Elizabeth went on. “I have never seen grounds to equal these. I always loved the fields around Longbourn — my family’s former home, you know — and we had a nice little wood with walking paths on our land, but I find myself quite astonished by Pemberley. And the house, of course, is no less a wonder to me.”
“Is it much different from Longbourn, then?”
“Oh, yes, it is very different. Longbourn is like a comfortable old shoe, you know. The walls are faded and in sore need of repainting. At least, they were when we lived there. Mr and Mrs Collins may have seen to some improvements over the last two years.”
“And you have not been back to visit since your father’s passing? I hope that does not mean that relations between you and your cousin are strained?”
“They are between him and my mother. I do not think she ever forgave my father for not fighting the entail more. And she would have been angry at anyone who took Longbourn away from her.” Elizabeth sighed. “The real misfortune is that Mrs Collins was my dearest friend growing up. Perhaps you had occasion to see her while you were visiting there last autumn?”
“Oh, yes, we became acquainted with Mr and Mrs Collins while we were at Netherfield. Your friend seems a very pleasant woman, and most sensible.”
“Yes, she is. I adore her,” Elizabeth said. “It is only that I have hardly seen her since she married my cousin.” She bit her lower lip.
“Really?” Darcy remarked. “Surely you might see her when you visit your family.”
“Yes, it is only —” she fell silent. “Excuse me, I am telling you things in which you can have no possible interest. You are good to listen to me with such patience.”
She seemed to wish a turn of subject, but Darcy felt too much concern for her to allow it. “Of course you must not tell me anything you would rather not, Miss Bennet, but I wish you would. I have a distinct feeling that the confidence might ease your mind.”
“You are much too perceptive, Mr Darcy,” she said, half scolding and half laughing. “Very well, then. There is a bit of awkwardness between the gentleman and myself. He proposed to me before he proposed to Charlotte.”
He raised his brows. Unaccountably, there was a snake of jealousy coiling in the pit of his stomach. Mr Collins was the very definition of ridiculous. He could not begin to imagine Miss Bennet married to a man with such distasteful practices of over-flattery and self-importance.
Darcy stilled. For all that, Mr Collins would have been considered an eligible match in many lights, not least in that their marriage would have enabled Elizabeth to stay in her family’s home. Perhaps he could not imagine her married to Mr Collins not because it would have been unsuitable, but because the thought of her marrying anyone but himself was in itself unthinkable.
She looked at him, and his heart stopped. Her eyes, so remarkably clear and fine, were beautiful enough — but their expression was everything. “And do you regret your decision to refuse him?” he asked. He held his breath as he awaited her answer. In reality, Elizabeth’s life would have been much easier if she had accepted him. She would not have had to leave her childhood home. She would be settled, possibly with a child. She would be in her own home, instead of accepting the hospitality of his.
“No, not in the slightest,” Elizabeth said with an emphasis that might better bear the name of disgust. “My cousin…well. Let me simply say, we should not suit. And perhaps more importantly still, I could never stomach the idea of marrying for convenience.” She looked out ahead of them on the path. The way the sun caressed her profile made his heart yearn.
“What of you, Mr Darcy?”
“Me?” Darcy asked, taken aback. He had rarely been questioned about his views of matrimony. On second thought, he believed he had never been asked at all. His father had lectured him about his duties and obligations, but had never inquired into his own beliefs.
“Yes,” she went on. “Do you believe love should be a governing force in the decision to marry? Or is love meaningless poppycock?”
Darcy chuckled low. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked. “I know I exude a sort of seriousness that has been said to be off-putting —”
“I did not say that. You are far from off-putting,” Elizabeth said in haste. “I did not mean to convey —” She stopped on the path and wrung her hands. It was only then that he noticed that the ink stains on her fingers had returned. On the last several times they had met in London, her hands had been free of the marks. Now they were back in full force. Likely she had written several letters to inform her family of their safe arrival.
“No, of course not. I was only teasing you,” he said quickly. “I do not know. My father taught me that love should be secondary to more practical considerations in the choice of a partner. But the more I have lived, and the more I have observed, the more I think that love and practicality have equal parts to play.”
“Tell me more, Mr Darcy,” she said softly.
“Well, attraction and affection are certainly desirable. But commitment and responsibility — these are what will see a marriage through the difficult times. I do not think anyone, nomatter how deeply in love they are, can escape hardships in their marriage.”
“I agree with that point,” she said. “But do you think it right to marry solely for what you might gain from the other person: whether monetary, societal, or even if it furthers a private ambition?” She shrugged, as if he would not understand. “I know that in our society things are done this way. My father would have accused me of reading too many novels, I suppose. But I have always known that I could not marry for any other reason than for affection.”
Darcy’s heart swelled with hope. Her words spoke of a disinterestedness that inspired not only respect, but longing. It had never occurred to him to seek a woman who would want him for who he was, not for his wealth or status.
Upon seeing it as a possibility, he found he wanted it more than anything.
His mother and father would have been appalled. His aunts and his uncle still would be appalled if they knew he was beginning to think of marrying for such selfish reasons. Well, let them be.
“And where might you find this man for whom you would give everything?” he asked softly. Bold as it was to press her, Darcy could not resist seeking a clue to her true feelings about himself. He held his breath and did not even realise he had done so until she broke the silence.
“I do not know, Mr Darcy. But I suspect that wherever he might be, when he finds me, I will know it in my heart before my mind comprehends it.”
She looked up into his eyes, and their gazes caught and held. Belatedly, Darcy realised that they had stopped walkingand turned towards each other, as though to say something of overmastering importance.
