The drive back to Rosings was short;tooshort, in Anne’s estimation, so she asked Mr. Darcy to drive around the park sothat she might have some fresh air. “You must tell her that you love her, Fitzwilliam,” she began.
“It is useless; you saw how she regards me! She will not so much as look at me! No, I have waited too long.” His despair was palpable, and Anne was much moved by it.
“I think not. No woman so very deliberately ignores a man for whom she cares nothing.”
“Anne, I beg you to forgive me, but I fear you know little of these matters.”
“You might be surprised, Fitzwilliam. I have nothing to do but sit at Rosings, day after day, and I observe a good deal of the little dramas around me.”
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Anne.”
“Servants,” she said, succinctly.
“Servants?”
“Oh, my, the romances, the ambitions, the squabbles! It is all of human nature, contained in one country estate! It is vastly entertaining.”
“Does Lady Catherine know of the interest you take in such matters?”
“There is no point in you looking so stern, Fitzwilliam. I have little enough distraction available to me, and you are too good to take away what little I have.”
Mr. Darcy sighed, tacitly acknowledging her point.
“Believe me, Fitzwilliam. Nothing will do but for you to get her alone and make the most sincere avowal of love a man ever made to a woman, preferably on bended knee. What have you to lose?”
“My pride, perhaps,” Mr. Darcy said.
“And if your pride is more important than winning Elizabeth Bennet, then you are not the man for her.” With that, she turned away and would not be drawn out again.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Mr. Darcy spent a good deal of time contemplating Anne’s words. No, he knew full well that his pride was not more important than winning Miss Bennet’s hand. He would make this avowal of love, and he would make it the very best proposal he possibly could.
He wrote it out, then wrote it out again, trying to find the best words, the most accurate words, to sum up his fruitless search in London, his obsession! – no, that was not a good word – hispreoccupation, yes, that was better! – with Elizabeth Bennet! His inability to forget her, her hair, her eyes, her face, her voice! How her gentle laugh haunted him, day and night!
His words began to run together in his fervent desire to explain the inexplicable, how a country miss of little importance had become his entire world, and so he crumpled up that page and began yet again.
By the time he finally thought himself ready, the weather had turned nasty. It rained and rained, and while Mr. Darcy had no hesitation in braving the weather to make his way to the parsonage, he knew that Mr. and Mrs. Collins would be there. He needed to see Miss Bennet alone, but how?
When the weather finally became pleasant again, he walked to the parsonage; but he saw Mrs. Collins’ form through the small window, and he turned back to Rosings.
Was Elizabeth never alone?
When Lady Catherine announced that she would invite the parsonage inhabitants to dinner the next night, as she required some diversion after the days of rain, Mr. Darcy was torn. Would he have a moment with her? But he needed more than a moment! He needed nine minutes, for he had timed his speech several times, and knew exactly how long it would take to deliver it.
***
When the dinner invitation came from Rosings, Elizabeth was decided – she would not go. She could not bear another evening of Mr. Darcy offering his little tidbits of interest, his brief meaningful glances, when she knew it was all for nothing! Flirting, that was all it was, and a woman with a broken heart had no interest in flirting with the man she had loved in vain.
She waited until late afternoon of the following day to announce her headache and her sincere desire not to introduce any sort of illness into the sanctified atmosphere of Rosings Park, for was Miss de Bourgh not rather frail?
Hearing this rationale, Mr. Collins hastily excused her, and commended her thoughtfulness. “Miss de Bourgh would be glad for such kindness,” he assured her.
***
When Mr. and Mrs. Collins finally left, Elizabeth went down to the parlour with a book. She would sit here and read until her host and hostess returned; she would listen to the descriptions of the food and who said what to whom, and then she would go to bed.
***
