“I am fond of fishing!” Elizabeth exclaimed almost involuntarily, feeling free to speak upon any subject in the presence of this young gentleman, whose manners were natural and unaffected by that solemnity which characterised other members of his family. Seeing his look of surprise, she laughed.
“My father expected a son each time a child was born at Longbourn; and as we proved to be five daughters, he contented himself with what Providence had sent.”
“And he took you fishing?” The colonel’s tone was brisk and amused, as he tried to picture the ladies of his own family so employed—an image which refused to form itself.
“I was the only one he succeeded in persuading. Poor Papa—he wished for a son for more reasons than the mere enjoyment of fishing.”
She was not accustomed to converse with strangers upon the unsettling subject of the entail that encumbered Longbourn. Yet the topic was not new to the colonel; for, during the dinner at Rosings, Lady Catherine had spoken of it with a want of delicacy which had shocked Elizabeth—and, it would seem, not her alone, for Mr Darcy had brought the conversation to a close with a few resolute words, thereby securing her gratitude. But it had sufficed for all at table to learn that Longbourn, the Bennets’ estate, must pass to Mr Collins upon her father’s decease.
The colonel, however, possessed a peculiar talent for dispelling unease. He offered her his arm with an expression of sincere concern, yet continued in a lighter tone, “Whatever the cause may be, the education you have received has made a powerful impression upon…someone.”
Elizabeth coloured slightly, supposing he alluded to Mr Darcy, who had aided her throughout the evening in feeling at ease, even when Lady Catherine had placed her in the mortifying position of revealing the private circumstances of her family. Fortunately, the colonel was little inclined to close observation.When he resumed speaking, she felt assured that he had not discerned her small discomposure.
“I speak of Mr Clinton.”
“Mr Clinton?” Her surprise was so evident that even the colonel could not mistake it.
“The very same. After dinner, we met in the library for a final glass. Mr Clinton confessed that he had been struck by the young lady who reads Plato…and now I must join him in his admiration, though for other reasons,” he added with cheerful laughter. “I am most impressed that you go fishing! Each man is touched by that which stirs his own enthusiasm.”
“A great passion indeed, if it moved you to remain abed.” Elizabeth laughed in her turn, plainly enjoying the playful tone they had both adopted.
“Pray, do not mock a poor officer who is compelled each day to rise at five o’clock in the morning.” His light tone made her doubt the hardship of his life.
It was so easy, so natural, to converse with him. Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded her somewhat of Mr Wickham—perhaps not so handsome as the militia officer, yet certainly possessing a greater share of decorum. His manners were not displayed for admiration, as in Mr Wickham’s case, but appeared the natural consequence of good breeding and education. The distinction was difficult to express, yet Elizabeth perceived it clearly. Strangely, her admiration for the handsome officer, still confined to Hertfordshire, grew fainter and fainter—not solely on account of his recent conduct, but because she had begun to discern his true nature, long concealed beneath elaborate politeness and deceitful friendliness.
“Am I to understand that army duty keeps you from society?” Elizabeth ventured, resolved to approach—if only through Mr Darcy’s cousin—the subject of Mr Bingley, which continued to press upon her mind.
“You are not far from the truth, Miss Bennet. Although I am fond of dancing, and flatter myself that I am not wholly unskilled in the exercise, I am not always at liberty to attend the assemblies to which I am invited.”
“Because there are far too many!” she returned, unwilling to grant him escape through modesty.
“You are relentless.” They both laughed. “But indeed, I take great pleasure on such occasions—unlike my cousin, who absents himself from London for months at a time.”
“He passed two months in Hertfordshire last autumn,” Elizabeth observed, striving to appear indifferent.
“Precisely so. I do know Bingley quite well, and I cannot imagine remaining two months in the company of him and his family—” The colonel broke off suddenly, his eyes fixed upon her.
“In a place where there is little to engage one’s attention,” she offered, endeavouring to complete the thought as she supposed he had intended it.
“I should not venture to affirm that. If the society of the Bingley family proved tedious, his visit to Hertfordshire must nonetheless have included some more agreeable moments—”
“Did Mr Darcy tell you so, or is that your own conjecture?”
“It is no easy task to determine what Darcy feels. He is reserved and scarcely ever confides in anyone. Yet if he remained two months away from either London or Pemberley, one must conclude he was not wholly dissatisfied.”
Elizabeth endeavoured to conceal her astonishment. Never had it occurred to her that the proud gentleman had derived any enjoyment from their society. Yet the unexpected civility he had shown during the dinner at Rosings had indeed been revealing—his sentiments regarding his stay in Hertfordshire could not have been wholly unfavourable.
“Are you acquainted with Mr Bingley’s family?”
“The family, only through report; Bingley himself I see from time to time at the Club. He has joined our party at Bath on several occasions—a very popular man, I would say.”
Indeed, thus did Elizabeth remember him also. All had liked him unreservedly, only to be the more disappointed in the end by that amiable and well-regarded gentleman who had departed without so much as a word.
She shook off the recollection which, for a moment, had carried her into the past, and perceived in the distance two horsemen approaching Rosings from Hunsford.
“They return from fishing.” The colonel recognised Darcy and Mr Clinton before Elizabeth did.
In a short while, the two gentlemen reached them and dismounted, evidently intending to offer their greetings.
