Kitty sat very upright, clearly determined to acquit herself with dignity; Lydia walked beside the horse, issuing occasional instructions which Bramble entirely ignored.
Mrs. Bennet declared the whole arrangement “quite delightful,” and observed that Mr. Darcy was “the most accommodating gentleman imaginable.”
Elizabeth found herself walking beside him once more.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then Darcy said, quietly enough that only she could hear, “You need not be concerned. He attends to me, not to her.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “I had wondered.”
“He is well accustomed to such situations.”
“I am not sure Lydia is.”
A faint smile touched his expression.
After a moment, Elizabeth said, “It was very kind of you to speak to Mary as you did.”
Darcy looked at her. “I spoke only what I thought might be of use.”
“You spoke what she needed to hear.”
He did not immediately reply.
Elizabeth continued, more thoughtfully, “Rosings must be… a particular sort of place.”
“It is,” he said.
“And Lady Catherine?”
Darcy allowed himself a brief pause. “Is a particular sort of lady.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved slightly. “I had gathered as much.”
They walked a few steps in silence.
Then Elizabeth said, more seriously, “What do you suppose she would say… to such a situation as this?”
Darcy understood her at once. “To my addressing you?”
“Yes.”
He took a moment to consider. “I do not think,” he said at last, “that she would approve.”
Elizabeth let out a quiet breath. “No. I did not suppose she would.”
“She has long entertained other expectations.”
Elizabeth remembered from the dinner before the ball – she wished Darcy to marry her daughter.
Darcy continued, with calm honesty, “I know very well what she would say. And I cannot pretend that it would be agreeable.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “And yet you persist.”
“I do.”
There was no hesitation in it.
