Page 25 of Bitterness of Spirit

“Miss Bennet, I must return home now,” Anne said hesitantly after a long pause. “I thank you for keeping me company again. You are very kind.”

“I have greatly enjoyed speaking to you, Miss de Bourgh. I wish you all the best.”

They separated, and Elizabeth returned to the Parsonage, occasionally glancing back towards Anne. She felt troubled after their conversation, and she tried to understand the most disturbing bits. She knew Miss de Bourgh needed help—more than Elizabeth could provide. What was she to do? Did she have the right to do anything? She was nothing to Miss de Bourgh, and her opinion was neither required nor welcome.

She wondered whether she should speak to the colonel—or to Mr. Darcy himself—but she quickly dismissed such a notion. There was nothing to discuss, and she could not relate to anyone that she had private conversations and meetings with Anne de Bourgh. She felt burdened and disappointed, and late in the evening, she still searched for a solution to a situation she should have simply ignored.

During the next two days, she looked for Miss de Bourgh in the grove, but she was no longer there.

***

From the window of his chamber, Darcy stared through the trees towards the Parsonage. It had become his habit in the last days.

He had not met Elizabeth since their visit, but every fibre of his body could sense her closeness.

And he occasionally saw her—from afar. He spotted her with Anne, which greatly surprised him.

A year before, he had discovered Anne’s habit of spending time alone outside during resting hours. He attempted to talk to his cousin, but she refused to speak of it and ended the conversation abruptly. This year was the same; after he observed them, he asked Anne how she spent her day, and she pretended she was inside the entire time. So he ceased further inquiry.

Darcy did not fail to notice that his cousin was unwell, and he tried—but failed—to help her. First, he did not know what was troubling her—besides her usual state of weakness that had lasted for a lifetime. And second, Anne did not open herself to anyone. She spoke little, never argued with her mother or anyone else, and never expressed an opinion of her own. Unlike Georgiana, Anne was not shy. She had just built a wall around herself and hid behind it to find as much protection as she could.

He feared—and Lady Catherine even suggested a few times—that Anne might suffer from the same illness that took his mother’s life. How would a young woman feel, knowing that she had been ill all that time without any chance of improvement? How could she allow anyone to know her true self, her true worries, and her true despair?

He also questioned Anne’s illness and insisted on having her seen by other doctors. But Lady Catherine refused any intervention as long as Anne was still under her care.

Darcy knew too well the meaning of such a statement. And as much as he wanted to do everything for his cousin’s wellbeing, marrying her only to obey his aunt’s demands was impossible. It would be of no use to anyone, even if he were willing to accept such a sacrifice. He cared for his cousin, and his main goal was to see her safe and healthy without entering into a marriage that would bring more unhappiness to everyone. Therefore, he searched for a reasonable solution that, so far, he had not found. Could Miss Bennet be the one to pierce Anne’s restraint?

He counted the days before he could be close to Elizabeth. They would not be many and would not be long. Three had already passed, and he had barely spoken to her. He did not feel strong enough to be in her company and to conceal his feelings, nor could he bear the distress of being in such proximity and still not enjoy her presence.

Later that day, Darcy decided to take a ride to ease his mind. He could not spend all his time in the library, and racing his horse across open fields was the perfect medicine for his torment. He rode at a gallop, far from the Rosings manor until the horse needed rest. He stopped and sat in the grass. Spring flourished around him, enhancing the trees and flowers with scents of freshness and sounds of joy. But his soul remained heavy and his spirit low.

Eventually, he lost patience and decided to return. He allowed the stallion to run free for a while but stopped abruptly when he spotted Elizabeth walking towards the Parsonage. His heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath, tempted to take another path to avoid her. But his horse neighed, and she turned.

There was a short distance between them, so he easily noted her surprise. He bowed, and she curtseyed and continued to look at him. His decision was made in an instant; he stopped the horse, dismounted, and approached her.

“Miss Bennet. What a lovely surprise to see you.”

“Mr. Darcy. A surprise indeed.”

“Are you returning home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“May I escort you?”

“If you wish…”

“Is Mrs. Collins well? And Mr. Collins?’

“Very well, sir. And Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh? And Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“They are all well. Do you often walk in this part of the Park, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, as often as I can. Since I have been in Kent, I have fully enjoyed its beauties. What about you, Mr. Darcy?”

“I was just taking a ride.”

He heard himself talking and was ashamed of how silly he sounded. So he walked silently by her side, in danger of sinking into total silence. He knew it was absolutely necessary to think of something, but her nearness, their privacy, and her scent stronger than flowers blurred his reason. He glanced at her from time to time then startled when she spoke.