Elizabeth almost tripped. "Teaching? What do you teach?"
"It is nothing so formal as all that," he said quickly, his discomfort evident. "There is a charity school near the lower part of town. Children whose parents cannot afford proper education. Whenever I am here, I go there twice a week and assist with reading and mathematics."
Elizabeth stared at him. "You teach underprivileged children?"
"I would hardly call it teaching. More...guidance. The schoolmaster does the real work. I simply lend what assistance I can."
"That is—" Elizabeth struggled to find words. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy."
He looked uncomfortable with the praise. "It is nothing. My father believed that those with advantages have a duty to share them. I am merely following his example."
Elizabeth felt a sharp dissonance settle over her. This man—who gave his time freely to teach children who could not afford an education—was the same man who had supposedly denied Mr. Wickham the living that would have secured his future. The same man who had, according to Wickham, stripped him of every opportunity for advancement out of spite and jealousy.
It made no sense.
A man who valued education enough to teach poor children twice weekly would not deny a deserving young man the means to pursue his own studies. Would he?
Unless Mr. Wickham's account had been...incomplete.
The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
While she still struggled to reconcile the thought, Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, as though eager to change the subject. “But enough of myself, Miss Elizabeth. Tell me—how often do you and your sister accompany your aunt and uncle in their travels?”
“Not very often, I am afraid,” Elizabeth replied, composing herself and pushing the errant thought from her mind. “We generally visit them in Town during the winter months, but journeys such as this are quite uncommon.”
"I am surprised your aunt and uncle could leave London for so long at all. Do they not have children?"
"They do. Three of them. But the children remained in London with the housekeeper and their governess. My aunt thought it best, given how young they are. The journey would have been difficult for them."
"That was wise," Mr. Darcy said. "And how long do you intend to remain in Bath?"
"Only a fortnight in total. We arrived just over a week ago, so we have less than a week remaining before we must return to London, and then home to Hertfordshire."
Something flickered across Mr. Darcy's expression—disappointment, perhaps, though it was gone too quickly for Elizabeth to be certain.
"That is not very long at all."
"No. But it has already proven beneficial for Jane, so I cannot regret the brevity of our stay."
"Of course not." He said.
They walked on in silence for some moments before Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “May I ask—why did you choose to accompany your aunt and uncle to Bath? Forgive me if I am too forward, but from what Mr. Gardiner mentioned, he seldom visits Bath save on business. This visit, however, does not appear to be of that nature.”
Elizabeth sighed, reluctant to speak but feeling she owed him honesty. "Jane was...weary. About the Mr. Bingley situation. Mrs. Gardiner suggested that a trip might be the best way to lighten her spirits."
Mr. Darcy slowed to a halt, the path suddenly seeming very still around them. His expression grew grave. “So, you are here because of the mistake I made.”
Elizabeth drew in a slow breath, her gaze fixed upon the gravel beneath her feet. “Honestly?” she said at last. Then, as he resumed their pace and she fell into step beside him, she added quietly, “Yes—and no.”
"I am truly sorry for that, Miss Elizabeth. More than I can adequately express."
"You do not have to apologize again, sir." Elizabeth found herself wanting to ease his evident distress. "Perhaps providence was using you as an instrument to bring them back together. After all, you said you asked Mr. Bingley to come with you to Bath, and somehow the two of them met again here. What else can one say?"
Mr. Darcy was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but weighted with meaning. "I am glad I am making amends for all my mistakes."
The emphasis on "all" was unmistakable. Elizabeth knew the statement had more significance than the surface meaning conveyed, but she could not bring herself to ask what exactly he meant.
Their conversation shifted to lighter matters. Mr. Darcy enquired after the conditions Elizabeth had left Meryton and Hertfordshire, asked if her parents were in good health, and seemed genuinely interested in her answers.
