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Chapter 58
It seemed that his entire life had been spent preparing him for that moment. All his education, all his knowledge, all his experiences were meaningless if they did not aid him somehow in this encounter. This was what he had been born to do. Stand before her. Face her. Challenge her. Soothe her. Not with superfluous words or gestures, but with the steady gaze he directed towards her; the gaze from which, he suspected, she wished to escape, but could not. It was immensely satisfying to know that he still held that power over her. Several emotions flickered across her face and disappeared before he could recognize them. She was not surprised to see him, of that much he was certain. It was inevitable. He even suspected that she had walked to the groves with that purpose in mind for surely she could have expected nothing else. They had made a habit of "accidentally" meeting during their walks, it seemed, and he certainly was not one to break from tradition. He wondered why she had surrendered to it as well. Surely she had no wish to torture herself, but perhaps her only concern had been to conclude this first meeting in an isolated spot for had they encountered each other for the first time in a more public setting, a few observant eyes might have noticed something amiss. How long they stood thus he did not know; he had lost the desire or impulse to keep time. It might have been hours or minutes; it made little difference. He ached to hear her voice, but knew she would speak only when she desired to. He could not, would not force her into a conversation and so he remained silent. He wondered whether his silence unnerved her or whether it pleased her. He suspected it was the latter for she seemed to be having a conversation in her head and so, probably appreciated the absence of necessity to speak that any additional word from him would have created. She had not yet acknowledged his presence, not aloud anyway and he wondered how much longer they would stand in silence before she could be prevailed upon to speak. Not too long, the answer seemed to be, for she cleared her throat slightly, undoubtedly in preparation to address him.
"Good morning, Mr. Darcy."
At last she speaks. "You look well, Miss Bennet."
She colored a little. "I...as do you."
"When did you arrive?"
"Just yesterday."
"I have been here a while."
"Yes, Anne informed me of that."
"Georgie has been restless to see you again."
"I long to see her as well."
"She will be delighted, I am sure."
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you."
"So..."
"So...." She bit her lips. "Can I ask you something?"
He was a little surprised, but complied nonetheless. "Anything."
The words had escaped her lips unwittingly. The question had been revolving in her mind for a good half hour, but she had not intended to act upon the impulse to pose the it. She had no idea why she had allowed her customary impetuousness to defeat her good sense once again. She blamed such lack of control on him, on the disastrous effect his presence always had on her. She was not exactly surprised, she had known she would meet him during this walk. That much had been a given and she had given the impending meeting as little thought as possible in a somewhat desperate attempt to delay the inevitable torture. Nothing could have prepared her for what was to come. She had seen him a second or so before he saw her and in that instant, she had frozen. He had uttered her name so softly that she had barely heard him and she had waited for him to say something else. She had waited in vain for he had not opened his lips again. She should have been glad, she had been glad, in fact, but the blessed silence had not saved her from his gaze. She had detected a small triumphant smile playing on his lips and she would have been infuriated at his arrogance had she not been forced to acknowledge the truth of his convictions. He held that power over her still, the power that he had always exerted, the power of that simple, captivating gaze that she could never escape from. It had taken considerable effort for her to finally address him and now she prepared to say the one thing that she had promised herself she would not. It had come out quite suddenly, without any warning. She should have expected it, she supposed. Her tongue had never quite listened to her mind before and she had no reason to believe that anything had changed. But that had not stopped her from holding the hope, the desperate hope that for once she would not say anything improper or unsuitable. And this was most definitely both. She had not wanted the personal touch that such an inquiry would undoubtedly lend this conversation, but it was unavoidable for he was waiting for her question and she could not be bothered to think of anything else to say.
"Are you taking care of yourself?"
He seemed puzzled. "I...I beg your pardon?" She repeated the question. "I suppose so..."
"I spoke with Anne earlier," she said by way of explanation.
"And what did she have to say?"
"Only that she and Georgie are concerned about your health."
"There is nothing wrong with my health, I assure you."
"Anne seemed to think there was."
"Since when did you begin to believe everything Anne says or thinks."
"I see your point." She smiled slightly.
"I knew you would."
"But Anne never lies. She bends the truth, she misrepresents things to suit her purposes, but I have never known her to falsify anything."
"Perhaps."
"So, there must be some truth in her fears."
"I believe not. Her fears stem from Georgie's and as much as I appreciate my sister's concern, I assure you they are largely unfounded."
"I suppose I should take your word."
"Will you?"
"If I must." She paused. "I am sorry. I did not mean to pry."
"No need to apologize." He smiled. "I think it is only polite for me to inquire after your health now."
She looked at him. "Is it?"
He nodded.
"Well, I will spare you the effort and tell you that I am in excellent health."
"I did not suppose otherwise. It seems as though the north agreed with you."
"I think it did." She paused. "Have you...ah, been in Pemberley the entire time since I saw you last?" She knew the answer, but could think of nothing else to say.
"Yes, I have. More or less."
"More or less?" She knew she was only prolonging the conversation and subsequently, her own torture, but it was a small price to pay to hear his voice once again. She had longed to hear it without knowing it. It was as though his voice was a balm for some sore wounds she did not know she possessed. It had a strangely calming effect, which she would be hard pressed to explain. She did not understand it and was fairly certain she did not wish to.
"I went to town on business a few times."
"Oh."
She quelled the insane jealousy she felt of everyone and everything he had come in contact with. It was an overpowering feeling, one which she could not shake. She could envision him walking through the streets, stopping at some shops, perhaps dining at his club. He must have seen and spoken to a number of people. A sea of undisclosed faces appeared before her eyes and she trembled at the thoughts in her head. It was painful to share him with anyone, especially when it seemed as though they had more claim to his time than she did. She noticed that he was studying her face thoughtfully. She had no idea what he was thinking. She had never quite been able to discover his thoughts. He had always been so patient with her when she had never done anything to warrant such kindness. She could never determine whether it was an act of charity or love. Either way, she had no window into his thoughts. There was an unspoken understanding between them, which seemed to dictate a peculiar silence on any personal thoughts. She never shared hers and likewise, he never shared his. Yet, she knew she was at a disadvantage because she was well aware that he knew her every thought without her having to disclose them. She was not so fortunate. The only information she had was from other sources, namely Anne and needless to say, that source was not to be trusted. He was such a perfect gentleman that he would never utter a word even if he despised her. She recalled the mature way he handled Caroline Bingley and she shuddered. Perhaps that was all she was to him. Just another minor annoyance to deal with; just another Caroline Bingley. The thought pained her more than she knew it should have. She should have been happy that her ploy had worked and he had begun to despise her, thereby sparing him any pain. But she felt no such happiness. She was more selfish than she had imagined.
"Excuse me, how are your parents?"
"What?" The inquiry took her by surprise.
"Your parents, Miss Bennet. Um...I was simply wondering how they were...?"
"Oh, yes, um...they are very well, thank you."
"And your sisters?"
"They are very well, too."
"I am glad to hear it."
"And Georgie is doing well, I trust?"
"Very well, thank you." He paused. "So did you travel here alone?"
"No, I have learnt my lesson," she said. "I cannot afford to be attacked by highwaymen again. You might not be there to rescue me." She looked at him for a few moments. "I traveled with Jane and Charles."
"Oh yes, of course. I heard that Jane was expected to attend the wedding. She and Anne became quite good friends, did they not?"
"Yes, they did. It is hard not to get along with Jane, you know and Anne needed more people to plot with. The friendship was inevitable."
He smiled. "I suppose it was."
"At any rate, I am sure you will meet Jane and Charles today."
"I trust they are doing well?"
"Very."
"That is to be expected, I suppose."
"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "I remember a time when you did not think they were so compatible."
He colored. "Well, I have never claimed to be infallible."
"No, although I can think of more than one person who would have you so."
He smiled. "I cannot control what other people expect of me, Miss Bennet, but I do hope that I will always have the good sense to realize when I have made an error of judgment and amend my ways."
"I am certain you will, Mr. Darcy."
"I am gratified that your confidence in my good sense seems unshaken."
"It is one of the few things I still have confidence in."
Her honest confession surprised him somewhat. It was unexpected, but so had this encounter been thus far. While he could not say that it was any less tense than it had ever been, he had detected a more conciliatory tone in her voice. And of course, they were still standing a few feet apart, still talking and that, he definitely saw as a marked improvement from their brief conversations of prior months. They had not moved from their spots for some unknown reason, but he hardly noticed, so engrossed was he in other things. She had surprised him by inquiring after his health. Her frankness in that sense reminded him of the woman he had first become acquainted with, the woman with the somewhat acerbic wit and infectious vivacity. And of course, he could not deny that he was deeply touched by her concern and saw it as the evidence that proved he was correct in all his assumptions of her feelings towards him. He could discern the subtle changes that had occurred in the months they had been apart. She seemed less traumatized, though not completely healed and closer to a state of relative calm. She seemed well on her way to recovery, although the journey promised to be long still. And all he could hope to do was help her along the way, help her love herself the way he loved her. It was a challenging proposition, but he had never shirked from any challenge before and was certainly not about to start now.
"I thank you."
"Well," she said, "I suppose I should return to Rosings."
"Of course." He did not try to stop her.
"Good day, Mr. Darcy."
"Good day, Miss Bennet."
She retreated with quick, short steps and vanished from view within minutes. He watched her departing figure; she did not look back. For a long time after she had disappeared from view, he remained immobile, staring at the spot she had just vacated. A small smile crept onto his face and after a few more minutes of silent reverie, he began walking in the other direction, his head slightly tilted, the smile still visible on his face.
~~
"Well," said Georgie as she and Elizabeth took a turn about the shrubbery, "can you believe the day has almost arrived?"
"No, I can honestly say I cannot," replied Elizabeth, "but I am glad it is almost over."
"You did not enjoy yourself?"
"I did, but I am just relieved that it is over. Rosings has been quite busy this past week."
"Insufferably so."
"And as much as I enjoy seeing Anne happy, I can safely say that I did not enjoy seeing Lady Catherine become so frantic. I must say, she reminded me of my mother before Jane's wedding. I would have imagined that she would be more composed and poised. But I suppose, one can never tell with these things."
"I suppose not," Georgie smiled. "Lady Catherine always struck me as the kind of woman who remains calm on most all occasions. But you are right. One really can never tell. But was not dinner dreadfully funny the other night? Mr....oh, dash it, I cannot recall his name, but he certainly was revolting."
"Mr. Collins, you mean?"
"Is that his name? That odious, oily man?" Georgie shuddered in remembrance.
"Indeed, it is," nodded Elizabeth.
"Well, I have never quite seen such a sight. Lady Catherine seemed to tolerate him pretty well. I suppose he knows just the tone to address her with. Indeed, I rather thought she was quite pleased with his remarks. I nearly choked on my soup when he spoke of his engagement. What sort of woman can possibly accept an offer of marriage coming from him?!"
"A very desperate sort of woman, I'm sure," replied Elizabeth. "He said he met her in Bath. Mama will be devastated, you know."
"Why, exactly, is that?"
"Well, because she entertained great hopes that I, or one of my sisters would marry him. Our estate is entailed upon him, but even that is not enough motivation to subject oneself to the punishment of marrying him. Of course, mama will be pleased that Charlotte did not 'catch' him, although I am quite certain that Charlotte never meant to catch him."
Georgie giggled. "But, as you said, one can never tell with these things."
"And Charlotte might have married Mr. Collins? Impossible."
"Nothing's impossible. Anne always says that."
"Anne is a fool," said Elizabeth. "But anyway, the point is that mama will blame me for not securing Mr. Collins, I just know it."
"The idea of you marrying that...that toad is preposterous!" Georgie laughed. "It is beyond amusing. I must tell William. You know, he rarely laughs, but I am certain that he will make an exception on this occasion. Although I suppose for him, the idea of you marrying anyone is preposterous."
Elizabeth lowered her eyes and said nothing.
"I am so sorry, please do not be angry."
Elizabeth forced herself to smile at the younger woman. "I am not at all angry."
They stood still for a moment before resuming their walk. Elizabeth listened to Georgie's remarks, but said very little, speaking only when absolutely necessary. She had been thinking of him a lot recently and to hear his sister speak of him thus unnerved her somewhat. Elizabeth did not know how to interpret the remark. If it had come from Anne, she would have dismissed it as another one of her friend's ploys, but Georgie did not believe in the malleability of the facts as Anne did. So her words conveyed some seriousness, some merit. The implication of Georgie's comment was that he could not conceive of her marrying anyone else because... well, that was the nebulous part. He had told her once that he loved her. Right here in Rosings, in fact, and she had refused him, quite brutally, then. Since then, so much had happened, but those words had never escaped his lips. To be fair, she knew that she had never given him the opportunity to express such sentiments or the indication that she wished to hear those words. She did not wish to, in fact, hear those words. To hear them from him would require a response and there was no way for her to respond without completely breaking her resolves. No, that would be a disaster. So then, what did she wish for? She did not know. She did not want to hear those words, but she wanted to know the sentiment, if that made any sense. She did not know if she could survive if she knew that he hated her, or worse still, that he was indifferent to her. Well, she knew he was not indifferent. She could tell that much. He was affected by her, but how? Was it only love he felt or did he experience other emotions as well? She could not imagine that he entertained only pleasant thoughts concerning her. She had treated him so horribly - disdained him, hurt him, rebuked him, ignored him. The list seemed endless and yet he seemed willing to be civil. It was remarkable. She did not understand him. She did not understand why he still wished to associate with her. It was a mystery.
Elizabeth had very little idea of what she wanted. What did she want from him? That was possibly the most difficult question ever posed to her. She could not live with his love or his contempt. So what then? There seemed to be few other options. She recalled that he had once offered her his friendship. Without questions, without conditions. She had not really answered him then. She wondered how she would answer him now. It was a rather tempting proposition. To take his friendship, his support, his generosity. But that offer was not without its dangers. Being in proximity to him was never a good idea. She never quite knew how she would react. Some days she felt like running in the other direction and other days she felt like standing and listening to him talk. It was very whimsical of her, but there it stood. The matter was not likely to be resolved easily. It would also depend on what he felt about it and that she had hardly been able to decipher. It would seem that his offer of friendship was still valid, but that simply made no sense to her, so she could not allow herself to believe it. At times, though, the ramifications of a friendship between them did not seem so great. After all, he did not expect anything from her, but then again, she did not know. It was all too confusing. But one thing was clear - there was no escaping him. She would forever be in his way and that was that. So, in a way, friendship did seem like an agreeable option. What was the worse that could happen? She was more than a little afraid to answer that question. Well, the worse thing that she could conceive of was one question. Do you love me, Elizabeth? She could not lie, not when she was standing in front of him, looking into his eyes. She could not tell the truth; it would only complicate everything. She sighed. So that was the worse thing that could happen.
"Oh, Elizabeth...there, look -- " Elizabeth returned her attention to her companion and looked in the direction she was pointing. She gasped softly.
Darcy walked up to them. "Good afternoon Georgie, Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth curtsied. "Mr. Darcy. I thought you had gone riding with Richard?"
"Our plans altered and I decided to go for a walk," he explained.
They resumed their walk and after a while, Georgie said, "William, will you not offer us your arm?"
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth before saying, "Yes, of course." Saying thus, he offered his arm to the ladies, who accepted, one more hesitantly than the other.
"Elizabeth and I were just talking about Pemberley," Georgie said.
"We were?" Elizabeth managed to say, too embarrassed to confess that she had not been listening. "Oh yes, we were."
"We were just talking of the possibility of her visiting us there. We would like that, would we not, William?"
"Yes, of course," said Darcy, glancing at Elizabeth.
"I..." Elizabeth faltered. "It is a very kind offer."
"Will you consider it, Elizabeth? Please?" said Georgie.
"Now, Georgie, do not pressurize Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth looked up at him. "Why, Mr. Darcy, should I take it to mean that you do not want me to visit Pemberley?"
He found himself staring at the sparkling, mischievous eyes he had longed to see for months. "You twist my words most cruelly, Miss Bennet. I only meant that my sister should not put any undue pressure on you. I would love to have you visit my home."
"You say that now," replied Elizabeth tartly, surprised at her own levity, "but I am certain you will sing a different tune when I decide to avail myself of this most kind and generous invitation."
"You said 'when'...so I take it is just a matter of time?" said Darcy.
"Let me amend my statement --- when and if I decide to visit Pemberley."
"You will always be welcome, no matter what."
"See? Now you simply must come," said Georgie.
Elizabeth recovered herself and smiled. "I will think about it, I promise. Thank you for the invitation, though."
After a brief pause, Georgie said, "Oh...William, Elizabeth - I think I must return."
"Why?" asked Darcy.
"I...ah...oh, I promised Anne I would sit with her. She gets frightfully bored sitting with Lady Catherine and the other guests, you know."
"Then we will walk with you," offered Darcy.
"No, no," said Georgie hurriedly. "Do not trouble yourself. I can find my way back." With those words, she took her leave and disappeared from view.
Darcy and Elizabeth stood silent for a few moments, facing each other, then Darcy said, "Shall we continue, then?" Elizabeth nodded.
He did not offer her his arm again and she was both relieved and disappointed. "So, you suppose Georgie was lying?"
"No question about it," he said.
She shook her head. "Anne has been influencing her, I see."
He smiled. "Unfortunately."
"Do you suppose they think we are stupid? That we do not know what is happening?"
"I think they do. That would explain their blatant attempts and shameless hints."
"They do not even bother to conceal it," said she. "Even Jane has joined their act. Anne has corrupted them all."
"It is a shame, really. But then again, what can you expect of Anne?" he said.
"Very true, but now she is Richard's problem, is she not?"
He smiled. "Poor Richard."
"But," said Elizabeth with a small smile, "it seems as though he does not mind."
"It does, indeed. In fact he seems to enjoy it."
"He distracts her, which is always welcome."
"I must agree," said Darcy. "In short, they are perfect for each other."
"I can't imagine what kept them apart so long."
He shrugged. "I dare say no one can tell."
"Well, at least they came to their senses."
"Indeed, it would have been a terrible waste if they had not. Such love is hard to find."
She looked away. "Um...yes, I suppose it is."
He cleared his throat. "Well, might I remind you that you were, in part, responsible for their coming to their senses."
"I did not work alone," she reminded him. "You helped me as did...um...Victor."
He looked at her. "I did not mean to remind you of anything...unpleasant."
She did not meet his eyes. "Think nothing of it."
Victor had not been far from her thoughts. His parents had neglected to attend the wedding, yet she had not needed them to remind her of him. It was impossible to be in Rosings without thinking of him. That place would always be associated with him. He had befriended her, made her laugh, made her forget all her troubles. All without asking for anything in return. She had come to Rosings a betrayed woman, a widow - or so she had believed - with nothing in the world besides bad memories. He had allowed her to overcome her fears and worries. She had been happy at Rosings. For a brief, idyllic time, she had experienced happiness. She had never been carefree, she had never been without her worries and doubts, but at least she had been safe and satisfied. She could not bring herself to think ill of this place or of the memories she associated with it. When she walked in these groves, she remembered Victor as he had been here - always cheerful, humorous, a good friend. She could not mourn for him here. Here he would always be alive, full of life, full of promise. She could not take that away from him. All she could do was remember him and be thankful for the times they had shared rather than mourning for the time they had lost. It was the only sane thing left to do.
"You are thinking of him, are you not?"
She glanced at him. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me it is," he replied.
"It's hard not to."
"I can imagine."
"I..." She searched for words. There were too many things she wanted to say.
"You need not talk about this if you prefer not to."
She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you."
"I think it was you who once told me it was wise to think of the past only as its remembrance gave one pleasure. I have always thought of it as a wise philosophy and I abide by it when I can."
"I never thought anyone listened to me so closely," she said.
"You were wrong."
"Certainly not the first time," she sighed.
"We all make mistakes."
"Some more than others," she said.
"Well, you know, we make mistakes to learn from them."
"Sounds so wholesome in theory."
"I suppose it does." He smiled. "Believe me, I did not mean to preach."
"I am certain you did not," she said, "it just came out that way."
He laughed. It had been too long since they had laughed together. "I am sorry."
"I have heard worse - do you remember my sister Mary?"
"How can I forget?"
"She means well, she really does." She sighed. "You probably do not want to hear this."
"No, no, please, do continue."
"You honestly want to hear about Mary's problems?" She raised her eyebrows.
"There is nothing I would rather do," he said without hesitation.
"Now you are just mocking me, Mr. Darcy."
"I would never mock you."
"Well," she said, "if you really wish to know, the problem with Mary is that she never received much attention from mama or papa. She is starved for attention and while Lydia and Kitty have become determined flirts to gain attention, Mary has retreated to her books and her Fordyce's sermons. It is not all her fault, really. She does not know any better and I can honestly think of nothing that can help her."
"If attention is all she needs, maybe that is all it will take to help her."
"I am intrigued," she said, "pray continue."
"Well, I suppose I would suggest that you take her away from Longbourn, pay some attention to her, ask her opinion, engage her in conversations. She is bound to feel better about herself and may not feel the need to retreat behind her books again. Such a retreat is her only mode of defense, it seems. All you need to do is give her no reason to hide."
"Sounds easy enough," she said, "but nothing is that easy, Mr. Darcy."
"What seems to be the problem?"
"There is nowhere she can escape. I suppose Netherfield, perhaps, but I really do not know if that would help - it is still too close to Longbourn."
"But is it not worth a try?"
"It might be," she said. "I suppose I can talk to Jane about her. Thank you, Mr. Darcy."
"For what?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "For the advice, for listening to me, for being my friend." She looked away. "I don't think I have ever told you how grateful I am for what you have done for me."
"I..." He paused. "It was nothing."
"No, really, thank you." She turned to look at him. "For everything."
"You are very welcome."
She smiled slightly, then looked away. They continued walking in silence for several minutes, a silence that was broken by Elizabeth. "Do you ever have the desire to run away, Mr. Darcy?"
"Run away?" he repeated.
"Yes, run away. From everything and everyone," she said. "No, I suppose you would not. You are much too responsible for that."
"You almost make it sound like a liability."
"It can be, can it not?"
"I suppose it can," he said, "but more often that not, it is an asset."
"You are right, of course," she said, "but responsibility seems like a burden to me. At times like these, that is."
"What do you want to run away from?"
"I told you - everything."
"Will that really change anything?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"Most of our troubles, Miss Bennet, are in our head; hence, they will go with us wherever we go. Running never has and never will be a real solution."
She glanced at him. "It gives us the illusion of being a solution."
"Simply the illusion, but reality is far from it."
"Unfortunately," she sighed.
They had been walking for quite sometime and were now in front of Rosings. They stood facing each other for a few moments, then Darcy said, "Will you allow me to offer you a piece of unsolicited advice?"
"I suppose so..."
"Do you remember what you once said - 'all will be as it should,' I think those were your exact words?"
"That is not advice, Mr. Darcy," she said.
"No, it's not," he smiled. "I was just coming to that. I believe you were right about that, Miss Bennet and now I really do believe that things happen for the best and that all will be as it should."
"It's still not advice-"
"No, but this is - since we cannot control what is to happen, there is no point fretting over it. So perhaps you should not worry so much about what is happening or what might happen in the future and just let it happen."
"That's just your opinion."
"Yes, I suppose it is."
"Well, thank you for sharing it with me."
"My pleasure," he said.
"So...I suppose I will see you at the wedding tomorrow," she said.
"You will, indeed. Good day, Miss Bennet."
She inclined her head. "Good day, Mr. Darcy."
~~
"Oh, Richard," moaned Anne.
"Yes, dear?" He directed his attention at his wife.
"It is just not working."
"What isn't?"
"Operation Love."
"You don't say," Richard smiled slightly.
"No, really, Richard, I am serious."
"I know you are, my dear. What brought this on?"
"I got a letter from Elizabeth today."
"And?"
Anne sighed. "I don't know. Nothing special. She is staying with Jane and Charles for the moment and she writes about every possible thing in the world, even asks after you and mother and Andy, but not Darce. Never Darce. And I have it on good authority that she does not talk about him, either. And she certainly does not ask Georgie about him. She has more self control than I thought humanly possible."
"I suppose we underestimated her."
"I suppose we did," said Anne. "Now what do we do?"
"You tell me; you are the general, after all." Richard's eyes twinkled with amusement as he poured himself more coffee.
"You know, I really thought something would come of it this time. They were acting much more cordially at Rosings. Georgie managed to get them to walk alone a few times. I know they exchanged some polite words at the reception and so I naturally thought things were finally improving."
"Naturally," said Richard helpfully.
"But no," said Anne, "she went back to Hertfordshire and he to Pemberley. It's been over a month since our wedding and neither has spoken one word about the other. I am considering abandoning this whole project altogether."
"No, you are not," said Richard. "Not seriously, anyway."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you've been working on this project for too long. And besides, you never give up and you abhor losing."
"I suppose you are right," said Anne. She sighed. "Well, there is one thing we can do."
"I am afraid to ask."
"We can invite Elizabeth here."
"Will you tell her Hayfield is less than ten miles from Pemberley."
"That's just a minor detail, Richard."
"Elizabeth might think otherwise."
"I suppose she might."
"I thought you said you would not conceal anything from her anymore."
"I am not concealing anything," said Anne. "If she asks me, I will tell her."
"There is not much chance of that, is there?"
"I am hoping not."
"Do you think she will accept this offer?" asked Richard.
"I don't see why not."
"You can really never tell with her."
"I suppose not," sighed Anne. "But it is worth a try, is it not?"
"Yes, it is."
"I will write to her directly after breakfast. Then all we have to do," said Anne, "is wait and see."
Chapter 59
As the carriage neared Hayfield Manor, Elizabeth began to feel the excitement she had expected to experience. She had not been completely comfortable with the idea of visiting Anne, not because she did not love her friend, but because she was wary of the tricks and machinations that awaited her. She was not innocent or gullible enough to believe that Anne did not have some sort of plan in mind. Truly, she would have to be rather daft not to know that Anne was plotting something; she certainly mentioned Darcy in her letters often enough. Elizabeth repressed a smile. If Anne was trying to be subtle, it was not working. It was always, Darce says this and Darce does this and did you know Darce is an excellent sportsman? It was endearing in a somewhat irritating way. Elizabeth did not expect Anne to understand. Anne was a woman who believed in the concrete, a woman who would rather see results than wait for them. An impatient woman at heart who could not comprehend that there might be some problems that cannot be fixed easily or quickly. Anne meant well, of course, she just wanted to help, but her methods were sometimes less than satisfactory. Elizabeth could not remain cross with her for that. No matter how much she disagreed with Anne's methods, she could not fault Anne for being a good friend. This was simply Anne's way of expressing her friendship. And in the end, it made no difference. Even though Anne believed that she would triumph, Elizabeth knew that she would have the ultimate victory. Elizabeth knew that she would never be hurried or badgered into anything. She would listen to Anne's hints and endure her machinations with good humor, but then she would do exactly as her heart desired. Anne can continue with her plots. It won't matter. It has never mattered. In that sense, Elizabeth was no less obdurate than Anne and so the ensuing battle was nothing more than a battle of wills.
The carriage arrived at the manor and Elizabeth alighted, admiring her picturesque surroundings. "Anne!"
Anne ran to greet her friend. "We finally managed to bring you here."
"Well," smiled Elizabeth, "you have scarcely been married six weeks. I did not wish to intrude upon your privacy."
"Nonsense," scoffed Anne. "That is a silly excuse, if I have ever heard one."
"It is not an excuse," said Elizabeth as they proceeded inside.
"Of course it is," said Anne. "Why else would it take so much coaxing to convince you to visit me. It is either that or you love me no more and I must confess, I do hope it is the former because I cannot bear the idea of you being permanently cross with me."
Elizabeth laughed. "What a notion. Truly, Anne, you have not changed at all."
"Why would I change?"
"I don't know - some women change after marriage, is all."
"I, certainly, am not one of them," said Anne decisively. "Besides, Richard would not have me change, anyway. He married me because he liked who I am and it would be a poor joke for me to alter and leave him in a lurch."
"Speaking of Richard, how is the married state agreeing with him?"
"Very well," said Anne, unable to conceal an affectionate smile.
"The very thought of him makes you smile, does it?"
Anne giggled. "Do not laugh at me; I cannot help it."
"I am certain you cannot," said Elizabeth. "You certainly seem happy."
"I cannot stop smiling."
They entered the parlor and Elizabeth smiled in approval. "This is a very pleasant room."
"Thank you," said Anne as they seated themselves. "I take great pride in it - and in everything else. You know I have always longed to have a nice, little home for myself and well, I could not have imagined anything better." Her eyes shone as she spoke, her voice becoming more animated. "It is not as grand as Rosings, of course, but it is home, you know? It is ours - Richard's and mine - and no one can take that away from us. Of course our income will not be very large, but it is enough. All I want is my husband and now that Richard is retired from the army, I can have him all to myself."
"This is exactly why I did not want to come," said Elizabeth. "I feel as though I am intruding already."
"Richard and I both love you," said Anne, "and so you simply must cease all this frivolous talk about intruding. You are practically family to us and believe me, we would have it no other way."
"Where is your dashing husband, anyway?" asked Elizabeth, looking around.
"He went fishing with Darce," said Anne casually. "Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you. Did you say with...Mr. Darcy?"
"No, I said with Darce," said Anne. "I do not call him 'Mr. Darcy.' Too formal."
"Is he here, Anne?"
"Is who...oh, you mean Darce? No, he is not."
"What sort of a game are you playing? You just said he was here."
"No," said Anne, "I said that Richard went fishing with Darce."
"Then he has to be here."
"No, Darce is not here - Richard is there."
"Where?"
"At Pemberley." Anne cleared her throat. "Did I not mention that Pemberley is a few miles away from here?"
"No, you neglected to mention that."
"Did I really? I thought I did. Must have slipped my mind."
"Funny how you contract amnesia at the most convenient moments."
"You do not think I did this on purpose, Elizabeth?"
"Anne, please, spare me the theatrics. I know what you are up to."
"Me?" Anne grinned. "My dear, I am completely innocent and terribly upset that you would even think that I have some wicked ulterior motive. And all this because I forgot to mention that Pemberley was close by? I feel like I am at an inquisition or something, with all these wild accusations." She paused dramatically. "Besides, how does it matter, anyway?"
"I don't know," said Elizabeth, "but it does."
"Nonsense," said Anne. "I invited you to live here, not at Pemberley, so I fail to see the importance of the distance between the two places."
Elizabeth ignored that comment. "Georgie is part of this, is she not? She wished me a safe journey and a good stay at Hayfield, that sly little thing." Elizabeth looked at Anne. "You are such a bad influence on her. She is learning exactly the kinds of things that she should not."
"One would think I was some sort of a monster, the way you and Darce keep insisting that I am a bad influence on Georgie."
"Mr. Darcy has good reason to be upset with you. You are ruining his sister."
"What you call ruination, I call education," said Anne. "A young woman like Georgie needs some direction."
"And you are the one to provide it?"
"Why not?" said Anne. "I am teaching her not to be afraid of being assertive, of being independent, of being - "
"Like you?"
Anne smiled. "Is that so bad?"
"Well, no," said Elizabeth. "It would be lovely if Georgie acquired some of your good qualities. It is the bad ones that I am wary of."
"I am sorry to inform that I do not possess any 'bad' qualities."
"Oh yes you do, Anne," said Elizabeth. "Namely, your propensity to try and control and fix everything, even those things that do not concern you."
"That is the point, Elizabeth, I believe that it does concern me. And Georgie, too."
"How?"
"Well," said Anne. "You are my friend, are you not?"
"Of course."
"And Darce is Georgie's brother, is he not?"
"Anne, where are you going with this?"
"Patience, Elizabeth. Listen to me. Georgie and I love you both very much. All we want is for you to be happy and no amount of lies can convince me that either of you are happy."
"So you take it upon yourselves to make us happy?"
"I suppose so, yes."
"But your interference will not make me - us - happy either."
"Have I said anything about interfering?"
"No, but I know what is coming."
"That is the problem," said Anne. "You assume too much, usually the worst. I am not about to interfere with anything. I just want you to spend a few, carefree, relaxing weeks here with me, is all. As simple as that."
"Nothing is as simple as that," said Elizabeth, "especially with you."
"You are right. I also want you to help me with the ball I am planning."
"A ball?" Elizabeth repeated suspiciously.
"Yes, a sort of settling-in ball, I suppose. I want to invite all the neighbors."
"I see, as a celebration of your marriage and new home?"
"You understand. Excellent. We shall get on very well."
"Anne, do you really want me to believe that's all there is to it?"
"Yes."
"Anne..."
"Elizabeth, you worry too much. I will behave, I promise."
"As if that is very likely."
"Well, fine," said Anne, "don't believe me, then. What will you do?"
"I don't know," sighed Elizabeth, "but I do know what I want to do."
"Which is?"
"Leave."
Anne crossed her arms. "So you want to run away?" Elizabeth said nothing. "Running is never a solution."
Elizabeth remembered the last time she had heard those words. Somehow they had seemed more reassuring coming from him. "I know."
"So you will stay?"
"Yes, I will stay."
"Excellent."
"I still think your trick was rather low."
"I suppose it was." Anne smirked.
"You fiend," Elizabeth muttered.
Anne laughed. "Thank you."
Elizabeth looked at her. "You keep doing these things and I keep enduring them with equanimity. I don't know why, I just do. I suppose because I know your intentions are good. They've always been good. I have never doubted that; I never had reason to. But you know, Anne, there is a limit to patience, even mine and one of these days, when you set the wheels in motion for another one of your elaborate plots, I just might not forgive and forget like I always do." Elizabeth paused. "Well, um...can I refresh myself now?"
A servant was called to show Elizabeth to her room; so Elizabeth departed, leaving a stunned Anne alone in the parlor.
~~
Anne entered the library tentatively. "Richard, are you busy?"
Richard looked up and smiled. "Am I ever too busy for you?"
She tried to smile, but couldn't. "I...I need to talk to you."
"Of course." Richard put away his book. "What is the matter? You were awfully quiet at dinner today. Did you have a fight with Elizabeth?"
"No, not exactly a fight..."
"A disagreement, then?" Richard prodded.
"I suppose so."
"Anne, did she find out about Pemberley?" Anne nodded. "And what was her reaction?"
"I don't know." Anne shrugged. "She took it rather well. It's just..." Anne sighed as she neared Richard's chair. "She took it well, too well, in fact. She was not angry at me. She did not yell or anything. I wish she had. I..." Anne looked at him for a moment, then sat down on the floor next to his chair.
"Anne, what are you doing?"
"Sitting down," she said. "Richard, can I ask you something?"
"Yes," he said as he got off his chair and sat down beside her.
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting down," Richard smiled.
"Anyway, back to my question, will you answer me truthfully?"
"I never lie to you, Anne. Really, what is the matter with you?"
She looked at him. "Do you think I am a horrible person?"
"What kind of a question is that?"
"Do not dodge the question like that. You promised me you'd answer it truthfully. So what is your answer?"
"Of course not," he said. "Why would I think you are a horrible person?"
"Because I am." She looked at him and could bear it no longer. Tears began to well in her eyes as she continued, "I never meant to hurt--... she knows I didn't. But Richard I've been a horrible person, a terrible friend. She must hate me. She's too polite to say it." By this time, the tears were flowing freely. "You should have heard her. Her voice, it was so harsh. I could say nothing. It's all true."
"Oh Anne, please don't." Richard wrapped his arms around her. "Don't cry, Anne. I can't watch you cry. Please Anne. Tell me what happened." She buried her head in his chest and continued crying for a few minutes. He allowed her to cry, allowed her to share her pain, her burden with him, no matter how much it hurt him. Slowly, her sobs subsided and she lifted her head. He waited for a moment, then said, "Now will you tell me what happened?"
"Nothing really," said Anne.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Nothing happened, Richard. Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. I just - this is stupid."
"Anne, I love you. You know that, right?" She sighed and nodded slowly. "So you can tell me anything, no matter how stupid or trivial you might think it is. Now please, dearest, tell me what happened. Why did Elizabeth make you cry? Did she say something? Do you want me to talk to her?"
"No, don't," said Anne. "It was my fault. I have been pushing her too hard."
"That is just your style."
"I know," she said, "and it's inexcusable."
"Why do you say that now?"
"Because Elizabeth is right. This is my bad quality. I can't fix everything, Richard."
"I know you can't. No one expects you to."
"I do. I expect that I can solve everything. I don't know why I do. I can't just sit by and watch my friend in pain. And I suppose that's understandable, yet what I did, what I continue to do..." She sighed. "This morning Elizabeth said something and it really struck me. She said that she keeps forgiving me, overlooking my interferences because she knows my intentions are good, but perhaps if I keep pushing, she might not forgive me again. I don't want to lose my best friend, Richard..."
"You won't lose her, Anne; trust me, you won't. She did not mean it as a threat."
"I know. And that makes it worse. She is enduring all of this without complaint and I only add to her problems. It is obvious she does not appreciate my efforts. It does not seem to be helping her. And I can't lose my friend over this, Richard. I have been so selfish, so arrogant in assuming that I can toy with her life and Darce's, with their emotions. I never realized it was so bad. I thought I was helping, really I did. And it was not until Elizabeth said that - you should have heard her. She sounded so stern and so sad...I could not ignore it. I knew, then and there, that if I did not do something, I would lose her."
"Now, you listen to me." Richard took her hand. "You are not a bad person. In fact, I think you a very good person. In fact, you're one of the best people I know. As you have mentioned before, you had good intentions. All you wanted to do was help and I know, for a fact, that you endeavored to do what was best for them." He looked at her. "You did not necessarily have the right to interfere, but Anne, you cannot allow a few mistakes to make you so unhappy." He leaned towards her and wiped some stray tears off. "You know I can't watch you cry. Now please smile, please?"
"Oh Richard." She smiled hesitantly.
"I like that much better. Now, the question is, what shall you do now?"
She sighed. "I don't know, but I have to change."
"You must talk to Elizabeth."
"Yes, I know."
"What will you say?"
"I don't know. I will apologize, I suppose."
"That would be good."
"I must stop interfering."
"You have done the best you could. Now it is up to them. If they insist on remaining unhappy, perhaps it was not meant to be."
"Perhaps." She paused. "Richard..."
"Yes?"
"You don't hate me for interfering, do you?"
"How can you even ask that?"
She smiled a little. "Is that a yes?"
He smiled. "You meant well, I know you did. Besides, you forget, I am an accomplice in your crimes. I followed your orders, did I not? Granted, I was bound to do so for you are my general, but I could have dissented. So you see, you are not the only one to blame."
"I love you, Richard." Anne grinned. "I don't think I say it enough times."
"I agree."
She rested her head on his shoulders and looked up at him. "Thank you for understanding."
He kissed her softly. "My pleasure."
~~
"Elizabeth, I have been thinking," said Anne, the next morning, as they walked together in the shrubbery.
"Is that a good thing?"
Anne smiled. "I don't know. I was hoping you would tell me."
"What have you been thinking about?"
"You and me. Us."
"Can you be any less enigmatic?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
"I have been thinking about what you said in the parlor yesterday."
"Oh that - I am sorry. I was a little rude and abrupt, I think. I don't know what came over me. It must have been the fatigue from my journey."
"Whatever caused you to say it, the fact remains that it was said and I had to hear it and it did a world of good."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean that it opened my eyes. I mean that I have always known you did not appreciate my interferences, but I attributed that to your natural reluctance to associate with Darce. And since I was the vehicle that forced you to associate with him, it seemed natural that you would resent it a little. But yesterday, when you said what you said, for the first time, I actually heard how upset you were. It was painfully obvious to me. I had been blind to it before. I didn't know I had been causing such pain."
"Now Anne, I did not mean it like that, I --- "
"No, please, let me finish," Anne interjected. "I have been selfish and egotistical. I thought I could solve all your problems. I never realized how bad, oh--- but when you said that there was a chance you might not always forgive me, it was clear to me that our friendship was at stake, that our friendship would be threatened if I did not do something right away."
"What are you saying?"
"That I will not interfere anymore. I know I have said that many times before, but I do mean it solemnly this time. I know you have no reason to trust me because I have not always been - how shall I say, forthright with you?" Anne paused; Elizabeth smiled in agreement. "But I want you to know that I could not help myself. I cannot sit by idly and watch those who are dear to me, suffer. I know you will say it is none of my business and perhaps it's not, but as I said, I cannot help it. Or could not. Now I will stop. I will not drop hints about Darce. I will not try and force something that is not destined to happen. I will let things take their course. That's all. I cannot undo anything I've done. This is the best I can do."
"I don't know what to say..."
"I have always had good intentions, Elizabeth. I hope you know that."
"I do," Elizabeth smiled.
"So you forgive me?"
"I forgave you a long time ago."
"Thank you."
Anne felt an unbearable burden being lifted from her chest. These concerns had been weighing on her ever since Elizabeth had uttered the fated words in the parlor. The seeds of doubt had been planted then, the doubt that perhaps Elizabeth resented her. Anne had pondered that for a long time and came to the conclusion that she was not willing to forfeit her friendship, not because of a silly Operation Love. She thought of all she had done and had tried to do. She had intended to help, of course, but she could see how her actions might have caused resentment. She did not know what to do. She had managed to bring Elizabeth near Pemberley and ordinarily, she would have tried to arrange as many meetings between Elizabeth and Darce as possible. But now, she was not certain that that was the right course of action. She had been serious about her promise not to interfere. She would try not to interfere, to the best of her ability. It was a difficult task. She was not accustomed to not doing anything, but if that is what was required of her, she was willing to give it a chance. She felt a little ashamed of her erroneous ways and even more ashamed that she had been so weak as to cry with abandon in front of Richard. But, she reminded herself, he loved her and had helped her and did not care if she made a fool of herself in front of him. She could always trust him, depend on him. However the fact still remained that she had made several mistakes. Her only consolation was that she had meant well. Perhaps that was not enough, but there it was. Anne sighed. She had made a decision. No more interferences from her. And this time, she really meant it.
"Anne, I am sorry that my words hurt you so much. I really had not intended that or expected such an effect."
"But I wager you are surprisingly pleased with the results?" Anne smiled.
Elizabeth smiled in return. "Yes, I suppose so.
"So, in the spirit of our newfound agreement, I will have to ask your opinion."
"About what?"
"Dinner," said Anne, "at Pemberley."
"Pemberley?"
Anne nodded. "Georgie wishes us to visit her tomorrow and have dinner. But, I will understand if you do not wish to go. The decision rests with you, Elizabeth. I will apologize to Georgie if you choose not to avail yourself of the invitation."
"It is alright, Anne. I will go."
"You will?" Anne could not keep the amazement from her voice.
"It has to happen sometime, so I might as well go and be done with it."
Anne laughed. "That is...good, I suppose."
"A reformed Anne," Elizabeth said. "I like it. As long as it lasts."
"Trust me," said Anne, "it will."
~~
Anne sighed. "These woods are quite beautiful, are they not?" Elizabeth nodded, glancing outside the carriage. "I always enjoyed this view, even as a child. You see that patch of trees there --- " Anne pointed outside. "I used to play there with Darce and Richard. Or rather, they tried to run away from me while I pursued them. They were naughty little boys, they certainly were."
"You are becoming nostalgic."
Anne smiled. "I suppose so. Well, anyway, Richard will follow us in a half hour, I think - he had some business to attend to. I had wanted to wait for him, but he would have none of it. He can be quite firm when he wishes to, you know. Anyway, we shall be upon Pemberley soon enough."
"Shall we reach the house itself before dark, do you think?"
"Be patient, Elizabeth." Anne suddenly pointed over Elizabeth's shoulders. "There --- look."
Elizabeth turned around to look, unable to contain her curiosity. She had heard much of this place - from his friends, from his family, from his sister, from him. She had tried to envision it a million times, she had tried to picture the house, its position, its aspect, its character. He was proud of his house, that much had been apparent. This house was not just a house to him; it was the representation, the embodiment of his honor, his family pride, his past, his future. He loved it passionately and she had wanted to see it, yet never had the courage to believe she ever could or ever would. And so as she turned to see Pemberley for the first time, she felt her pulse quicken, her heart filled with apprehension. Her eyes fell on the house and she gasped softly. It was a handsome, stone building sitting on the other side of the valley, backed by a ridge of hills, a natural stream flowing in front of it. Elizabeth was delighted. She did not know what she had expected, but it was not this. The house and its surroundings were not falsely adorned and she had never seen a place with such natural beauty, not counteracted by awkward taste. Strangely enough, she felt proud; proud of him, of his home, of his accomplishments. This was a triumph of taste and beauty and although it had been a work of many men, in her mind, he, alone, was responsible for it. As the carriage came to a halt, she looked around hesitantly, hoping, fearing that he would be present, but her fears were assuaged somewhat when only Georgie appeared to greet them.
"Elizabeth," Georgie embraced her eagerly.
"Why, Georgie, are you going to neglect to greet me?" asked Anne.
Georgie smiled. "Yes."
Anne made a face. "Well, anyway, so Elizabeth, would you like to see the grounds?"
"Now?" asked Elizabeth.
"Why not," said Anne. "It is bright and pleasant still. It would be a shame to waste such a wonderful afternoon indoors, don't you think?"
"Yes, I suppose so," said Elizabeth.
"Shall we proceed, then?" said Anne. Elizabeth nodded and began walking. Anne slowed down and when Elizabeth seemed to be sufficiently outside earshot, she whispered to Georgie. "Where is Darce?"
"I don't know," Georgie whispered back.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I mean that he went riding more than an hour ago and has not yet returned."
"Did you tell him that Elizabeth was coming?"
"I did not get a chance to," Georgie shook her head.
At this point, Elizabeth glanced back at them. "Now what are you two conspiring about?"
"Nothing," said Anne.
"Not a thing," added Georgie.
"Is there any way you both could act any more guilty?" Elizabeth stopped and crossed her arms. "Now tell me, what is it?" She looked at both of them, then focused on Georgie, who was obviously the novice and therefore, weaker of the two. "Georgie?"
Georgie glanced at Anne, then said, "It is nothing, really, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth sighed. "You have trained her well, Anne."
Anne smiled. "The credit is not all mine. She was a natural pupil."
"Shall we continue with the tour now?" Georgie asked tentatively.
Anne smiled. "Yes."
Elizabeth nodded and they continued walking. Georgie and Anne walked with quick steps, their enthusiasm obvious as they showed Elizabeth their favorite spots on the ground. They showed her everything; the trees, the flowers, the groves, their favorite hiding spots. Their eyes shone and danced as they pointed out some spot particularly close to their hearts. Elizabeth observed them as much as she did the sights they showed. It was a wonderful feeling to watch them become so animated and nostalgic. Georgie suggested they walk towards the lake and so they did. Soon, Anne and Georgie fell behind, reminiscing about something or the other, somewhat oblivious of the fact that Elizabeth was with them. So much the better, Elizabeth thought. She walked in front of them, her eyes wandering on the landscape, her friends' chatter still reaching her ears. And all she could think was: here I am, in his home. This is where he was born, where he grew up, where he played mischievous games as a little boy, where he spent countless hours under the sun. This is his territory and I am here. She wondered why she was there, in his territory and more importantly, where was he? Anne and Georgie had not mentioned him and she wondered if that was another result of Anne's resolve to not interfere. Elizabeth recalled the words they had exchanged and she could not help but feel guilty. The look on Anne's face had been pained; it was obvious that she had taken Elizabeth's words to heart. And while Elizabeth was pleased with the results, she could not feel ecstatic about the way the change had been effected. She had hurt Anne, but Elizabeth mused, at least it turned out well.
Elizabeth glanced back; she was several feet ahead of Anne and Georgie. She squinted her eyes and fancied that she could almost see the lake from her present position. Both Anne and Georgie spoke fondly of the lake and told several tales of childhood adventures gone horribly wrong. Those tales brought a smile to Elizabeth's face and so, she continued walking, leaving the others far behind. She felt strangely happy, rather at peace. She could hear the insects buzzing and could feel the breeze fanning her face. She could understand why and how he loved this place so much. It was a comforting and reassuring place without a hint of ostentation. She felt as though she could stay here forever. What am I thinking? She shook her head silently. It was a stupid idea, silly really. She did not mean anything by it. She looked up; the lake was almost in sight. Suddenly she saw a figure walking towards her from the distance. She stopped. The sun was directly in her eyes, so she could not quite see the face, but there were no doubts in her mind that it was him. She could tell; she needed no confirmation. It was not just one thing or the other. She could tell from the way he walked, from the way he glanced up at the sky, from the way his hair blew in the breeze. He was a little unconventionally attired; it seemed he had just taken a swim. He was a few feet away when he finally saw her.
"Miss Bennet." The surprise in his voice was evident.
"Mr. Darcy," she said. "You look a little...um...wet."
Chapter 60
Brilliant observation, she thought wryly, but she could not do any better in her present state. It had taken considerable effort and presence of mind to even manage to speak; hence it was no great surprise that her words did not convey the keenness of observation usually associated with her. It was not her fault, she reasoned. He should not be allowed to walk around in that manner, even if it was his home. It had to be some sort of crime. She avoided looking at him; the sight of his wet shirt was more than a little distracting and she could not help but remember her friend Julie's declaration that the true measure of the attractiveness of a man was how well he looked in a wet shirt. And by all estimation, he was a very attractive man, indeed. She colored, uncertain of how to handle her own reaction to his attire or lack thereof - he was only in his trousers and a nearly transparent shirt. It was all she could do to prevent herself from running her fingers through his wet, tousled hair. A tempting, if slightly unreasonable, thought. She had never denied that he was a handsome gentleman; yet she had never been dazzled by his attractiveness or blinded by it either. She had prided herself for being somewhat objective in that sense, judging him by more than simply his outward appearances. But even so, at this moment, she could not deny how well he looked and it was a strange sensation to dwell on him thus. She was not adequately prepared for it, she decided. It was hard enough to meet him when he was fully clothed and dry; this was quite another matter. Lizzy, please, you are embarrassing yourself. You are acting like...like, well, Lydia. She cleared her throat distractedly.
Meanwhile, Darcy was observing her keenly. "I went swimming in the lake."
"Oh, of course," was all that she could say.
He studied her face, trying to decipher the litany of emotions that flickered across her face. He was aware of the acute impropriety of his situation. It was mortifying to have her see him in this manner. He was truly surprised to see her there, but he had been rather involved in his business of late; so it was not completely out of the question that he had been informed of her imminent arrival and it had simply slipped his mind. But no matter what had brought her, he knew that she belonged here. It was so natural, seeing her standing there. These grounds had never been complete before. Something had been missing; there had always been a void. The trees, the flowers, the grass seemed happier now that she was present. It was no coincidence. He had wanted her here for a long time - to make everything happier, to make him happier. It was right, it was obvious, it just raised the question why she had not come before. Here she was at last, the mistress of Pemberley. Or so he would always think of her. He had thought of her in that capacity for as long as he could remember, perhaps from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. Consciously or unconsciously, she had been the one, the only one that could ever become the mistress of this place. No one else could appreciate it, complement it, complete it like she could. All without effort, without uttering a word. He could not tell whether she was at ease; she concealed her feelings well. He noticed the perennial blush on her cheeks and attributed that to his unconventional attire and again, cursed his old boyhood habit of impulsively swimming in the lake.
"It was rather warm," he said by way of explanation.
"Of course."
"I...ah, had no idea you were coming or I would have received you properly."
"You mean Georgie did not tell you?"
"No, she did not," he replied. "But to be fair, I did not give her a chance to do so either. I have been rather busy of late."
"Have you?"
"Yes," he nodded, "with business and such."
"I see."
"I did know you were in Hayfield, though," he said.
"Yes, I just arrived."
"So," he said, looking at her, "how are you?"
"Fine," she replied. "And yourself?"
"I am well."
She bit her lips. "You look tired."
"I am," he admitted. "Or rather, I was. That is why I went swimming. It's refreshing."
"An unorthodox way to refresh oneself, is it not, Mr. Darcy?"
He smiled sheepishly. "I suppose so, but I did not expect company."
She nodded, her eyes straying to the shirt again.
"I..." He noticed her wandering eyes. I am not decently attired. She is embarrassed by it; anyone would be. He noticed Anne and Georgie approaching them from the distance. "Excuse me." He bowed, not removing his eyes from hers and with a brief nod at his sister and cousin, walked away rapidly.
Elizabeth watched him leave. She stood silent for a moment and when Anne and Georgie approached her, she said, "There you are."
"Was Darce dripping wet or did I just imagine that?" Anne asked.
"As tempting it is to convince you that your imagination is fooling you again, I must report that Mr. Darcy was, indeed, wet," said Elizabeth. "He just went for a swim in the lake, it seems."
"Fully clothed?"
"Not fully," Elizabeth corrected her, blushing at the memory.
"Does he do this often, Georgie?" Anne asked.
"No," Georgie replied quickly, then paused. "Well actually, I suppose he does. It's an old habit. Do you not remember, Anne, he always swam in the lake when he was younger. It's a remnant of his boyhood, I think."
"I suppose so," grinned Anne. "How positively strange, wouldn't you say, Elizabeth?"
"Oh yes, I suppose," muttered Elizabeth, still somewhat distracted.
"Shall we go inside now?" Georgie asked her guests.
Neither Anne nor Elizabeth uttered any objections, so they proceeded towards the house, more or less silent. Elizabeth's mind, needless to say, still dwelled on Darcy and his wet shirt. No matter how hard she tried to erase the distracting images from her mind, the scene played in front of her again and again and she felt herself blush more and more with each successive replay. It was disconcerting to discover just the extent to which he could ruffle her calm, her poise, her aplomb. She hoped that she did not betray herself in front of Anne and Georgie, at least, for then she would never hear the end of it. Anne might have sworn to reform herself, but she could never deny her true nature and she would, undoubtedly, tease Elizabeth mercilessly for this evidence of temporary weakness. That was all that it was, Elizabeth decided. A weakness, a human flaw, a fallacy she could not conceal. But thankfully, Anne and Georgie did not seem to notice Elizabeth's discomfiture and as they entered the parlor, Georgie led the guests to the large window for a view of the grounds. Elizabeth gasped softly; the view was breathtaking, magnificent. As she surveyed the beautiful green landscape and the sparkling lake, Elizabeth could not help but allow herself to be a little wistful. To think that of all this, I could have been mistress. Instead of viewing it like a stranger, I could have welcomed Anne to my home. Instead of concealing my attraction to him, I could have expressed my admiration for my husband... She stopped herself just in time or the waves of regret might have overwhelmed her.
"Would you like a tour of the house, Elizabeth?" Georgie asked.
"There's nothing I'd like better," said Elizabeth with genuine warmth.
Georgie smiled. "Excellent. Well, Mrs. Reynolds usually shows the visitors around, but I'd like to do the honors, if you don't mind my inferior narrative capabilities." Anne and Elizabeth protested properly, of course. "Oh please, you both are so predictable, of course you would disagree. Mrs. Annesley always goes on in the same vein, you know."
"Is she here?" Elizabeth asked.
"Who, Mrs. Annesley?" said Georgie and Elizabeth nodded. "No, her daughter is with child, so she is attending to her. Why do you ask?"
"I just have not seen her in a while, is all," said Elizabeth. "She is the one who recommended me to become Anne's companion, you know. Her daughter used to be my neighbor when I was living in the north after my wedding." Elizabeth paused, unwanted memories creeping into her consciousness, which she blocked summarily. "Shall we proceed then?"
"Ah yes, of course," said Georgie. "Let us begin."
The grand tour began with the parlors and the sitting rooms, all of which had been decorated by Mrs. Darcy before her demise. Elizabeth admired the simple elegance of the rooms and marveled at how radically different this house was from Rosings. It actually felt like a warm, loving, inviting home as opposed to a cold, ornate, elaborate palace. While every piece of furniture, every painting, every table was undoubtedly expensive, the taste of the owners prevented it from appearing ostentatious. A sense of pride enveloped Elizabeth again. This is his home. Perhaps such pride was misplaced. Indeed she had no right to be proud of him; it was not as though she had contributed to any of his taste or his achievements. And yet she could not help but be proud of the man she loved. No matter what happened between them, she knew she would always be inexplicably attached to him emotionally; there was no denying that, so she might as well commend him for his success. Elizabeth realized her straying mind was both dangerous and rude; so she returned her attention to her hostess. As they moved to the music room, it was obvious that this was one of Georgie's favorite rooms and Elizabeth could easily discern the reason. The room was filled with all sorts of musical instruments possible, not the least of which was a relatively new piano-forte, which Elizabeth soon discovered had been a birthday present from Darcy. Typical...why does he have to so perfect, such an ideal elder brother? They were almost upon the staircases and were about to ascend when Elizabeth spotted a beautiful glass case. She paused then walked towards it, drawing the attention of her hostess. Georgie seemed to panic and exchanged glances with Anne, but it was too late.
"What's this?" Elizabeth wondered aloud as she approached the case.
"Ummm," Georgie faltered. "They are miniatures. My father was very fond of them."
Elizabeth peered closely at the miniature portraits and instantly saw Darcy or a younger version of him, at any rate. The likeness was remarkable and Elizabeth smiled unconsciously. Her eyes strayed to other unfamiliar faces until they were arrested by a chillingly familiar one. For a moment she believed her eyes were tricking her, but she glanced at Anne and Georgie and on witnessing the dreaded looks on their faces, she determined that it was, indeed, her husband. It was strange, seeing him there, his boyish smile, his ever present charming smile. It shouldn't have surprised her; she knew he had grown up at Pemberley. And yet, she had rarely ever connected him to this place. This was one place that seemed untainted by his polluting memories. She stared at his image for a few minutes, then slowly walked to the staircase. On reaching the staircase, she turned around to look at her companions and smiled slightly.
"That was sweet of you, trying to protect me," Elizabeth declared, "but I would have seen it sooner or later."
"I suppose so," Georgie looked at her, " but I didn't want to upset you."
"He doesn't upset me anymore," Elizabeth said. "At least, I try not to let him."
Anne squeezed her hand. "I'm glad to hear that."
"I am just surprised his portrait is still here," Elizabeth observed as the continued up.
"Like I said, my father was very fond of them," said Georgie. "William wanted to remove them, at one point, for my sake, but I couldn't let him."
"I understand," said Elizabeth, "that's very brave of you."
Georgie smiled in return, but said nothing. They continued with the tour, passing several bedrooms and sitting rooms. At length, they arrived at a gallery of family portraits. Elizabeth politely listened to stories connected with several of the portraits, but in truth, she awaited the one portrait that interested her. Her eyes fell on it at last. Georgie informed her that this particular likeness of her brother had been taken during her father's lifetime, accounting for Darcy's youth. It was a handsome portrait, although in Elizabeth's mind, he would always look handsome. He had a small smile on his, similar to the one she had seen directed at herself on countless occasions. She stood in front of it for a little while, looking into his eyes, fancying the owner of those eyes was standing in front of her. Anne and Georgie noticed her preoccupation with triumphant smiles. Elizabeth glanced at them and blushed instantly, announcing her readiness to proceed with their tour. In the last phase of the tour, Georgie ushered Elizabeth to the library, which had, like the remainder of the house, been the work of many generations. It was an impressive library with many illustrious volumes decorating the shelves. Elizabeth's eyes shone as her fingers caressed many covers. At this point, Georgie owned that she had to attend to some business with the cook before dinner. Elizabeth urged both Anne and Georgie to return to the parlor for she wished to look at some of the books; she would follow them ere long. They protested at first, but Elizabeth convinced them that she would not be slighted in the least. When they departed, she walked to the table by the armchair and picked up a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets, her favorite book. She discovered it had been bookmarked and curious, she opened the book to the particular sonnet.
Let me not to marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is a star to every wandering bark,
Whose words unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.*
"Find something you like?"
Elizabeth nearly jumped in surprise. "Mr. Darcy..."
Her pulse quickened as she fought to regain composure. He was now properly attired, although his hair was still wet and tousled. Yet Elizabeth could still not erase memories of his wet shirt from her mind. His disheveled state might have disappeared, but his mischievous smile had not and Elizabeth found herself struggling to refrain herself from running out of the room. She was dismayed at her lack of poise, but then again, this man had the uncanny penchant for discomfiting her.
He was observing her keenly. "I am sorry to have startled you."
"Oh, think nothing of it," she said distractedly. "I was just looking at your books."
"I see you found my favorite sonnet," he said glancing at the book in her hand.
"Indeed." Elizabeth returned the book to its original place. "It is lovely."
"And inspiring," said Darcy.
"Is it?"
"Very much so," said Darcy. "In my opinion, anyway. 'Love's not Time's fool' - a powerful message, wouldn't you say? It is hard not to be touched by the love that the speaker describes, a love more powerful than time, than tempests, than any obstacle." His tone was light, but his gaze piercing. "This is a love that alters not with time's brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. How can one not be inspired?"
She took a deep breath. "I suppose you are right." She could not mistake the meaning of his words, but she was not as certain about their implication. She preferred not to think of it for the love that he spoke of, the undying, unswerving love was too frightening to even contemplate.
He noticed her hesitation and changed the topic. "So you have been touring the house?"
"Yes Georgie was kind enough to show me around. She and Anne just departed. I did not want to bore them with my raptures over your excellent library."
"I am glad you like it." He paused. "So...what do you think of Pemberley?"
"It is wonderful, simply wonderful." Many other rapturous adjectives came to mind, but she could not utter them without exposing herself.
"Then you approve?" His tone was soft, yet eager.
"I know of few who would not," Elizabeth replied. Is he seeking my approval?
"But your good opinion is rarely bestowed, therefore more worth the earning."
"Thank you." Elizabeth colored slightly. "I approve very much, indeed."
That pronouncement seemed to please him considerably for a wide smile appeared on his face. They stood silent for a few moments, an awkward pause between them, before Darcy said, "Would you like to return to the parlor now?"
No, I'd rather stay here with you. "Yes."
He hesitated for a moment before offering her his arm tentatively. She looked at him, reminding herself that she was playing a dangerous game, then slowly took his offered arm. They walked to the parlor in silence. Richard had already arrived and dinner was announced soon after. Elizabeth joined the lively conversation on several occasions, but she was more occupied with puzzling over her own reactions to Darcy. Something had changed, that much was obvious, but she was less certain as to what that something was. He had always been a handsome man, but for some reason, that fact had never been impressed upon her until today, it seemed. Perhaps it was not due to one thing or another. Perhaps his attractiveness, his appeal was magnified by the fact that she was viewing him for the first time in his home, his natural habitat, where he was at ease, obviously enjoying the upper hand. She had heard nothing but glowing accounts of him as she had toured the house and perhaps all these factors made it more difficult for her to remain neutral towards him. The dinner guests took their leave late into the evening, but these thoughts continued to plague Elizabeth even as she found solace in her own room at Hayfield. She sat on her bed and sighed. What are you doing to me? He had not done anything explicitly, she determined, it had all been her imagination, her obsession. But whatever it was, his hold on her was undeniable and she only wished she knew how to escape from that hold or perhaps determine whether she wished to escape from it at all.
~~
"It's a success, Anne," Elizabeth assured her, "just like everything you do."
"You really think so?" said Anne, surveying the room, "or are you just humoring me?"
"Both," smiled Elizabeth. "Now go, Richard seems to be looking for you."
With one last troubled glance at Elizabeth, Anne went in quest for her husband. Elizabeth smiled as she watched her friend depart. Much planning and headache had gone into organizing this maiden ball at Hayfield. It was a homecoming ball, Anne's first ball as mistress of Hayfield. Elizabeth had helped in ever way she could, yet Anne was still a little nervous as the guests began to arrive. It was understandable, of course, but Elizabeth had infinite faith in the success of this ball. Anne was an excellent hostess and she was certain to charm and entertain all her guests. Elizabeth looked about the room at the guests who had already arrived. The Pemberley party was not among them. Elizabeth had not seem them very often in the past week when the preparations for the ball had been paramount. She dearly wished to see Georgie. This was to be the young woman's first major ball after having come out. Elizabeth recalled the mixture of nerves and excitement she had been on such a occasion and wanted to help Georgie as much as possible. She preferred not to think of any other reason she wanted the Pemberley party to arrive. Her thoughts had dwelled on him much more than she liked to admit and she was still no closer to any answers to her own heart. Maybe it was not something she could resolve alone; they would have to tackle the difficult questions together. Together. As frightening as that sounded, Elizabeth was not entirely certain she was as opposed to it as she liked to think.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the very persons who she had been thinking of. "Georgie!" Elizabeth greeted the younger woman with an embrace. "You look gorgeous. That gown becomes you very well." She glanced at Darcy and curtsied slightly. "Mr. Darcy."
"Miss Bennet." He smiled in return.
Elizabeth allowed herself to be distracted by his smile for a moment before returning her attention to Georgie. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," Georgie admitted.
"You have no reason to be," said Elizabeth. "You will stun all the young men and they will be lining to dance with you. Is that not right, Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes, of course." He did not seem as eager.
"You do not seem so happy about it," Elizabeth teased him.
Darcy looked at her. "Well, I don't trust all the young men that might want to claim Georgie for a dance."
"You mean you won't trust any," smiled Elizabeth. She turned to Georgie. "Your brother is just acting like a big brother, Georgie. I, fortunately, never had to cope with such a problem, but several of my friends did."
Georgie laughed. "Well, I have both William and cousin Richard to scare any hapless men away from my side."
"True," said Elizabeth. "Although Anne, I suppose, can be trusted to keep Richard occupied."
"In that case," said Georgie, "I shall have to ask you to keep William occupied." Elizabeth tried to take these words lightly, but discovered that she could not. Georgie did not seem to notice, although Elizabeth's changed demeanor did not escape Darcy's notice. Georgie then said, "Elizabeth, William, pray excuse me. I should go speak with Anne."
"So, Miss Bennet," began Darcy. "How do you find Hayfield?"
"I like it a lot," said Elizabeth. "It is perfect for Anne and Richard."
"They seem very happy, do they not?" Darcy glanced at the couple.
"Indeed, but I would have expected no less."
"Nor I," Darcy admitted.
"Theirs is a marriage of true minds, then," Elizabeth said with a faint smile.
Darcy looked at her, somewhat surprised. "Yes, you could say that."
Darcy said no more, satisfying himself instead by observing her covertly. She still had a small smile on her face as she looked at Anne and Richard. He was not quite certain how to decipher her words or her manner. He was touched that she referenced his favorite sonnet, yet he could not help but wonder whether it meant that she had really understood his meaning the other day when he had spoken of the sonnet. To him, his meaning, his implication had been clear enough. His love was like the love the sonnet spoke of, a love that would never surrender to time or any other obstacle in its way. It was very clear to him, but knowing Elizabeth as he did, it would not surprise him if she still denied his words their true meaning. She was quite adept at fooling herself, he was well aware. But his words could not have fallen on deaf ears because she was standing next to him, not in any apparent hurry to be gone from his presence. That was a marked improvement in itself and he had no idea to what he owed such a development. Perhaps it had always been a matter of time. Darcy did not know and was not certain that he really cared. Whatever it was that caused this improvement in Elizabeth, he was thankful. She seemed less tortured than she had in many months. The black circles that had been a prominent feature under her eyes were now almost gone. Which meant she was sleeping at least, maybe not a light, carefree sleep, but at least nightmares were not keeping her awake all night anymore. Small steps towards recovery, but very important steps, nonetheless.
Darcy did not ask for much. These small improvements were encouraging enough. And such encouragements could not have arrived at a better time. These past few months had perhaps been the darkest in Darcy's life. There had been little to no hope, no light shining at the end of the tunnel. He had believed in his heart that all would be as it should, but such a steadfast belief was difficult to maintain at times when he was offered no evidence to prove his case. He had been frustrated, often angry at no one in particular. He had immersed himself in estate business, working late hours, sleeping but a little. Indeed, how could he sleep when he knew that his love, his life was denied the same comfort. Georgie had been rather worried about him for which he could not blame her. He would have been worried himself had he not been certain that it was just a phase. He had to believe that, for his own sanity. It was no way to live and on many long, lonely nights, he would walk outside in the moonlight, remembering similar nights when he had walked with her. Such memories often brought some small solace to his pained existence. Just the knowledge that she was somewhere in this world, perhaps enjoying the same moon as he was. He would look up at the stars and imagine her standing next to him and for a moment, just one moment he would allow himself to imagine what life would like with her. No more than a moment. It was always too dangerous. Imagination was a dangerous thing. It led one to want, to covet more than fate was willing to give. Strains of music reached his ear and Darcy recovered himself. Couples were lining up to dance. He glanced at Elizabeth, an idea forming in his head.
"Miss Bennet?"
"Yes?" She looked at him.
Careful, Darce... "Dance with me?" He was not capable of complete sentences.
No, Lizzy. You can't. No don't do it, Lizzy. "Alright," she replied, dazed.
* Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare