Elizabeth Bennet walked through the wood, a sigh on her lips and something - not quite discontent, but a lack of content - bothering her disposition.
She was twenty years old, and despite having a loving, relatively secure home, she yearned for more.
She had her beloved sister, Jane, her music, and her walks, such as this one, as balms for her soul.
She had her father, with his acerbic wit, and his books as fuel for her intellect.
And then, there was her mother.
Mrs. Bennet embodied all that a mother of her situation should. She loved her children and only wanted the best for them. Unfortunately, though Mr. Bennet was a landed gentleman, the estate of Longbourn was entailed away onto the male line. Mrs. Bennet had produced five healthy children, all girls. All of them pretty, but female, nonetheless.
And so, when ever there was chance of one of her brood marrying tolerably well, Mrs. Bennet was aflutter with excitement and orders. When word that the neighbouring estate, Netherfield, had been let by a single young man of means, Mrs. Bennet rejoiced, plotted, and planned. This nervous atmosphere had sent Elizabeth in search of much needed balm… a walk through the worn, familiar paths of home.
She turned a corner, delighting in her good fortune at having escaped her mother's afternoon activities, when a gentleman she had never met appeared before her. The stranger was of moderate height and build, clean-shaven, and exquisitely clothed. Though she was startled, Lizzy was not afraid.
The gentleman, however, started upon seeing her.
"Excuse me, sir," Elizabeth bobbed, courteously. "I did not mean to interrupt your reverie."
Knowing that one path was just as interesting as the next, and all would lead her from her nervous mother, Elizabeth turned back to follow another route.
"No, please." The stranger called out. "Madam, if I might impose briefly upon you?"
Lizzy looked askance, curious and cautious.
"I apologize for the interruption, and I mean not to trouble you, but I seem to be lost." The look of mortification on the gentleman's face only served to heighten Lizzy's awareness of his discomfort. He was obviously a proud, self-sufficient type, not used to asking for help. But he had good manners and seemed honourable enough.
Elizabeth smiled, and some of her humorous disposition showed in her eyes. "It is no trouble at all, sir. The paths can be quite complex for the uninitiated. It is thought that perhaps the previous owners of these estates thought it a grand folly to have paths set out to mimic the Labyrinth of Crete. What, may I ask, is your destination?"
He smiled, the young lady was presentable and knowledgeable and did not seem to hold his ignorance against him. "I am come to visit at Netherfield."
Ahh, one of the wealthy gentlemen Mother was so trying about this morn. Lizzy thought. It seems I cannot escape them!
Aloud, though, she was all that is pleasant and comforting. "And a beautiful estate that is, sir. Netherfield neighbours my father's estate, Longbourn."
The gentleman nodded, his mind quickly putting bits of information together. "Longbourn. You are a Benson?"
"Bennet, sir," she smiled, "Elizabeth Bennet."
Daughter of a local gentleman. Like Georgiana, she seems to be taken with outdoor activity. And I must say, it does agree with her. He thought to himself, smiling slightly. Aloud, he said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet. I hope you will not think too badly of me for losing my way - indeed, if my mind had not been so taxed with other subjects, I should have known my route to be so circuitous."
"While not a common occurrence, sir, it is not unknown. Now, shall we to Netherfield?"
"If you could oblige me by giving direction, that would suffice."
"Ah, no, sir. It would not do to have you lost and starving in the hedgerows. Besides, I would abide outside a bit longer today." The wistfulness that had occupied her mind once again clouded her features.
Suddenly, as he watched, her mood changed and it was as though the sun came from behind the clouds. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and she crooked her arm to offer it. "Sir, shall we?"
At his astonished look, she laughed and instead gracefully waved her hand in the direction they would take.
They walked in quiet but agreeable company for a few moments, then she began again.
"From your accent, sir, I would judge that you are from Derbyshire. Am I correct?"
"Yes, you are. Very observant of you."
"Ah," she said, smiling, "I have the advantage of a dear Aunt who hales from Derbyshire - the town of Lambton. Are you familiar with it?"
"I am."
"It is purported to be the most beautiful part of England."
"Indeed, it is filled with rare beauty. Have you never had occasion to go?"
"No. I only have word of its superiority from my Aunt. Though, she is a woman of impeccable taste and unfailing integrity, I must give some good amount of credence to her informed opinion."
"And so you should. Derbyshire is indeed the most beautiful of all counties. The countryside is different than that here in Hertfordshire. You do, however, have claim to beauty here that is not seen in Derbyshire." He glanced at his companion out of the side of his vision, trusting she would catch the possible compliment. No lady in his company had ever passed the opportunity to assume compliment.
"Ah, sir, yes. I believe our forests are quite different, and therefore offer a beauty of their own!" Elizabeth smiled at her companion, and he smiled back. Both of them were aware that neither person had said exactly what he or she meant.
Why, I'd swear she heard my double entendre, and is not letting me get the upper hand. Intelligent chit.
"My estate, Pemberley, has forests ancient and new. They produce nuts, berries, and timber, and shelter much game and foul. I believe because there are fewer people, we have more wild beauty there."
"So, you are a country gentleman, sir?"
"I am, indeed. I apologize, Miss Bennet, I should have offered my name. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your service," he stated with a formal bow.
Elizabeth nodded her head, "Mr. Darcy, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
They walked some distance more, changing paths here and there. Mr. Darcy quite believed the girl was leading him down the garden path, as it were, until she suddenly stopped. She turned to him, and smiled.
"Yonder, Netherfield." She pointed through the trees, and he could see the smoke from the great chimneys.
Nodding his head, he smiled again. "Miss Bennet, I am in your debt."
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, and a feeling of mild dread came over him as he waited for her to speak.
"Then, Mr. Darcy, I feel I should collect upon that debt immediately, that it not compound with interest."
And here we have it, thought Mr. Darcy.
"You are going to the Assembly at Meryton?" At his curt nod, she almost laughed. So he believes that I'm going to require the opening dances or some such. Proud man! "I would ask, sir, a small indulgence in a matter that is of some importance to me. At said assembly, indeed in all company, I would ask that you do not even hint that you have ever met me. Show me no favour, indeed, the opposite, if you would. A small amount of coldness in my general direction should suffice. No more than is necessary, of course."
At such an unexpected speech, Darcy could not hide his astonishment. "Miss Bennet, are you asking me to be rude to you?"
"Indeed, as your faithful navigator, I ask this." Seeing his confusion, she decided to give him some more information. "Sir, as you understand, I am one of the Bennets of Longbourn. My sainted parents have five daughters. My mother is rather. . . preoccupied with our marital status. One smile or nod from you, an eligible bachelor from the north, and I will forever be tainted with recriminations as to what I did to turn your eye away from me."
Darcy smiled. "You know, Miss Bennet, I do not believe that I ever confirmed I was unmarried."
Elizabeth blushed. "You did not, sir. But you mentioned everything as only relating to yourself. 'My estate', 'I have come to Netherfield.' I assumed this meant you were unattached. I apologize if this is not the case."
"You are quite right, it is the case. You are also quite observant. I shall take your request under consideration. I can promise not to dance with you - in fact, I quite abhor dancing in general. But I would hope that my general manner is not so rude that it would be dismissed as ordinary for me to be such to you. If it is truly your wish, I shall treat you as if we have never met." Though, I must say, our brief acquaintance has given me more hope for women in general than all of my general experiences of the last decade.
"That, sir, will do splendidly." She smiled, and prepared to take her leave. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy."
"I thank you, Miss Bennet. Although I got off to a rocky start, I am sure I shall."
And when, at that same assembly, Darcy perceived that Elizabeth Bennet could indeed hear his friend inciting him to dance with her, his comments were slightly rude and definitely not complimentary. He watched as her eyes twinkled with merriment, and as she conversed with her friend and they looked casually in his direction, it was a struggle to keep his sombre mask in place.
The gentlemen of Netherfield found time to call upon the family at Longbourn one afternoon for tea. Elizabeth was returning from one of her rambles as the horses came up the lane.
Walking to the gentlemen, she curtsied properly as they dismounted from their horses.
"Good afternoon, welcome to our home! My mother has ordered a fine tea for us all, but I believe that my father has some good port in his study. You may find yourselves more inclined toward matters of the intellect, depending upon your tastes!"
"Miss Bennet!" Bingley was all charm and enthusiasm, smiling as he bowed. "It is good to see you today! We all met so shortly at the assembly these few nights past that I decided to accept your mother's invitation to tea. Pray, are all your family here today?"
Darcy managed to contain his sigh at his friend's enthusiasm. Bingley had obviously found the lady who would occupy his thoughts during his stay at Netherfield - Darcy wondered if this one would last any longer than any of the others, and who would be the injured party in the end. Usually, it was his friend, who, discovering that the girl did not love him at all, merely his money and circumstances, became completely disillusioned with all females. For about one month.
Elizabeth noted the chagrin of the quieter gentleman, but kept the thought to herself. "Yes, sir, please come this way."
When all the greetings had been made, and all the gentlemen were in the sitting room, Elizabeth sat back to watch. Her father had come out of his study to take the opportunity to study how these young men interacted with the sometimes very silly women in his household. His discussion with Bingley about the history of the estate of Netherfield, however, occupied him completely, and had the effect of completely isolating his wife and youngest daughters. They began their own conversation about the assembly while Jane, Bingley, Mr. Bennet, and Mary all spoke of Netherfield.
Darcy turned to Elizabeth as she watched the two disparate groups.
"And may I enquire after your health, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy asked politely.
"I am. . . tolerable, I suppose." Elizabeth teased, with a twinkle in her eye.
Instead of seeing a guilty blush, she saw a muted smile. Only his eyes belied his good humor.
Cheek of the girl. Aloud however, he stated, "You did ask that I should be cold and rude, did you not, Miss Bennet?"
"Mr. Darcy, you were so successful in your endeavour that one would assume it were a natural state of affairs." She said this in such a manner that he was almost certain she was teasing him. Almost. "I must thank you. My mother has said not one word of pairing any of us with you, and will assiduously refrain from ever doing so. For which, I am sure, we are both quite thankful."
The others in the room did not even notice the hushed conversation between Darcy and Elizabeth.
"I must say, your mother pursues the field with an. . . appetite I have not often seen."
Elizabeth chuckled, blushing. Better to laugh at what one cannot control than to suffer eternal embarrassment. "And my two youngest sisters take that as encouragement to behave in the most forward manner they can establish." At this point, Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet were displaying the self-same behavior which so embarrassed Elizabeth. "I sometimes wonder if they do not have a contest betwixt them to see who can act with more frivolity and less decorum." She tried to keep the bitter note out of her voice, but didn't quite manage it.
"Their behavior is no reflection on you, madam." Darcy stated, knowing that this statement was not quite true. But the reward of her arch smile was before him.
"Truly, sir, I hope it is. All the better to scare off an unworthy gentleman. Surely, only the strongest and steadiest regard could hope to face the constant trial that is my family." Elizabeth looked ruefully about her at the general disposition of the room and smiled wistfully.
"You say that as if it is of benefit to you?"
"It is nothing, sir, I spoke my thought aloud, and should not have." A light blush colored her cheek, and this intrigued him more than her statement.
"Why, Miss Bennet, I do believe that you have just declared yourself a romantic!" Mr. Darcy teased her, astonished at the feeling of having bested her in wit.
Perhaps that is why she intrigues me, he thought, she seems to anticipate my words and plan her own response accordingly.
Sighing, Elizabeth looked to the ceiling as if for inspiration. "Sir, I am a romantic if it means that I have no wish to be paraded as chattel in front of eligible gentlemen whose own characters are not at all ascertained. Nothing is more dull than being presented as though a mare at the trading post." She blushed as she said it, partly in embarrassment, partly in anger.
He paused, thoughtfully, then nodded. "Yes, I can understand some consternation if one were to be presented thus. Perhaps, Miss Bennet, you find balls quite to your distaste as I do, then?"
"No, indeed, Mr. Darcy. I adore the company and the dance. I simply like them better when all parties are known quantities, and there is no chance of, shall we say, bartering."
"It affords you, I dare say, a greater variety of entertainment than the general company of Meryton."
"Not all of us prefer to be unsocial and taciturn, Mr. Darcy." Once again, her wicked smile and shining eyes defied him to take insult at her statement, though he perceived the jibe underlying her gentle humour.
"You wound me, Miss Bennet. I must endeavour to demonstrate that I am an eminent conversationalist."
Before he had time to prove such a claim, their private conversation was at a close.
"What say you, Lizzy? Do you think the last tenants of Netherfield were inclined to leave due to the general disposition of the people, the place, or Meryton society?" Mr. Bennet asked.
"I suspect, Papa, that the motives of the inhabitants of Netherfield must always remain an enigma to those of us who look up to that great estate."
As the weeks passed, and various dinner parties, teas, and church services afforded the neighbourhood a better understanding of the new inhabitants (and vice versa), it was well established that Mr. Bingley was an amiable man, and more, he appeared to be taken with Jane Bennet. Mr. Bingley seemed to have inherited all of the grace in that family, however, as the ladies of that house seemed quite displeased with all they saw. Excepting, perhaps, the same Miss Bennet. It might be said that their brother influenced them in this leaning.
Mr. Darcy, however, was more of an unknown quantity. He spoke with intelligence and authority when he bothered to speak at all. It was not that he was openly rude to anyone; neither was he openly friendly. Rather, he seemed to set himself apart from everyone. Society in general did not mind. They thought they were perhaps as well off without his excellent conversation.
Only Elizabeth Bennet seemed to be of a different mind. She was seen to be laughing with the gentleman on several occasions, and was heard discussing all manner of things, from books and music to politics and religion. Because her impertinence and outgoing manner were well known to the neighbourhood, it was assumed she was simply being nice to the gentleman because it was in her nature.
And so it was that the Bennets of Longbourn and the party at Netherfield became friendly acquaintances. When Jane Bennet was invited to dine with the ladies of the Netherfield party, she arrived on horseback. The rain that had accompanied her had weakened her to the extent that she became quite ill over the course of the evening.
(and you know quite well how this part goes. . .)
The early morning was warm, for October, and Darcy was taking advantage of the beautiful autumn day to clear his thoughts with a walk. When he came across Elizabeth Bennet also walking in the Netherfield park, he offered his arm to her.
Smiling, she declined the offer, but happily ambled the grounds with him.
"Is your sister at all improved?"
"Oh, yes, thank you for asking!" The relief was evident in her voice. "Her fever has broken, she has taken some broth, and is now sleeping comfortably."
"You are quite dedicated to her welfare, Miss Bennet," Darcy said companionably.
"Sweet Jane! Who could be anything else?" Elizabeth answered with a smile.
There was an awkward pause before Elizabeth spoke.
"I believe Miss Bingley was looking for you just as I vacated the house. Shall I go inform her of your whereabouts?"
He looked startled at first, then realized she was teasing him. "That will not be necessary, thank you."
They fell into step with each other, rambling quietly in the morning mist.
"It is too bad that you have now become familiar enough with our paths here that you can no longer lose yourself on them," Elizabeth ventured.
"I have no need of such escape, Miss Bennet. A few minutes of solitude were all that was required."
"I once again find myself in the position where I should apologize for interrupting your reverie, sir"
"And, once again, I must admit that you are not an interruption, Miss Bennet," and how true that is. Amazing. He continued, "I only needed to. . . remove myself out of doors. The interior seems to stifle me, and the country air is quite refreshing."
Elizabeth kept to her own thoughts, and a kindred feeling for him came over her. Where I am the livestock to be sold, he is the quarry to be hunted. He walks in a room, and they know his monetary worth before they know his name. And, whilst I have seldom the occasion of being put upon by my mother, he is hunted even in the home of a guest. "Yes, I find the fresh air helps restore ones perspective and good humor."
"As you are a great source of good humor, Miss Elizabeth, I shall take you at your word."
They broke apart shortly after that, the unstated knowledge that they should not arrive back at the house together was evident. Still, Caroline fixed a gimlet eye on Elizabeth when she came upon that young lady in the foyer.
"Are you tramping out of doors again, Miss Eliza?" she asked, with barely concealed contempt.
"Miss Bingley, I was just admiring the morning so that I can take its description to Jane."
"And how is your sister this morning?"
"She is better, I believe."
"It's a pity that we all are going visiting today, then, and as such we will not be able to partake of her company."
Elizabeth felt relieved at knowing she would have some time in the day when she was not monitored by the Superior Sisters.
"We will both be sad to miss the opportunity of your excellent conversation, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth answered with a curtsey and politely removed herself to her sister's room.
After a few companionable hours spent upstairs, Jane sighed deeply. Elizabeth looked up from the play she had been reading aloud.
"What is it, Jane?"
"Lizzy, I feel such a muddle. I would dearly like to remove myself from this room, yet I do not have the strength to go home. I feel such guilt, as recovering here away from Mama, Kitty, and Lydia has been a blessing. But. . ."
"You'd like to see a different environment?" Lizzy prompted with a smile.
"I know you are usually the restless one, Lizzy, but I have been abed for the better part of two days. And yet, I would not appear before our hosts in this condition."
Elizabeth closed the book with a snap. "Well then, Jane, I have a treat for you. The Bingleys have gone to honor a previous engagement, Mr. Darcy has gone out to ride, and I have permission to play the pianoforte. Would you like me to play for you this afternoon? Do you feel well enough to go downstairs?"
Jane's eyes brightened at the prospect. It was so rare these days for Lizzy to play where Jane could hear. The disposition of Longbourn did not afford such an environment, and general parties were not Lizzy's preferred stage.
"I shall play all your favorites, Jane, if I can get my fingers around them."
"Will you play the Moonlight piece for me, Lizzy?"
"I shall endeavour to, Jane."
And so, after wrapping Jane carefully both for propriety and against any potential chill, the two sisters slowly made their way downstairs.
Elizabeth rang for some tea, then, when Jane was settled with a warm cup in her hands, Lizzy started to play. At first, she played simpler pieces from memory - warm, light pieces. Sweet pieces. Then, subtly, she changed the mood and complexity. Finally, when she could resist no more, she played the resounding opening chords of the Beethoven sonata. She had the music in front of her, but she had long since memorized it. From the ponderous, weighty first movement through the playful light second movement, to the intricate flurry of the final movement, Lizzy played, her face displaying the pure pleasure of channelling such beautiful music.
Jane smiled to herself as she listened. Lizzy was not the best player in the world, unless she wanted to be. And then, listening to her was entertainment rarely afforded in Meryton society. Between her enjoyment and Elizabeth's concentration, neither of them heard the footsteps in the hall.
Darcy had returned from his ride, restless still, and not quite knowing what to do about it. Having Elizabeth Bennet in the house had been a dual edged sword. Her company was stimulating in a way he couldn't describe, even to himself. But Caroline's treatment of her bordered on the completely uncivil, and he had yet to find a way to defend Elizabeth without incurring the dreadful teasing on impending nuptials that Caroline was wont to give.
As he passed close to the music room, he was impressed with the quality of the playing that he heard. Caroline was usually technically proficient, but this playing had a depth he had never known her to possess. When he looked into the room, he was not entirely surprised to see Elizabeth Bennet at the keyboard, eyes closed in concentration as she wended her way through the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata.
He had heard Elizabeth play once before at a local gathering. In fact, he had been surprised at her genuine hesitance to play for the crowd, for she was not usually shy or missish. Her talent was apparent, even when she played the light, crowd-pleasing melodies that night. But she had demonstrated nothing of the sheer power she was currently displaying.
Quietly, he retreated to the next room to enjoy the concert unobserved and in peace. He was selfishly glad that Jane Bennet had become ill at Netherfield - Elizabeth was proving to be a caretaker not only for her lovely sister, but for himself and his tired spirit. He could forget the loneliness in his heart since his parents died in her company or while listening to her play.
He would be sorry to leave her behind.
When the final notes of the final movement echoed to nothing, Jane put down her cool teacup and smiled.
"Ah, Lizzy, it has been too long."
"Yes, Jane." Elizabeth fondly folded the music to take back to Jane's room. "It's always so. . . wild at home. I do not think Ludwig would approve."
"Lizzy. . ." Jane laughed, quietly. Elizabeth rose and went to help Jane back up to her feet. Darcy listened to their quiet conversation with a smile on his lips.
"You know, father would not be pleased with your choice of pieces, Jane." Elizabeth admonished with a smile.
"Nonsense, Lizzy. He doesn't mind you playing the Beethoven, he just hates the mood you're in afterward. That's why he sent the music here."
"Yes, it does affect me so… and now I shall read poetry to you badly all evening because I'm so peevish!"
The two sisters slowly walked back to Jane's room, while the gentleman let himself into the room and sat, observing the now empty piano bench.
Fitzwilliam Darcy smiled upon seeing Elizabeth Bennet rambling through the woods surrounding Longbourn. It was a blustery, late November day. He had decided to traverse the paths around Netherfield one last time; he did not admit at the time that it was in hope of seeing her.
"And so, we find ourselves together again. I can guess why you have escaped your father's house, Miss Bennet."
Had I not done so, sir, I believe my mother's unceasing tongue lashing would have induced me to becoming Mrs. Collins - a state which would surely be worse than anything I can imagine. Aloud, though, she admitted nothing. "Oh, no, sir. I am simply enjoying the cool morning air. I understand that Mr. Bingley has left the country?"
"Yes, he had an urgent matter of business that took him to town."
"And the rest of your party?"
"His sisters are to follow tomorrow. I shall most likely do the same."
"We shall miss your company, sir. Meryton does not often have such interesting diversions."
"I find, Miss Bennet, that although I had some reservation about coming to Hertfordshire, I have enjoyed my time here greatly."
"It pleases me that it is so."
"Unfortunately, I have urgent business and my own estate to see to. Until we meet again, I wish you well in your effort to avoid the trading post, Miss Elizabeth."
"And I wish you well, sir, in avoiding the Caroline Bingley's of the world," she stated with an arched eyebrow. "I'd hate to see your form stuffed and mounted on her mantel."
Darcy threw back his head and laughed. "Yes, I suppose I have looked rather hunted several times that you've seen me, madam."
"Yet, sir, like the cunning fox, you have prevailed."
His eyes grew wistful. "I shall not always do so. I do wish I could find a way to make it all stop without having to marry one of the proper, dignified ladies of my circle." From the way he said proper and dignified, Elizabeth knew his comments were not meant to be complimentary.
"We could save each other, you know," He suggested, jokingly. "You and I. I would be free from the huntresses, and I believe my income should be sufficient to keep your mother satisfied. And would that not confound society!"
Elizabeth laughed, never admitting to herself that the offer was something a small part of her heart leapt at. "Ah, sir, but you know me to be a romantic. Only the truest, deepest affection will induce me to matrimony. And as you've stated that I am not of your preference - not tempting, I believe was the phrasing - you will have to accept my polite refusal."
"Well, then, shall we stay friendly acquaintances?"
"Should the occasion ever arise that we meet again, Mr. Darcy, I should be proud to count you as a friend."
She curtsied; he bowed, fondly kissed her gloved hand, and turned to walk back to Netherfield one last time. Neither of them were satisfied with the way their conversation had turned out.
The months of winter passed quickly in Hertfordshire. Charlotte Lucas' wedding to Mr. Collins was planned and executed. And, although his sisters had indicated the possibility was remote, Charles Bingley returned to Netherfield in time to enjoy the Christmas season. He presented himself to Mr. Bennet in hopes of courting the eldest Miss Bennet, and was heartily accepted by both father and daughter as a suitor.
As a result, Elizabeth found herself at a loose end. Her best friend had removed from the area with her new husband, and Jane was preoccupied with her beau. When Charlotte invited Elizabeth to accompany Charlotte's sister, Maria, on a visit to Kent - Charlotte actually entreated Lizzy as a friend to come - Elizabeth felt she should accept. She had a good idea exactly who Charlotte had married, and she knew if she had been in the same position, she would want the comfort of close friends, also.
After she had been in Kent for a week, and had been condescended upon by the patroness of her cousin, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh, she was surprised to hear that their intimate party was soon to expand in number. In fact, two of the great Lady's nephews, one of whom was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire, would be visiting her residence, Rosings, and would provide much needed elegant company for the lady and her daughter.
As was expected, the invitations to Rosings dwindled with the influx of honoured guests. But, not a day after their arrival, the two gentlemen called upon the Collins' house.
Elizabeth welcomed Mr. Darcy with a warm smile and curtsey and expressed a cordial, sincere greeting to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
As Charlotte served them tea, Darcy sat back and watched Elizabeth Bennet converse with his cousin. He watched her manner as he had so often done in the past, realizing once again how much he had missed hearing her laugh, watching her eyes dance, or being the recipient of the one sly, arching eyebrow of mischief.
Elizabeth recognized that Darcy was watching her, again, with a friendly eye. She knew she confused him. She knew he thought of her as a good friend, a comrade, as it were. But since he had left Hertfordshire, she had come to realize that she thought of him as more than that. He was a good man, an intelligent man, and a very, very handsome man. She liked his voice, his eyes, his smile. She liked him. Very much. And being so near him, knowing that he thought of her only as a friend, had an unsettling affect on her disposition.
She and the Colonel talked of things military - she had learned much from regular meetings with Colonel Fosters militia. They talked of books and art and finally music.
"I do hope, Miss Bennet, that you shall play for us at Rosings. Even my aunt has mentioned that her evenings of late have been made more pleasant by your performances."
"Well, Colonel, one must do what one can to… lighten the atmosphere after a dinner at Rosings. Even though I am but an adequate player, I do my best."
He laughed heartily. "Yes, and play, no matter how ill, is preferable to some conversation, is it not?"
Darcy chose that moment to intervene, "That may be correct, Richard, but Miss Bennet does herself a disservice. Her playing is most definitely not ill. I have heard her play a number of times, and it has always given pleasure to those who listen."
"Yes, Lizzy, you play quite well for crowds, though you abhor it," Charlotte added.
Elizabeth's brows had drawn into a knot. Mr. Darcy had only heard her play once, to her knowledge. She studiously tried to avoid playing in public, and used her lack of practice to plead to a lack of skill. In truth, she was uncomfortable playing for others.
Fitzwilliam, though, saw her look, and took it for a reluctance to play.
"Miss Bennet, I understand my aunt has invited your party to dinner Tuesday evening. I would be quite happy if you would play that evening. It would be an honour to hear you."
Elizabeth smiled sweetly and sighed in resignation, "Then you shall, Colonel. . ." She looked in Darcy's direction, to find him studying her yet again, with a quizzical look on his brow.
Conversation turned back to general subjects, and before long, the gentlemen took their leave.
Elizabeth walked the park every morning, and often, as she had in the past, she met with Mr. Darcy on her ambles. On one such occasion, he asked of her sister, and smiled when he related his own friend's ecstatic letter upon being accepted as that young lady's suitor.
They quickly fell back into an easy friendship which was, unbeknownst to each, quite dissatisfying to the other. But each resolved that amiability was better than discord, and hid his or her true feelings. Elizabeth took his friendship as she, daughter of a low-born gentleman, could, and Darcy took her friendship as a sign that she wanted nothing more from him.
The days passed quickly and soon Tuesday night was upon them. Elizabeth ascended the steps to Rosings with trepidation in her heart. If Lady Catherine saw even one ounce of familiarity betwixt Elizabeth and Darcy, she would not hesitate to call it out and correct it. She was a very forward woman, and it promised to be a very uncomfortable evening.
After a long, tense dinner, in which only Lady Catherine, Elizabeth, and Fitzwilliam spoke (with small, appeasing rejoinders from Mr. Collins), the company retired to the parlour.
"Miss Bennet, it would be quite correct for you to supply us with entertainment this evening. You play well enough, I suppose, though you certainly should practice more."
Lizzy managed not to laugh at such pomposity.
She sat down on the piano stool, and Fitzwilliam asked if he might turn pages for her.
After playing a few pieces she knew from memory, Elizabeth managed to read her way through some of the pieces before her on the piano. When she finished the last of these, she looked up to see Mr. Darcy extending a piece of music to her.
"What about this piece?" He placed Beethoven's Pathétique before her. Elizabeth's eyes warmed, and then she looked at Darcy, who had put the piece in front of her. In his eyes was a challenge. She suddenly knew when he had heard her play - it was when she had played at Netherfield. She remembered playing Beethoven then, and realized, as she hadn't at the time, that it was her growing feelings for him that inspired her to play with such passion.
Looking back down at the music, she knew what she was about to do. She would meet his challenge fearlessly- she would play everything he made her feel.
After the first, brash chords, silence fell over the other people in the room. Then, when she started to play the Allegro section, her fingers fairly flying over the keyboard, even Lady Catherine could not hold in her shock.
Elizabeth played the piece flawlessly. The passages were both technically correct and emotionally brilliant. She wound through the technically impossible and the playful rondo with equal clarity and feeling. Whether the notes were loud or quiet, playful or ponderous, they were played with skill and emotion that could not be ignored.
When she played the final chords, there was total, stunned silence.
"I believe I have shocked even your Aunt into silence, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth whispered. Then, she asked more loudly, and with a grin, "What say you, have I earned my supper, Colonel?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at her, silent, for a short moment, then chuckled, shaking his head. "I thought you said you play ill, Miss Bennet. But I do not believe I have heard that played better."
"Beethoven is an exception, sir. To play Beethoven incorrectly is to incur the wrath of the gods." Elizabeth smiled.
At this point, Lady Catherine had overcome her initial shock. "I do not approve of all this romantic playing, Miss Bennet. You should play only music that is fit for the female composure. This was too much."
"Lady Catherine," injected Mr. Collins, "please excuse my cousin. She only intended, I am sure, to please you with her playing."
"Yes, yes, as she should, but such a display! I am sure that if I ever played, I would not make such a spectacle. With such. . . debasing music as this. Why, it was positively primitive!"
"I do not think that Miss Bennet shares your opinion of Herr Beethoven's work, Lady Catherine. She believes him to be quite superior to other composers." Darcy said with a small smile, not taking his eyes from Elizabeth. Indeed he had watched her face through the entire performance, and it had been a revelation.
"Indeed? What of Mozart, Miss Bennet, What of Bach? Insolent girl, on what do you base this opinion?"
"Yes, Miss Bennet, why Beethoven?" asked the Colonel.
Elizabeth smiled, "Bach is technically brilliant. Mozart is intricate and takes one to the heights of the sky and the depths of despair… But Beethoven," her eyes became dreamy, "Beethoven is. . . his work is profound. It is full of gravity. It. . . reminds one that. . . one breathes." Her eyes cleared, and a smile returned to them. "Now, declare me silly, as you certainly shall, after that speech."
"At least you have sense enough to admit, Miss Bennet, that such sentiment is pure frivolity," stated Lady Catherine, and with that, she felt enough attention had been paid to the young lady and immediately changed the subject.
The rest of the evening was passed more quietly, as Elizabeth had tired of entertaining the group. Beethoven had done his work, as before, and her mood was quite introspective. With this source of conversation gone, the group disbanded rather quickly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy escorted the four guests to wait for the carriage; the Colonel gallantly escorting Maria and Mr. Darcy quietly walking beside Elizabeth. He said nothing as he handed her up into the carriage, but his dark, unfathomable eyes followed her until she was out of sight.
Once again, Elizabeth woke early feeling restless. She would be leaving Kent in two days, and found herself of two minds about returning home. For as much as she longed to be away from Mr. Collins, the thought of leaving another gentleman behind was most distressing.
Deciding that a walk was needed to improve her mood, she headed to her favourite grove. She was not surprised to find the gentleman who so preoccupied her thoughts walking toward her. However, she was surprised to see a satisfied smile on his face.
"You certainly look well-pleased, Mr. Darcy."
"I have solved a mystery," he stated, calmly. And I've come to a resolution. As I've found you here, it seems fate approves of my choice.
He held his arm out to her, and, though she knew she should not, she wound her own through his. She knew it wasn't proper to be walking thusly with him - at least she knew the intent in her heart was not proper. But this would likely be the last time she would see him, if not ever, then for a long time. The regret she had felt at parting with him in Hertfordshire had surprised her. This parting would be almost painful. And so, she clung to his arm, knowing that was all he would ever offer.
They walked slowly through the grove.
Sighing, she decided to continue their polite conversation. "What mystery have you solved, if I may be so bold to ask?"
"The mystery of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's ill playing," he answered, smugly.
Elizabeth stopped suddenly and looked up in his face, her eyebrows arched. This was not at all what she had expected. "What mystery do you believe is therein, sir?"
He looked into her face silently for a minute, still smiling, then turned to start their walk again. "You profess to play ill, and yet obviously do not. I have seen you when asked to play in company, and each time you are genuinely hesitant. Yet, I have seen you play in private, and I know how much pleasure you derive from doing so. So I listened to you play the Moonlight, and I watched you play Pathétique. And I think I have solved the mystery."
Their pace slowed, and Elizabeth found herself looking up at him, wondering just what he thought he had learned. She was both afraid and excited. If he knew of her regard for him, it would be embarrassing, but in a way it would be a relief.
"When you play, you show your very soul. It is not the impression you wish to present the general public with: the impertinent, charming, witty Lizzy. Instead, it is the profound, sometimes grave Elizabeth who is revealed." The passionate Elizabeth. My Elizabeth. "You hide her away from the world. And when you play, we see her. It leaves you bare."
He had read her so well. She did not fathom how he could know her so well. Yet, he did. She pulled away from him and leaned on one of the great oaks of Rosings, trying to understand how he could know her so well, and not at all. When she thought her heart could break no more at the sight of him, she suddenly discovered how much more she could ache for him.
He saw her confusion, and knew the source. Walking to her, he placed his hand upon her cheek.
"I asked you once, Miss Bennet, if you would marry me. We both thought it rather a joke at the time, but no sooner had my request and your refusal left our lips than a part of me knew I wanted it to be real."
She bowed her head and walked a few steps from him. He pitied her, and now would renew his proposal out of that pity and a desire to… how did he put it?... confound society. And her already bruised heart would break, knowing she loved him and that love was not returned in full.
Knowing this, she steeled herself. "The reason for my refusal remains, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe that running away from anything constitutes a good reason for matrimony."
He stood his ground, watching her. "I have spent all my time since the ball at Netherfield running away. Running away from you, and what you have come to mean to me. You are witty and intelligent. I never know what you will say, only that I need to hear what you will say. The empty echoes of my mind asking myself, 'How would Elizabeth react?' are simply not enough for me anymore."
She stopped and looked up at him, then shook her head, and moved back to the tree. He missed her, which was something. But it would never be enough.
"I am sure you have many other advisors and friends, sir."
Darcy then moved close to her, boxing her in, forcing her to listen. He put his gloved hand under her chin and gently encouraged her to look in his eye. What he saw there, the pain and the pleading, let him understand that he was not alone in his misery at their parting. She loved him, he was sure.
"You will not accept until I bare all?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Then understand, madam, that you have done me a terrible injustice. Before I met you, I was utterly alone, and content to be so. You have wakened my mind to possibilities I did not think could exist. You have exposed me to something, Elizabeth. You have exposed me to the possibility of joy. I know I could very well go back to my frozen existence. But I do not know how I would do more than just exist, without you. You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I adore you."
Tears streamed down her face, yet he would not yield her eyes. He stepped in closer.
"Marry me, Elizabeth." His voice was a rasp now. "Say you will marry me and make my cold, lonely heart whole again."
"Yes, oh, yes, William" She smiled through her tears, and he closed his eyes briefly, saying a prayer of thanks. Leaning his head down to hers, he cradled her cheeks gently between his hands, and rested his forehead on hers.
Raising his lips, he reverently kissed her hair. He heard her whisper, "I love you so."
He smiled into her dark tresses.
His Elizabeth. For all time.