Coincidence Page 7

  “Bearable, sir?” asked Elizabeth. “I had thought you were in the company of your dearest relations. Is that not a reason to be cheerful?”

  The face Mr. Darcy made told Elizabeth all she needed to know about his feelings concerning his family—or at least those who lived at Rosings. “Unfortunately, visiting my aunt is more often a duty than a pleasure. Fitzwilliam and I get on with Anne quite well, but as you can probably imagine, visiting Lady Catherine carries its own brand of frustrations. She is my mother’s sister, and for that alone I respect her. But there is little affection between us. Lady Catherine prefers to keep those in her family at arm’s length, though she enjoys having us nearby to do her bidding.”

  “While I am sorry to hear it, I suppose it is not precisely surprising to me, sir.”

  “Knowing how observant you are, I would not have thought it would be.” Then he watched her for a few moments, making Elizabeth feel decidedly uncomfortable, before he once again spoke. “Let us not speak of such subjects. Come, I am certain you must have much to say about books. Shall we not discuss them now?”

  It was with something akin to regret that Elizabeth demurred. “I am sorry, sir, but I truly should return to the parsonage. I am certain that Mrs. Collins will be wondering what has become of me.”

  “I understand Miss Bennet.” Mr. Darcy stopped and looked around, noting no one nearby in the depths of the woods. “I believe that we are not at all far distant from the parsonage. I will readily escort you if you would like.”

  Recognizing his reluctance at once and agreeing with it—Elizabeth had no more desire to draw Lady Catherine’s attention than was Mr. Darcy—she readily assured him that she had walked alone many times, and was quite capable of making her own way back to her cousin’s house.

  “In fact, I know this path so well, I believe I could walk it blindfolded. It is my favorite in the vicinity, after all.”

  “And well do I know it,” replied Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth peered at him, but she could not say whether he had taken the hint. If he continued to meet her here, regardless of her continued reminders that she frequented the area, she might begin to think that he was seeking her out, preposterous as the mere thought might seem!

  “Then I will bid you could day,” said Mr. Darcy, tipping his cap. “May you have a pleasant afternoon.”

  With a curtsey, Elizabeth turned away and began walking back toward the parsonage, her mind a jumble of thoughts. But though she could make little sense of them, one thing she noticed. After she had walked some minutes, she chanced a glance behind her, and she noted that Mr. Darcy had not moved from the place in which she had left him. He stood there, watching her.

  It was difficult, Darcy decided, to know what a woman was thinking. Though Darcy thought he was coming to know Miss Elizabeth Bennet quite well, still the true state of her emotions evaded him. Darcy thought that he had begun to pierce the blanket of disdain which she harbored for him, but it was difficult to tell. His history with her showed that he was not at all qualified to know for certain—after all, in Hertfordshire, he had never caught even a glimpse of her dislike.

  How he would be able to determine whether she was receptive to his addresses Darcy was not certain, but his decision to seek her out seemed to have been inspired. If she was thawing a little to him, more time in her company, allowing himself to shed a little more of his reserve with her, could not help but improve her opinion of him. At least he hoped it would. Being the target of Miss Bennet’s contempt was exquisite torture, and he wondered what it would be like to inspire feelings of a more . . . passionate nature.

  As she walked away, he watched her, noting in his own mind that his admiration on a purely physical level was not lacking in any way. She was petite, unlike her elder sister who was taller, but she was graceful and womanly, and her figure presented itself to best advantage while walking.

  Darcy snorted at the thought. Though he agreed but little with Miss Bingley, he found that he could not dispute the truth of her words spoken in the sitting-room at Netherfield Park. But whereas the woman had no doubt intended to draw his eyes to her, his only interest that night had been Miss Bennet, and he was certain Miss Bingley had understood that fact.

  When Miss Bennet finally walked out of sight, Darcy turned, though with hesitation, and made his way down the path, hardly knowing to where his feet were taking him as he walked through the groves of Rosings. Though he hardly knew what he was doing, he knew now that he could not let Miss Bennet go. He would change her opinion of him or he would make the attempt at the very least.

  Arriving back at Rosings brought him no relief, though he managed to avoid Lady Catherine, which he would not consider anything other than a fortunate circumstance. Knowing that his aunt would not venture to the study, he settled in there, though he truly had nothing to do other than think about Miss Bennet. The work of the estate he came to do each year had already been completed—or at least as much as Lady Catherine would allow him to complete. The rest . . . well, he had decided long ago that there was simply no purpose in trying to persuade the woman to his opinion. She held fast to her own beliefs more tightly than anyone he knew.

  It was in this attitude that Fitzwilliam found him some half an hour later. The cousins, being very close and having visited Rosings together the past three years, were aware of the other’s habits, and both eager to avoid their aunt. Fitzwilliam entered the room carrying a few sheets of paper, and after greeting Darcy, he sat himself down on a nearby chair.

  “I have received a response from my father,” said Fitzwilliam.

  Darcy set down the book he had picked up to provide a distraction from his thoughts. “And what does he say?”

  “It is most unlike him,” said Fitzwilliam, and while Darcy could see he was attempting to give the impression of being serious, in fact he was projecting his typical insouciance. “His language is usually voluminous when he writes, but I dare say this letter is downright terse.”

  “Oh?” asked Darcy.

  “He begins by stating his annoyance at being roused from his customary intrigues in parliament, but I shall not sport with your impatience by reading his words. Instead, he suggests that he has thought on Anne’s situation in detail of late, and he is concerned at what we have uncovered. He asks us to wait until he can excuse himself from London, when he will make his way here to investigate the matter.”

  “Does he give any indication as to how long it will be before he arrives?”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head. “No, but I suspect it will not be long. He does compliment us on bringing the matter to his attention, though there is a suggestion that the family has avoided angering Lady Catherine too long, and therefore have failed Anne. The general tone of the letter suggests that he will not wait long, and that when he arrives, he will take his sister to task.”

  Considering the matter for a moment, Darcy could only shake his head. If Anne’s situation was as bad as they all suspected, then Darcy suspected there was more than enough blame to go around the family.

  “Then it is likely for the best that we do not mention his coming to Aunt Catherine. I cannot imagine she would be happy to learn of the reason.”

  “That, my dear cousin, is an understatement.” Fitzwilliam rubbed his hands together with what Darcy thought was an almost indecent measure of glee. “I find that I cannot wait until my father arrives. The thought of Lady Catherine receiving a most deserved set down is most intriguing.”

  Darcy only shook his head. Trust Fitzwilliam to espouse such sentiments.

  Chapter VI

  It was during the following days that Darcy’s resolve firmed, and he began the campaign to be in Miss Bennet’s company as much as he could contrive. Unwilling as he was to give her up without fighting for her regard, the only way to improve her opinion was to ensure she saw the more congenial side of him, and to do that, he needed to put himself in her company as often as he possibly could.

  The question, of course, was how
to accomplish that without seeming like a love-struck suitor. She would not believe that portrayal of him, and might even think him struck with some illness of the mind. Those residing at the parsonage were invited to dinner on a frequent basis, allowing Darcy to be in company with her, but that was not ideal given Lady Catherine’s presence. His aunt’s reaction should she even see a hint of a preference for Miss Bennet was not even to be considered. He could continue to visit the parsonage, both in the company of Fitzwilliam and alone, but those visits were naught but a half an hour in duration, and Mrs. Collins was also usually in attendance. Perhaps more importantly, her husband was often present, and Darcy did not think he would act any better than his mistress.

  In thinking of these obstacles, Darcy decided that he needed more time with Miss Bennet than such opportunities would offer. And while he did not think that meeting her in a seemingly coincidental fashion was ideal, until he could convince her that his attentions were real, he did not know how else to accomplish what he wished. Thus, there was nothing for it but to put himself in her company whenever he could manage it.

  In this, he was supported by his two cousins, both of whom seemed eager to ensure he was able to claim the fair maiden’s hand. Whether Fitzwilliam’s overt joviality or Anne’s quiet support, though tinged with amusement, had any effect was debatable, but they were enthusiastic—that he could not dispute.

  “Of course, you require my assistance,” said Fitzwilliam one night while they were in company with Lady Catherine. The lady was busy giving instruction to Mrs. Jenkinson regarding Anne’s comfort, allowing Darcy and his cousin to speak with little interference. “I am aware of your predilections, cousin, and I cannot but think that you would make a hash of it if you were left to your own devices.”

  The glare that Darcy directed at his cousin was in no way effective in quelling the grin which suffused his insufferable face. “I would appreciate it if you would avoid doing anything to annoy Miss Bennet.”

  “Of course, I would not do anything to annoy the lady. I would much rather annoy you.”

  Across from where they sat on the sofa, Darcy caught sight of Anne on the other sofa beside her companion, who was still nodding her head in response to Lady Catherine’s continuing instructions. Though the woman was a bit of a bore, Darcy supposed that she was that way because it was what her mistress demanded. She certainly had never voiced an independent thought in Darcy’s company, no doubt because she knew Lady Catherine would not approve of it.

  As for Anne, she was watching her cousins, a slight smile gracing her face. The two had been after him whenever possible, bestowing unsolicited information and entirely unnecessary encouragement, and Darcy knew that she understood what Fitzwilliam was doing, and was finding no difficulty in seeing the amusement inherent in the situation. He rolled his eyes at her, prompting her to bring her hand to her face, no doubt to suppress a smile.

  “What have you done to attempt to charm her, Darcy?” asked Fitzwilliam, drawing Darcy’s attention back to him yet again. “For if you have continued to present your typical mask of indifference to her, it is no wonder the woman does not know of your feelings. You must be happy, show an interest in her concerns, prove to her your undying devotion. Your typical manner of wooing will not yield fruit, in this instance.”

  “Have a care, Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy, noting that the man’s voice had been louder than he found comfortable. “I hardly think this subject should be discussed here, of all places. I would ask you to rein in your usual insolence.”

  “Insolence, is it?” asked Fitzwilliam with a soft chuckle. “I cannot imagine to what you refer. Shall you not illuminate me?”

  “Fitzwilliam, of what are you speaking? Must I remind you that I must have my share of the conversation?”

  When Darcy looked at his cousin, he was instantly aware of the fact that Fitzwilliam was fighting not to roll his eyes. Darcy found himself in the same circumstance. It was a near thing, Darcy thought, but as one they turned to Lady Catherine, only to see her looking at them with some suspicion mixed with asperity.

  “I am sorry, Aunt,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I was not aware that the rest of the company was required to remain silent while you are speaking with someone else. I must have missed that lesson, when I was being taught manners.”

  “It seems you were not taught manners at all,” said Lady Catherine, her irritation with her nephew on display for all to see.

  Across on the other sofa, Anne was now fighting to keep from hiccupping in laughter, while Mrs. Jenkinson was watching Fitzwilliam with ill-concealed awe. For Darcy’s part, he was not certain whether to curse his cousin for speaking in such an—the only word which could describe it was “insolent”—way, or laugh with him at provoking their aunt. In the end, Fitzwilliam resolved it by telling her exactly of what they had been speaking.

  “We were speaking of insolence, Lady Catherine.”

  “Indeed, it seems you were, given your words. I cannot imagine what my brother allows in his homes, but at Rosings we do not use such a tone.”

  “My father is not so delicate, I assure you,” said Fitzwilliam, the humor in his tone evident. “He hears much worse in parliament.”

  “Rosings is not the parliament building, Fitzwilliam. I would appreciate it if you would keep such a tone out of your voice here.”

  “Of course, Lady Catherine.”

  If Fitzwilliam had been standing, no doubt he would have favored Lady Catherine with a florid bow, the likes of which even the queen herself would not receive at King James’s court. But while Fitzwilliam was distracting Lady Catherine, Darcy found there were many more pleasant thing of which to think, and he promptly allowed Lady Catherine’s voice—still directed, as it was, toward Fitzwilliam and his perceived faults—to wash over him. Thinking on how to change the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s opinion of him was a much better use of his time.

  It was the greatest perverseness of chance, Elizabeth decided, that often led Mr. Darcy to encounter her during those days in which they were both residing in Kent. Had she not been convinced of their mutual animosity, Elizabeth might almost have thought there was some guiding hand which led to seeing him so often. As such a thought was absurd, Elizabeth was forced to curse chance which led her to meet the disagreeable man so often.

  In those days, Elizabeth found that the number of times she happened across him strained credulity. There were numerous occasions when she was walking, hoping to be blessed with solitude, to enjoy the scenery and indulge in reflection which she so often found necessary to her peace of mind. But it seemed she could not walk more than two steps in Rosings’ groves without stumbling upon the man. Even more frustrating was the fact that he always seemed to deem it necessary to stop and speak with her, and on most days, he turned to walk with her, usually staying with her for the entire duration of her walk.

  And she soon gave up the thought of warning him away from the area by insinuating that she walked there often, as it had no effect on their meetings. He seemed determined to walk there, and nothing she said to inform him of her own habits prevented him. He did not always walk for pleasure, and he informed her on several occasions that he often toured the park to see its state for himself. But why he would do that on foot, rather than on horseback, as would seem more convenient, she could not fathom.

  But though Elizabeth did not meet him on the paths of the estate every day, these were not the only occasions she found herself in his company. He would often visit the parsonage—sometimes in the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and once or twice with Miss de Bourgh—and he was almost always more animated than he had been in the past, though his tolerance for Mr. Collins was limited at best; Elizabeth could well understand that, so she did not hold it against him. When their meetings on her walks were taken together with his calls on the parsonage, their meetings at church, invitations to Rosings, and a few other times they met, Elizabeth soon realized that hardly a day passed when she was not forced to spend at least some ti
me in his company. Most days, they met more than once!

  What his purpose could be, Elizabeth could not say. Though she had noted his greater ability to converse, it still seemed at times like he did so unwillingly, and even though he initiated his visits to the parsonage, there were times—especially when in company with his cousins—when he did not speak much, though he was always certain to give her his attention. Charlotte would often tease her, saying that he admired her, but that assertion Elizabeth dismissed out of hand.

  On a morning, almost three weeks after Mr. Darcy’s arrival in Kent, Elizabeth accompanied Charlotte and Maria into Hunsford village, and though she was truly not interested in what the place had to offer, Mr. Darcy had visited once more when Charlotte was out, and she was eager to avoid being the subject of Charlotte’s teasing yet again. As she was becoming annoyed with continually being put into Mr. Darcy’s company, she had abjured her walk that day, eager to have some time away from the man.

  “Shall we meet your Mr. Darcy yet again, today, Lizzy?” asked Charlotte as they walked the path toward the small town. “By my account, he has visited three times already this week, and if it is not to see you, then I know not what draws him.”

  Elizabeth directed a stern glare at her friend. At least Maria was walking far enough ahead of them that she had not heard her sister’s teasing remark. Elizabeth was eager that Maria not espouse any more suspicions concerning Mr. Darcy’s intentions than she already possessed. For Charlotte’s part, Elizabeth had not shared with her friend the times that she had come across Mr. Darcy on her walks. If Charlotte had known the truth of the situation, her teasing would have been almost unbearable.

  “I cannot imagine a man of Mr. Darcy’s consequence setting foot in such a place as this, Charlotte,” replied Elizabeth, her tone glib. “I should think that it would take a week to wash the dust of such an unclean place from his boots.”

  A shaken head was Charlotte’s response. “How you do carry on, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy must live close to a market town himself. Even the owner of a great estate must have need of goods which the local town supplies. Hunsford supplies much commerce to Rosings and the surrounding estates, and it owes much of its prosperity to those estates.”