Page 16 of The Work of a Moment

Darcy paused on the path and looked up at the sky. He felt the warmth of the sun, smelled the freshness of the spring breeze. He had seen Elizabeth do this same—hold still and delight in the pleasures of nature. Had she understood his desire to join her on her walks? If only she had had opportunity to reply before her nodcock⁠—

Do not think of idiots and obstacles. You know what must be done.

Hearing the sound of Anne’s carriage behind him, Darcy resumed walking at a speedier pace, eager to avoid his cousins’ notice and continue his contemplations. He had made his decision. Acting upon it was daunting. Certain though he was that she would welcome his addresses, Elizabeth Bennet was a wilful lady who delighted in teasing. With a wry comment, she could make one doubt the sky was blue or the moon’s shape. Even if overwhelmed by the compliment of his affection, she might somehow still make light of it. He would have to prepare himself for nearly anything before he received a sincere reply from her.

Did it matter that her wit seemed muted, that she seemed even downcast, as would be anyone forced into company with her mutton-headed fool of a cousin? No. Here in Kent, neither of us resides in a situation which much suits us. I must ensure she knows I share her discomfort with our current company.

Now understanding their mutual commonality of thoughts, Darcy needed to contemplate his declaration. The words must be considered and properly conveyed. He had never felt this depth of attraction to a lady and never would again. He could not blurt out the first thing that came to mind and botch his proposal!

He must charm her, engage with her.

His decision made, Darcy returned to Rosings and, after dropping his hat and gloves with Hawes, the ancient butler, strolled to the small parlour he used as a study. The post, neatly piled on the writing desk, held letters from his solicitor and from Lady Matlock, who, if she had bothered putting pen to paper and sent a letter to him here, was undoubtedly urging him to do as Lady Catherine demanded and propose to Anne. He dropped it into the drawer.

I will choose my own bride, dear aunts.

CHAPTER 14

A Confederacy of Dunces

That afternoon, after Charlotte’s whispered apology and Maria’s recounting of all there was to admire in Miss de Bourgh’s appearance, Elizabeth fled the house to walk along one of ‘the most glorious paths in all of England’, as Mr Collins had called it.

It was a pretty land, she acknowledged during her ramble, quite green and with thick foliage. However, to its detriment, there was no equivalent to Oakham Mount, no elevation that would allow her to gain a full view of Rosings Park and the larger area of Kent. Had there been, and had she been paying attention to her direction, she might have averted a near collision with Colonel Fitzwilliam, standing with Mr Darcy just off the path. Were they also avoiding the home of their hostess?

The colonel seemed pleased to assist her as she slipped, but Mr Darcy’s usual glare only darkened.

“Take care, Miss Bennet,” cried the colonel as he caught her arm. “Which rock or tree root caused your stumble? Lady Catherine wishes a report on any bit of nature that might impede one’s safety.”

Elizabeth laughed at the truth of his statement. Be it rock, tree root, or heathens from Hertfordshire, the lady demanded to know everyone’s business. “The guilt is all mine, sir. I was inattentive as to my direction.”

She felt Mr Darcy turn his grave eyes on her. “Were you seeking something, Miss Bennet?”

“I sought a view of the valley,” she said disingenuously rather than inform him that she had wanted solitude and time away from overbearing relations and disappointing friends. “While you were in Meryton, you may have heard tales of a headstrong girl who was the neighbourhood’s champion tree climber at the age of twelve. Be assured, I have not been looking for a mighty oak with low-hanging limbs for today’s endeavour.”

The colonel snorted a loud guffaw, but Mr Darcy remained still, only a slight upturn to his lips, indicating he had heard her words and had, perhaps, been amused. Then, with a brief shake of his head, he said, “The view you desire can be enjoyed only by the residents of Rosings—if they cared to seek it.” He gestured towards the manor. “The house’s domed cupola has a staircase leading to a large viewing platform on the roof. It is concealed from the ground by the balustrade.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Elizabeth said with real feeling. “To have such an elevated view—it would be possible to see for miles around.”

“Indeed,” the colonel said jovially. “From such a vantage point, Lady Catherine could look down upon all of her domain”—he lowered his voice, but his amusement was unabated—“that is, if she or Anne could manage the stairs.”

Although shocked by the insult to his relations, Elizabeth went on to insult her own. “Undoubtedly Mr Collins knows nothing of this staircase, for I am sure he would have entertained us with a profusion of compliments on the perfect symmetry of the avenues and formal gardens spreading from the house.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam joined his rich chuckle to hers and offered to escort her to the parsonage. “Darcy is late for a meeting with my aunt. Perhaps he can secure the keys to the roof while they go over rents and repairs and wages. It would be quite a reward for the hours spent offering counsel that she rarely follows in full.”

The object of his humour shook his head. “Counsel can be offered and ignored by one party, but orders can be given to a lesser party to ensure it is carried out.”

“Such Machiavellian manoeuvring is beyond my powers. I am merely a soldier who follows orders,” the colonel said, smirking. “And I always do my duty. Shall we, Miss Bennet?” He offered Elizabeth his arm and guided her away. When she glanced over her shoulder, she found Mr Darcy looking almost forlorn before he bowed and began the short walk back to Rosings.

Elizabeth had rarely been in company with two such intelligent, eligible young men. Uncomfortable as Mr Darcy might appear in the presence of her cousin—and anyone else in her family or neighbourhood—the colonel’s presence and teasing familiarity spurred an ease in him. They sparred as brothers might, as equals, whereas Mr Darcy had always seemed a little indulgent towards Mr Bingley. What was the reason for such laxity on his part? Mr Darcy was a serious man who took his duty to his estate and to his officious aunt seriously. Could he truly condone Mr Bingley’s licentious behaviour or encourage an attachment to his own sister?

“What say you, Miss Bennet? Are Rosings walks truly as beautiful as those in Hertfordshire?”

Her mind quickly shifted back to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s conversation. After she assured him that any country path would please her, he asked about Longbourn and her family and whether she would indeed shut her sisters in a cupboard, as Miss de Bourgh had advised.

“I mean no insult to Mrs Collins, but neither Mr Collins nor my aunt are great arbiters of a lady’s appeal.” At Elizabeth’s quiet laugh, he continued. “Thus I must conclude that each of your surfeit of sisters—a dozen, is it?—is as uniformly charming as you.”

Smiling at his easy affability, Elizabeth was amused to again find herself being charmed by a uniformed man in whom she could have no romantic interest.

Like Mr Wickham, he is open in his conversation, which, while admirable, is somewhat undisciplined for a soldier. Understanding this, Elizabeth decided to seek answers to questions that others—Jane, Lady Catherine, Mr Darcy—would likely deem impertinent.