Page 18 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
Elizabeth could hardly believe his intransigence—she knew her own mother had been instrumental in the rumours, but Mr. Darcy and his friends were not without fault in the matter.
“He declared to Jane that hisintentionwas to return.”
Mr. Darcy glanced away.
“And then Mr. Bingley closed Netherfield without even the courtesy of taking leave of those he so recently called his friends. Was that the behaviour of a gentleman?”
Darcy’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “He acted as he believed best.”
“Did he?” she shot back. Oh, this man vexed her. “Or did he act as you and his sisterstoldhim was best?”
Mr. Darcy was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he inclined his head in an abbreviated bow and turned away.
Insufferable man! Elizabeth remained where she stood, watching Mr. Darcy retreat over the crest of the hill. Her hands clenched around the bouquet she held, and she was forced to bite back the words she wished to hurl at him as he fled. The matter was far from settled, and this would not be the last time they discussed it. Not if she could help it.
Only when Mr. Darcy had disappeared over the crest of the hill did she take a deep breath and let it out noisily. She had never been so forward with a gentleman, particularly one unrelated to her, but the way he tried her temper had made her bold. Too bold, perhaps, but she did not regret it.
She strolled slowly to the folly. From here she could see Mr. Darcy, still walking, his long legs eating up the ground before him. He made it to the road and turned toward Rosings. Elizabeth glanced inside. She had not intended to stop at the folly today, but something perverse in her told her that she should sit on the stone bench precisely because Mr. Darcy did not like it.
Elizabeth moved across the slanted floor, took her seat, removed her bonnet, and unfolded Jane’s letter again. Her fingers were trembling, a consequence of speaking so angrily to Mr. Darcy. The folly was cool and quiet, the stone roof offering shade from the strengthening sun.
Elizabeth reread the carefully penned lines, the words betraying her sister’s lingering sorrow. “As for myself,” the letter concluded,
I know you will ask me how I am. Fret not, for my health is sound, and I am, as I remind myself daily, blessed in my family. I dare say I was foolish to have allowed myself to hope for what was never meant to be. Mr. Bingley is no doubt happily engaged in London society, and I am glad that he is well. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are the kindest of hosts, and I find much pleasure in the company of my dear little cousins. I have made a firm resolution to be happy and content, and so I am.
Elizabeth’s heart ached. How could the man not have seen Jane’s adoration of his friend? And who was he to tell Mr. Bingley that Jane did not love him? For what Mr. Darcy had said just now had suggested he had done just that. How could he possibly be so certain of a lady’s feelings when he did not know her, had hardly even spoken with her? Was he so convinced of his own infallibility?
“You may not share your tastes with Lady Catherine, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured, “but in your conceit, you are more similar than you care to admit.”
Chapter Six
Darcysteppedontotheroad and turned towards Rosings before stopping. His conversation with Miss Elizabeth had been upsetting, her words striking his conscience rather hard. Perhaps if he explained more fully about Bingley’s tendency to fall in and out of love?
He sighed and, without thinking, turned back toward the hill. Through the colonnade, he could make out a figure on the stone bench, absorbed in what appeared to be a letter. He frowned; Miss Elizabeth had said she disliked the folly, so he had not thought to warn her against it. Should he return, despite her clear desire for solitude? She was angry with him, but at the very least, he ought to warn her against reading her letters there.
But would she listen? No one else did.
As Darcy considered what was best to be done, he studied the folly, the bane of his every sojourn to Kent. He rubbed the back of his neck and tipped his head slightly to one side. Had that column always leaned quite so far to the left? And the stand of trees that abutted the structure—were they slumping towards the stone structure? They had not been before the latest storm—at least, he did not believe so.
A rumbling, lower and softer than thunder, sent his heart racing. Yes, there was a definite list to the entire structure that had not been present before. A fault in the foundation? Soil loosened by the rains?
It no longer mattered.
It took him several minutes to reach her, even at a run. “Miss Bennet,” he called, a little breathless and his voice sharper than he intended. “Please, I must ask you to step outside.”
She looked up, her expression guarded. “I believe we have concluded our conversation, Mr. Darcy.”
“This is not about—” He broke off as small stones skittered from the roof, bouncing against the floor. Her eyes narrowed. He stiffened. “Miss Bennet, please. The structure is not safe.”
“How curious that you should suddenly show such concern for me,” she replied, though she did fold her letter, tuck it into her pocket, and stand. “When did this great revelation about the folly’s instability occur to you? Before or after our discussion about your disdain for my family?” She began to walk towards him, her temper giving her speed.
He did not care that she was angry with him, only that she was moving towards him and safety.
She was halfway to him when he heard another deep, resonant groan, as though the earth itself had sighed in warning. The sound reverberated against the stone floor, pillars, and roof of the folly, and Darcy’s senses sharpened. Dust shivered down from the dome, and the very ground beneath his feet trembled. Miss Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she cast a glance behind her, where he could see a fissure opening in the ground.
The folly was going to tip and slide into that hole. And it was unlikely to remain in one piece when it did.
“Do not stop!” Darcy ordered, and her gaze snapped back to his. No sooner had she taken another step when there was a roar—a thunderous, sickening rupture as the earth beneath the back side of the folly opened like the mouth of a leviathan.
