“Precisely,” said the colonel, pleased that they had returned to the subject which interested him. “Let us forget myself and allow me to tell you that, with considerable subtlety and delicacy, Mrs Cooper hinted that Miss Elizabeth has altered greatly; that tragedy has rendered her more realistic, and many of the harsher edges of her character have been softened by sorrow.”
“Or by anxiety over their dreadful entail.”
“No matter what has changed her.”
“It is certainly so; I observed it myself. But that does not signify that she loves me, only that she would now reflect before refusing an offer of marriage. Her struggle would still concern her family; only in Kent it was a matter of honour, whereas now it is one of material survival.”
“You are cruel.”
“I am realistic and, as I told you, changed.”
“You may begin to court her, to win her affection.”
“I do not think it would be right to do so while I remain uncertain whether I shall ultimately marry her. It is not my habit to flirt merely for the sake of flirting. But I do intend to do something for her. That much is certain.”
As they rode away at a walk, the colonel cast one last glance towards his cousin.
To do something for her other than marry her was indeed sorrowful news.
“And I shall do something more. I intend to write to Bingley and tell him the truth about all that occurred—”
“All?”
“Yes. It is only right and honest. In Hertfordshire, I believed I was doing him a service by keeping him from a young lady who appeared to desire nothing but his fortune.”
“Very much as I do,” said the colonel mercilessly of himself.
Darcy looked at him and hesitated a moment before replying; but the steady rhythm of the horses’ quiet pace, the beauty of the day, perhaps even the woods towards which they rode, gave him a sense of peace he had seldom known. People were both good and flawed at once, and, as his cousin had said, there were shades in all things.
“Yes. In the end, who am I to judge the motives of others? If he loved her, I ought not to have stood in his way. It was his concern what he desired in a wife. I shall tell him all this, and afterwards I shall write of my failed proposal of marriage without sparing myself or the Bennets. Only this time I shall temper my opinions by admitting that they were merely personal impressions, perhaps formed without truly observing people…even his sisters contributed to them, as they too detested the Miss Bennets.”
“You will also tell him that Mr Bennet is dead and that Mr Collins has entered into the rights granted by the entail.”
“Certainly.”
“It is well what you are doing,” said the colonel, and put his horse into a gallop, Darcy following soon after.
Chapter 22
Several days passed after the visit to Pemberley. Though Mrs Cooper attempted more than once to speak with Elizabeth of the visit and of Mr Darcy, it proved impossible. With gentleness, but firmness, she refused either to answer questions about Mr Darcy or continue any conversation concerning him.
One morning, Mrs Cooper entered the classroom to find the familiar sight of that hour: the children seated seriously upon a little bench, listening to Elizabeth.
“My dear, we must discuss something,” said Mrs Cooper, and immediately the voices of both children rose almost plaintively.
“Please, Mama, let Miss Bennet finish the story.”
Mrs Cooper smiled. She held a letter in her hand, which Elizabeth had already noticed, and seated beside her children to listen as well.
“The story is about Zeus, lord of the sky and thunder, who dwelt upon Mount Olympus high above the clouds.
“Though powerful, Zeus did not spend all his days casting lightning or settling quarrels among the gods. Sometimes he wandered quietly through the world disguised as an ordinarytraveller, wishing to discover how men treated one another when no reward was expected.
One cold evening, Zeus descended from Olympus, wrapped in a worn grey cloak. Heavy rain fell over the little mountain villages of Greece, while the wind swept fiercely through the narrow paths. At last, he approached a grand house and knocked upon its door.”
“A wealthy man opened it only a little.
‘Pray,’ said Zeus in the voice of an aged traveller, ‘might I warm myself for a short while beside your fire?’
