Page 20 of Near Pemberley

Darcy inclined his head, perhaps more affected by the remark than he chose to show.

Then, with another bow, he withdrew.

And only the following morning did he understand how near he had unknowingly stood to hearing the name of Elizabeth Bennet.

Chapter VII

The following morning, he had gone into Lambton with Georgiana, partly for her amusement, partly from a restless wish to escape Pemberley for a few hours. Their guest had arrived the previous evening. Miss Bingley, whose attentions since arriving had become more constant than agreeable, had proposed accompanying them; but Georgiana, with unusual firmness, had expressed a particular desire to visit a milliner she had noticed the previous day, and Darcy had readily supported the scheme. She insisted that Miss Bingley must be tired from the journey.

While Georgiana occupied herself within the shop, examining ribbons and hats, Darcy moved towards the window with no particular object beyond momentary distraction.

His thoughts had wandered elsewhere entirely when a figure passing along the opposite side of the street drew his attention.

He looked once – and then again, almost not trusting the evidence of his own sight.

For one suspended instant, he neither moved nor thought.

Elizabeth Bennet.

Not distant. Not remembered. Not imagined.

There.

Walking quietly beneath the morning light, wholly unconscious of being observed.

A sensation, sudden and almost violent in its force, seemed to arrest every other faculty. His heart gave one disordered beat; every recollection connected with her returned at once – Hunsford, her refusal, her voice, her eyes, the letter he had written, the unnamed niece mentioned only the day before.

She had been near all along. And he had not known it.

That he had spoken with her relations only yesterday – had stood within moments of hearing her name – while she herself had been so near him, seemed almost impossible to comprehend.

Before reflection could overtake impulse, he had already moved.

He stepped from the shop.

And spoke her name.

“Miss Bennet.”

***

After everything was decided for the day after, the conversation continued for a few more moments in a more composed manner. However, Elizabeth remained conscious throughout of a strange alteration in everything around her. The common intercourse of civility – remarks upon the weather, upon Lambton, upon the pleasantness of the morning – seemed now invested with an importance wholly disproportionate to their subject.

Darcy, though outwardly calm, appeared attentive to every word she spoke. If his manner still retained traces of earlier agitation, they were suppressed beneath an earnest desire to please. This Elizabeth could neither misunderstand nor witness without emotion.

She herself barely ventured to look at him directly; yet, despite every effort at composure, her attention returned to him continually. Whenever she raised her eyes, she became conscious of some new change in his manner. In this gravity, once she had seen only reserve, an earnestness she did not remember, and, more affecting than either, a visible effort towards ease which seemed meant entirely for the comfort of others.

Elizabeth had once believed herself perfectly acquainted with Mr. Darcy’s character. Yet now there were moments when his expression seemed entirely unfamiliar to her, and she could not determine whether he had changed, or only her opinion of him.

A slight pause arose in the conversation.

Georgiana, who had hitherto spoken little, drew somewhat nearer to her brother and addressed him in a voice only just above a whisper. “Brother… do you think Miss Bennet would advise me?”

Darcy looked down at her. “Advise you?”

“The hat,” said Georgiana, colouring a little. “I cannot determine between the blue and the ivory.”

For the first time since meeting again, something very near amusement touched Darcy’s expression. “I believe,” said he, turning towards Elizabeth, “my sister imagines you possess greater judgement in such matters than myself.”