“I am not afraid of you, and by now, you should know I am not afraid of uncomfortable conversations.”
Elizabeth gathered her thoughts. “It was a test, of sorts. Had Mr Newton made Miss Bingley’s actions known, it would have created an obligation to return. If nothing else, he would have returned to apologise and make reparation. At the time, I suspected, obviously incorrectly, that you and Miss Bingley might have shared a good laugh over the matter, but there is no doubt your friend would have returned.”
“I see. From that, I surmise you did notwant him to return out of obligation.”
“I wanted better for Jane. That is not to say that I try to direct her life, as I most certainly do not. I just wanted to support herin her stated goal of only marrying for love. If the gentleman returned, I wanted it to be out of affection, or at the very least, because he was a man of his word who had made a promise. Should he return of his own desire,thatwould be the time to make him aware of his sister’s malfeasance. The decision was not irrevocable. If Jane wanted Mr Bingley to know about the matter, we could have asked my father or uncle to write to him, with the Newtons standing witness.”
“It was the right thing to do, not that you require my approval. I admire that you were thrust unceremoniously into such a situation and could reason through it so clearly, while covered in mud and no doubt freezing.”
“You give me too much credit. I had Mary and the Newtons.”
“I see. So, to be clear, the idea of refraining from reporting came from Mrs Collins or one of the Newtons?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I see what you did there, and I will not be fooled.”
Both chuckled and had no need to further explore that particular subject. They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, and Elizabeth said, “I really do like the house.”
“It is my favourite place in the world. The library is on the ground floor, the 3rdand 4thwindows from the right. The garden on the right side, just behind that stone wall, has lavender and roses I think you would like. The window on the 2ndfloor to the right of the trellis is the mistress’ suite. “
Elizabeth chuckled, disregarding the obvious ploy. “I assume this prospect has been thework of many generations.”
Darcy chuckled. “I wonder how long it will be before you forget just one of the things I said. I should hope some of them would fade with time, as my behaviour has, at times, been abhorrent.”
“Perhaps a few of your actions were objectionable, but in time they should all be forgot. In such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”
“I am not so sanguine.”
“Sanguine or not, it is time to put the past behind us. We have enough difficulty with the present, let alone the future.”
“So, are we to talk about the future?”
“I suppose we must.”
A moment’s silence followed.
“It is a funny expression my uncle used:painting ourselves into a corner.”
“How so?”
“Like most such expressions, its meaning jumps immediately to mind but does not survive close scrutiny. If you are painting a wall or a ceiling, when you reach a corner, you carry on. It is only a problem when you are painting a floor, and how often does that come up?”
“Do you spend all your time poking holes in common expressions?”
“Of course, doesn’t everyone?”
He chuckled again, quite diverted. “If we are to be comprehensive, let me ask you this. Why is painting yourself into a corner so awful? At worst, you need only sit down and sleep a few hours while the paint dries.”
“Or you could step back into the paint, finish the rest of the corner, and back out, painting over your footprints as you go; then clean your boots when you are done.”
“If you wear good boots for painting a floor, you deserve what you get.”
She giggled. “Or you couldleavethe footprints, and carry on.”
“I suspect that ifyouever did that, within a month every great house in London would be filled with footprints, and every ball would contain dozens of people with paint on their shoes. Entire new industries would spring up to provide fashionable footwear with paint on the bottom, and a guild would form to paint floors complete with footprints matching the master of the house.”
Both were soon sniggering and laughing well out of proportion to the jest, but the absurdity had served its purpose; they were less nervous.
“May I ask something impertinent?” Darcy asked.
