The question as to why either of them had to flirt with Elizabeth died on Darcy’s lips, and the party reunited in the drawing room. Mrs Bingley was at the table with Mrs Hurst whilst Mrs Annesley and his sister made tea and coffee. Mrs Lanyon sat with her fancywork by the fire, and Elizabeth was near Miss Bingley.
Darcy noticed that Elizabeth sat stiffly, with her arms crossed, and he watched Miss Bingley lean towards her now and then to speak softly to her whilst watching Mrs Lanyon.
Elizabeth is looking anywhere but at me.If he did have the chance to speak to Elizabeth alone, to say that he was grateful for her reproofs, he wondered if she would sit silent the whole time they were together.
This thought occupied him as Darcy then moved amongst all the little groups, spending more time with Georgiana to ensure she was happy to pass the evening with his friends. As he walked behind Miss Bingley and Elizabeth, he overheard the former say as an aside, “... fromthatpart of the world.”
As he came around them, he saw that Miss Bingley was staring at Mrs Lanyon. A dismal look darkened Elizabeth’s pretty face, and she whispered a harsh “Enough,” either to Miss Bingley or merely to herself, he could not be certain. She then rose and strode right past him and sat beside Mrs Lanyon on the sofa. The widow looked upfrom her sewing in surprise, and Elizabeth began to ask about her work.
Elizabeth decided to show Miss Bingley that she would not listen to her insults.
She did not cause a spectacle in his drawing room against Miss Bingley’s prejudice, but not even for her sister-in-law would Elizabeth listen to such talk. Miss Bingley deserved public censure, but that would only make the modest and reserved Mrs Lanyon dreadfully embarrassed. Elizabeth calmly made her principles known, and Darcy felt admiration for her.
“Darcy, shall we play a round game?” Utterson called to him. “Your sister has agreed to perform for us whilst we do.”
“You may do as you like,” he said quietly, and he left them to arrange their own amusements. After giving a cold look to Miss Bingley, Darcy moved with deliberation to a chair across from Mrs Lanyon and Elizabeth.
Since he did not know what to say to Elizabeth, he asked Mrs Lanyon, “How does your work get on, madam?”
“I could not say with certainty that it would be to the liking of anyone with taste,” she replied without looking up.
“I admire your dedication since I cannot do any fine work this late in the evening,” said Elizabeth pleasantly. “By candlelight, I make too many mistakes that I have to tear out in the morning.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes, the shadows cast make it hard for me to see.”
Mrs Lanyon nodded to indicate she heard. She was content to sit with her work and have no conversation. Although he always tried, Darcy often found it difficult to get a word from her, and it seemed that Elizabeth had the same trouble.
When Elizabeth realised Mrs Lanyon would not speak, she looked at him, giving a pleasant smile that he returned. Elizabeth gave a little nod, and then looked around the room. Darcy inhaled, but could think of nothing to say to her and exhaled slowly. She then began an investigation of her own fingernails. It appeared neither of them had the heart to speak a word to the other, and the silence stretched.
I shall never learn what she thinks of me if we carry on like this.
“I heard you say, you said at dinner that you walked the park...” he began in an awkward manner. She finally looked at him. “Where did you go?”
“We walked a path near a stream that ran near the house amidst a green meadow.”
“Yes, that leads into the Derwent. There are other walks bounded by the woods.” After a pause, he said, “If you are in as much the habit of walking as you were at Rosings, I am sure you shall see most of it before you go on to Scarborough.”
The mention of Rosings was a mistake, for now she looked even less at ease. “I... Pemberley appears to be full of walks. I saw the kitchen gardens as well,” she added, awkwardly. “I suspect if the weather was better this year you would have had a large quantity of fruit?”
“Yes, it has been too rainy and wet.” More silence. “The gardens contain four acres and a half.”
Another short silence ensued before Elizabeth said, “Pemberley is delightful, charming—” She stopped, and Darcy saw her change colour, although he did not know why.
His sister’s music and the chatter of those playing cards filled the room. Georgiana was smiling as Mrs Annesley turned the pages, and he heard laughter from the card tables; everyone seemed comfortable except for them.
For now, he listened to his sister play, and Elizabeth was at least affecting to do the same. Every so often, he thought Elizabeth might have looked at him, but perhaps he was wrong because she was always turned away when he attempted to catch her eye.
“Mr Darcy?” Mrs Lanyon had decided to speak. “When we stayed at the New Bath Hotel in Matlock Bath, I saw something I meant to ask you about. There was a frame built around one of the springs. It appeared to be embedded with fresh flowers.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Have you seen such a thing?” Elizabeth shook her head, and Mrs Lanyon looked back at him. “You should tell Miss Bennet about them.”
Darcy smiled. “The custom is well dressing. It is said to have begun in Tissington, but many of the villages in Derbyshire decorate wells, springs, and fountains with flowers.” Mrs Lanyon only nodded, but henoticed that Elizabeth was listening with interest. “There is always a festival that accompanies it. They begin in the spring and continue through the summer. Since neither of you have been to Derbyshire, would you like to drive to one of the villages to see them? Matlock has already had their country fête, but Bakewell is to have theirs on Sunday.”
“Yes!” Elizabeth cried, smiling. She then blushed and said, more softly, “I would like to go.”
Her dark eyes had a lustre to them that all her embarrassment could not stifle. For a long moment, he stared her full in the face, admiring what he saw there, before he recollected himself.
“Madam?” he asked Mrs Lanyon.
