Page 12 of Undone

"Mr. Darcy has decided I am not handsome enough to tempt him into dancing."

Charlotte laughed outright in shock, then her expression gave way to one of open curiosity. "He said that?"

"I heard it with my own ears, and I daresay others standing near him heard it too."

"The whole room already thinks him proud," Charlotte said. "Two sets, and he has not danced a single one."

Elizabeth presently allowed herself to laugh in earnest, and before another minute had passed, she had almost persuaded herself the gentleman's opinion signified nothing at all.

The third set began soon after, and the evening resumed its usual bustle. Yet, once before it ended, Elizabeth's eyes wandered, almost in spite of herself, towards the place where Mr. Darcy still stood. He remained where she had last seen him, his attention seeming as far removed from the assembly as it had been all evening.

Whatever burden the gentleman carried, Elizabeth concluded, it had done little to improve either his spirits or his manners. Before the evening was over, she suspected the greater part of Meryton had arrived at much the same opinion.

Six

Oakham Mount

16th October, 1811

Darcy

Since arriving in Hertfordshire, the farthest Darcy had ventured was the east end of Netherfield's gardens. There had been no occasion to go farther, for he had found there all the solitude he wanted, the household, Bingley excepted, having settled quickly into the habit of leaving him to himself. Following the events of the previous evening, however, he rode out that morning with no particular destination in mind, only a restlessness that made the house, and everyone presently within it, intolerable to remain near.

He had lain awake a considerable while turning over the look upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet's face as she walked away from him, and had found no version of the memory that improved upon repetition. He had spoken more harshly than he believed any gentleman ought. It was true the remark had been intended for Bingley's ears alone. His friend had only sought to persuade him towards an acquaintance Darcy had resolved, before ever entering the assembly, not to encourage. Yet the discouragement had not been meant for Bingley alone. The recollection of Miss Harwood, followed too closely by Miss Harper, remained too fresh in his mind for him to risk encouraging another attachment. If distance could spare Miss Elizabeth Bennet whatever misfortune had attended the others, then distance was the kinder course.

He had never intended her to overhear him. That distinction, however, afforded little comfort. Whatever his reasons, he had wounded an innocent lady, and no private justification lessened the impropriety of it.

The remainder of the night had been spent upon another question altogether.

Who was the unseen enemy who had worked so quietly against him these past five years?

He had spent no small part of the night searching his memory for anyone who might reasonably wish him ill. A handful of names presented themselves only to be discarded almost at once. Minor disputes. Old resentments. Injured pride. None possessed the weight to explain what Grey believed had been done, nor what Darcy himself had begun to fear.

One name, more than any other, lingered in his thoughts. Yet even that refused to satisfy him. By his own reckoning, these reverses had begun some five years before, though he had not thought to connect them until scarcely six months ago. The gentleman he now found himself considering had not, at that time, been anything approaching an enemy.

Men quarrelled. They did not ordinarily make a life's work of another man's ruin.

It was with this unfinished reckoning still turning in his mind that Darcy rose before the household was properly stirring and called for his horse. He wanted nothing so much as to be out of the house and away from his own thoughts, though he carried the greater part of them with him regardless.

For the better part of an hour he gave his horse its head, paying little attention to the road. Left to its own inclination, the animal carried him some considerable distance from Netherfield along a track he did not recognise.

At length the land began to rise. He drew rein before a low, grassy hill standing somewhat apart from the gentler countryaround it. On an impulse he dismounted, left his horse to crop the grass at the foot of the slope, and began to climb. If the summit offered nothing more than a wider view of the countryside, it might at least place some distance, however illusory, between himself and everything he had left behind at the house.

The morning was clear enough that the effort rewarded him. Hertfordshire spread out beneath him in every direction, hedgerows dividing broad fields, church spires rising above clusters of trees, and the smoke of distant chimneys curling quietly into the autumn air. None of it was familiar. None of it cared in the least for the troubles he had brought with him.

He stood for some time with his hands clasped behind his back, allowing the breeze to cool the weariness a sleepless night had left upon him. He had very nearly persuaded himself the climb had been worth the trouble when footsteps sounded upon the path below.

A figure appeared, ascending with the brisk, unhesitating step of someone well acquainted with the ground and wholly unaware of the company awaiting her.

She looked up.

Then stopped.

There was no mistaking her, even at that distance, and Darcy felt something tighten within him that had nothing to do with the climb. For one brief moment he imagined she might turn back rather than continue towards him.

She did not.

Instead, she came steadily onwards, her chin held with quiet resolution, until only a few paces separated them.