Page 17 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
She bent down to brush her fingers over the delicate petals. Jane’s letter was, as always, full of gentle assurances that she was well, that all was as it should be. But her sister’s words were too measured, her happiness too carefully conveyed. The wounds of disappointment had not faded, though she strove to conceal them.
Elizabeth swallowed against the lump in her throat. It was unjust. Jane, who had never harboured an unkind thought for anyone, should not be left to conceal her grief. If only Elizabeth had been able to hold her hand, to whisper encouragement, to promise that all would yet be well.
She had no proof, but in her heart, she knew Mr. Darcy had been involved in her sister’s unhappiness. Somehow, in some way, he had ensured that Mr. Bingley did not return. She could not say how she was certain, only that she was. After the better part of an hour spent carefully selecting blooms for her room, she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She straightened, a small bouquet in her hands, to glimpse Mr. Darcy walking over the top of the hill. Elizabeth remained perfectly still, partly hidden by the nearest tree’s massive trunk.
She sighed. Best laid plans, indeed.
Mr. Darcy paused and stood for a long moment in profile, studying something with such intense concentration that Elizabeth found herself following his gaze, wondering what held his attention so completely. But there was nothing remarkable to see—only Lady Catherine’s pretentious monument gleaming white against the morning sky. Why was he studying that? She turned away quietly to collect a flower. And another. She bent down to examine a third.
“Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth started. Mr. Darcy had apparently noted her presence and now stood at the edge of the grove, maintaining what she supposed he felt was a proper distance. She stifled another sigh and straightened.
“Mr. Darcy.” She bobbed a shallow curtsy and kept her tone carefully neutral. “I trust you are enjoying the fine day?”
“Indeed.” He paused, seeming to search for words. “I did not expect to find anyone else here, but you rarely allow anything to disturb your explorations.” His smile was faint and fleeting.
Elizabeth found this awkwardly polite Mr. Darcy amusing. “The grounds are particularly lovely at this hour. Though perhaps you prefer the architectural features to the natural ones?” She glanced up at the folly and then back at him.
Something flickered across his features, but his response was measured. “I find each has its place, though like you, I do not care for the folly, preferring what nature has arranged herself.”
“You have said that you disagree with your aunt’s enthusiasm for improvements.”
“My aunt and I do not share the same tastes.” Mr. Darcy hesitated, shifting his weight slightly as though considering whether to speak again, and Elizabeth allowed him time to decide. At last, he said, “I hope your family is well.”
Elizabeth stiffened. He hoped her family was well? A simple inquiry on the surface, yet from him, it carried more weight than he could know.
“They are as well as can be expected,” she said evenly. “As I mentioned, my sister Jane is in London with my aunt and uncle.”
Mr. Darcy gave a short nod. “I hope she finds her time there agreeable.”
Elizabeth hesitated, then replied, “I believe she had hoped for more from it.”
His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
She turned the bouquet absently in her hands. “It is strange, do you not think? That Mr. Bingley, who was so attentive to my sister in Hertfordshire, should not call upon her in London when he is but a short distance away?”
There was the briefest pause before Mr. Darcy responded. “Perhaps he was unaware of her presence.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “Yes. That is possible. I suppose his sisters would not tell him that she called.” She let the silence stretch for a moment.
Mr. Darcy’s gaze did not waver. “I believed—” He hesitated. “It did not seem that her feelings were deeply engaged.”
Elizabeth cast her gaze down towards the bluebells at her feet before tamping down her anger and looking up again. “I wonder, Mr. Darcy, how certain one can be of such things, merely by observation.”
His expression did not change, but she saw his posture shift slightly. “I am not careless in my judgements.”
“No, I suppose you would not think yourself so.” She took a deep breath. “My sister has always conducted herself with propriety. If she did not wear her feelings openly, was it fair to assume she had none?”
Mr. Darcy’s gaze did not waver. “Bingley admired your sister, certainly, but he made no offer, not even—”
“No offer?” Elizabeth interrupted. “Mr. Bingley specifically stated he would wait for Jane’s health to improve before setting the date of the ball and then danced the firstandthe supper dance with her. Sir William Lucas remarked on the expectation of an engagementin your presence. The whole neighbourhood knew of Mr. Bingley’s attentions! You must be aware that when a gentleman shows such marked preference, it is only proper that he should make his intentions clear.”
“His departure accomplished that, did it not?”
Her cheeks flushed. “It did,” she said icily. “In the worst possible way for my sister’s reputation.”
“Bingley made no declarations,” Mr. Darcy repeated doggedly. “He offered no promises, sought no assurances. If your sister’s reputation has been impugned, the damage was not done by him.”
