Chapter 6

It was with astonishment and with pleasure that Elizabeth observed Jane and Mr. Bingley in Charlotte 's garden. She wondered how he came to be there, and while the intelligence could have been provided by any number of people, Elizabeth had a small hope that perhaps, Mr. Darcy may have been involved.

Mr. Bingley presented an earnest countenance, speaking and gesturing while Jane listened, her face impassive. Elizabeth felt that Jane would do better to show more emotion, but was in no position to give advice from her position inside the house. Soon Jane and Mr. Bingley walked on into the garden and Elizabeth was unable to watch further without disrupting their privacy. Satisfied that she would soon see both in a happy condition, Elizabeth sat in the nearest chair, sitting quietly in a sort of pleasurable anticipation.

She was surprised then, to hear the sounds of the carriage on the road, and to see Jane appear in the room alone, her countenance severe.

“You did not invite Mr. Bingley inside?”

“No, Lizzy, I did not,” Jane's reply suggested that lengthy explanations were not forthcoming. Still, Elizabeth pressed on, baffled by her sister's appearance.

“And has he gone away so soon? Has it all been settled then between you with such speed? Why do you not look happy?”

“Mr. Bingley wanted my permission to speak to our father. He wishes to court me,” Jane spoke quietly and without emotion. “But I have not given Mr. Bingley the permission he asked for. I could not,”

“But why not, Jane? I do not understand. Did not you tell me that Mr. Bingley is just what a young man ought to be?” Elizabeth paused and rose from her chair, sadness overtaking her. “Oh Jane, I would not want you to marry where you do not feel affection, but with Mr. Bingley, I do not understand, there is affection.”

Jane sat for a long moment, as if trying to pull her thoughts together. When she finally spoke, her voice was tinged with uncharacteristic anger. “Mr. Bingley is a kind sort of man, yes it is true. However, Mr. Bingley just revealed to me that he left Netherfield and he did not return because he was convinced that I did not care for him. He allowed his sisters, and yes, even Mr. Darcy to convince him that I was indifferent. Were I to allow him to court me, and eventually marry me, what assurance would I have that he would not be easily influenced by his sisters and his friend or others equally unrelated to us for similar matters - private matters that should be left to a husband and wife alone to decide?”

“He is merely modest. But he is a good man. A very good man”

“Perhaps. But I do not think it enough. Surely I need not rush into marriage. Papa is in health, and with Mr. Collins' death, the entail is tenuous at best. And really, Lizzy, did not you refuse not one, but two marriage proposals in the last year?” Jane met Elizabeth's gaze with an eager light in her eyes. “And, I want to know if I possess any real talent in drawing. It is not something I ever considered, but since Colonel Fitzwilliam offered to show my work, I have been wondering.”

“But why should that preclude marriage to someone like Mr. Bingley? Whether or not you are talented, you are still likely to marry, are you not?” Elizabeth paused for a moment as a realization dawned. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has turned your head, has he not? Oh do be careful! He is a bit of a rascal.”

“I do not think of him in that way.”

“Of course not, but still, please be careful. You cannot think he has a serious interest in you?”

Jane looked a little insulted, and when she spoke, her voice was cool, “Pray, do not worry about me, Elizabeth. I have quite learned my lesson about eligible young men.”

***********

For the first time in a long while, Elizabeth felt a tension between herself and her sister. Although unfailingly pleasant, Jane retained an air of coolness different from her customary reserve. A few days after Mr. Bingley's visit, Jane and Charlotte walked to Rosings, but Elizabeth had declined to accompany them. She was not fond of sitting indoors, and there were only so many times she could walk through the gardens of Rosings Park . And although Miss Darcy had been more friendly of late toward the Hunsford party, there were still enough uncomfortable lapses in the conversation that Elizabeth found tiring. While Jane occupied herself with her sketchbook and Charlotte was often engaged in the discussion of domestic matters with Miss de Bourgh, Elizabeth found herself to be frequently without occupation if Miss Darcy was not of a mind to speak. She had spent some time in the library, but the room was cold and musty and the collection surprisingly limited and not to her liking.

Elizabeth felt distracted. She found herself thinking about Mr. Darcy with increasing regularity, wishing for his return but unsure of her reaction to him, and his to her when they met next. She was unsure of his interest. Thinking as she did, that Mr. Darcy had informed Mr. Bingley of Jane's location, and Jane's subsequent disinterest in Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth worried that Mr. Darcy would himself lose interest. It was perhaps not the most logical path of thought; this she had to admit. But from the very beginning of their acquaintance, her reaction to Mr. Darcy had been anything but logical. Rarely had Elizabeth felt such confusion.

Thus, she was desperate for fresh air and exercise and sought a peaceful outdoor setting. The stream where previously she had met Mr. Darcy came to mind immediatley. As Elizabeth walked along the path to the stream, she began to anticipate the setting with some pleasure despite the unfamiliarity of the path. The sound of water reassured her and in a few more steps, she found herself in the very place she sought. It was a pity then, that she was not alone.

Across the stream, perched on the very same rock that her brother had once leaned against sat Miss Darcy, talking softly to a very large and very black horse, stroking the animal's nose. The sound of Elizabeth's boots against the ground covering caused two pairs of large, dark eyes to turn and regard her with interest.

“Miss Elizabeth.” Miss Darcy spoke first, her voice soft and hesitant. Elizabeth almost expected the horse to speak as well, so in concert were their movements.

“Miss Darcy.” Elizabeth acknowledged her presence.

“Have you come to find water for your horse? This is an excellent place. But I do not see your mount. Have you left it near the road? "

“I have no horse. I walked from the Parsonage.”

“You walked? From the Parsonage?” Miss Darcy appeared confused.

"I do not ride – at least not very well. I am actually rather frightened of horses.”

“Frightened? Really? How unusual.” Miss Darcy's tone suggested surprise.

“Truly, I am terrified. Is it really so odd, Miss Darcy? Surely it is common to be terrified by one thing or another.” Elizabeth found herself wondering if perhaps Miss Darcy was rather proud after all.

Miss Darcy blushed and looked away; immediately Elizabeth was ashamed of her sharp words.

“Forgive me... I love my horses. They allow me a certain amount of freedom, and it is so easy ... to forget,” Miss Darcy's voice was soft, and she kept her eyes on the large horse next to her.

Elizabeth observed Miss Darcy's wistful countenance. For all her advantages, Miss Darcy had also seen great sadness. How difficult to lose both parents, and to have been betrayed by presumed friend and presumed lover at such a young age, and left to the friendship of insincere women like Miss Bingley. No wonder Miss Darcy seemed aloof. Elizabeth owned she had made a similar error in judging Mr. Darcy at one time. And it was then that she decided that she would try to be Miss Darcy's friend, for Elizabeth was determined to not misjudge the sister as she had the brother.

Elizabeth spoke kindly to her, "Perhaps my fear has an irrational basis. I was frightened by a large horse as a small child. And there has never been a need for me to ride for in Hertfordshire, everything is so easily reached by foot. With four sisters, perhaps you will understand why I might even appreciate the solace of a daily walk.

Miss Darcy faced Elizabeth again, her countenance still wistful. "I should like to have had a houseful of sisters. Even one would be very nice."

"One is sure never to lack for company, which is all very well, of course, unless you want to be alone.”

Miss Darcy's face took on a petulant look, "Being alone is tiresome.”

“Oh yes, I do agree. It seems we must seek to find a happy medium, or absent that, a mixture of both. Although, forced to choose between loneliness and to spend time with disagreeable people, I should much rather be on my own.”

For the first time, Miss Darcy smiled, “Indeed, I imagine you will not tolerate disagreeable people for very long at all.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I will admit that it is sometimes difficult.”

“My brother is like that as well, had you noticed?” Miss Darcy spoke in an eager tone.

Elizabeth felt warmth spread across her face, and a need to change the subject. “Perhaps a little. Your horse is very beautiful, Miss Darcy.”

“Would you like to stoke her nose? She is very gentle. She likes for you to stroke her nose like this.”

Elizabeth gathered her courage and reached out her hand, mirroring Miss Darcy's movements, stroking the horse with a tentative gesture. It seemed less risky to touch the massive horse than to entangle herself in conversation about Mr. Darcy with his sister. But the enormous animal stood quietly, making small contented noises. It was more pleasurable than Elizabeth believed possible.

“She is so soft. I do not believe I have touched a horse in a very long time. What do you call her?” Elizabeth asked, surprised at the experience.

“Jet. She is so very black, you see.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

“You do not seem so very wild to me,” she distinctly heard Miss Darcy's soft voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh no, nothing, it is nothing,”

Elizabeth removed her hand from the horse and turned to face its owner. “Miss Darcy, I have no wish to cause offence, but I distinctly heard you say something. Please, I would like to know what you mean. I feel I must defend myself if I can.”

“Forgive me. I was given to understand by someone – someone else - that you were quite wild. But you do not seem to be that way at all.”

Elizabeth took a moment to consider her reply. It would be quite easy to say something equally unkind about Miss Bingley – for she was quite sure this was the source of Miss Darcy's disapprobation. But that would make her at least as unkind as Miss Bingley had been and Elizabeth wanted no part of that. Instead, she merely smiled and inclined her head, and offered to be Miss Darcy's friend, pleasing them both.

***********

Darcy had offered his elegant and spacious carriage for the journey into Kent . The day chosen for travel was cool and the road in good condition. Darcy and Fitzwilliam sat next to each other, directly across from, but not nearly as closely together as Mrs. Tyrone and her husband. Mrs. Tyrone identified landmarks and told small stories to her husband, who had never been in this part of the country. The jostling of the carriage soon caused Colonel Fitzwilliam to fall asleep, leaving Darcy to his thoughts. Mostly he thought of Elizabeth, and how she might receive him. Would she be happy to see him? He worried about his sister's reaction to Elizabeth –he desperately wanted them to be friends.

He was relieved that there was no need for him to converse with his companions. His acquaintance with Mr. Tyrone had been brief, and thus he did not feel comfortable speaking with him, nor was he particularly comfortable in speaking to the others in front of him. Although Darcy had to own that Tyrone by seemed to be perfectly amiable, respectable and gentleman-like in his manner. He was neither flamboyant not given to fluctuating moods as were some other artists of Darcy's acquaintance, but rather, he was a quiet, serious man who spoke little and watched the world around him. And, in the presence of his wife, most of his attention was focused upon her. His eyes followed her movements, but rather than possession, Tyrone's countenance reflected admiration and pleasure. Mr. Tyrone clearly loved to watch his wife.

Darcy recalled the evening he had spent at the Tyrone townhouse. He had been surprised from the start, for he had not anticipated that they lived in such elegance, their townhouse within walking distance of his own. The house itself was decorated in taste and comfort and unlike many artists, Tyrone's studio was separate from his home, which spoke to his affluence, and his wish for privacy, and this Darcy admired.

Several times throughout the journey, Darcy found Mrs. Tyrone watching him carefully, and to this, he would smile, ruefully and turn to look out the window. He knew she was busy thinking but had no wish of engaging her in any sort of conversation. The lady was well known for her ability to wring private details from the most obstinate of individuals.

Darcy was distracted from further thoughts by Mrs. Tyrone's voice, “Look my dear, it is Rosings.”

Mr. Tyrone peered out the window. “It is very grand, is it not?”

“Your tone of voice suggests otherwise.”

Mr. Tyrone looked at this wife and smiled, patting her hand. “You know me too well. It is a complete monstrosity. Are the decorations excessive?”

“Unbelievably so.”

“Hmmm… I do hope I shall not have nightmares from it.”

“I shall try to protect you my dear.” Mrs Tyrone's laugh filled the carriage, and she began to talk with her husband about the details of their visit.

Darcy felt a tinge of jealousy for their easy, comfortable manner. It reminded him of how Elizabeth could tease him on occasion, and he wished again that he had been more observant of her feelings, for perhaps he could be having such a conversation with her at this very time. An audible sigh escaped from his lips, and Mrs. Tyrone stopped in mid-sentence to look at him.

“Oh, I am sorry. We did not mean to disturb you. We tease each other like children.”

“No, no not as all. I was just reminded of something.”

Mrs. Tyrone gave Darcy a searching, thorough look. “At some point, you will tell me, I hope what this is all about.”

Darcy was saved from responding by their arrival. He exited the carriage with relief, moving away from the carriage to stretch his legs and to permit his companions room to exit after him. The weather was far more pleasant in Kent than it had been in London and Darcy thought of how much he would like to visit that stream again, accompanied by Elizabeth . He was surprised then, to look up and see the object of his thoughts rounding the corner with his sister.

Since their chance meeting, Elizabeth and Georgiana had formed a firm friendship, and this day, had been gathering flowers to adorn the dinner table. Next to her, Elizabeth felt Georgiana stop to stand perfectly still, her breath rapid and shallow, signifying excitement. Elizabeth turned to watch Georgiana stare open-mouthed at the travellers stretching their legs, and following her gaze to observe Mr. Darcy, standing to the side, watching them with surprise, but not displeasure, and Colonel Fitzwilliam talking to a handsome couple unknown to her. As if willed to do so, the unknown woman turned to see Georgiana as the basket of flowers fell from Georgiana's hands, their contents spread across the walk. She smiled and opened her arms, and Georgiana ran to her, the basket and her friend forgotten.

Elizabeth bent to pick up the flowers, watching as Georgiana was embraced by the unknown woman. There was something familiar about her face and carriage that Elizabeth could not quite place and as Elizabeth strained to hear the words that Georgiana cried repeatedly she could not quite credit her ears.

Suddenly, Mr. Darcy appeared next to Elizabeth and bent to help her pick up the blossoms spread on the walk. She looked at him with surprise, but Darcy just smiled and placed some flowers in the basket, handing it to Elizabeth with a small, formal bow.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy; I trust you had a good journey.”

“Thank you, Miss Bennet, I did. But I am glad it is over. I am happy to see you; however, happy you are still here. ” Although the speech was delivered in a calm voice, Darcy held his breath awaiting her response. The extent to which she welcomed him gave a good indication of her feelings, he thought.

“We have had lovely weather, and I have had many walks and visits to Rosings. I am getting to know Miss Darcy a little better, as well. She is a very charming girl. We met once, quite by chance and have been forming a friendship ever since.” Elizabeth knew she must be babbling, as much as Kitty or Lydia had ever done.

“I am glad. I had hoped for as much.” Indeed, this was more than he had hoped for.

“I am glad you approve.” Elizabeth smiled at him, her eyes bright. “She seems to be very pleased to see your companion. In fact, she completely ignored you, and I have been heard often what a wonderful brother you are.”

Darcy coloured a little, “Yes, they are pleased to see each other.”

They busied themselves in picking up the remaining flowers. Elizabeth could not help notice his closeness, and found it difficult to breathe on several occasions. She tried to put it to bending over again and again, but knew it to be nothing of the sort. Finally the flowers were arranged in the basket once more. Elizabeth straightened, watching Georgiana and the unknown woman talk quietly. Elizabeth was too polite to enquire of Mr. Darcy to identify her, but she grew increasingly curious.

They stood for some time next to each other in a state of discomfort, Darcy watching Elizabeth and Elizabeth watching Georgiana and the unknown woman, afraid to look back at Darcy. Finally, Darcy cleared his throat, as if to prepare to speak.

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth turned to him, her uplifted face caught in his gaze.

“May I introduce our visitors to you? Mr. Tyrone of course is the well-known painter.”

“Ah, yes, Jane has spoken of him. He was Colonel Fitzwilliam's drawing master, was he not? And that lady is must be Mrs. Tyrone then? Miss Darcy seems especially happy to see her.”

Darcy nodded, “Yes that is Mrs. Tyrone.” He paused, as if trying to make up his mind, and beside him, Elizabeth felt his tension. “Miss Bennet, my sister is very happy to see Mrs. Tyrone, for they are well acquainted, ” and here he paused for what seemed to be a very long moment. When he spoke again, his voice seemed odd, almost rushed. “You see, Mrs. Tyrone is the former Lady Anne Darcy, and they have not seen each other in some time.”

Elizabeth 's eyes widened as she looked first at Mrs. Tyrone and then Georgiana and finally Mr. Darcy, suddenly understanding the resemblance she had seen. She could barely gasp the words, “Your mother, Sir?”

Darcy nodded, grasping the basket before it fell out of her hands again, “Indeed. Mrs Tyrone is my mother. And I should very much like for you to meet her,” he said, giving her his free arm to lead her to the small group by the carriage. Elizabeth, completely shocked, but wildly curious at his revelation could do nothing but accompany him.

Chapter 7