But what they all assumed to be happeningcould not possibly be the case. Though not in the least understanding what Mr Darcy was doing, Elizabeth at least felt certain of that. With an effort, Elizabeth overcame her embarrassment and met Mr Darcy’s eyes. He looked at her steadily, and though his face had gone white and strained, he did not withdraw the request. Mr Darcy was a serious man, and though he had miscalculated in his means of achieving it, he would not have asked for a private meeting without a good reason.
A good reason other than to propose marriage. There must be one, although Elizabeth could not immediately think of what it could be.
“We may walk,” Elizabeth said hastily, before her mother could gather breath enough to invent half a future for her. “The day is not too damp, and we shall stay within view of the windows. If Mr Darcy wishes to speak with me, there can be no objection to it.”
Mrs Bennet, however, had already seized on Mr Darcy’s words as though they were a formal declaration.
“A walk,” she repeated, almost giddy. “Yes, yes, certainly. How very sensible. A young man should always speak where he may be heard without interruption. Lizzy, my love, you had better put on your warm cloak. Mr Darcy is so attentive. Mr Bennet, did you hear him? He asks for Elizabeth. For a private meeting, to speak to Lizzy in confidence! My heavens,ten thousand a year! I declare I always knew there was something in it.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, in a voice as calm as she could manage, “I assure you, you are mistaken.”
Mrs Bennet only smiled more broadly, as though Elizabeth’s denial were the modest reluctance of a young lady on the brink of matrimony.
Mr Darcy’s colour deepened slightly, and he looked, for one brief instant, as though he would rather face a tribunal than Mrs Bennet’s expectations. Then he bowed again, as stiffly correct as ever.
“Whenever Miss Elizabeth is ready,” he said.
And with that, Elizabeth went to fetch her cloak, feeling that curiosity might drive her mad. One thing was certain — Mr Darcy could not possibly mean what it had sounded like he meant.
But what in Heaven’s name had he meant?
Chapter 6
As Darcy followed Elizabeth from her parents’ drawing room, he felt himself holding on to his self-control with his fingernails. How could he have been so foolish as to not realise the hopes he would raise by such a declaration? As they walked to the front door, he was conscious of little except the awkwardness of the situation he had created. He had gone to Longbourn determined to speak with discretion, to excite as little notice as possible, and to accomplish the business that had brought him there without causing any disturbance. Instead, by a want of foresight that now mortified him, he had allowed Mrs Bennet to imagine he intended to marry her daughter.
A thought that did not horrify him nearly as much as it ought to. Aghast at his own foolishness, Darcy pushed away an errant surge of admiration for Elizabeth. This was hardly the time.
The cold air that met them outside was bracing, though it did little to steady him. Elizabethpaused on the gravel walk long enough to draw her cloak more closely about her and to settle her gloves, then moved forward with an appearance of calm which Darcy, in his present confusion, found both admirable and humbling. The house lay plainly behind them, and the drawing room windows served as a reminder that they were being observed.
Elizabeth glanced once toward the house and then looked back at him with composed assurance. “You need not be uneasy, Mr Darcy. We remain in full view of the windows, and I do not imagine my mother can demand more than that.”
There was enough dry amusement in her tone to make him feel the full force of the allusion. He coloured in spite of himself and answered, with more earnestness than elegance, “I regret very much that my request should have occasioned such a misunderstanding. I had no intention of exposing you to anything of the kind.”
Elizabeth adjusted the wrist of one glove and said calmly, “My mother is happily able to construct a great deal from very little. Had you added a compliment to the request, she might already be planning the settlements.”
Despite his embarrassment, Darcy could not remain entirely insensible of her generosity in absolving him, nor to the humour of it. A faint smile touched his expression before he recollected himself. The subject was too delicate to invite furtherlevity.
They walked on a little way in silence. The season had stripped the garden of all softness. The paths were hard beneath their feet, the hedges bare, and the pale winter light lay thinly over the grounds without warmth or cheer. There was, however, a severity in the scene that suited Darcy’s mood better than any gentler prospect could have done. It was easier to speak of serious things where everything around him appeared equally stripped of ornament.
Elizabeth was the first to break the silence. Without looking directly at him, she said, “You may also be entirely at ease on another point. Whatever expectations my mother may have formed, I have none. I am entirely persuaded that you did not come to Longbourn this morning with any design such as she has fancied. I know perfectly well that you do not admire me.”
Darcy turned toward her more quickly than he intended. The certainty with which she spoke struck him at once. “You did not think the same?” he asked before he could think better of it.
“Of course not.”
He looked at her with an astonishment that he made no attempt to disguise. There was no coquetry in her manner, no affectation of modest disbelief. She spoke with the quiet assurance of a woman stating what appeared to her to be an obvioustruth.
After a moment, Elizabeth glanced at him and seemed to perceive something of his surprise, for she added, with the same composure that had marked her first remarks, “I had imagined your opinion of me too settled to allow such a change.”
Darcy stopped walking altogether.
Elizabeth, who had gone a step or two farther, turned back at once. Her expression was one of real surprise now, though not of alarm. The path curved slightly where they stood, and from that point the house was still plainly visible behind them. Darcy was conscious of all this and of nothing. The words she had spoken had touched him too nearly for indifference.
“You believe my opinion of you so decidedly unfavourable,” he said, “that you can think such a supposition impossible?”
Elizabeth met the question steadily, though with some increase of colour. “Even from the first meeting, your judgment of me was evident. Then, too,” she added after a brief pause, “I do not think you are partial to my connections.”
The fairness of the latter charge made it impossible for him to deny it at once. He resumed walking more slowly, and she fell into step beside him.
