Mr Collins shook his head in happy wonder.
Mrs Bennet, bewildered, hurried to her room, lest someone consider moving the condemning glare of old Mrs Bennet into one of the spaces she considered her own.
30
THE DIFFERENT WALKS
Darcy and Mr Bingley arrived as their first callers of the day. As soon as the ball was mentioned, Lydia grew excited and even Mary was deeply interested, since a certain relation of the Palmers was soon to be an expected visitor. Mrs Bennet, who had cherished ideas of pushing Lydia towards Mr Bingley, snapped at her youngest daughter when she would only speak of officers with whom she wished to dance.
To Elizabeth, it was frustrating in the extreme—to be so close to Darcy, to act as though he were nothing more than an acquaintance.
She saw that it was not easy for him, either—he was even more distant than usual, and seldom met anyone’s gaze. It was Jane who managed to ease the situation. “Mr Darcy has never seen the hermitage,” she suggested. “Lizzy, Mary, you ought to bring him out to see it. Mr Collins, have you shown Mr Bingley the snuff boxes you inherited from your father? He is an expert, and could tell you if there is any value inthem beyond the sentimental.” For this excuse, Mr Bingley seemed pleased for once to leave the company, following his host into his book-room.
Darcy responded to his own invitation with equal alacrity, standing immediately. “I would like to see it,” he said. Elizabeth politely agreed, Mary more reluctantly, and in her mother’s eyes, Elizabeth saw calculations begin—might Mr Darcy become interested in one of her girls? By her expression, she was sceptical of the notion, but it would not take much to change her mind, so Elizabeth was especially circumspect until they were out of sight of the house.
“Mary, it is chilly out here, and you cannot have any interest in the hermitage. I am happy to escort Mr Darcy, if you prefer to return—discreetly—to the house.”
But Mary was not one who adopted easily those civilities she could not particularly understand or agree with. “Mr Darcy, do you truly wish to see the hermitage? You should not be entrapped by my mother’s notions of entertainment.”
Elizabeth saw it then, amusement flaring in his dark eyes.
“Perhaps you did not realise it, Miss Mary, but I have long been interested in the architecture of various garden follies. But I see your sister is more warmly dressed than you—please do not feel obligated to act as chaperon.”
“Oh, no, you are both too old to requirethat,” Mary said, heedless of insult. “I will return to the indoors and slip up to my room, if you do not mind. I have been longing to finish Hannah More’s volume on female education.”
“I do not mind,” Elizabeth replied solemnly. They both watched her go. “Perhaps I had better fetch my cane, since I am such a doddering old woman,” she said, twinkling up at him.
He peered down at her in mock seriousness, brushing at astray curl that had escaped her little chip hat—one she had chosen for its flattery to her looks, rather than suitability for a walk upon a winter’s day.
“I cannot spot any grey hairs as yet…but then, my eyes are not what they once were.”
“We shall steady each other,” she declared, taking his proffered arm. As soon as they were completely private, seated on the bench nestled in the little grove containing the aforementioned hermitage, their arms were about each other.
“I do not feel old,” she said breathlessly, once she could speak. “After Mr Ashwood’s death, I felt I had aged one hundred years. But you have stripped me of decades.”
“Oh, my darling, this is the least of the affections I wish to show you.” He began his kisses once again, and this time they were more intense, more smouldering, seeming to ask something more of her for which she had no answers. She moved back a little, not quite in alarm, but not quite calm, either.
Darcy eased away immediately. “I apologise, dearest. I am struggling a bit with self-control, an aspect of my temperament unusual to me.”
Contemplating those other ‘affections’ had always, in the past, made her shudder. It was much more curiosity now, than nerves—but some fears lingered. What was amazing, to her mind, was that she felt perfectly free to speak of them. “I warn you that when we finally have total freedom to be alone with each other, do not expect that your wife will know what to do with it.”
“I understand,” he said soberly. “I know you did not have anything of excitement in the marital bed in your first marriage.”
“Only the excitement of terror and ignorance, but it wasnot merely that,” she said, wanting—needing—to explain. “There is good reason that I never became with child. During the first weeks of our marriage, there was a great deal of fumbling in the dark of that marital bed. All of it was uncomfortable but not—it was never total. After Mr Ashwood’s first real illness, he thankfully gave it all up, leaving me uncertain as to whether I was still a maiden or not. But since that time, after hearing other women speak of what ought to occur there, I am reasonably sure that I am. So, when I say I know nothing—I truly meannothing.”
His brows raised, but then he kissed her again, more tenderly, more sweetly this time. “It will be the pleasure of my life to experience new firsts together,” he said softly. “I promise to be very careful with you. If you are afraid, or anxious, you need only tell me. I shall tell you what I intend to do, when and where I intend to touch. It will not be me importuning and you, wondering when or where the assault next begins. We shall be together in this, as in everything else.”
“I will not be afraid, I do not think,” she assured. “Because it is you, and I do trust you.” She touched his dear face, felt the roughness of beard, although she knew he had been clean-shaven only a few hours before. “How long before you expect to hear from your family?”
“I sent the letters express, so I expect answers at any time. I wrote to my uncle, Lord Matlock, as well as Lady Catherine. Matlock is in town, so I would expect to hear from him first.”
“What did you tell him of me? Will he be upset, do you think?”
“Rather, he will be happy I have finally made a move towards matrimony. I told him that I had met the love of mylife and that the time for discretion was past. He agreed with my decision originally, to avoid upsetting his sister and niece—but in the last couple of years, he has made his objections known. Especially after Georgiana’s upsetting experience, he has wished for and hoped that I would take a wife who can mentor her.”
“I wonder what your sister will think of gaining such a penurious mentor. To her, it might seem as though she was not allowed to marry the man of her dreams because of his income, but the same standards do not apply to me.”
He frowned. “It is not the same thing at all. He was the worst sort of liar and cheat—his income was the least of it.”
