He was such a liar, but calling him such would obviously be beyond even Lydia. “I have not seen you in some time.”
“It has been around a year and a half, I believe.”
I suspected he could tell me the interval down to the day if he put his mind to it. My last conversation with him had been at the Netherfield ball, and Lizzy’s last had apparently been in the breakfast room at Netherfield, when she came to visit me while I was sick… unless one counts her refusal to talk to him through her guest room door as a conversation. Mr Darcy had returned to help Mr Bingley several times since then, but while I had seen him about the village, and occasionally in the fields bordering Longbourn, I had never talked to him directly.
Unwilling to stand another fortnight of awkwardness, I did something probably quite foolish. “I find I have taken up Lizzy’s old habit of walking. The grounds here are quite lovely.”
“Indeed. I can imagine your sister—”
He looked sheepish, so I helped him along. “You cannot turn green every time Lizzy is mentioned. You will not survive tomorrow, let alone a fortnight.”
He looked chagrined. “I shall do my best.”
Emboldened, I added, “I frequently walk in the morning. I find the small path to the folly lovely at sunrise.”
I should have died of mortification were I still the Jane Bennet of Netherfield, though by my mother’s standards I was too subtle by half. I was not really that woman anymore, but neither was I willing to venture further.
“That is a lovely path. I recommend it at any hour, but I concur that the morning is ideal.”
The colonel returned and sought to reclaim my attentions. I tolerated them as best I could until it was time to return to the parsonage.
The gentlemen escorted us to the carriage, and the colonel handed me in. I knew not what to think of him, but to be truthful, I was not particularly interested either.
At an hour I would previously have deemed‘before the cock crows,’and now considered‘before Abbie wakes to scream,’I sought my usual path toward the folly. I rarely went all the way, considering the structure silly (though I would never tell Lady Catherine), and usually turned back halfway. I enjoyed a good walk, but I was still not anything like Lizzy had once been. Of course, since losing her sight, even Lizzy was not Lizzy, but that was another matter.
As I predicted, Mr Darcy wandered down the path at the same hour.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. It is a lovely day for a stroll.”
I restrained a giggle, and answered seriously, “Good morning, Mr Darcy. It is indeed.”
“May I join you?”
Though the simplest of requests, and one he was obliged to makehavingencountered me, he appeared to summon his courage.
“I would be happy for your company.”
We started walking toward the folly, hands clasped somewhat awkwardly behind us. Fortunately, he did not offer his arm, and I was not required to accept or refuse it. We walked in companionable silence for some time before I spoke. “Mr Darcy, I had a letter recently from my sister Elizabeth.”
He appeared quite interested, so I continued, “I assume your aunt informed you she is in New York with your cousin.”
“She has.”
He looked as though he wished to say more. I should not have been surprised if Lady Catherine shared her letters with him, nor if she did not.
“She wrote to me perhaps six months ago, and made a suggestion pertaining to you. Would you care to hear it?”
“Very much so, if it breaks no confidence.”
His offering was endearing, even though I had suggested the scheme. It spoke to his character, as did his lack of attempts to contact neither sister when asked not to. He was at his aunt’s house, whom he could not avoid forever, and I could well have avoided him by going home or remaining in the parsonage. He followed his word to the letter. However, Lizzy had assigned a duty, and I am not one to shirk.
“Lizzy suggested that—”
My courage failed. I expected him to say something encouraging, or look with sympathy, but he instinctively understood that was not what I needed. He simply nodded, as if willing to wait a fortnight if necessary.
“She suggested that… well… she suggested we leave this unpleasant business behind us. She is no longer angry, nor am I particularly… may we just… I know not… perhaps forgothe awkward apologies… as well as the recriminations and vexations… and perhaps simply begin anew? When you cut Miss Bingley, you did all that was required, so may we leave it at that?”
He seemed astonished. He likely still felt he owed an apology but eventually acceded.
