“I certainly have more reasons than I am willing to admit. You are just being too kind. You have read the letter, I assume?”
The answer came after a brief hesitation.
“I have. I struggled with my conscience after the first line and attempted to stop reading…but I could not. I know that was most ungentlemanly on my part, but I cannot lie to you.”
“Yes, I remember you saying that disguise of every sort is your abhorrence.”
He frowned. “I did once say that, but since then, I have disguised my feelings several times — something I am not proud of. Still, I never chose a lie over the truth just because it was easier.”
“I assumed as much…” She glanced at the letter, then at him. He was still holding it out so she could take it.
“Since you have already read it, you may as well keep it, if you wish. Though you would do better to throw it into the fire.”
Mr. Darcy’s gaze held hers with quiet intensity. “I would like that very much. To keep it, not to throw it into the fire. But it is not for me to decide.”
Even against her better judgment, some impulse — curiosity, perhaps, or the strange pull of the moment — compelled her. “You may keep it,” she murmured, dumbfounded by her own words. “It is only fair since I have your letter to keep.”
He seemed pleased, a subtle smile softening his stern features. “I thank you. You may of course throwmyletter into the fire if you so prefer.”
“I certainly do not prefer that,” she answered, surprised by his suggestion. Again, he seemed pleased with her answer.
“Then…do you have any questions regarding its contents?”
“I have many,” Elizabeth admitted, her voice gaining strength, “yet I am not prepared to speak of them at present. For now, I can only offer my apologies for the unfair accusations I laid at your door. They were unjust, and I regret them deeply.”
“No apologies are needed, Miss Bennet. I stand ready to answer whatever questions you may have, whenever you feel equal to addressing them.”
“Likewise,” she said, a spark of her former wit returning, “if you have any regarding mine. Though I wonder when either of us might find the opportunity since you are to leave Kent today and we are not likely to meet again soon, if ever.”
Why in the world did I mention that?She could not comprehend it. It was too bold a statement since his travelling plans should not be her concern.
Mr. Darcy smiled then — a rare, genuine expression that transformed his countenance. “I shall not depart just yet. Anne’shealth has declined, and we must determine the best course for her care.”
Their eyes met briefly in the soft morning light. Elizabeth could not explain the glimpse she saw in his dark gaze, nor the strange sensation that fluttered in her stomach. It was most inconvenient, this stirring of feelings that often overwhelmed her and she could not control.
“Yes, I heard…about Miss de Bourgh. We all pray for her and hope she will make a complete recovery soon.”
“So do we. Until we see signs of improvement, we cannot depart. So perhaps more opportunities will arise for further clarification. I know this spot is one of your favourites.”
“It is… I try to come here every morning when I have no other fixed engagements.”
He nodded, and their eyes locked again, though only briefly.
“I must return to Rosings now, Miss Bennet.”
“I must return too. My cousin insists on punctuality. I believe he learnt that from your aunt.”
He offered a slight smile, then bowed and took his leave, while she remained rooted to the path, her heart a tumult of wonder and uncertainty.
Unlike the previous nights, the solitude of her chamber brought Elizabeth a measure of calm at last. The morning’s encounter with Mr. Darcy lingered in her thoughts, not as a source of fresh agitation but as a curious revelation that invited reflection rather than criticism.
Standing in front of the open window, she replayed their conversation in her mind with a clarity born of restful consideration: his composed demeanour, the quiet intensity with which he had returned her ill-fated letter, and his generous offer to answer whatever questions she might pose. That he should wish to keep such a document — her own unguarded effusion of self-reproach — spoke of a generosity she had notexpected from the proud gentleman she had once so thoroughly disliked. Once? So did she not dislike him any longer? No, probably not. But she still had much to condemn him for. Particularly separating Jane from Mr. Bingley; he had broken Jane’s heart and ruined her felicity, and for that, Elizabeth would never forgive him.
But, in all fairness, Mr. Bingley’s behaviour had not been flawless either. If he truly held Jane in regard, if his admiration for her was as deep and strong as Jane deserved, he would not have been so easily deterred from his promise to return to Netherfield. Even if he had trusted his friend’s opinion about Jane not returning his feelings, a gentleman should at least want to be certain, to find proof of that claim. After all, he had been at Netherfield for less than two months; in such a short time, he could hardly be sure of his own feelings, let alone those of a young lady he had just met. Nobody was forcing him to propose to Jane, to enter into a marriage about which he was not certain. But if he considered Jane worthy of his affection, he should have tried harder to win hers! If he allowed his friend and sisters to persuade him so easily, perhaps Mr. Bingley was not the man Jane deserved. Being handsome and amiable was not enough to define a man’s worth — something she had learnt recently in a painful way.
How will Mr. Darcy alter his plans? Elizabeth wondered, gazing out towards the place where their paths had crossed.
He had appeared calm, civil, even with a hint of warmth, utterly changed from that day at the personage and the night that had followed. She had expected him to treat her with resentment and arrogance, to avoid her during the remainder of his stay. Yet he had called the previous day with the colonel — probably to allow her the chance to ask his cousin for proof to support the claims in his letter. And that morning, he had purposely waited for her one more time.