Oh, no! That I can easily believe. I have long heard that you are an excellent master and landlord, and I am sure you show kindness and generosity to those in need.”

“Then…I do not understand your meaning…”

“Perhaps we would do better to change the subject, sir. I should not have said anything.”

“Please speak your mind, Miss Bennet. I have always admired your sincerity and will certainly not be bothered by hearing your honest opinion.”

She knew she should not speak further, but she did, and her irritation grew with every word. Things that she had not imagined would be said came out with frightening and imprudent haste.

“I know you are a man of many qualities, Mr Darcy, but I have never believed gentleness, kindness, and friendliness to strangers outside your circle of family and friends to be among them. I find it easier to believe that you might provide food and shelter to someone in need than that you play with children and their puppies.”

“You speak of my many qualities, but what I hear sounds more like flaws of character.”

“I apologise. I only spoke my mind as you requested. I might be wrong. I told you a while ago that I failed in sketching your character as I hear such different accounts of you that puzzle me exceedingly.”

“I remember. And I also told you that I know you received reports that vary greatly with respect to me, so I begged you not to sketch my character as there were reasons to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either of us.”

“I would have gladly waited to complete that performance, Mr Darcy, and perhaps to enquire further in regard to the various reports. However, I did not have that chance as you left unexpectedly and never returned. Neither you nor Mr Bingley, who promised to be back in one week. Perhaps in London, weeks are longer than in Hertfordshire.”

Her statement clearly took him by surprise, and he looked at her with a frown as if he had not truly comprehended her meaning.

“Are there questions you wish to ask me now, Miss Bennet?”

“There might be, but, without being rude, I fear your answer, whether you decide to provide it or not.”

Strangely, he laughed bitterly, puzzling her.

“Betsy and Peter told me their mother is afraid to speak to me. I would never have imagined that you would be afraid to talk to me too, Miss Bennet.”

“I am not afraid to speak to you, Mr Darcy. I am perhaps afraid of things you might tell me or conceal from me. However, I know I have no right to expect any answers from you. After all, we are nothing to each other except mere acquaintances who have always been enemies more than friends.”

He was speechless and look bewildered, while she continued; the Parsonage was already in sight.

“Sir, perhaps you should wonder what are the excellent things you do as a habit that everyone praises you for — from your servants to complete strangers. And what are the things that perhaps require some improvement so that people — no matter who they are — would not be afraid to address you.”

He looked pale and disturbed and still did not reply.

“Forgive me if I said too much. I thank you for keeping me company, Mr Darcy. Good day.”

She took a few steps, then he called to her, and she stopped.

“Miss Bennet, you have not said too much. Perhaps you have not said enough. I have no intention of concealing the truth if you wish to hear it. I shall be in the same place tomorrow. If you happen to be in the area, I am sure the children would be happy to see you. As for being enemies, that might express your feelings, but it certainly does not reflect mine. Good day, Miss Bennet.”