“I will listen to you Mr Darcy, but not here, not now.”
“Yes of course, we should not be seen at this time of the night by ourselves...alone.”
“No we should not,” She confirmed. “But we can talk tomorrow, if you... well, if you feel recovered from your encounter with the storm.”
He frowned, confused, “What storm?”
She laughed, “Ask the Colonel tomorrow.”
With that she turned and walked back to the door but before she reached it Mr Darcy called her name, she turned back to him,
“Thanks Miss Bennet, I appreciate your forbearance.”
She nodded and smiled as she continued back to her room. She realised she had forgotten to grab the book she had gone looking for, but as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell asleep and woke up only when she heard the maid lighting the fire, and the sun’s rays filtering through the curtains.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth woke up more excited than she had been in a long time. She did not understand why meeting with Mr Darcy had all of a sudden become so important to her.After the talk with the Colonel and Charlotte she had reviewed how foolish, vain and prejudiced she had really been, and she was resolved to act in a more decorous fashion. She really had behaved appallingly towards Mr Darcy. Yes, he was insufferable, arrogant and even cruel, but she was not and her behaviour should not be dictated by others but by her own character.
She still liked Mr Wickham and appreciated his warmth and open manners while his behaviour towards the man who had wronged him had been unimpeachable. She should follow his example rather than adopt a peevish approach, attitude which resembled more Mr Darcy’s own atrocious conduct than the gentleman who had been injured.
As she was pondering these issues she felt a prick of anxiety regarding Mr Wickham. The Colonel had also been less than complimentary about the Militia man. She could not forget his reaction when she had told him about what Mr Wickham had related to her, regarding his dealings with his cousin. The Colonel had been positively enraged.
She comprehended that as an honourable officer, and as one so nearly connected to the family, being moreover, Mr Darcy’s chosen confidant, he would naturally incline to his cousin’scause. Yet might there not be more to the affair than she had hitherto been made acquainted? Had not every story two sides?
Upon what grounds had she so readily determined Mr Darcy to be the aggressor and Mr Wickham the injured party? What had induced her to decide the matter with such haste? Might the Colonel’s judgment be just? That her aversion to Mr Darcy had arisen solely from the mortification of her pride and her partiality for Mr Wickham merely the consequence of his engaging manners and dazzling charm?
Such thoughts irritated her immeasurably since it made her feel as immature and empty-headed as Lydia.That will not do!
So, she dismissed them quickly;Mr Darcy is no angel so stop trying to redeem the man. He is wicked and his favourite pastime seems to be drawing a wedge between young couples in love and breaking them up, for no better reason other than the fact that he can. It is no surprise, since he has no idea what love is; after all, his future bride is an insipid, sickly woman, who has no conversation or the desire to acquire it.
Elizabeth felt a stab of guilt immediately. Something was happening to her and she was not sure if she liked this new version of herself, a version that daily revealed a terrifying new meanness. Miss de Bourgh might be insipid, but she hardly deserved such viciousness from Elizabeth. In fact the young lady deserved nothing but Elizabeth’s compassion, for Anne's present was the company of a rude and unfeeling mother, while her future was tied up with the most infuriating man of her acquaintance. And for that Miss de Bourgh deserved pity, not scorn.
She dressed with care, taking advantage of the maid who knew more than just how to chop potatoes. Her hair was done in a flattering style and she smiled, pleased at her reflection in the mirror. She had no idea why she was taking so much care to meet Mr Darcy, to hear him spout flimsy excuses for hisbehaviour, actions that had brought nothing less than despair to her most beloved sister.
Regardless of her reasons she had promised him that she would listen to his explanation, therefore it was now simply too late to change her mind.
***
When she entered the breakfast room Mr Darcy was not in attendance; instead she found Lady Catherine, Dr Denville and the Colonel breaking their fast in peaceful silence, which was unusual whenever Lady Catherine was present.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth curtseyed to the occupants of the room. Dr Denville and the Colonel got up and bowed respectfully. Lady Catherine simply ignored her.
She made her way to the side-board and helped herself to a healthy amount of food. She had eaten very little in the last three days and her stomach was growling in protest.
She looked at the Colonel and decided to have another attempt at bridging the gap that had opened between them lately, “did you sleep well, Colonel?” She smiled disarmingly.
Prior to that miserable day when he had told her of Mr Darcy’s perfidy they had been easy with each other, they had been friends. But since then there was a fragile armed neutrality between them, that could erupt into a fully fledged war at any moment.
“Yes thank you Miss Bennet, I did, how about you madam?”
Elizabeth thought to tease him, but the tension between them was still too palpable for light bantering, “Yes, I did Colonel,” she bit her lower lip, “but more to the point, I have made a resolution.”
He raised his brows, “yes? What have you decided?”
“I have decided that I do not like storms… especially vicious ones.”
His face split into a beautiful smile, “I am glad to hear it. I also detest storms, especially storms on a clear and bright day.”
