“Lizzy,” Jane called her over whilst they waited for Darcy, “what has Mr Darcy said of these flower decorations?”
“He only mentioned that the wells and fountains were decoratedwith a profusion of flowers. He did not say why or explain how it was done. Perhaps he will tell me more on the drive.”
“If I know Darcy,” Bingley said, “you shall have a thorough history of the custom before you have gone a mile! Are you sure you would not rather ride with us?”
“Thank you, Charles,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, “but I do not mind hearing about it.”
In truth, she hoped Darcy would not spend the entire time talking about the decking of wells, at least not until she had the chance to thank him for what he had done after Hunsford. She had misjudged him and had favoured a contemptible man over a good one. And even though she had thrown unjust accusations against him, Darcy still secured Jane and Bingley’s happiness, and preserved everyone from a further acquaintance with Wickham.
“Where is Darcy?” Mr Balfour cried, turning his horse round. Both the animal and its rider seemed eager to be on their way. He pulled out a fine gold watch. “It is quarter to the hour.”
As the others assured him Darcy would never be late, Elizabeth walked the road leading from the front of the building towards the stable, trying to take in a better view. Looking down the valley had a very agreeable effect on her spirits: by directing her eye along the edge of the side of the valley, she could see that the country beyond boldly swelled into green hills.
Elizabeth turned the corner and saw two boys throwing a ball near a curricle. There were three men standing behind it, talking, but Elizabeth could only see their hats. As she came nearer, one of the boys threw the ball and it disappeared behind the horses and curricle, only to be thrown back by someone unseen.
“This is bad weather for the hay.” Elizabeth recognised Darcy’s voice.
“Yes, sir, but it’s much worse weather for the wheat. That is a comfort.”
All three men chuckled. “Well, that is cheering, Mr Stevenson, thank you,” Darcy said drily.
One child overthrew the ball, and it rolled across the cobbles.
“Boys!” the other man cried. “Take the ball somewhere else.”
“Your sons may stay,” Darcy said.
“You will not say that when they hit one of your horses or break a window,” a third voice said good-naturedly.
“Let us not tell Mr Stevenson of the time I broke the window in your father’s mill. Old Mr Gabriel was very good to allow me to pay for its repair without ever telling my father.”
“Oh, I think old Mr Darcy always knew it was you.”
The men all laughed. The younger boy threw the ball again, and it seemed that it was Darcy who caught the ball and tossed it back whilst he spoke with two men, perhaps his steward and a tenant.
The steady sound of the ball hitting their palms continued and the gentlemen’s voices resumed, talking about the low yield from the home farm and what that would mean for helping those tenants who also suffered from the poor weather this season. When she heard Darcy thank and dismiss the groom, Elizabeth returned to the others before Darcy drove round.
He is all friendliness and ease with his servants and tenants.He had improved in civility since Hunsford, of course, but Darcy was naturally at ease at home. Elizabeth took in another view of the valley as she rejoined the others. How could he not be at ease in a lovely spot situated by the side of a sparkling stream in a deep valley amongst steep hills covered with foliage and fields?
Darcy then appeared and, after assuring Mr Balfour that he wasnotlate—the hour had not struck—he handed Elizabeth into the curricle, and they were on their way to Bakewell. This was the moment for her resolution to be executed. With his cares at home to occupy him, and in such a large party, she might not have the chance again to speak alone with Darcy.
“I can no longer help thanking you for your kindness to my family. You confessed your interference to Bingley, and gave him the courage to return to Jane. You risked his being angry and your very friendship, based solely on what I said.”
Darcy shook his head. “You need not thank me. I ought never to have interfered in the first place. I certainly ought not to have concealed Mrs Bingley’s being in town last winter. I told him howmistaken I was, and although he was angry, my assurance that she loved him helped him to forgive me.”
They rattled on a little farther in silence before Elizabeth said gently, “You know why else I must thank you.” She felt his attention, although his eyes were still on the road. “I know you shared your history with Mr Wickham with Bingley, who then told my father. You not only secured Jane’s happiness, but you preserved my family and friends from an unworthy acquaintance.”
“Did Bingley or your father tell—no, certainly not,” he answered his own question. “You are clever enough to have inferred it on your own.” Elizabeth saw how he tightened his grip on the reins and set his shoulders.
“I am grateful, very grateful you were willing to sacrifice your privacy, your sister’s privacy, for—” She very nearly saidme, but her heart could not be secure in that. “For the sake of others outside your circle.”
“Do not thank me, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said through a clenched jaw. “It was my fault that Mr Wickham’s worthlessness was not known in your neighbourhood. Correcting that was right to be done. Please do not make it a virtue.”
After a moment, Darcy said, in a calmer tone, “My character had to speak for itself. It was my responsibility to see to it that he was not well-received amongst decent people, people who had a right to expect that an acquaintance of theirs, a gentleman, would preserve them from such a man.”
“I feel that much good came from barring Mr Wickham from the neighbourhood.Idared not disclose what I truly knew of him. What happened to Miss Darcy did not go any farther than Jane by my means, but I did wonder what might happen to other ladies in Meryton who might be...”
“More fond of Mr Wickham than he deserves?” Darcy supplied.
