“I cannot understand,” Elizabeth added as the two began to near the fork in the road, where on one side lay the Gouldings’ house, which Charlotte would continue down, and on the other side the road up to Oakham mount, which Elizabeth would follow, “why itbothersme so that his manners are not what they ought to be.”
“Oh,thatis simple and we have established it simply: You are fascinated by him, you like him, and you even admire him.”
Elizabeth swatted the back of Charlotte’s head.
Her taller friend ducked and laughed. “I can’t tell you thathewill like you in return — But the matter is by no means hopeless, more than one gentleman has inclined himself to stoop down and pluck a wife from beneath his station — you ought to strive to get him if you can. Yet at the same time, you must keep your heart free of attachment, unless you gain an offer, because I fear that itislikely that the fascinationhehas for you will never lead to any such gesture.”
“Charlotte, that was the most ghastly speech you have ever made to me — I shall be wholly convinced that you said it in jest. You would never advise that to yourself, or to any friend. Strive to attach him? We have conversed properlyonce. I hardly know his character, his habits, or whether we would suit in any way.”
“Happiness in marriage is wholly a matter of chance. There is so much change in the character of people, and in the nature of their relationship to each other over time, that I am wholly convinced that were two persons to make a detailed study of each other over the course of a year, that their odds of long term happiness would be no greater — and in fact perhaps less — than if they had just married after a fortnight’s acquaintance.”
“It is not sound. It is not sound.”
Charlotte added, with a smirk that showed Elizabeth thatnowshe was speaking in jest, at least in part, “Butthe fortune of the husband is a known fact that can be relied upon.”
“Until,” Elizabeth replied laughing, “the character of the gentleman changes, and he becomes a gamester.”
“I can hardly imagine,” Charlotte snickered, “ourMr. Darcy as agamester.”
“Thus Ishouldrely upon my assessment of the gentleman’s character before I strive to attach him — my dear Charlotte, do be consistent.”
They looked at each other, and both ladies grinned and laughed. “Ha! You are always clever,” Charlotte said and threw her arms around Elizabeth, embracing her before they parted. “Make fun if you will — but do pay attention to what opportunities you have, and use them while they are present, for they might not always be there.”
The expression that Charlotte finished with was quite serious, and she held Elizabeth’s eye, until Elizabeth nodded, and said, “I shallpay attention, and use my best judgement — for I am not of such a character that I am like to substitute your best judgement for my own. But I will be in no rush to judge negatively.”
Charlotte set off on the short remaining tree lined avenue up to the Gouldings’ house, and Elizabeth off on the remaining mile of walk up to Oakham Mount.
Elizabeth trampled happily over the lovely deep piles of leaves. They softened the stride in a delightful way. The air was crisp and cool, and kept her from sweating in her light lavender pelisse. Autumn was her favorite season, except, of course, for spring.
The sounds of nature and wagons. The wind rustled the leaves. The warm sun on her face. A golden moment crystalized in time. A fragment of music echoed in Elizabeth’s mind — the song she had played while Mr. Darcy watched her at Lucas Lodge. She hummed the tune, and then reached the top of a hill.
Happy. She was happy.
Elizabeth took off her bonnet, stretched her arms, and turned her face up to the sun, and then she took off at a run down the hill, going as fast as her legs could pump. She was full of the delight of being healthy and young, in the best of spirits and looks, with motive power infusing every limb.
Gasping, Elizabeth pulled to a stop at an intersection where the road crossed another, and she stood there, leaning over with her hands on her legs as she caught her breath.
The sound of a horse snorting and scratching at the dirt of the road brought Elizabeth’s eyes up.
Mr. Darcy sat on the back of a fine mare that had come up the road that crossed the one which Elizabeth had been following. He observed her with an intense gaze. Elizabeth could not quite determine whether it held disdain or approval.
They looked at each other in the morning October sun.
Their eyes met.
She longed to brush the hair falling over his forehead aside.
Darcy’s horse made a snuffling sound, and it broke that paralysis that had fallen over both of them.
Mr. Darcy tipped his hat to Elizabeth, as she made a curtsey in her slightly dirty dress, before working to refasten her bonnet.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “a fine run.”
“You did not seethat!” She laughed, both with embarrassment and a bit of the remaining exaltation from the exercise.
“On the contrary, madam,” he replied dryly. “I saw the entirety of the race, and I believe you won.”
“I had been fairly certain I lost.” Elizabeth laughed and then she groaned. “If Mama ever hears that I have beenseenrunning, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
