When the gentlemen took their leave, Mr. Darcy only nodded to her as he departed, his eyes still thoughtful, still unreadable.
As the door shut behind them, Elizabeth exhaled slowly.
Chapter 31
Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the Parsonage, and the ladies all agreed that his presence added greatly to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. With a gallant air and agreeable conversation, he quickly won the favour of Mrs. Collins and Maria Lucas, while Elizabeth maintained a cautious civility, her wit tempered by suspicion. He seemed determined to charm, yet Elizabeth could not forget the unease she had felt at his questions during their previous conversation.
One afternoon, as they were at tea at the Parsonage Colonel Fitzwilliam lingered near Elizabeth as they crossed the threshold, conversing with Mrs. Collins about the virtues of Lady Catherine's conservatory.
"The orange trees are quite magnificent," he said, smiling. "I do not believe I have ever seen a more orderly hothouse in all my travels."
"Lady Catherine spares no expense," said Mrs. Collins proudly. "She has a most discerning eye for propriety in both plants and people."
Elizabeth arched a brow but said nothing. Maria, ever eager to be included, added, "And the roses were so pretty, even though they are not yet in bloom."
Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet, I daresay you must be fond of roses. Or perhaps another flower holds your preference?"
Elizabeth smiled lightly. "I do not think I am partial enough to any one bloom to make a declaration. But I am fond of variety, I believe. A garden, like a library, should offer a breadth of delights."
"Ah," he said, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eye. "Then you must have quite the fondness for Haydn as well as Mozart—perhaps even the boldness to admire Clementi?"
Elizabeth's breath caught for a moment, but she covered it with a sip of her tea. She laughed, but the sound was a note too bright. "Such a bold accusation! For a man of your intelligence, surely you do not infer my entire character from the contents of my music folio?"
"Only that you strike me as someone whose tastes are refined yet unconventional. I wonder where such knowledge is formed," he said with casual ease, but Elizabeth, watching keenly, noted the slight arch of his brow at her pointed compliment—subtle, but unmistakably perceptive.
Mrs. Collins, unaware of the exchange, laughed lightly. "Our Eliza has always had a discerning ear."
Maria said, "Beethoven is Lady Catherine's favourite, is he not?"
"Indeed," said the Colonel, though his gaze had not left Elizabeth. "Though I find such strict adherence to the fashionable taste to be a kind of tyranny, do you not agree, Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth smiled again, more faintly. "I confess I am not always obedient to the tastes of those in authority."
The conversation turned then to the peculiarities of Mr. Collins's latest sermon, and Elizabeth let herself be drawn into the noise of the room. Still, she felt the weight of Colonel Fitzwilliam's regard, the subtlety of his probing questions, and the manner in which he sought to place her—to uncover some truth he suspected.
She had hoped, vainly perhaps, that Fitzwilliam Darcy might call during the week, but he did not. She knew, of course, how Lady Catherine would monopolize his time, particularly as he had come with a view to reviewing Rosings' accounts. And yet, she could not help but feel the sting of disappointment. Was it not a little cruel that even now, knowing all that passed between them, she must wait upon his sense of duty?
Yet she was not so foolish as before. She would not measure his feelings by attentions given or withheld at another's direction. In another life, she might have interpreted his absence as indifference, but in this one, she knew better. He was thinking. Weighing. Watching.
So she waited, and in the waiting, sharpened her own resolve. She would not stumble, she would not provoke. But she would be herself, and let the truth unfold as it must.
The Sunday following was mild and bright, and though the sermon was long, Elizabeth scarcely minded; she had seen him. Darcy stood solemn and still throughout the service, his eyes rarely moving from the pages of his prayer book, yet once, as they rose from kneeling, their gazes met across the narrow divide of the pews. It was only for amoment, but the impression lingered, and she carried it with her through the afternoon.
The much-anticipated dinner at Rosings followed that very evening. Elizabeth, dressed with care and modest elegance, could not help the flutter in her chest as they crossed the park. She was not so much nervous as she was taut—ready. She had imagined this scene often enough. Yet, as always, reality had its own script to follow.
Lady Catherine was in rare form, her voice filling the room long before the guests had even taken their places at table. Mr. Collins hung on every syllable with breathless admiration, murmuring assent and praise like a man hypnotised. Charlotte, steady and calm, applied herself to the business of the meal with her usual composed detachment, though Elizabeth did not miss the slightly tighter set to her mouth.
Elizabeth took her seat opposite Mr. Darcy, her eyes flicking to him only briefly. He had not spoken to her directly at church, nor had he sought her gaze—but she felt his presence as keenly as she felt the tension in her own spine. Colonel Fitzwilliam, seated beside her, took a much more active role in the evening, engaging both Maria and Elizabeth with the ease of a man well-practised in social intercourse.
"Miss Bennet," he said, as the first course was served, "you must allow me to declare how thoroughly the parsonage agrees with your countenance. You are quite in health."
"You are very kind, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I assure you, the air here is bracing and the conversation lively."
"And you have seen our Lady Catherine in her full splendour. That alone must invigorate the spirits."
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. "Indeed, I am most fortunate. Not every visitor can claim such condescension."
He laughed. "Spoken with such tact, Miss Bennet. You must be careful or she will take you for a flatterer."
