“You can go ahead; Lizzy and I will catch up,” Jane said to Bingley. When they left, Jane turned back to her and her face expressed all the confusion her lips had yet to utter.
“F is looking for a woman with dark hair and eyes, and a blue hat.” Elizabeth tore off the pansies and ground them under her foot.
“But he will be disheartened if you never appear.”
“I cannot meet after all. Let me stay with you and your friends.” She looked around Jane toward where she had seen Darcy and his friend. At any moment, Bingley and Miss Bingley would be upon them. “Should we turn back? We could turn back, yes?”
“Why?” Jane asked firmly, tying Elizabeth’s ribbon for her. “Why are you doing this to a man whom you forced to meet in this strange way?”
Elizabeth heaved a sigh. It was so awful. She admired a man she previously thought she hated, who now had every reason to dislike her. “My dear friend F is Mr Darcy.”
Jane’s expression went entirely blank. After a long moment she said, “F for Fitzwilliam? Oh, my goodness.” She then grinned. “But how lovely!”
“Lovely?” Elizabeth shrieked. “It is in every way horrible!”
“But I thought you liked F? And you cannot hate Mr Darcy now that you know the truth about his character. And he was civil the other night. Why not go over and admit you are his correspondent?”
“Because I was a fool! Wickham’s social powers gained him my regard, whereas Darcy was proud and silent. I acted despicably, Jane! Who was the one who had real, substantial good? The one I treated horribly.”
“He is also the man you have been writing to with enough fondness to want to meet you properly, and a man you have been acquainted with for months.”
“And what do you think will happen when Mr Darcy realises L stands for Lizzy, as in Elizabeth?”
Jane grew thoughtful. “You know, he always looks at you a great deal, and he even asked you to dance at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth felt incredulous. “Darcy must hate me. I unjustly condemned and upbraided him at Mrs Hurst’s!”
Jane looked to the trees where the Bingleys had now met with Darcy and his friend. “I think you should give him a chance. Mr Darcy liked you well enough to meet in this strange way.”
“He likes L, notme. He loathes Elizabeth Bennet.”
“His opinion of you cannot be as poor as you fear it is.”
“No, no, absolutely not. I called him selfish and said he was not a gentleman.” She covered her face with her hands. “I favoured the man who tried to seduce his sister.”
Jane tugged down her hands and pulled her back to the path. “Well, you can avoid telling him you are L, but our friends have met, and now there is no avoiding greeting him.”
Elizabeth felt on the verge of tears as they approached. Darcy stood talking with Bingley and his sister, but his eyes moved above their heads to look at the approaching paths. The other man with him had come forward to greet them and was now joined by the woman in grey she also did not know. Elizabethwatched them exchange greetings, and then Darcy looked back to the path and saw her.
He absolutely started when their eyes met, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise.
“Ah, there they are,” Bingley said as Jane dragged her to join the group. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I present Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
The colonel turned from the other woman to give them all a pleasant smile. He was about thirty, not handsome, but entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man. Darcy paid his compliments to them and met Elizabeth with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely curtseyed without saying a word.
What did he feel on seeing her? He likely thought very little of her, especially since he was still looking at the women on the other paths, hoping to see a brunette in a blue hat wearing pansies.
It was all too humiliating.
She felt wan and sick and hoped she did not appear it. She said everything agreeable, and was torn between watching Darcy and not looking at him at all from the shame she felt about what happened at the Hursts’. He greeted her kindly, but after the initial surprise upon seeing her faded, he returned to scanning the park.
Her eyes, however, stayed on the small collection of pansies pinned to his coat.
The other woman who stood by his side had yet to ask to be introduced. She appeared about the colonel’s age, with a full figure but by no means handsome, although her countenance was agreeable. While Colonel Fitzwilliam talked about this and that with the Bingleys and Jane, the lady resumed talking to Darcy.
“As I was saying, I am soon going to Beaumont Street to purchase one of Mr Marshall’s portraits. He painted one of my horses, although he cannot know it was for me. He thinks my father commissioned it.”
“Fitzwilliam said you were a proficient rider,” Darcy answered in an admiring tone with another glance down the path.
