Page 20 of Bitterness of Spirit

“Perhaps, but it was so long ago that I have forgotten. Well, the time for laughing has ended anyway. There is Rosings Park.”

Conversation ceased as the carriage turned in at the lane towards the manor. Darcy’s thoughts galloped faster than the horses. His face remained unmoved, but his heart was already laughing. Elizabeth was somewhere around, closer with every passing moment, and he might meet her smiling eyes at any instant.

He had not seen her in four months, but her image remained as vivid as ever. The sharp ache in his chest reminded him how much he missed her while the cold thrill that travelled down his spine betrayed his fearful eagerness for allowing her into his life again.

***

The following days brought few changes to Hunsford. Sir William returned to Hertfordshire in less than a week but not before enjoying the privilege of a most engaging dinner at Rosings, of which he spoke for weeks to everyone in Meryton.

Maria became the shadow of her sister or Elizabeth, too frightened by the notion of encountering Lady Catherine to venture anywhere alone.

In the morning, they all had breakfast together. Then Mr. Collins moved either to the library, anticipating a glimpse of Lady Catherine or her daughter, or into the garden with the same purpose. He was rarely in the house except for meal times, and all the ladies were pleased with the arrangement.

Charlotte had indeed turned the house into a pleasant home. She was busy all day with her duties as mistress of the household and the parish, and Elizabeth enjoyed watching her. She seemed pleased with her new life and succeeded in making the best of it. The price of having a pompous, ridiculous fool as a husband seemed worthwhile for the former Miss Lucas, and Elizabeth slowly learned to accept her friend’s choice.

Someone else also captured Elizabeth’s interest. Her short meeting with Miss de Bourgh affected Elizabeth more than she expected. After noon, she found a few minutes to escape outside alone. Curiosity and self-blame made her search for Miss de Bourgh again and find her in the same solitary area of wilderness. To her astonishment, her presence was met with a little smile and an invitation to sit together on the blanket.

For three days in a row, they spent half an hour together. They did not speak much, as Anne had little to say; she had seen and done little in her five and twenty years. She often mentioned her cousins Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam and at times even Miss Darcy—for whom she had nothing but praise.

Elizabeth also spoke little. About Mr. Darcy and the colonel, she either had a different opinion or none at all. Of Miss Darcy, she had only heard from Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham, but neither name could be mentioned to Miss de Bourgh. Then they discussed the gardens, the weather, and a few books they both had read.

By the end of the fourth day, they were both startled by the sound of a carriage approaching. The carriage stopped at the main gate, and two gentlemen stepped out.

Anne’s face coloured in surprise, and she rose to her feet in haste, brushing her hands over her gown and hair.

“Fitzwilliam and Richard have arrived. I should go home.”

Elizabeth followed her, but Anne turned and said with obvious distress, “Miss Bennet, would you mind if I leave you now? My mother is not at home, but she will return shortly. We expected them in the afternoon—my cousins, I mean.”

Elizabeth smiled at such unnecessary turmoil. “Of course you should go and welcome them. Have a good day, Miss de Bourgh.”

“Miss Bennet, I thank you for these lovely meetings. I hope I shall see you again soon.”

“Likewise,” Elizabeth responded; then each walked in her own direction.

However, a calling voice made her turn. Anne had also stopped after a short distance as the two gentlemen hurried towards them. The colonel—whom Elizabeth did not know—was in front while Darcy followed less hurriedly.

She stood, uncertain what to do. Miss de Bourgh had expressed her clear desire of separating, but the gentleman was calling her name again—a rather improper approach for a complete stranger.

The gentlemen approached; the colonel briefly took his cousin’s hands, kissed her cheeks, and then bowed to Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet, is it not? I am Colonel Fitzwilliam. Forgive me for this improper introduction. Darcy has spoken of you frequently and quite highly, and I was anxious to meet you. It is fortunate that we spotted you here.”

His voice was as easy as his countenance. His words were supported by the genuine delight on his pleasant face. Elizabeth responded with a warm smile and a proper curtsy. “I am happy to meet you, Colonel, even if the introduction was less than proper. Such conduct likely bothers Mr. Darcy more than us.” She glanced at the named gentleman over the colonel’s shoulder. Darcy’s expression was as stern and aloof as ever.

“Miss Bennet. It is a pleasure to see you again,” he said briefly.

“Mr. Darcy…”

“I hope your family is in good health?”

“They are, sir. Very well, thank you.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he concluded then turned his attention to his cousin Anne.

Shortly, the colonel proved to Elizabeth that arrogance and icy pride did not run in the family—or at least not in the entirety of it. Mr. Darcy resembled Lady Catherine, Elizabeth noticed with amusement. He was equally handsome, impressive, and intimidating but less ridiculous in praising himself and his property.

The colonel was quite the opposite, and the little while they spent together encouraged Elizabeth that the rest of her stay in Kent would improve.