Page 24 of The Work of a Moment

The morning came early, thankfully with a full sun, ensuring that Elizabeth and Mr Collins each could occupy themselves for much of the day out of doors. Unfortunately, breakfast required she remain in company and listen to her cousin’s lamentations of the effect her absence had had on Lady Catherine and how Mr Darcy’s cruel lack of attendance had vexed both his aunt and his betrothed.

Savouring his position at the table head, Mr Collins sawed through a slice of ham as he spoke. “Such abandonment and poor manners, leaving Lady Catherine to delay dinner! He must endeavour to be a better nephew and future son to Lady Catherine.” He lifted his fork and practically glared at Elizabeth. “Charlotte has confided that you were not pleased by Mr Darcy’s manners in Meryton, dear Cousin, but you misunderstand your place. He is a gentleman, a man of wealth and distinction, and the nephew of Lady Catherine. He will not need her forgiveness, but you must apologise for missing dinner. As she is all that is gracious⁠—”

He shoved his fork into his mouth, and his next words were unintelligible. Elizabeth could not look at Charlotte, for she now understood how deeply her friend had been changed by her marriage, and she could not like it.

How soon before Charlotte confides her suspicions to him about Mr Darcy’s presence here last evening?

Within the hour, she was outside, anxious to breathe in fresh air, to cleanse her thoughts and memory of what had passed between herself and Mr Darcy. She hoped for solitude. A curious squirrel would be fine company, but she would be unable to properly think through her situation if she were to meet the garrulous Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Instead, it was Mr Darcy she encountered, standing on the embankment above the estate’s rapidly flowing brook, a spyglass to his eye aimed at something upstream. He must have heard her approach, for he put down the glass and turned before she was able to flee. His demeanour was grave.

Although meeting him again came before she had fully settled on what to say, Elizabeth seized the moment. “Sir, I… If you… may we speak? I realise we exchanged many words yesterday, but I must add to our conversation. To explain, and apologise for casting judgment⁠—”

“You owe me no apologies.”

“But I do.”

He shook his head, his brow creased. “No, it is I who owe you an apology, for arriving unbidden when you were ill and supposing you welcomed my addresses. I had no right to impose myself or my feelings on you.”

Underneath his solemn words, Elizabeth heard vulnerability in his voice. It was a sound she was unused to in any man, and hearing it in the deep, usually assured tones of Mr Darcy was startling. Clearly, she had hurt him terribly with her accusations and blithe disregard for his astonishing declaration. She regretted all of it. Of course, he might regret it, too, and wish never to speak to her again after such a humiliating event. He might hate her.

She took a few steps towards him, her boots crushing the fragrant spring grass as she had his heart only hours earlier. “Mr Darcy, I have not been at ease during my visit here, and I regret that my disquiet and my misunderstanding about Mr Bingley prompted such discourtesy and ill feeling in our conversation. Much as I am relieved to hear your affirmation of his character, I am mortified by my mistaken assumptions and my behaviour towards you.”

Mr Darcy appeared dazed by her effusive apology—she had apologised, had she not? Elizabeth, her cheeks already warm, grew hot as he remained silent, staring at her. Finally, after what felt like an hour, he shook his head slightly.

“I am sorry you have been uneasy during your visit to your friend.” He gave her a thoughtful look and gestured towards the forest. “My cousins are together in Anne’s phaeton. Perhaps we could take the path into the wood, where she cannot drive, and I can show you some of the less known beauty of the estate.”

She nodded.

He tucked the spyglass into his pocket. “The stream is flowing too quickly. A small dam that used to slow the current has been removed, perhaps by a storm, and must be replaced before a heavy rain arrives.”

“Lady Catherine is fortunate to have you come inspect her lands.”

“She has no steward at present and relies on Colonel Fitzwilliam and me for advice.”

Elizabeth wondered if the steward had fled to an estate where he was not harangued about the spring grass arriving too slowly or the trees growing too tall.

Mr Darcy led her through the woods, stopping at what appeared to be a maze, now sadly overgrown and neglected.

“That is commendable of you. Lady Catherine takes note of the smallest detail at Rosings. The gardens are manicured so…”

“So precisely?” he finished for her. “Yes. As if Louis the Fourteenth himself was looking down to inspect the shrubbery and all the manor’s overdressed rooms.” He glanced at her. “Forgive me. I have been here too many days and have never found gilt chairs and cherubs and ornate rugs and upholstery to be to my taste.”

“I forgive you and promise never to tell Mr Collins of your displeasure.”

He smiled. In fact, he nearly laughed. Elizabeth felt some success in her achievement, but curiosity for their furtive visit to the ramshackle spot quickly returned to her. Perhaps he saw the change in her expression, for Mr Darcy gestured towards the wooden boards meant to prevent their entrance to the maze.

“My cousin Anne has been sickly since childhood and rarely has had opportunity for frivolity and adventure. Her late father, Sir Lewis, provided a tree swing and built this maze for her enjoyment. He died when she was but eight years old, and she would come here to hide and to weep. Lady Catherine herself was deeply grieving, and when Anne became lost inside the maze one day and was not found until it was near dark, she decreed it must no longer stand. The interior was mostly razed, but this outer hedge and some shrubbery remain.”

She looked at him, amazed. Had he ever spoken so many words in her presence? Been so engaged in a conversation—besides, of course, in the proposal she had so coldly dismissed.

“Come,” he said, ducking his head and leading the way past the loosened boards. “It is quite safe—as long as you mind the occasional hedgehog or rabbit.”

Elizabeth stepped inside the wall of greenery, surprised to find some semblance of a walking path, bordered by dead, battered shrubs. She followed Mr Darcy around a few twists and turns. A few tall hedges stood next to a flattened area. A few more steps, and she found herself inside the last vestiges of the maze, where shoulder-high shrubbery was still blooming. Mr Darcy’s height gave him a full view of the park, and he stepped aside to allow her to see a comfortable, if damp-looking, cushion laid on a chaise.

“Oh!” she cried with delight. “This is a lovely hideaway. It is still in use, I see.”

He shrugged. “One must escape from the demands of duty occasionally.”