Page 42 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

“Reading in the library,” Elizabeth and Mr Gardiner replied together; then both laughed.

To Elizabeth, it was a relief that the subject had changed. She concealed her torment and struggled not to think of Pemberley and its master again. At least for the present.

∞∞∞

The third day began as poorly as the previous ones, rainy and windy. In the afternoon, though, while the gentlemen were at their club and Mrs Gardiner supervised the children for an afternoon nap, the rain suddenly stopped. The clouds dissipated, and the sun appeared. Within half an hour, the weather turned mild, warm, and bright—perfect for a walk.

“I am going out,” Elizabeth told Jane and Maria. “I cannot spend a single moment longer inside. Will you join me? Hyde Park must be wonderful. I heard the Regent’s Park was designed last year, and I have dreamed of seeing it since then. It must be lovely already, but I am sure it will be spectacular in the summer.”

Her invitation was quickly accepted as her enthusiasm was contagious. Maria declared herself interested in Regent’s Park too and wondered whether anyone else in Meryton had seen it.

The three of them cheerfully left the house. Within minutes, they were inside the park, and Elizabeth’s spirits rose along with her widening smile. Beauty, animation, and liveliness surrounded her.

Phaetons and horses, ladies and gentlemen, children and dogs, voices and laugher—all gathered together, enjoying the perfect weather.

They walked together along the edge of the lake, admiring the superb view and savouring the scent of the flowers.

“Lizzy, look at all these people. They are so elegant and fashionable. I believe at least half of them must be titled. I bet half the ton is here,” Maria whispered.

Elizabeth smiled. “Perhaps not half the ton, but they are elegant and fashionable indeed. But look at this garden of flowers! Is it not spectacular? I could walk along these paths every morning and every afternoon—and spend the rest of the time reading in Mr Wilson’s library.”

“I wonder whether we shall meet anyone we know,” Maria continued.

“I doubt that very much,” Elizabeth answered. “We know very few people who live near Hyde Park. And of the few we know, it is unlikely they might walk along the same paths we do. It would be too much of a coincidence.”

She, too, looked around as she spoke, secretly distressed by the same thought. Mr Darcy lived on Park Lane, as did the colonel’s family. And Mr Bingley had a house several blocks away on Grosvenor Street. It was not impossible to happen upon any of them. But, as she said, too much of a coincidence for it to be anticipated.

She compelled herself to cease such ridiculous musings and to rejoice in the walk, the pleasant company, and the wondrous surroundings. It was time to overcome useless remorse and put the past behind her.

For another hour, she did everything in her power to reach that goal. She congratulated herself on her success and was happy to watch Jane smiling at Maria’s jokes. A soft breeze cooled their cheeks, and they decided to stop for a cup of tea at a small shop by the lake.

As they moved in that direction, Elizabeth’s heart almost stopped, and her breathing caught in her throat. She prayed she was wrong in guessing the identity of a gentleman walking toward them at a slow pace. She stopped reluctantly as the man approached. Jane touched her arm to make her pay attention to the unexpected encounter.

Maria gasped and whispered with apparent despair, “Lizzy, look; it is Mr Darcy! He is coming towards us!”

Her heartbeat and the pain in her temple told her it was true—moments before she finally gathered the courage to meet his eyes.

Chapter 11

Darcy had been in London for almost a week, but he was no more tranquil than he was in Kent. The distance he put between himself and Elizabeth was not helpful; his torment was not diminished by time or distance. Elizabeth was still present within him, capturing his reason and senses.

He was curious to know what she thought of his letter. Had she read it? Did she trust it? Did she accept his explanations? Had she changed her opinion of him? What if they should meet again? What might she do? What should he do? Would she speak to him, or would she avoid him entirely?

Questions, fears, and doubts increased his distress and gave him not an moment of peace. He found no remedy for such turmoil and no means to diminish it.

During the last two days, it had rained almost constantly, and the weather kept him inside. He was not eager for company anyway, but a brief meeting at the club with his uncle and cousins helped the time pass more quickly. He decided to leave for Pemberley, but the date of his departure remained unsettled. Secretly—barely daring to admit it to himself—he hoped that perhaps his cousin Richard might call on the Gardiners in Gracechurch Street and bring him some news. What use that might be, he could not say. He knew he was unreasonable, but he still hoped to hear something of her before leaving Town. However, Richard was busy with his regiment for several days.

Bingley was also expected to return to Town. Perhaps he could meet him too, see how he was, and observe whether he still had any interest in Miss Bennet. If his affection was still ardent, then perhaps he deserved to be told she was in Town. The penance he was given for his ungenerous and faulty interference, he would never forget, nor did he want to repeat it—either the error or the scolding.

A long-awaited, beautiful spring day finally arrived. When the sun eventually shone and the sky cleared, a touch of joy rose in Darcy’s spirit. The fresh air wafting from Hyde Park, the voices of the children, and horses cantering along the paths together with pedestrians walking and chatting cheerfully—all made a lively picture.

From the balcony, Darcy looked at the people gathering in the park, increasing in number. Everybody enjoyed a pleasant day—especially Elizabeth. Such warm, sunny weather was excellent for walking, and she would certainly not miss such an opportunity. He wondered whether there were any parks near her aunt’s house. For a moment, he thought he might investigate Gracechurch Street—just to observe the house and see whether she had returned to Town. But he dismissed it immediately as being absurd. His aunt wrote to him and informed him that Miss Bennet had left Kent. Of that, there was no doubt.

He watched the park’s paths again. The distance was significant, and he could not perceive any faces or features. He knew he was unreasonable and that he could not trust either his mind or his eye as he thought he recognized Elizabeth several times. Of course, it could not be she; yet, his heart skipped a beat each time.

Finally, he lost patience with himself. It was a beautiful day, and the weather invited him outside. So he would not delay. He had no hope of meeting Elizabeth, but he would see other people, maybe acquaintances. Perhaps he might exchange a few words. Maybe he would briefly call on the Matlocks too.

Darcy took his coat and left the house. His steps brought him toward Hyde Park at increased speed. A sense of impatience enveloped him. He felt nervous and troubled. He looked around, unreasonably hoping to see her, scolding his own foolishness. In front of him, several groups of ladies were walking, and again, in his mind only, several of them resembled Elizabeth. He continued to walk in the shade of the large trees. He then changed direction towards the lake. Another figure—another chimera—reminded him of her. Long minutes of solitary walking followed, alone with his thoughts and his turmoil, lonely in a crowd of people, voices, and laughter.