“You are not alone in that regard,” he replied, and she struggled not to meet his gaze.
“What does that signify, Mr Darcy? That we are both disagreeable individuals?”
“Disagreeable? I hope not. Perhaps ‘difficult’ is a word that might describe us. But I am curious why your aunt chastised you.”
“Because it seems I am rather prejudiced, or so she believes.”
“While I, on the other hand, was accused of excessive pride,” he remarked, and they both paused in their walking, exchanging an amused glance. “And look at us, such fine and pleasant people we have turned out to be!”
“And we agree on such crucial matters!” Elizabeth responded, finally letting her joy show, filling her eyes with a charming light, and enveloping her beautiful face in a mist of pleasure.
“Do you want to follow our families and drink the healing waters?” he asked, gesturing towards the lines where people waited for the water.
“No,” she replied, her disgust apparent, which he observed immediately.
“Good,” he said. “I also loathe this peculiar custom.” She smiled, and he continued, “Do you know Bath?”
“No. I visited ten years ago, but I cannot pretend to know it well. I was obliged to drink the water—perhaps that left me with a dreadful memory.”
“Something to bear in mind for the future. I shall never compel my children to participate in that particular ritual.”
“Oh, but it may not be so simple. Their mother could insist.”
“Then I shall choose a lady who declares her aversion to the waters of Bath before the vicar.”
And although she smiled at his words, Elizabeth’s heart raced, its rhythm impossible to restrain. She hoped he did not perceive her inner turmoil. For a moment, her body responded in a manner both inexplicable yet strangely pleasing to the thought of one day declaring before the vicar that she would spare their children from such a ritual.
She tried, without success, to convince herself that this was merely a casual conversation between friends and that his words might not have been meant for her. Yet nothing could still the quiet hope that he had forgiven her—a hope that lingered in her heart, poised to bloom.
“You have grown suddenly silent, Miss Elizabeth,” he observed.
“I noticed that we have left the Pump Room. We ought to wait for our families to rejoin us.”
“Miss Elizabeth, this is not our first walk alone.”
“No, but we were not upon such a busy street during our previous meetings.”
“Are you suggesting, then, that it is proper for a young lady and a gentleman to be alone only when no one is watching?” he asked, his tone marked more by curiosity than reproach—a manner Elizabeth found wholly agreeable. Once again, he was the man with whom she had shared spirited conversations in the library or drawing-room at Netherfield or, as he had reminded her, while walking near Meryton.
“I believe certain rules are meant to be broken,” she replied with a lightness of spirit, allowing herself to remain in the moment.
It was a beautiful, warm day in June, and Bath gleamed under the clear sky. She walked alongside Mr Darcy as if nothing terrible had occurred between them.
She mused that he wanted them to be friends, which was preferable to the animosity that had characterised their meeting at the Parsonage. It was not exactly what she wanted, but she understood that, for the time being, it was all that could be expected of their relationship.
“How many rules does Miss Elizabeth break?” he asked, rousing her from her daydream and giving her his arm, which she took without any further thought about decorum.
“Unfortunately, a woman cannot flout all the rules. Her reputation hinges on many of them. And even though I possess a penchant for rebellion, I cannot disregard the grim and perilous reality surrounding me. You must admit that strolling through a town should not be considered a crime, yet it may yield unpleasant consequences…for me, not you.”
“Yes, I agree. It is unjust. Nevertheless, Bath imposes fewer restrictions. You can stroll with me on this fine day—no one will care or take offence. But I assure you, our families will find us once they conclude their visit to the Pump Room. There are not many places for leisurely walks, even though Bath has undergone considerable changes in the years since your last visit. Many of my friends have bought homes here,” he said, indicating a few fine residences and naming their owners. “And the balls here are renowned for their numerous guests.”
“Not that you like those,” she remarked, to which he burst into laughter. He took her hand, placing his lips on it for a fleeting moment and making her heart jump from her chest.
“I thought the lady I knew in Hertfordshire had vanished, replaced by a compliant woman ready to adhere to all the rules of politeness.”
Trying hard to compose herself, Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. If she considered making a similar observation about the man she had met in Kent, who had been far from the proud gentlemen she had known in Hertfordshire, for the first time in her life, she exercised caution and chose silence instead.
“I am here, walking with you alone…I would not say that I have changed.”
