“Oh, nothing serious—only a persistent cold, I think. Ah! Miss Bennet, you have joined us. Wonderful!”
Elizabeth gladly ceded possession of his arm to Jane and fell in behind them as they meandered Longbourn’s paths. She made a poor chaperone; all her thoughts were fixed on that one spot, whichever it might be, where the man who had gone against all his professed scruples to reunite two people in love currently existed. Mr Darcy would never wish to see her again, she knew. Nevertheless, though still not sorry for refusing him, she felt a burgeoning regret for not allowing herself to see him properly when she had the chance.
Monday 4 May 1812, Hertfordshire
84 Gracechurch Street
1stMay
Dear Lizzy,
You left us only yesterday, and already the children are wild for company. I, too, am sorry your visit was cut short, but I console myself with thoughts of our trip to the northern counties this summer—and so must you.
You will be most surprised to hear whom I encountered at Mrs Featherstone’s house yesterday—Mr Craythorne! I declare the man is as hopelessly infatuated with you as ever. He would not be satisfied until I told him all your news, though I think he was only interested in whether you were yet married. When I told him you had planned to accompany me, he fair swooned. You cannot go through life making men love you so, Lizzy. It is most cruel. Did Mr Greyson not also come perilously close to declaring himself last summer?
And how could I forget Mr Collins? No indeed, you must take pains to make them all despise you lest you invite any more unsolicited advances.
In all seriousness, while I am on the subject of gentlemen’s advances, I beg you to be on your guard for Jane. If Mr Bingley truly has returned to Hertfordshire for her, he may be keen to demonstrate his affections. Need I remind you of how Mr Craythorne’s affections manifested themselves? Mark my words—men who fancy themselves in love have improper thoughts. I caution you to be vigilant.
Enough gravity—I shall end now. Please be a dear and send a sketch for Anna, for she is woebegone without her “Li’beth.”
Yours most affectionately,
M. Gardiner
With her cheeks aflame, Elizabeth folded the letter and looked up to where Mr Bingley walked a short distance ahead with Jane. Not for a moment did she believe him the sort to behave improperly. She wished her aunt had not put the notion in her head, for she had no desire to think about his baser imaginings—and particularly not Mr Craythorne’s or Mr Collins’ or indeed any man whose improper thoughts involved her.
She stopped walking abruptly. The heat in her face spread to suffuse her entire person as it occurred to her for the very first time that Mr Darcy had wished to bed her.
Bingley ambled down the lane with Miss Bennet’s hand resting gently in the crook of his arm, attempting prodigiously hard to enjoy the moment—and failing. He had not given much thought to how he might salvage their understanding once he arrived, and he was no nearer to knowing her feelings towards him than before he left London. Nevertheless, though his total want of progress was vexing, he had abandoned her once and would not do so again unless he heard from her lips that he should.
His gaze wandered as he cast about for something to say, and he was met with the sight of a ridiculously large bull energetically copulating with a complaisant cow in the adjacent field. He looked away peevishly, refusing to be jealous of cattle.
“It was kind of Miss Bingley to call on me in January,” said Miss Bennet.
“Caroline called on you?” This was shocking news indeed! Darcy had implicated no other party in the concealment of Jane’s presence in London.
“You did not know?”
“I am sorry to say she did not mention it. I assure you, had I known you were in Town, I should have called on you myself.” He counted it a victory to see her almost smile and pressed his advantage by expounding on all the balls and dinners he should have liked her toattend with him. She responded with a précis of her time in London. That mostly consisted of shopping and morning calls, however, neither of which could long hold his attention; thus, his gaze soon wandered again. It fell, to his consternation, upon a pair of rabbits, vigorously obliging one another amongst the daffodils.
Determined that not all God’s creatures should outdo him, he let go of Miss Bennet’s arm and slipped his hand about her waist, disguising the intimacy as an attempt to steer her around a muddy puddle. He threw a petulant look at the rabbits, but they were gone, and his inattention caused him to misstep, splashing mud on his boots and Miss Bennet’s alike.
He was surprised to hear her laugh—a sparkling sound wholly devoid of censure—but soon realised his mistake. It was not she who was diverted but her sister, who was somewhat flushed and out of breath, having hastened to catch up with them. Bingley had to agree with Darcy’s estimation that Elizabeth’s prettiness was quite delightfully emphasised by exercise.
“Pardon me,” she said, “I ought not to laugh, only had either of you been more willing to part, you might have walked either side of the puddle.”
There was an encouraging thought! All gratitude, Bingley offered her his free arm, but she declined.
“Would you mind very much if I did not go the rest of the way with you? I would reply to Aunt Gardiner’s letter before I forget all my wittiest retorts.”
Bingley was rather disappointed to see their party diminished but was encouraged when Miss Bennet did not object to continuing alone. They had the distance to Lucas Lodge, where they walked to collect one of the younger Miss Bennets, in each other’s sole company. He hoped that, in private, he might glean a better idea of her receptiveness to his attentions, and if he was unsuccessful there, he hoped at least he would receive no more reminders from nature as to what little advancement his courtship had made.
Elizabeth regretted her dishonesty but could hardly acknowledge the true reason for her discomposure. She bid Jane and Mr Bingleyfarewell and turned her feet homeward, while her thoughts turned to their new favourite subject.
Mr Darcy himself had claimed she was not handsome enough to tempt him. She had assumed he offered for her despite her looks. Could it be that his opinion of her beauty was, in fact, quite the opposite? It ought not to matter, for though she had never been insensible to hisstriking looks, ever since he denounced hers, she had resolved to be indifferent to them.
All the same, the discovery of his admiration rather begged her to dwell upon the merits of his person—his indisputably pleasing figure, the thick hair that curled over his collar at his nape, his dark eyes that appeared almost black on occasion, his rare but becoming smile, the vertical crease that formed between his brows when he frowned…
