???
Darcy walked the upper path in dense drizzle and did not think about Elizabeth Bennet.
He did not think about the distracting flecks of amber in her rich chocolate-coloured eyes or how soft her skin looked. He absolutely did not consider how he ached to bury his hands through her chestnut curls that never stayed entirely containedby their pins or wonder what she would smell like if he burrowed his face in the hollow of her neck
He did not think about how she could not possibly have had knowledge of Georgiana’s dealings with a man who had broken her heart and demolished her trust in the human race at large,
He could not get a word of sense from his sister when he attended her in her rooms and she at once seemed reduced to the guilt and misery of the days following his discovery of her attempted elopement in Ramsgate. She had been deceived by a trusted family friend who only had eyes for her fortune. It was not her fault. But he could not stop her from violently berating herself over her own failings. He had thought that he had seen some improvement in her since their arrival in Lyme and the quiet lodging house he had chosen because it was likely to provide a sanctuary away from the sharp eyes of the ton.
He had handled it badly. He had known it as he was speaking and had done it anyway, because her words and Georgiana’s face had caused something in him to react faster than sense demanded. A girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. Said fondly, about a silly younger sister, meaning nothing at all for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Yet for Georgiana the words had struck a wound that had scarcely begun to heal.
She had not known. He was certain of that now, standing in the drizzle. She had been talking about her sister. She had no knowledge of Ramsgate, no knowledge of Wickham, no knowledge of what it actually looked like when a charming young man pursued a girl with ill intent and left her broken in the aftermath.
And he had looked at her as though she had done it deliberately. Treated her with such coldness and ill-humour that she likely thought he was the worst, most-arrogant beast in the world.
He owed her an apology. The prospect was considerably more alarming than it ought to be, which was information he was not going to examine too deeply.
???
Elizabeth told Jane that evening what had happened.
Jane listened quietly, holding Elizabeth’s hand.
"He called you impertinent, dearest" Jane said, when Elizabeth had finished.
"He did."
"In front of everyone." Jane set down her embroidery. "Lizzy, perhaps there is some context I am not aware of, because hedoes not seem to me like a man who would speak that way without cause."
"Though when Miss Darcy left as she did, looking… oh, so very unhappy." Jane picked her embroidery back up. "I did wonder whether something had happened to her that we don't know about. Not that it excuses him. But she seemed so very distressed for such a small thing."
"I know," Elizabeth said. "I don't know what I said that landed the way it did and I cannot fathom just what could have occurred, and that is frustrating, but it does not mean he was right."
"No," Jane said. "He was not right. And he owes you an apology. A proper one." A pause. "I think he is probably very aware of that."
"I feel badly for Georgiana," Elizabeth said, after a while. "Whatever sore spot I touched, I did not know it was there. I would not have said it if I had."
"Of course you would not," Jane said warmly. "Anyone who has spent five minutes in your company would know that immediately. You are sometimes sharp, Lizzy, and you do occasionally say things before you have quite decided to say them, but you are never unkind. Not intentionally. And if Mr Darcy cannot see that then he has not been paying sufficient attention."
Chapter Seven
Elizabeth found that it was perfectly possible to avoid a gentleman in a house of moderate size, provided one was willing to appear very busy, very forgetful, or very much attached to fresh air.
For three days she had managed it with tolerable success. She went out when Mr Darcy was within doors, and remained within when he walked. She sat beside Jane when the whole party was assembled, and beside her mother when Jane was too thoroughly occupied by Mr Bingley to be of any use. She accepted Mrs Makepeace’s errands with unusual gratitude, discovered a sudden interest in the shops, and once spent nearly twenty minutes examining ribbons she had no intention of buying because she had seen Mr Darcy’s dark coat pass along the opposite side of the street and had not felt equal to the possibility of meeting him.
This was not avoidance. It was prudence. She had always valued prudence in others and could not see why she should be denied the comfort of it herself.
Unfortunately, prudence did not sit easily upon her. By the third morning she had begun to feel cross with everyone, including herself. Mr Darcy had been rude, and if he regretted it, as Jane insisted he must, he had not yet found an opportunity, or perhaps the courage, to say so.
Miss Darcy had not appeared at dinner on the day of the unfortunate scene and had been pale and silent since. Mrs Bennet had sat with her a good deal, speaking in that newly softened way of hers that Elizabeth found both comforting and painful to observe. Her mother had not asked questions, at least not the sort most people would call questions. She had spoken of bonnets, of the weather and of whether blue was kinder than green to a fair complexion. Her mother, whom she had so often laughed at, had understood how to connect with this reticent girl with quiet grace and understanding.
Jane, of course, had noticed everything.
"You are very restless this morning, Lizzy,” she said, as Elizabeth tied and untied the same bonnet ribbon for the third time.
"I am not restless. I am correcting a defect in the knot.”
"It was a very good knot before you corrected it.”
