Darcy was equally displeased, but not for the same reason as Lady Catherine. It was now Thursday, and as he was leaving on Saturday, he had hoped to talk with Elizabeth again. It had only been a day since he walked with her, but he missed her company. How was he to leave in two days and never see her again?
“In persons of a full habit, the headache often proceeds from not being active,” Lady Catherine intoned. “I expect young people to be active for their own health. Had Anne’s health not been so indifferent, I am sure she could walk to the parsonage and back twice even if she had a headache.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam shared a look, and his cousin lifted his eyes.
“It is likely Miss Bennet was too sedentary today,” she went on, “and she ought to have walked to Rosings tonight to restore herself.”
“I saw her walking this morning while making my customary tour of the park,” Fitzwilliam said.
“Then why did she not come to tea?”
This was, of course, impossible to answer, and so the conversation moved on to other topics, led by Lady Catherine. Darcy ignored them all and paced. His scruples had long prevented him from forming a serious design on Elizabeth, and he now had to decide whether to overcome his reservations and marry her, or leave on Saturday and forget her forever.
She is lovely and kind and clever. I never talk so well as in her company; an hour passes away like a minute.
He felt his passion for her increase daily, and the distance from her embarrassing relations made it easier to forget them. Elizabeth was worthy of his affection. He admired her independent nature, and she was full of energy and quick wit.
He was resolved to lay his heart before her, but he could not call on her if she was ill. If she only had a headache earlier, she might now feel better. Darcy beckoned Fitzwilliam over to where he stood near a window.
“Was Miss Bennet well when you walked with her this morning?” Darcy asked.
He did not like the shrewd look in his cousin’s eyes as he asked, “Why? Do you miss the company of Mrs Collins’s pretty friend?” He dropped his voice. “You scarcely say a word when she is near, but I have never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her.”
“I only wondered if she was healthy.”
Fitzwilliam gave him a long look before saying, “She seemed well. She was reading a letter when I first saw her. We talked a little of your friend Bingley, and of when we are leaving Kent, and on lighter topics. You know her lively manner,” he added before walking away.
He did, and it was a great attraction.
Darcy watched his aunt holding court and then slipped from the room. Elizabeth was likely well enough to receive him, and he could not put off proposing a moment longer.
He had gathered his courage to fly in the face of family expectations, and it was time to act. He was the best judge of his own happiness, and he would find that happiness in his own way. Not another day should pass before he told Elizabeth that he ardently admired and loved her.
Chapter Two
Nothing had ever astonished Elizabeth as much in her entire life as Mr Darcy being so in love with her that he asked her to marry him. Despite all of his objections, he had just walked into the parlour last night and proposed as though she had been expecting his addresses. Even now, hours later, she could not recover from the surprise of what had happened, and soon after breakfast, went for a walk.
He was in love with me, and for all of those months!
It was impossible to think of anything else but Mr Darcy. His proposal was gratifying, flattering, and it would have been a match beyond what one might reasonably assume she could reach. Despite that, Elizabeth did not regret refusing him. She proceeded toward her favourite walk, but recollected Mr Darcy sometimes being there and instead turned up the quiet lane. He was the last person she wanted to see.
She felt sorry for the disappointment that her rejection had inflicted. But his abominable pride! Last night, he had openly expressed his satisfaction in ruining Jane’s happiness and had not denied his cruelty to Wickham. He was a selfish, prideful man. Elizabeth threw aside all the excitement his attachmenthad caused and allowed her offended feelings full reign over her thoughts.
After walking two or three times along the lane, she stopped at the gates to look into the park. She thought she saw a gentleman near the grove that edged it and instantly turned away. It was probably Mr Darcy, and her heart revolted against saying a word to him.
She was on the point of continuing her walk when she glimpsed another man moving toward her along the lane. A carriage was swiftly approaching from the other direction, and she stepped through the gate into the park to get out of its way. To her surprise, the carriage slowed by the gate, and the man in the lane quickly came up to her.
He was now close enough to recognise as the man she and Mr Darcy had seen on Wednesday. His nose was much misshapen, and he had a white clay pipe in his teeth. The way he advanced toward her with quick strides alarmed her.
“What do you want?” she called.
He gave no answer, but darted forward and grabbed her upper arms and dragged her toward the gate. Elizabeth shrieked and pulled away as sharply as she could. When that proved fruitless, she kicked at his legs, but that only made the man squeeze her arms harder.
The approaching carriage had stopped by the gate, with one man as postilion and another who jumped off the back and opened the door. She was being abducted!
Elizabeth screamed as loudly as she could.
Was Mr Darcy near enough to hear what was happening, or had he turned back into the park? She tried to drag her feet and pull away with all her might, but the man with the pipe was far too strong. They were now at the steps of the carriage, and Elizabeth kicked her feet against the second man who was trying to capture them and shove her legs inside.
