Her thoughts before sleep took her was of Mr. Darcy’s voice, low and thoughtful, as they had walked beneath the trees. She held onto it like a secret, folded carefully in the quiet of her heart. As she drifted off to sleep, she noted her pleasure at thoughts more agreeably engaged, rather than focused on strange sounds and occurrences.
Chapter Fourteen
November 13, 1811
Netherfield Park
Elizabeth
Theunexpectedinvitationtostay at Netherfield surely caused Mrs. Bennet to celebrate. Her clever scheming had secured an invitation for her two eldest daughters for at least three days. Elizabeth could only imagine what her mother was saying or doing at Longbourn. Resolved to put it all from her mind and enjoy her stay away from the strange occurrences at home, Elizabeth rose early to take a walk in the gardens.
Dressing in a serviceable gown with buttons down the front, Elizabeth secured her bonnet and cloak before creeping quietly out of her chamber. The house was still silent, and she wondered if the residents of the park regularly kept Town hours. If so, breakfast would not beuntil much later. Her stomach rumbled in response to the thought, and she wondered if she could purloin a scone from the kitchen before she left the house.
Mrs. Nicholls anticipated her and met Elizabeth at the base of the stairs with a little bundle. "Something for your walk, miss," she said kindly. "Liza, one of the kitchen maids, has a sister at Longbourn and said you might need some sustenance this morning."
"I thank you," Elizabeth replied. "Indeed, I usually take a little something with me when I walk out. Your kindness is much appreciated." She took the cloth bundle, and the scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, causing her stomach to growl once more. With a nod to the housekeeper, Elizabeth left through a side door that was a more direct path to the gardens.
The gravel crunched under her feet as she went. The crisp autumn air nipped her cheeks. Mist drifted over the grounds, not yet burned away by the early morning sun. Quickening her pace, Elizabeth took a path on the left that she knew led to a small pond. There was a bench placed very near the water where she could enjoy her repast and perhaps watch the swans.
Her cloak billowed out behind her as she went down the path. There were a few bushes that still clung to their leaves, but most of the trees and shrubswere bare. Everything seemed ready to be tucked away for the winter months. Soon frost would coat everything each morning and there might even be a blanket of soft, white snow covering the grounds.
The colder months were unappealing to Elizabeth. She loved the festive season as much as the next person, but the frigid air often kept her indoors when she wished to go out. Her restlessness was something of a joke in her family. Mr. Bennet once proposed building a separate wing onto the house especially for Elizabeth to take walks. Mrs. Bennet did not find that at all amusing.
Elizabeth still ventured out during the winter months, but her walks were shorter out of necessity.I shall enjoy my time out of doors while I can, she mused as she seated herself on the long stone bench facing the pond.
Several Whooper swans glided across the surface of the pond, honking at each other. One pair stayed close together, the male nuzzling the female with its long neck.
"Fascinating, is it not, how some animals have similar…rituals in their relationships."
Mr. Darcy's voice made her jump, and she turned on the bench to face him.
"Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. I did not mean to startle you." He came forward, inclining his head slightly. "May I sit?"
"Of course." She shifted to one side, and he took a seat next to her. "You are just in time to share my repast. Mrs. Nicholls sent me on my way with a few treats." She put the cloth on her lap and untied the knot, revealing several scones, two apples, and two chunks of cheese.
"Bingley's staff is excellent. I thank you for sharing your bounty."
His quip made her smile, and she handed him a scone, an apple, and some of the cheese.
For a few moments they ate in silence, the only sounds those of birdsong, the soft rustling of the wind through bare branches, and the occasional honk of the swans. The mist was lifting, though tendrils of it still curled like smoke around the water’s edge. The sun, weak and wintry, bathed the pond in a pale golden light.
Elizabeth glanced sideways at Mr. Darcy, who was watching the swans with a thoughtful expression.
“They mate for life, you know,” she said softly. “Swans, I mean. They return to the same partner each year, regardless of whether they succeed in nesting. I read once that they are considered symbols of fidelity in several cultures. There is something…comforting in that, do you not agree?”
He looked at her then, his gaze more intense than she expected, as though he were assessing not just the truth of her statement,but something deeper—perhaps even the sentiment behind it.
“There is much comfort to be found in constancy,” he said at last. “Though I wonder whether constancy is always rewarded.”
Elizabeth studied him, wondering what had prompted such a remark. There was a melancholy in his tone that tugged at her curiosity. She sensed that there was more to it—a memory, perhaps, or a reflection drawn from recent conversation.
“I should hope it is,” she replied gently. “Else what are we striving towards?”
Darcy smiled faintly, a rare softening of his usual reserve. “A worthy question. I confess I have not spent much time thinking on swans before now.”
She laughed lightly. “Have you ever made a study of swans?” she teased before taking a bite of apple. “They have always fascinated me.”
“You surprise me again, Miss Elizabeth. Most young ladies study flowers or poetry.”
