Page 60 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
Jane, who had been listening with quiet amusement, shook her head. “Lizzy has some experience with just such an occurrence, Aunt Gardiner.”
“There is no need to tell that story today, Jane,” Elizabeth replied airily. “I am certain you can tell Aunt all my secrets at a later time.”
“As lovely as they are,” Elizabeth declared, “I have had quite enough of these rooms. May we visit the garden directly?”
Aunt Gardiner allowed herself to be playfully cajoled from the room, her expression all gentle indulgence. They left Jane and descended the stairs at a measured pace. Elizabeth walked a little stiffly, but was gratified to find herself steadier than she had expected, even though she had to lean lightly upon her aunt’s arm.
“Remember, if you will, that you are to walk in the gardens and not beyond,” Aunt Gardiner warned as they stepped into the hall. “If you attempt anything foolish, I shall summon Lady Catherine herself.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “That is a cruel threat.”
“Yes, well,” her aunt replied, patting Elizabeth’s hand, “I am not so easily deceived. I have seen that look in your eye before. You have the air of a woman with intentions.”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to glance towards the staircase. “I do not know what you mean.”
Aunt Gardiner’s smile deepened. “No? I should have thought it rather obvious. Come, my dear. You are far too pale, and it would be a sad thing indeed were you to fall over before completing whatever grand scheme presently occupies your mind.”
Elizabeth huffed and coloured but said nothing, allowing herself to be led through the great doors and into the morning air.
The change in surroundings was absolutely transporting. Elizabeth drew in a slow breath. “How I have missed this.”
Her aunt gave a satisfied nod. “It is remarkable how a little fresh air can lift one’s spirits.”
Elizabeth tilted her face toward the sunlight. It had not only been the confinement that had worn on her, though of course it had. It was the thinking she had done about Mr. Darcy’s conundrum. She wanted to think she was special to him, but she could not be sure, truly sure, that he had meant anything by it at all. Not until she spoke to him again.
All this uncertainty was exhausting. But the sunshine revived her. “I shall be much easier to bear after this, I am sure.”
Aunt Gardiner smiled sweetly. “Yes, my dear. I rather think you shall be.”
They walked a little further, past the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedgerows.
Elizabeth did not mean to look back towards the house.
And yet, before she could stop herself, her gaze drifted upward—toward the grand façade of Rosings, toward the rows of tall windows gleaming in the morning light.
She did not know precisely which window belonged to him, but she looked all the same.
Aunt Gardiner followed her gaze and said nothing for a moment.
Then, lightly, she remarked, “I believe I shall sit on the bench in the shade and enjoy the day, if you are content to wander the garden yourself.”
Elizabeth glanced at her. “I am well enough, Aunt Gardiner.” She stepped forward, drinking in the simple pleasure of standing beneath the open sky and savoured the feeling of the breeze gently moving her curls and cooling her skin. Even the birds seemed in delightful spirits, their lively chatter weaving through the rustling leaves like a melody.
She strolled at a measured pace, following the gravel path that curved around the rose garden. Elizabeth let her fingers trail lightly over the blooms, relishing the simple pleasure of touch, of movement, of being a part of the world again.
Aunt Gardiner seated herself upon a shaded bench beneath a sweeping elm. Elizabeth offered her a grateful smile before turning towards the garden’s deeper paths, where the scent of damp earth and budding greenery beckoned her forward.
She told herself she would not look back toward the house.
And yet, she did.
Her gaze lifted almost of its own accord, drawn upward to the rows of tall windows gleaming in the sun. The house loomed behind her, imposing as ever, but her interest was not in Rosings. It was in one particular person who resided within its walls.
Her thoughts tangled in a familiar knot. How was it possible to feel so much gratitude, admiration, and vexation towards a single man? She had decided that she was falling in love with him. And yet, at every turn, she was met with doubt that it was truly returned. He had been heroic, yes, but she had learned it was simply in his nature to be so. He had been kind to her, but he was also kind to Miss de Bourgh. He had engaged her in light-hearted banter, but—no, that was different. She had seen how he was with others, and the playful Mr. Darcy she had encountered in recent days was not a man the rest of the world was permitted to see. He had said he admired her. That could mean anything, but then his words in the cart. Miss de Bourgh seemed to believe he cared for her, but until she could speak with him . . .
She exhaled sharply, shaking herself from her reverie. This outing was meant to cheer her, so she ought not to waste time on a puzzle she could not resolve on her own.
Turning back towards the winding garden path, Elizabeth found her feet leading her towards a small ornamental pond. The water shimmered in the light, rippling gently in response to the gentle stirrings of the wind, delicate white petals from a nearby pear tree floating on the surface.
