Page 25 of Resilience

Once her aunt and uncle returned to town, Mr Darcy began to pay his own calls upon Elizabeth, apparently unbeknownst to his sister and cousin. Elizabeth’s face flamed in surprise and uncertainty when he appeared in the parlour bearing hothouse roses the day after her aunt and uncle returned from Meryton.

They walked in the park across the street from the house while Elizabeth burned with uncertainty. She had not expected roses…not in December–and not carried with such determination in Mr Darcy’s hand–as though their very survival was imperative to him.

The man had been kind to her, but this attention was a total surprise. Until he appeared in her aunt’s drawing room, she had tried not to think of him except as the impossibly kind and generous brother and cousin of her friends. It never seemed possible to her that he might display genuine interest of this kind.

“Thank you for the roses, I have never seen their equal,” Elizabeth began as they strolled on a path followed at some distance by her aunt’s maid.

“They are from the small conservatory that my father had built at Darcy House for my mother’s pleasure.” Darcy smiled down at her. “I cannot claim the credit, for that would be a terrible misrepresentation of my gardener’s talents.”

“I must be certain to praise his efforts extravagantly, should I ever meet him.” Elizabeth coloured at the forwardness of her remark and looked away.

“Miss Elizabeth.” His voice was a low murmur as she met his gaze hesitantly. “We have already acknowledged our comfort in one another’s company, or…at least I have. Let us not lose such a precious blessing to awkwardness. You are my friend, and my sister’s friend foremost. I hope you will come to know the gardens at Darcy House intimately.”

A dog raced past, chasing a stick that was thrown by a small boy. “Bring it back, Charlie!” the lad called. His spaniel did not disappoint him. Elizabeth watched, charmed by the spectacle, then summoned her courage and met Mr Darcy’s gaze.

“Of course you are right,” she agreed. “Are you pleased to be back in town, Mr Darcy?”

He considered his answer for a moment and replied, “You asked once whether I found London and its society oppressive.”

“I recall that conversation,” she said. “Your response was to speak very well of the merits of the country.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I believe I restrained my panegyrics for Pemberley with considerable effort.”

“I cannot imagine you delivering raptures,” she teased.

“I am as capable of raptures as the next man,” he confessed. “When the subject deserves it.”

“I have heard enough of the merits of Pemberley to believe you,” Elizabeth assured him. “From everyone…Georgiana, Mr and Miss Bingley, your cousin, my cousin, why…even my aunt has informed me of the perfection of Pemberley. Perhaps you might elaborate upon the merits of the land. The facade of the house and the gardens I have heard of from my aunt. The park and the walking paths must be positively divine.”

Darcy’s eyes sparkled as he thought of his home. “Pemberley sits in a valley. The river runs close enough to the house to be heard in the summer when the nights are still and the windows are open.”

“And the woods?” Elizabeth asked in sincere interest.

“There are woods on both sides of the house…old woods. Not new trees planted for effect. If one chooses their path well, they might walk for hours without reaching a boundary.”

“That sounds dangerously inviting,” Elizabeth marveled. “I fear I would be lost to such paths forever.”

He beamed as a recollection took him. “I spent my boyhood learning every path with Geo–ah–my boyhood friend, and my cousin Richard. There is a limestone outcrop beyond the west pastures. My cousin Richard and I once declared ourselves highwaymen, and informed the butler that our days safe at home were at an end, and to pass along our regards to our mothers. We built a shelter there under the outcrop out of fallen wood and thought ourselves kings…

“And how long did your brave and reckless new life endure?”

“Until supper.” He gave her a dazzling smile, and she was momentarily speechless by how handsome he was.

Oh dear. I believe I am in some danger. I do hope Priscilla and Georgie will not object if anything comes of this attention. A handsome face I might withstand, but one such as this, with such kindness, such gentlemanly behaviour…and the walking paths…I fear I might be lost.

Mr Darcy was lost in his memories. “There is a great oak tree deep in the woods, far from the house. So far, one might forget the place altogether. The bark is carved with the names of generations of Darcys who lived at Pemberley. My father took me there as a boy and explained that Pemberley did not belong to us as much as we belong to the land.”

“You miss him,” Elizabeth said, studying his face closely.

“There is hardly an instant when I do not miss him. He was an excellent man. Unlike those fathers who withhold their power until their last breath, leaving their sons ill prepared, he involved me in every part of the estate from my early boyhood. And still, I found myself floundering when I lost him. I could have happily worked Pemberley by his side for many decades without the slightest resentment.” He seemed to realise that his thoughts had wandered. “We must return. I would not like your aunt to think I was a rascal.”

“I do not think my aunt could imagine such a thing of a Darcy.” Elizabeth turned on the path with him. “She holds the memory of your parents in such high regard, she could never believe any ill of you.”

The two spoke of the weather and other inanities as they returned to the house, but Elizabeth felt that something had changed between them. Mr Darcy was no longer only the brother of her friend. He was a man of great substance, sharing private pieces of himself with her with obviously deliberate intent.

Her thoughts swirled as they returned to the house and he took his leave of her aunt.

“Well, Lizzy, did you ever expect such attention?” Her aunt watched his carriage pull away from the window. “Why Lizzy, you look worried.”