He blinked, then set down the paper, which he had forgotten to fold and set aside in all the excitement. “Lizzy, you know I would do anything to make you happy. But you also know your mother. It will not be necessary if we give her a few days to nurse her wounds in bed.”
Elizabeth was conscious of a stab of disappointment and betrayal. Her father had never been one to take trouble upon himself, but she had thought…
Stuffing her disillusionment down, Elizabeth told herself she had been foolish to expect more. He would not support her in this, and that was that. “Very well, Papa,” she said quietly, and left the room.
She walked out of the study and closed the door softly. Elizabeth hurried out of the house and nestled herself in the garden, where Mr Collins would be unlikely to find her when he returned from town with her sisters. She thought for a long while, wondering why her mother would wish her to settle for Mr Collins when she had other suitors, and there were likely to be more still — probably with better situations and certainly better sense. She sat down on the bench tucked beneath the arbour. Tucking her knees up close to her chest, she rested her cheek on them. Perhaps she was being unfair to Mr Collins. He was not a bad man, surely — only an impossible one. Still, she could not abide it. No one would convince her to give up her heart for the sake of money, or even for the sake of Longbourn.
As she watched the wind move through the grasses of the pasture beyond the low wall surrounding the garden, Elizabeth thought with a mixture of amusement and dismay that her windfall inheritance seemed to be making her life more complicated than ever. She could only hope that her recent troubles would be short-lived. With any luck, and in the total absence of any encouragement, Mr Collins would soon lose interest in her and move on to someone else.
Chapter 8
Despite Elizabeth’s hopes, ignoring Mr Collin’s attentions had not cooled his ardour. Indeed, he had only become more of a nuisance in the following days. He seemed insistent on treating her as though he were a devoted pup and she, his beloved owner. It was degrading and embarrassing. Elizabeth had fled the breakfast table as soon as she was able that morning. Nothing seemed half so appealing as disappearing from the house to go on a long walk about the country.
The birds were chirping in the treetops, and the beauty of golden autumn was all around her. Soon, there would be the dull grey days of winter, but for now, there were the crisp leaves underfoot and fruit ripening in all the orchards.
“Oh, what are men compared to trees and fields?” she asked herself aloud. She let out a contented sigh, happy for the first time in days to be utterly alone in nature — her one solace in this trying time. Why did finding a husband have to be such an arduous task? Odd indeed, to find that inheriting a fortune had only complicated matters. Of course, she had wished for something like this when she was younger, but had never really dreamed it would. Now that endless possibilities were open to her, she almost wished she could go back to the way things were.
It was a selfish notion, of course. Had she not been given the inheritance, her sisters would have remained in the same precarious situation they had been in all her life, desperate to find husbands capable of making up for the future loss of Longbourn. And she would not put Jane’s happiness with Mr Bingley in jeopardy for anything, even her own comfort.
At any rate, it was a great relief to be alone for a while in the beauty of nature. The sunshine warmed her to the bone and made the feeling of hope grow inside her. The leaves showed their cheerful colours in defiance of the coming frosts, and she found her outlook on life held a certain hopefulness now, too. No matter where she settled or who she might marry, surely she could roam about in the fresh air with nature all around her to bring her comfort. She was of quite the same frame of mind as her father: she would never want to settle in a place like London for long. Though visits to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were vastly enjoyable, she was always glad to come home by the end. London was culture, society, and elegance, yes, but it was also crowds, stench, and smoky air. She would hate to be bound to such a place. No, give her fields and pasturelands any day.
Perhaps her sour mood was only due to Mr Collins’ constant hounding. Having been forced to listen to his insidious chatter for the last few days, every last one of her nerves was frayed. She knew that if she had stayed in the house another moment, she would have lost all composure. If she had to sneak out every day after breakfast and remain gone for the whole of the day, she would gladly do so. With a book under her arm, she would be quite content.
Ruefully, Elizabeth admitted to herself that she had not been able to focus on her book that day. Her mind had been in too much of an upheaval. She would try again tomorrow to find a quiet spot on her father’s property in which to tuck herselfaway and enjoy her novel. It was impossible to read in Mr Collins’s presence. He had been quick to scold her for her choice of material. Mr Collins seemed convinced that a young woman who read anything but sermons was halfway down the road to perdition.
She huffed as she came around a bend in the path, talking in a low murmur to herself. “Insufferable –” Elizabeth stopped short, yelping with surprise as her serenity was suddenly shattered. There, standing in nearly the same posture of shock and amazement as herself, was Mr Darcy!
She quickly collected herself, smoothing down her skirt. “Mr Darcy. Forgive my outburst, but you gave me a fright.”
“Then it is I who should beg your forgiveness. I thought I heard someone coming.” He looked down at his gloved hands. “Are you alone, Miss Elizabeth?” He looked beyond her, no doubt to see if a manservant was with her.
“I am — quite alone. If you will excuse me,” she said curtly, picking up the hem of her skirts and walking up the small hill.
“I will accompany you home,” he said and followed her, to her dismay.
She turned as she reached the crest of the hill, relishing the feeling of looking down on him as she had so often felt him do to her. “There is no need, I assure you. Before you came, I would often walk about the countryside alone. I have never once been given reason to worry for my safety.”
“All the same,” Mr Darcy said as he quickly traversed the hill, “my honour will not allow me to let you do so. What if you were set upon by some villain?”
Elizabeth laughed, quickening her pace. “We have a surprising lack of villains in these parts, Mr Darcy. I have often walked alone, and never yet encountered one.” She looked over her shoulder. “However, if you are worried for your own safety, then I suggest you return to Netherfield at once.”
“Would it not be better for us to walk together, since we go the same way?” he asked, easily keeping pace with her. Mr Darcy was not even breathless after coming up the hill. Another surprise. She had imagined he was the sort of man, like many gentlemen of the wealthy classes, who rarely left their comfortable homes. That had been a foolish assumption, Elizabeth realised. Looking at him with a more careful eye, the masculine power of his form was obvious. It was rather more surprising that he was not leaving her in the dust than that he was keeping up with her.
He was doing so even yet. “Being accompanied by a single man not of my own family is worse than walking alone, where matters of propriety are concerned, Mr Darcy,” she pointed out, hoping to dissuade him. “Please, go about your errand. I was on my way home when we stumbled into each other’s paths.”
He shook his head again. “You are right in that, but I would still beg your leave to see you home — or at least to the edge of Longbourn’s fields. I can provide for your safety, if nothing else.” He inched closer, holding his hat in hand.
Elizabeth eyed him warily. Irksome as his company was, she began to think she had no choice but to allow him to accompany her. He did not seem at all inclined to accept a denial.
“Please, I really must insist,” Mr Darcy said. His voice was gentler than she would have expected of such a stern and commanding man.
Perhaps it was that gentleness that convinced her. “Very well,” Elizabeth said shortly. “Since you insist.”
They walked in silence for a moment. He put his hat back on and sighed. “You have some very pretty country here,” he said.
“Yes, I am rather fond of it myself,” Elizabeth replied. What on earth could he be about? He could not possibly want to speak with her.
At that thought, an impish spirit animated her. If cold civility would not drive him away, perhaps excessive inquisitiveness would. Making her eyes wide and innocent, Elizabeth turned to him. “Mr Darcy, would it be too forward of me to ask you for some advice?”
