Page 6 of Moments of Truth
Elizabeth inclined her head, surprised at the awkwardness in his manner. “Mrs. Collins and her sister are but in the village. I am sorry you find only me at leisure.”
“On the contrary,” he returned quickly, and then, hearing how much warmth had slipped into his tone, looked mortified. “That is to say—your company is—most agreeable.” A faint colour rose to his cheek.
She motioned him to a seat, and as they sat down, Elizabeth felt a surge of curiosity and unease. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You look almost disappointed, Mr. Darcy. Did you come to consult Mrs. Collins on the management of her poultry?”
Darcy blinked, startled, before a reluctant smile flickered across his features. “No, madam. Though I dare say she would give me sounder advice than I am capable of offering myself.”
After a pause, he inquired after her health and whether she found Rosings agreeable.
“It offers much grandeur,” Elizabeth replied, a spark of amusement in her eye, “though I confess my enjoyment lies more in the walks than in the splendour of the saloon.”
Darcy gave a slight nod. “Yes… the grounds are extensive.” His gaze lingered on her, then fell to the carpet.
Silence threatened again. Elizabeth, unwilling to be daunted, reached for a safer subject. “I believe the last time we spoke was in Hertfordshire—at Netherfield. The departure of your party took us all rather by surprise.”
He shifted in his chair. “Yes. Circumstances… required it.”
“Do you expect your friend Mr. Bingley will return?” she asked, watching him closely.
Darcy’s hands clasped too tightly upon his knee. “It is uncertain.”
Elizabeth raised her brows, sensing his reluctance. “Then I cannot but be sorry for my sister, who found great pleasure in the society of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.”
He met her eyes then, briefly—too briefly. “Your sister… deserves every happiness.” The words escaped as though torn from him, and his sudden earnestness startled them both. He looked away, as if fearing she might see too much in his expression.
Elizabeth studied him with growing curiosity, and with it, a sense of unease. To lighten the mood, she added playfully, “You speak as though happiness were a portion to be doled out by your hand, sir. Should I apply to you on my sister’s behalf?”
Darcy’s eyes snapped back to hers, dark with something she could not name. “I should give her all that I could—” He stopped short, his jaw tightening.
The silence that followed was so charged that Elizabeth felt obliged to laugh. “I see I have quite frightened you, Mr. Darcy. Forgive me; it was but a jest.”
In truth, Darcy had come to the parsonage that morning to ask Elizabeth to marry him. He had wrestled with his feelings for weeks, torn between the strength of his affection and the numerous reasons he believed their union would be unwise. His pride, his family’s expectations, and Elizabeth’s social standing were all factors Mr. Darcy could not ignore. Yet, despite his long struggle, he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. She challenged him, saw through his aloof exterior, and refused to flatter him like many others did.
But now, confronted with her candid gaze in this still and ordinary room, the words failed him. The silence stretched until it mocked him. Instead of confession, he retreated into polite inquiries, remarks about the house and garden—phrases that closed doors rather than opened them wide.
At last, he rose, bowing gravely. “Pray convey my respects to Mrs. Collins. I regret I have intruded at an inconvenient hour.”
Elizabeth smiled with perfect civility, though her curiosity was unappeased. “Not at all, sir. Your visit has been… unexpected. And most diverting—for I had braced myself for Lady Catherine, and you may imagine the relief.”
Darcy inclined his head once more. He left as suddenly as he had come, his tread measured, as though discipline alone kept him from faltering—while within him raged a storm he could no longer master.
THREE
An hour later, Elizabeth finished writing her letter to Jane and decided to walk through the park on her favourite path. The spring air was mild, and the budding trees promised warmth to come. She carried her bonnet ribbons loosely in one hand, her mind still busy with the odd visit from Mr. Darcy.
There, she encountered Colonel Fitzwilliam, who appeared almost as though he had been waiting for her, though he feigned a pleasant surprise at their meeting. His bow was easy, his smile disarming, and he at once offered to join her walk.
As they strolled along the garden paths, the colonel’s conversation was, as ever, lively and companionable. Soon, however, their talk shifted to more personal matters. With a twinkle in his eye that did not quite conceal his seriousness, Fitzwilliam spoke of his family obligations, hinting that the comforts of his station were tempered by financial restraint.
Surprised by his candour, Elizabeth expressed her sympathy, though inwardly she reflected on the truth his words revealed: even Colonel Fitzwilliam, with all his charm and good humour, was as much a prisoner of society’s expectations as his graver cousin. She could not help but feel her initial warmth toward him diminished by this recognition. The colonel, for his part, made no mention of Darcy’s proposal, and Elizabeth, finding it a subject too sensitive to broach, avoided it as well.
Their conversation turned instead to his imminent departure for active duty and the demands of regimental life. Yetas often happened, Mr. Darcy’s name arose between them. Fitzwilliam, with affectionate loyalty, praised his cousin’s sense of responsibility. “Darcy does not act without purpose,” he observed, “especially when it concerns the welfare of his friends.”
Elizabeth, still uncertain what to make of Darcy, listened with outward politeness. But when Fitzwilliam alluded to a recent example, her composure sharpened into uneasy curiosity.
“He saved a dear friend,” the colonel explained, “from what he judged to be a most imprudent match. I confess, I was surprised by his determination to intervene.”
Elizabeth felt a chill settle over her. “And what sort of imprudence could warrant such interference?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
