A Walk in the Grove
Posted on Monday, 17 May 2004
Though her company left much to be desired except for Charlotte, Elizabeth was glad she had agreed to accompany Sir William and Mariah Lucas to Hunsford this Easter.
Her qualms about conversing with her cousin who had so unceremoniously switched his favor from her to her friend were of short duration when Mr. Collins insisted that the awkward subject best not be broached. This left Elizabeth the freedom to wander the lovely grounds betwixt the parsonage and the larger estate of Rosings Park, owned by the illustrious Lady Catherine De Bourgh.
She had stumbled upon a lovely grove of Beech trees while on one of her rambles, and thereafter gravitated to it whenever she had the chance for a walk. Even after several weeks of solitude were disturbed by the addition of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy to Rosings’ household, Elizabeth managed to find peaceful seclusion on her walks within the grove on many mornings.
But after nearly two week of his coming, Elizabeth found that more often than not Mr. Darcy had also managed to be drawn to the same grove on his own early morning excursions into the park.
At first Elizabeth wondered at the chance meetings, thinking that perhaps he had happened upon her purposely to try to open unwanted conversations with her only to later ridicule her to his family as Caroline Bingley had. But Darcy’s demeanor seemed genuine in his politeness and civility, much more so than even when he had abided at Netherfield.
He spoke of his delight at strolling the vast meadows and paths around the park and asked, “do you find it much familiar with the forests and leas around Hertfordshire?”
“I, ah…yes, in a way. The trees are similar and the forest filled with abundant wild creatures that I am both contented and entertained.” She sighed adding, “I find my walks very comforting while away from my home because of the similarities and not the differences.”
“You are homesick, Miss Bennet? I find that difficult to believe when from my observations you appear to be equally at home wherever you are.”
“What we see is not always what is true, Mr. Darcy. I can admit to missing my family, my father most of all, and my favorite haunts, my friends.” Here she swallowed before continuing with, “the smell of my father’s book room, the sound that echoes in my church on Sunday service.”
“Miss Bennet-”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, pray, do not let us linger more on this subject or I will not be happy until I insist on accompanying Sir William when he leaves for Meryton, and so not be able to visit my aunt and uncle and Jane in London on the way home.”
“My apologies, Miss Bennet. Let us brooch another topic totally unrelated to give you respite.”
Inwardly he reproached himself for distressing her. They continued on in silence, he merely content to be in her company with few sentences passing between them.
She gathered that he was quite familiar with the groves and inquired of his coming here often as a child. He acknowledged that statement and pointed out several of the trees that he and his cousin had climbed as youths to play pirates.
This was a side to him that she had never realized.
Yes, he must have had some sort of childhood, a typical boy one by his accounts.
She smiled at his confession of it, and wondered what he would have made of her as a child at also climbing trees.
After traveling on through the groves for quite some time without speaking, his voice startled her with a strange question.
“I wonder, do you think your friend is content with her life at the parsonage?”
Elizabeth’s bonnet prevented him from seeing her surprise at his inquiry of someone so wholly unrelated to him to warrant his interest. “Why do ask, Mr. Darcy?”
“She seems the type that my aunt would approve of her clergyman to have as a wife, and she doesn’t say much to disavow anything contrary to my aunt’s many suggestions.”
“Charlotte is…” here Elizabeth chose her words carefully to try and convey her friend’s character. “Charlotte has always had a disposition of service due to the fact that all her life she has been told that it was to be her only outlet.”
“Pray, continue, Miss Bennet,” Darcy encouraged, interested now in the topic.
“Charlotte has often been told that she was not pretty enough to tempt men who feel that it is a major virtue. Since Sir William is not so wealthy that she had a suitable dowry, Charlotte knew she would have to make her way by other means. She often made mention of being a governess, although both Jane and I tried to keep her hopes up that someone would wish to marry her.”
Darcy protested, “Her appearance is pleasant as is her disposition although stoic.” He was unable to imagine her family telling her she was plain.
“Stoic is apt, sir, for she allowed that she has never been a romantic and believed a comfortable home would do for her not be a burden on her family.” Elizabeth sighed sadly. “And now that is just what she has obtained.”
“You think her dissatisfied?”
“No, on the contrary, I think she is quite settled. She has wit enough to keep Mr. Collins busy with his own interests that he will not interfere much with hers, and so will believe herself…comfortable.”
“But you would never have been so in this environment.”
She stopped and stared into his face at his statement, not knowing how to reply. He continued.
“I assume that is why he switched his attentions from you to her?”
Still she did not reply, but turned again and began to walk the path. He hurried his step to keep up with her, trying to puzzle out what she had just ‘not’ told him.
Then the thought struck him as thunder clap. “He did make you an offer…and you refused him.”
“Mr. Darcy, we are quite off the topic now,” was all that she would reply.
“Of course, Miss Bennet,” was his response, his mind reeling at what he had discovered.
He reasoned that Miss Bennet would have most likely displeased her family in her refusal to a man who though odious, would have meant a respectable match for any of the Bennet sisters, not to mention keep Longbourn in their family. Inwardly he was glad of it, that the toad of a clergyman had the audacity would make an offer to his Elizabeth and was soundly rejected.
How on earth could I have lived knowing her to be the wife of Mr. Collins! What good sense she had to refuse him.
And Darcy began to think better of Mr. Bennet who must have supported her refusal much as her mother would have begrudged it?
Thank the Lord that He gave her father his excellent wit to understand the kind of life for which she would have been conscripted.
As they walked on in silence he smiled at her willingness to brave a spinster’s life rather than marry for mere mercenary purposes as did her friend. But at first this cast doubts on his own intent toward her.
Would she also refuse the likes of Pemberley if it were offered to her?
Perhaps there was a way to find this out without his actually proposing, and he continued their conversation as though no time had elapsed between.
“Still, you avow that the area is pleasant?”
“Yes, the park is lovely, as I have already admitted to you my delight in wandering about in it.”
“And you would not be averse to return often to wander about?”
Her face showed confusion at this inquiry, and she knew not where the question tended.
“I…am not…averse to walking in its loveliness, Mr. Darcy, if I were ever to be invited back to the parsonage.”
“Or even to Rosings Park?”
She was startled by this statement for which she could think of nothing in way of reply.
How could I possibly hope to be invited to that grand house by its owner?
Elizabeth knew that Lady Catherine had shown little need to witness more of her pert opinions. Indeed, neither she nor the great lady showed any desire to be more in the others company, and Elizabeth was concerned that Mr. Darcy seemed to think so.
“Mr. Darcy, why would you think that Lady Catherine would wish for me to rejoin her for any reason? I would think she’d had plenty of me by now?”
“Well…perhaps as a single lady, Miss Bennet that may be true, but that was not what I was implying.”
And since he did not continue to opine on his implication, Elizabeth was left to try to glean to what he was referring.
Had he meant perhaps that I would be invited as a married woman to Rosings Park by the illustrious Lady Catherine?
Elizabeth wondered to whom Mr. Darcy would intend to have her marry. Colonel Fitzwilliam, perhaps, or even himself?
Surely not, but I wonder whom else he could have meant.
“I doubt that I would be ever be invited to Rosings Park whether I were single or not, Mr. Darcy. The lady rarely acknowledges opinions not of her own making, and I fear I would merely put her out and overstay my welcome should an invitation ever come about.”
He smiled at her correct assessment of his aunt’s disposition, and nodded. “Perhaps you are correct, Miss Bennet.”
They reverted back into silence as they walked onward toward the lake for which the groves retained their irrigation. As Elizabeth brushed against one of the shrubs that had overgrown the path, she heard the crinkle of paper within her side pocket. A rush of emotion flooded her mind as she remembered Jane’s letter she had re-read just prior to leaving on her stroll. Indeed, it had been the reason she had need to go off and reflect upon its contents which were not as congenial as those previous had she not been distracted by Mr. Darcy’s amiability.
As she withdrew Jane’s crumpled letter from her pocket, Elizabeth’s thoughts grew quite somber as the couple rounded a curve in the path and Mr. Darcy noticed her change in mood.
“Miss Bennet, are you well?”
The letter Elizabeth had received from her sister on the surface seemed to reflect her usual soft spoken self, relating the goings-on at Uncle Gardiner’s house in London. She made mention of her making a visit to the Hursts’ townhouse and calling on Miss Bingley as well.
Jane’s letter was merely a narrative of the visit, but Elizabeth read more than what Jane had written, about how disappointing she had been at not being able to visit with Mr. Bingley.
How terribly sad she must be. How I wish I could be there to console her.
Jane was told that Mr. Bingley was out with the Miss Darcy, and was very busy with more social engagements of the kind. Surely Jane was not a simpleton at hearing this revelation, and it would cause her to think that Mr. Bingley had not been as attached to her as she had once hoped. Elizabeth felt the presence of the man beside her now.
No, I am not well, Mr. Darcy, for after so pleasant a morning stroll I am reminded of why I should despise you for ruining my sister’s happiness.
“I am well enough, sir,” came her icier response.
She sighed and was not smiling as he walked on in silence beside her. His smile had faded as he took note of her tone. He noticed she clutched a missive in her hand as they continued down the path. Finally he spoke.
“I gather you are suddenly of a less than cheerful disposition.”
“Yes, sir, I fear I am not good company at the moment.”
They walked on again with him wishing to say something, but not knowing how to begin. He offered a topic.
“I see you have a letter…from home? I trust you family is well.”
“They are well, Mr. Darcy, as far as I am aware. No, this missive is from my sister, Jane who has been lately in London visiting my aunt and uncle in Cheapside.”
“I was not aware she had gone away on holiday,” was his only reply.
How despicable I am to resort to lying to her.
“She had been there for long enough that I thought you might have seen her while you were in town, but, of course, you travel in quite different circles than we do, sir.”
He seemed troubled by her speech, but didn’t wish to argue the point, saying only, “No, Miss Bennet, I barely socialized when I was lately in town, and had not the pleasure of speaking to your sister.”
“Oh,” she sighed, accepting his lie with resigned disappointment.
His own reprimands were loud in his mind.
If not a direct lie then one of omission, how abhorrent I am!
They had left the groves to come upon a stream that led to a swelling pond and stopped to view the wildlife abundant in this still early part of the day. While standing silently by the water they saw a fish break the surface and splash back into the pristine water.
“Do you care to fish, Mr. Darcy?” Her question caught him off guard, and he gazed at her profile looking at the now calm surface.
“When I have the chance,” was his reply which caused her to laugh in so musical a way that he looked over to her sudden change in mood. “What have I said that amuses you?”
Shaking her head, she sat upon the stump beside the bank and pocketing her letter once more she replied, “that is exactly what my Uncle Edward says. His trade in town keeps him so busy, but his passion is to fish ‘when he has the chance’. He tried to teach me as a child.”
She closed her eyes and pretended to hold the rod and line, and after pretending to cast twice to get the feel of the pole in her hand, she pretended to cast out into the pond with the precise flick of her wrist that Darcy had yet to master. He brow raised impressed as he thought that had she a real pole, he could imagine where the hook would drop far out into the water.
She opened her eyes, still holding the pretend pole and line, waiting for a fish to bite. “I always thought that the hook stayed when I had cast it, and that any fish foolish enough to be at that exact spot would grab up my worm to be dinner.”
She smiled at Darcy who was shaking his head. “The currents underneath would take the hook and line further down stream.”
“Yes, and any novice fisher would incorrectly think he had a bite and pull the line in only to find a drown worm, and no fish.”
“As I have done many times,” he admitted.
“The problem is, of course, that one does not see the current beneath the calm surface of the water, and so disbelieves that it exists. Because the sense of sight is useless to the purpose, we must rely on our other senses, and look beyond merely seeing to glean what is truly happening.”
“That is a very insightful statement, Miss Bennet,” he said, suddenly wondering where this conversation tended.
She rose and they began walking around the pond on the path that led scenically back to the parsonage. “What opinion do you have of my sister, Mr. Darcy?”
“Well,” he stalled, caught off guard again by her sudden change of topic when she asked such odd questions of him. “Of your elder sister, I can say only that…I find her quite…serene, and…calm.”
Yes, that is a most apt description of her, a calming force in a sea of chaos at Longbourn.
They stopped and stood by the pond, and she turned and stared into his eyes for a long while. Her eyebrow rose and his gaze followed hers out to the deceptively calm surface of the pond.
“Indeed,” was her only response as she began again to walk down the path.
But she had sown a seed of doubt in his mind as to his opinion of the elder Miss Bennet.
Had I misjudged her countenance as nothing more than a calm surface like that of the pond?
As they parted company, he was left with more to ponder than merely the loveliness of Elizabeth’s eyes. She had caused him to doubt his abilities to observe, and not just of the elder Miss Bennet. As he made his way back to Rosings he mused on all their conversations.
To what did she mean when talking of her friend’s happiness at Hunsford? Was she implying that Mrs. Collins was not as pleased as she appeared?
Approaching the graveled path that led to the stairs of Rosings, he took off his hat and wiped the sweat with his handkerchief, and shook his head.
Of Mrs. Collins I can say I would not be surprised if she were discontented with such a husband, but she has chosen this life and will no doubt make the most of it.
Darcy thought more of his earlier talk with Elizabeth as he gave his hat and gloves to the servant upon entering the door, noting the silence within as meaning that the household was still abed.
That Elizabeth might portray herself as content here when she owned to being heartsick for home and family is also something that I find surprising. It never occurred to me that she could be so, and therefore I did not observe her closely enough to discern her unease.
He entered the breakfast room to pour himself coffee thinking now on the rest of their discussion regarding her sister.
Was there more to Miss Jane than I have seen in my observations? Had I looked at her with only my eyes while in Bingley’s company, and not with my other senses to truly know her feelings for him? Could I have been mistaken at the time of her regard because of my wish for Bingley to abandon the infatuation with Miss Jane so that I too would be free of my own longings?
But as he sat down to breakfast alone, he came to a conclusion that his own discernments had been correct.
I could not have been that far a field of what is true. My powers of observation have never failed me in the past, and could not be so now. No, Elizabeth must be wrong in this. Bingley is better off without the likes of serene Miss Bennet, I am sure of it. Just as I am as sure that Elizabeth will enjoy walking about Rosings Park as my wife. Of that I am certain.