“What have I done?”
“Nothing.You have walked a path you declared your favorite.That is all.If Mr.Darcy chose to join you, that was his decision.”
“But what can he mean by it?”
Charlotte had her own ideas, but in the event Mr.Darcy was not planning to propose marriage to her friend, she did not want to excite expectations that would lead to disappointment.She might tease Eliza, but this was beyond the realm of teasing now.“We cannot know for certain.It is possible he is only interested in friendship.”
Elizabeth nodded her head vigorously.“Yes.Perhaps that is it.After all, there is not much entertainment in the country at present.He may simply be avoiding his aunt.”
“Perhaps.”Charlotte’s expression showed that she believed no such thing, but Elizabeth had had enough shock for one day.She would not press her friend for useless conjecture.
“I feel a headache coming.”Elizabeth rubbed her temples, wishing it was night and she could crawl under the covers until morning.
“I shall bring you something.”
Elizabeth nodded and began unlacing her shoes as Charlotte left the room.She spread her shawl over herself like a blanket and lay back on the pillow.She might not be able to go to bed just yet, but she could close her eyes for a bit.
“This will help.”Charlotte placed a cup of tea on the table beside the bed.
“Thank you.”
Charlotte nodded and left, looking worriedly at her friend before closing the door.Soon, Elizabeth heard Mr.Collins complaining of tea at Rosings and Charlotte’s soothing voice convincing him Elizabeth was ill and should stay home.A few minutes later they were gone, leaving her alone in the quiet parsonage.Elizabeth sat up and sipped the tea Charlotte had left her, barely warm now, and smacked her lips in surprise as something in it burned her throat.She quickly finished the cup and added more from the warm pot on the tray by the window.This one burned as well, but she sipped it slowly and sat down at her desk in the waning light.
She combed through her letter from Longbourn, looking for any mention of Wickham.Lydia had only written once, and it had not even been a proper letter, but a half page tacked onto Kitty’s letter.She mentioned Chamberlayne and Denny, but not Wickham.Elizabeth was relieved until she remembered Denny was the one who had introduced Wickham to Meryton.He had brought him from London himself.How close were the two men?Did Denny know of Mr.Wickham’s habits?She would be watchful until she could be certain.
Mary’s two letters spoke of the song she was learning to play and the pig that had escaped into the garden, but nothing of the officers, unsurprisingly.Her mother’s letter contained plenty of talk of the red-coated militiamen, but few were ever mentioned by name and very little of substance could be gleaned from it.
Her father’s letters were as they always were—full of sarcasm and wit, but short on useful information.She must simply wait until she was home in Hertfordshire to ascertain Wickham’s place in her family’s social circle.With any luck, his engagement to Mary King would have removed her sisters from his sphere.But no!Miss King!She was not a close friend, but she was a perfectly nice girl, and she did not deserve to be shackled for life to a man such as Mr.Wickham.What was she to do?
She paced the small room in agitation—she always thought best while in motion—but she was frustrated by the size.Remembering she was alone in the parsonage, she pulled on her slippers and shawl and made her way to the parlor where she could pace to her heart’s content.
She felt a little dizzy on the stairs, but she thought it the effect of spending the day crying.Her head was stuffy, that was all.She would be well once she reached the parlor and its level floors.
She was just inside the parlor door when the maid offered to have tea brought in.
“There is a tray in my room with a tea service.You may add more hot water to that pot.”She had no desire to plow through Charlotte’s tea like a countess who paid no mind to the cost.“It is still warm, I believe.”
“Very well, miss.”
Soon she was settled on the sofa, having paced until the tea arrived, and happily pouring out another cup.She was sipping on her second cup of tea, attempting to read the history that had so bored Maria, when the bell rang.Who would come at such an hour?Perhaps it was the colonel checking on her.He had seemed rather worried over her, dear man.
The Thursday that Would Not End
ToElizabeth’sgreatastonishment,the man ushered into the parlor was Mr.Darcy, not the colonel.
“Mrs.Collins said you were unwell.I hope you are feeling better?”
She mumbled something about being improved and watched in fascination as he paced across the parlor.
“You will have more room if you pace this way.”She gestured to the fireplace and signaled walking past it instead of across from it.
He did not seem to hear her and continued to pace the short side of the room, which he accomplished in three long strides before turning about and going back the way he had come.Finally, he stopped directly in front of her, a look of determination on his face.
“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Elizabeth gaped at him.That was the last thing she had expected he would say.Was there anything about this man that would not surprise her today?She knew her face must show her shock, just as his showed an intensity she had never seen in him before.They stared at one another for a full minute before, struck by the absurdity of it all, Elizabeth’s shoulders began to shake.Mr.Darcy noticed this and took a step toward her, one hand outstretched as if to steady her.
She snorted.
