Two
The encounter with Mr. Darcy left Elizabeth in a state of nervousness she could not explain. She had been angry with him for so long and held resentment against him for so many reasons that her negative feelings had defeated her wisdom.
Even worse, her outburst had seemed to affect him and make him feel bad, and it certainly had not made her feel good. Before the conversation, she had been upset with him; afterwards, she was upset with herself.
Perhaps she would not have felt so uncomfortable if she had not seen him in such a candid and gentle situation with the children. Now, she felt guilty and that she had been unfair to him, though she knew too well it was not true. Strangely, she kept thinking of those leaves in his hair and wondered why she had not pointed them out to him.
She arrived at the Parsonage and tried to sneak up to her room, but the entire family was there.
“My dear cousin, where have you been?” Mr. Collins asked. “Colonel Fitzwilliam called, and he asked about you. It is not polite to disappoint him.”
“Mr. Collins, the colonel did not express to me his intention of calling, and he certainly called on the family, not me personally. If he was disappointed, I hope it will not last long.”
Her harsh voice turned all eyes to her, and Mr. Collins seemed to forget to breathe.
“My dear Eliza, are you unwell?” Charlotte asked. “Please have a cup of tea. I am sure it will be good for you.”
Elizabeth sat reluctantly and accepted the tea, planning to stay only as long as politeness required and to retire to her room quickly.
As she drank, she became more relaxed and continued the conversation in a more appropriate tone.
“I walked to the other side of the park and met two children, Peter and Betsy. I understand their mother, Mrs. Gilroy, is a widow.”
“Ah yes, Mrs. Gilroy’s situation is quite tragic,” Mr. Collins said. “Her husband died last year. He was a hardworking man but not very wise. He was fonder of the brandy than the church. Lady Catherine was kind enough to give them that cottage and a little piece of garden on that side of the park, so they can grow vegetables and keep a goat and some chickens.”
“How kind of Lady Catherine.”
“Yes, exceedingly so. She is always most kind.”
“May I ask how he died?”
“He fell ill and never recovered. I am not sure… I usually avoid sick people. I do not want to catch something.”
Elizabeth looked at him and then at Charlotte and was ready to ask about a clergyman’s duty but restrained the impulse.
“The colonel said he would call again tomorrow.”
“I hope I shall be at home. I shall take another walk tomorrow, at this time. I have suffered from some terrible headaches lately, and I find walking helps me.”
As much as she enjoyed the colonel’s company, Elizabeth had more important things to preoccupy her. She was well aware that the colonel had no serious designs on her — he simply preferred the company of those at the Parsonage to those at Rosings. Even if he had, her own feelings towards him were nothing more than those of a pleasant acquaintance she had known for a little while.
During the evening and through the night, Elizabeth pondered whether she should try to meet Mr. Darcy again or not. He had offered her the opportunity to ask questions — something she might not have again in the future. She was curious in regard to Mr. Wickham, of course, but most of all she wished to know more about Mr. Bingley and his plans for the future.
Mr. Darcy had claimed that he did not consider her an enemy, but surely they were not friends either, so it was unlikely he would answer such delicate questions. However, if she did not try, she would regret losing such an opportunity.
All sorts of small and silly things crossed her mind, such as the realisation that she did not know the name of Mr. Darcy’s dog. She had never heard him say it, either when they were at Netherfield or during their encounter in the park. Of course, it was a meaningless detail, just like the leaves in his hair, and she was annoyed such things bothered her.
The next morning, after breakfast, she announced her intention to walk and refused Charlotte’s invitation to join her in calling on parishioners in Hunsford.
Elizabeth took a book for company in case there was no other, and she walked towards the meeting place. She had slept poorly, and the morning found her as nervous as the previous evening. As she walked, she saw a small cart laden with food, and she wondered whether it might be for Mrs. Gilroy.
The children’s voices announced to her that she had reached her destination before she realised it.
The Great Dane recognised her first and ran to her. “Angus, down,” Mr. Darcy ordered, and the dog stopped.
“Angus,” she repeated.
Peter and Betsy came to her, and Mr. Darcy bowed. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
