Elizabeth held tightly to the small scrap of paper. Her heart pounded fiercely and she felt a shiver course through her. Darcy had purposely placed this piece of paper in the book with the full intention of her finding it tonight.
She wished with every fibre of her being to believe that it was written purely out of a desire to begin the day with her out on a walk as they had done so often on the ship. She was well aware he wanted to talk; they had a great need to talk. She prayed he was not planning to tell her something that would be difficult to bear.
Elizabeth sat in her bed, knowing now that she would find it difficult to concentrate on the book and finish it. All she cared to do was to stare at the missive, written, as Miss Bingley had so eloquently stated, in such an even hand, and yet there was more: an elegance and a style that most men would not possess in their handwriting. She absently ran her fingers across the simple message and across his name.
She could hear, very slightly, a discussion from downstairs and recognized Miss Bingley’s shrill voice and Darcy’s calm, soothing voice. She could not discern their words, but began to feel a bit more confident that he was not blinded by that woman’s character and would not choose to align himself with someone such as her. At least that was her conviction if she had really come to know and understand the man as well as she thought she had.
She closed her eyes but could not sleep. Her heart was not going to let her easily forget that tomorrow morning she would start the day just as she had those days on Pemberley’s Promise , walking with her husband. She let out a long sigh, remembering with a sudden ache that she could no longer claim him as such.
Elizabeth savoured the clear memory of the two of them walking together aboard the ship, and she was not even sure when her wilful meditation gave way to dreams of the very same nature.
Later, as Darcy returned to his room, he paused in front of Elizabeth’s door. Had she read his note? Would she understand his meaning? Would she oblige him by meeting him tomorrow morning?
He put two fingers to his lips and then reached out and touched her door; his heart stirring at the thought of her just inside. He wondered just how much he should say to her tomorrow if she came. He was still unsure of her feelings for him.
If he knew for a certainty that she would remain at Netherfield a few more days, it would be easier. He decided that first he should get some basic issues out in the open with her. Curiosity and the pain that it caused him drove his determination to find out why she left the room that night and why she did not return at least to say goodbye. That would give him a good indication of her true sentiments toward him. If he were to discover any encouragement in her words, then his next step would be to subtly, without Miss Bingley’s observing, give Elizabeth some very definite hints that his feelings leaned toward a very strong regard. Dare he say love? His heart pounded at the thought.
Would she embrace his words warmly? Would he even be able to express the depth of his feeling to her in a way she would understand? Would she look favourably upon him still being her husband when he told her he had never annulled the marriage?
He would take one step at a time, and then he could only hope.
***
As the sun slowly made its appearance above the horizon, sending its first ray of light into Elizabeth’s room, she stirred. Stretching her arms high above her, she opened her eyes and it took her a few moments to begin thinking lucidly. As her mind cleared, she suddenly sat upright in her bed. The walk! She contemplated, with a thread of hope outweighing her doubt, and anticipation instead of apprehension, that soon she would be out walking again with Fitzwilliam Darcy. The chill of the late autumn night had inhabited her room, but the warmth of that anticipation flooded her.
She heard a door open down the hall and footsteps walk past her room, pausing, she noticed, just outside her door. She kept her eyes upon the door, half expecting a knock, but soon the steps continued on down the hall.
Elizabeth quickly arose, slipped on her dress, and sat at the dressing table, scooping her hair up. She looked at herself, at her dress, and began to think those same thoughts she had on the ship; her dress so simple, especially now compared with the fashionable attire of Bingley’s sisters and to what William himself was most likely used to.
Taking in a deep breath and opening her eyes wide, she let out a speculative sigh. Well, it is now or never!
She picked up her coat, knowing that the air outside would be brisk, slipped it on, and quietly opened the door.
She was able to slip out without encountering anyone, and chided herself for feeling as though she was doing something improper.
She walked out and deeply breathed in the cool morning air. Little patches of mud still remained, and as she looked around, not seeing Darcy, she tried to determine which way to go. Off to the right was a gravel path, and she settled on that direction, reasoning that there would be less of a chance of getting caught in the mud as she had the other day.
The path took her to a grove of trees, below which was a small body of water. As she entered the grove, the path wound its way down, and in turning, she saw Darcy standing with his back resting against a tree. He looked up at her, pulled himself away from the tree, nervously straightened his coat, and took the few long strides needed to bring him to her.
She stopped as he did. “Elizabeth, you came.”
“Yes.”
“I was uncertain whether you would see the note, and then, whether you would choose to come at all.”
How could I pass up an invitation for such a delightful diversion as an early morning walk with you? she said to herself. “Yes, the note fell out of my book when I began reading it.” She avoided addressing his other thought.
Darcy noticed a faint glimmer in her eyes before she answered him, and it took him a moment to turn and point in the direction of the pond. “Shall we?”
The two began to walk, awkwardly at first, thoughts of their walks on the ship flooding their minds.
At length, Darcy spoke. “I knew it was imperative we find an occasion to talk without interruption. I was not sure how else to propose it, as we have, both of us , been under the most diligent, watchful, and speculative eye of Miss Bingley.”
“Oh yes. Miss Bingley. We would not want to give her the wrong impression.”
“She gets the wrong impression too easily and too wilfully, I fear.” Darcy looked down and smiled at her, although she missed seeing it as she was staring straight ahead at the path before her. “But I do not believe her to be too early a riser, and thought this would be the best way to have a little time together without her interference.”
Elizabeth walked with her hands clasped together in front of her, as Darcy mirrored her, walking with his clasped behind him.
“I…”
“You…”
They looked at each other and laughed nervously. They had both begun to speak at the same time.
“You first, Elizabeth.”
“No, please, you may go first.”
Darcy stopped and turned toward her. “You left our room that last night on the ship, and then left the ship the next day without saying goodbye. I just wondered why.”
Elizabeth’s brows furrowed and she bit her lower lip as she contemplated what she would say. Being unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head and answered, “I… I just felt I should not stay in our… in the room that night.”
He gingerly brought a few of his fingers under her chin and lifted it up, forcing her to look at him, and he looked intently into her eyes. “Was it… because I kissed you? Please accept my apology if it offended you.”
Elizabeth quickly closed her eyes, her ragged breath betraying her feelings. “No, it was not the kiss itself.” His fingers still pressed lightly under her chin and the mention of the kiss flooded her with a warmth that prompted her to turn away.
“Did you not like it?”
“No, I mean yes. I mean…” Elizabeth paused.
“I do not wish you to be uncomfortable, Elizabeth.”
“It was… it was because of Caroline.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “Caroline? Caroline Bingley?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“You did not even know Caroline Bingley then, did you?”
Elizabeth turned back to him. “No, but you called me her name the night… the night of the storm.”
“I called you Caroline?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“And you assumed that by my calling you Caroline, there was someone back home that I held in favourable regard.”
“Yes, something like that, and therefore I should not have kissed you.”
Suddenly Darcy began to laugh, and Elizabeth wondered what he thought was so funny.
“I am sorry you find my conjecture so humorous, sir.”
“I do not find your conjecture humorous at all, Elizabeth. What I find humorous is the reason I called you Caroline.”
Narrowing her eyes, Elizabeth asked, “And what, may I ask, was the reason?”
“I am not sure I should divulge it.”
“Well you certainly must now, as you have piqued my curiosity.”
“Let us walk.” Darcy reached over and took her hand, tucking it inside his arm, and they turned and began slowly walking, Darcy told her, “I awoke that night and found you had turned and were sleeping in my arms. It was quite… disconcerting… in a good way. I found myself fighting a terribly difficult temptation, having you so close to me.”
As he spoke, Elizabeth blushed, remembering the mortification she felt when she had awakened and found herself entangled with him.
“So, I steeled myself to think of you as Caroline Bingley, which apparently worked all too well.”
“Think of me as Caroline Bingley?”
Darcy shook his head. “You have seen Miss Bingley. Do you really think someone like that could be a temptation to me?”
Elizabeth looked down, overwhelmed by his words.
Darcy stopped and turned back to her. “Elizabeth, you did not think… certainly you could not think Miss Bingley means anything to me.”
“I confess I found it difficult to comprehend, but yes, I have wondered.”
They stood staring at each other, Darcy’s eyes travelling down to her lips and back up to her eyes.
“I am sorry, Elizabeth, that you have suffered under such a misapprehension. I had no idea…” The words no longer came as he found himself entranced by the glow in her eyes.
Elizabeth, feeling drawn in by his fervent gaze, shook herself free from his magnetizing spell and turned to walk again.
The ardour that had come over him was quickly dispelled by Elizabeth’s next words. “And why was it that you purposefully neglected to tell me you owned Pemberley’s Promise ? Was it your belief that you could not entrust me with that information?”
“How did you come to learn of that?”
“That is not important right now.”
Darcy brought up his hand to rub his chin. It was not a simple answer. He considered it was not even a sufficient answer. “When I came onboard, I did not want anyone to know I owned the ship. I did not want to be burdened with complaints and problems and requests for special treatment. In essence, I wanted to be left alone.”
This time, Elizabeth stopped and waited while he explained.
“I knew that in my asking you… in making the arrangement we did… I would be able to persuade the captain to agree to it because of my position. I feared afterward that if you found out, you would be angry, or no longer trust me.”
Elizabeth looked away. “Did you truly believe that of me?”
“Remember, Elizabeth, you were the one who claimed, most emphatically, that the captain would not agree to marry us. I felt that if you found out I was his superior, in a manner of speaking, you would believe he had little or no choice because of who I was; you would come to regret it and resent me.”
After a few moments of silence, he asked, “How did you find out, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth knew this would be more difficult to tell him. Not that she was ashamed or felt she had done anything wrong, but because the whole experience at Pemberley evoked such strong feelings within her.
“We took a ship back to Liverpool from America, where my uncle finished up some business details. Upon leaving Liverpool, we stopped at Lambton, where my aunt had lived as a young girl.”
“Lambton?” Darcy stopped. “Why, that is not five miles from my home!”
“Yes,” answered Elizabeth. “Pemberley. One day my aunt and uncle and I took in the sights around Derbyshire, and my aunt mentioned visiting Pemberley. I was a little surprised by the name, mentioning that Pemberley was the name of the ship on which I had sailed over, and she began to tell us of Pemberley and that it was owned by the Darcys. You can imagine my surprise.”
“I am sorry that I did not tell you. But Elizabeth, tell me, did you go see Pemberley?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, we did.”
“And, may I ask, what you thought of it?”
“I thought it was quite grand, as most anyone would.”
Darcy felt a great sense of contentment that Elizabeth had walked the very halls of his home.
“And I had the pleasure of meeting your sister. She is very sweet and kind and a very accomplished pianist.”
“You met Georgiana?”
“Yes.”
“You heard her play?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“I am amazed. Georgiana usually hides herself in her room when strangers are touring the home. She is extremely shy.”
“Yes, but she can be encouraged out of her shyness. And the only reason we heard her play was because she did not realize we were there. She came out to meet us after Mrs. Reynolds informed her that I had been on the same ship as you on the crossing to America.”
“This is remarkable news to me! Georgiana actually came out to meet you?”
“She was concerned about you and asked me questions about the trip.”
Suddenly Darcy’s face turned serious. “What did you tell her?”
“She wanted to know what may have happened because you had been so despondent when you arrived in America. I told her I had no way of knowing.” She looked up at Darcy’s face and searched the depths of his eyes. “She seemed very concerned. She cares for you greatly.”
“She is very kind and caring. I am glad you met her. I only wish I had been there when you arrived.”
They walked down to the pond, and Darcy stooped down to pick up some small stones and casually began to throw them in. Elizabeth stood with her arms tucked together, marvelling at all they had said to each other.
Elizabeth laughed, “I am afraid, William, that we would not have visited if you had been home. I had my uncle inquire whether you were there. If you had been home, I would have felt too awkward to take the tour of it.”
Darcy held one last stone in his hand, throwing it lightly in the air and catching it. “First of all,” he said, “there would be no reason for you to have felt awkward if I had been there. And secondly,” he tossed the rock into the pond, “you just called me William, we are alone, and you did not correct yourself.”
“Yes, William, I did.”
He stood looking at Elizabeth, taking in a very satisfied breath and wearing a smile that looked on the verge of bursting into a full-fledged grin. The smallest encouragement was all he needed to lean the short distance over and experience the joy and pleasure of kissing her lips again.
But before he had an opportunity to satisfy that thought, he looked up toward the top of the path, noticing Miss Bingley coming down. “I fear, Elizabeth, that we are about to be intruded upon.” He nodded up in the direction of the house, and Elizabeth followed his gaze. “Shall we give Miss Bingley something to speculate about, do you think?”
Elizabeth, unsure of his meaning but not inclined to further Miss Bingley’s suspicious mind, replied, “If you do not mind, I should prefer to continue walking on. I would not wish for her to give a shocking report to Mr. Bingley of Jane’s sister.” Her smile disarmed him, and he reached out for her arm to briefly detain her.
“We could easily climb this tree, could we not, and escape her notice? I heard once that climbing trees might be a good way to avoid someone you do not wish to encounter.”
Elizabeth gasped and stood transfixed, unable to move as she considered his words. The only way he would know of her climbing a tree was if he remembered the carriage ride, the conversation in the carriage, and her!
“I… uh… I must go!” Elizabeth turned and quickly continued down the path, away from the all-knowing, smiling gaze of William and the all-suspicious gaze of Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth walked quickly around the path that eventually brought her back up to the house. She slipped in and went directly to Jane’s room, grateful to see that Jane was up and sitting in a chair.
“Good morning, Jane. Are you feeling better today?”
“Yes, Lizzy. Have you been out for a walk this morning?”
“Yes. It was a grand morning for a walk!”
“You look… you look very vibrant! Walking certainly agrees with you.”
“That it does, on certain occasions. Come, Jane, let me help you get ready to go downstairs.”
“I believe I am ready to go home, as well. Can you see about securing the carriage from home?”
Elizabeth paused in attending to Jane, realizing with a start that now she had no desire to leave. If she had spoken the very same words yesterday, Elizabeth would have been inclined to leave at a moment’s notice. Now she was hoping for every possible opportunity to remain on longer.
“We shall see, Jane. Let us see how you do once you are up.”
***
When they both came to the breakfast parlour, Bingley was there with the Hursts. Darcy and Miss Bingley were nowhere to be seen. Bingley was pleased to see Jane even more improved and able to come downstairs to join them for breakfast.
They sat down at the table and answered the polite inquiries from everyone. It was some time later that Darcy and Caroline walked in. Darcy appeared invigorated by the walk, his eyes emanating gleeful warmth as he looked at Elizabeth. Miss Bingley seemed exhausted and not at all satisfied with life in general.
The conversation around the table focused on Jane’s improvement and her being well enough to come down to the table, but from Bingley, how regrettable it was that she would be leaving. Miss Bingley was unusually quiet, forcing a smile and every now and then, making a trite comment. Darcy seemed very satisfied, and he openly, and quite warmly, looked up and glanced at Elizabeth. He had accomplished the first thing he had set out to do, and he was very pleased with the outcome.
Later, he would tell her the extent of his feelings and that they were still married. His throat suddenly dried as he merely contemplated doing this. He wondered how he would fare when actually telling her!
Elizabeth sat next to Jane at the table and down from Darcy, and smiled as she witnessed Miss Bingley’s occasional attempts to garner his attention again. It was sad, actually, but Elizabeth did not feel sorry enough for her to take away from her enjoyment in watching her make a spectacle of herself.
When the subject of Jane returning home was brought up by Caroline, Jane suggested that they send a note home and ask for the carriage to be sent. Bingley agreed, but the prospect of her having to leave dampened his spirits.
Darcy’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated Elizabeth leaving and not having another chance to speak with her. There was so much more he wanted to say!
A note was dispatched to Longbourn, asking for the use of the carriage to bring them home, and a reply from Mrs. Bennet emphatically stated that it was out of the question, and would not be available until Tuesday. Bingley graciously offered his own carriage, but informed them it would be best to leave the following day as it would be in use most of the day. When that was decided upon, the two men’s countenances shone with satisfaction.
Bingley harnessed Darcy in his study for most of the afternoon while Jane rested. While she was much improved, she had spent a great deal of energy that morning, and wished to spend their last evening in the drawing room in the company of everyone. Elizabeth sat with her, feeling for the first time a great sense of contentment.
Later that evening after supper, Elizabeth and Jane came down to the drawing room. Jane sat off to the side with Bingley, the two engaged in private and concentrated conversation. Elizabeth brought her book to read, Darcy sat in a chair reading his own book, and Miss Bingley appeared as though her nerves would not settle down. She paced the floor, picking up a book at one point and then putting it down. She walked to where Darcy was seated and peered over his shoulder, looking down at what he was reading, but as he paid her no heed, she returned to her pacing.
At length she called upon Elizabeth to join her. “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”
Elizabeth viewed her with curiosity and suspicion, but agreed. Miss Bingley took her arm as they walked and succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy closed his book and looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of Miss Bingley’s attention to Elizabeth as she herself was, and as the two women passed him, he lifted an eyebrow in wonderment. He was directly invited to join their party by Miss Bingley, but he declined, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their walking the room together, and assured them that his joining them would interfere with either.
Miss Bingley insisted on knowing his meaning.
Darcy rejoined, “I have not the smallest objection to explaining my meaning. You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”
“Oh, shocking!” cried Miss Bingley, who was, at least, gratified that he included her in his statement of admiration for their figures. Elizabeth merely blushed, not quite sure how she was to respond to such a bold statement by him.
Miss Bingley continued walking with Elizabeth, and as they came to pass by Jane and Bingley, she spoke again.
“Tell me, Miss Eliza. You have been here at Netherfield practically ever since your return from America. Is there not some favourite of yours that you left all those months ago whom you are anxious to see? Some gentleman who must have been pining for your return?”
“There is none that I call a favourite, no.”
“Upon my word, Miss Eliza. Certainly there is someone!” She turned to Jane. “Tell us, Miss Bennet, does your sister speak the truth? With her great beauty, she is keeping a great secret from us! Tell us who Miss Eliza favours!”
Elizabeth shook her head as she considered the desperate measures of this woman.
“There is no one,” Jane answered softly.
Elizabeth was confident that Jane’s answer would suffice in bringing Miss Bingley’s assertions to a halt. But Jane unexpectedly continued, “Unless you would consider Mr. Wright.” Jane gave Elizabeth a smile, which was met by Elizabeth’s startled gaze.
Behind her, Darcy reacted with a start, remembering this as the name Elizabeth cried out when she had a fever. He had only briefly considered him to have been someone she held in her regard, and now began to wonder if indeed he was. He held his breath as he waited for Elizabeth or her sister to continue.
“Oh? And just who is this Mr. Wright?” Miss Bingley seemed most interested.
“Jane, I really do not think anyone is interested in Mr. Wright!” Elizabeth said firmly as she directed an imposing stare at Jane.
Jane, being encouraged along solely by Bingley’s smile, did not notice Elizabeth’s threatening words or piercing stare. Yet in truth, Elizabeth had very rarely ever given Jane either, and therefore she was not inclined to recognize them as such.
As Jane looked to Bingley, she said, “He is someone she met a couple of years ago in a carriage.”
“Jane, please! I do not think anyone is inclined to hear this!”
“I would be very interested in hearing who Mr. Wright is.” Elizabeth closed her eyes as she heard Darcy’s appeal to Jane.
“Please, Jane, no !” This time she shook her head for emphasis, but Bingley was now applying to Jane to continue.
Jane could only smile at Bingley and oblige him. “Mr. Wright was someone Elizabeth met in a carriage while returning from London.” She looked up at Elizabeth and could not understand why her eyes were closed. “Actually, she never got his name, but she felt that he was so right for her, that whenever she talked about him, and she did quite often, she referred to him as Mr. Wright.”
Elizabeth dropped her head, speechless, as Caroline eagerly jumped in. “You are saying that Miss Elizabeth has been pining all these years for a nameless man she only met in a carriage? Is that not sweet?” Caroline patted the arm she held in hers. “You are really quite the romantic, Miss Eliza. I do hope that someday you shall meet this man and that he shall be everything you have imagined him to be all these years.”
Darcy sat motionless as he considered Miss Bennet’s words. A wave of joy swept over him as he realized that all along, Elizabeth had remembered him from that day two years ago and not only that, remembered him with fervent partiality.
Bingley was most engaged by this thought and asked Jane, “And what was there about this man that your sister found so appealing?”
Jane continued. “Even though they only spent a short time in the carriage, Elizabeth had decided he was the most handsome, most intelligent, most gracious man she had ever met. She really did not think any other man would come close to comparing favourably to him.”
Elizabeth’s face was flushed. She could not move, and if she had been able to, she would have seen a look on Darcy’s face buoyantly displaying that every doubt he had entertained about Elizabeth’s feelings toward him were now wiped away. It was a few moments before he was able to speak.
“And, Miss Elizabeth, if you were to meet this man again, do you think you would know him?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, “Perhaps I may not recognize him immediately, but in time, I am certain I would come to know it was him.”
Darcy smiled. “And I am quite certain that he, in turn, would remember you from that carriage ride. Indeed, he would have to consider himself a most fortunate man.”
The two stared at each other, completely oblivious to the others in the room.
“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, more than aware that something just happened in this conversation, but finding it to be completely baffling. “Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst.”
Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened. With Miss Bingley’s command at the pianoforte, all conversation seemed suspended. After a few songs, as much as Jane and Bingley would have preferred to linger together for the duration of the evening, Jane had grown more tired and Elizabeth thought she should take her back upstairs.
As they excused themselves, Elizabeth noticed Darcy’s warm smile. If she had been able to watch him once she left, she would have seen a man reading a very serious historical treatise while a sly grin had taken hold of his features.