But after a sleepless night, full of emotions, speculations, turmoil and little rest, the suggestion felt sound and useful, so she followed it.
The late autumn morning was chilly, the ground slippery, the trees and the grass covered with frost. The fresh air immediately dissipated her tiredness and raised her spirits, ready for a new day. Her father had planned to visit Mr. King that very day and she wondered if Darcy had met with the colonel.
She was still shocked by Wickham’s impertinence. To have the audacity to speak ill of Darcy when she knew he was guilty of so many horrible things was unthinkable and detestable. She thought of those young maids abused by Wickham—almost children themselves when they had their own children—and she realised he must have done it while the late Mr. Darcy was still alive. Could a betrayal be more horrible? And he wished to be a clergyman! What a cruel, horrible joke!
Preoccupied with her thoughts, Elizabeth failed to observe the man standing in front of her until he called her name. She startled, and then joy filled her soul when she saw Darcy smiling at her.
“I hope I have not frightened you, Miss Bennet.”
“Not at all. I am only surprised to see you, Mr. Darcy. I walk this way quite often but rarely meet anyone else.”
“Mr. Bennet indicated this path as being your favourite and I have been waiting here for a while, hoping to meet you.”
Straightforward, open, honest. No disguise, no excuses.
Despite the cold weather, she felt warm inside. “I hope you have not waited for too long. It is rather chilly outside.”
“I lost track of time, looking for you,” he said, stepping forward.
“You could have come to Longbourn anytime,” she said, slightly troubled by the fact that they were alone.
“I could have. But I hoped we would have the chance to talk privately for a few minutes. If you do not mind, of course…”
“I do not mind...”
“But do you wish to? Do you enjoy speaking privately to me, Miss Bennet?”
His words and his voice, as well as his countenance, were serious, even grave.
“Of course. Why would you assume otherwise, sir?”
“I am not assuming. I just fear imposing my wishes on you, and that you may accept them out of obligation.”
“Do I have an obligation to you, Mr. Darcy?”
“No, not at all…”
“Then you have no reason to worry,” she said. The more troubled he appeared, the calmer she became. She finally understood his restraint and his concern and was willing to dismiss them.
“I hope not… I have wished to speak to you for a long time, but never dared, never found the right moment.”
“I am very sorry to hear you hesitated to speak to me, Mr. Darcy. Especially since we have talked many times, on so many subjects.”
“We have spoken of everything, except what is most important to me.”
He looked at her and she held his gaze for a moment, waiting.
“What would that be, sir?” she whispered.
“Can you not imagine, Miss Bennet? Do you not suspect it? If so, the subject might make you uncomfortable, so I might be better not to open it yet.”
He sounded truly concerned and Elizabeth searched for the proper words to put him at ease, still doubtful herself about the course of their conversation.
“Mr. Darcy, you trouble yourself too much, sir. I try not to imagine, as it is dangerous for a young lady to assume too much. But I am waiting for you to tell me.”
He forced a smile, and then looked at her again.
“Your letter gave me much pleasure, even though it was written by your father. I felt grateful that you had taken the trouble to inform me.”
