Page 32 of Moments of Truth
He paused, puffing out his chest like an orator before a crowded church.
“And, of course, I must not omit the regards of my esteemed cousin, Miss Elizabeth, who will, I am convinced, long treasure the edifying conversation she was privileged to enjoy with you, Mr. Darcy, on the subjects of literature and estate management. Nor should I fail to add the sentiments of my sister-in-law, Miss Maria Lucas, who, though younger and less conversant in such weighty matters, has been equally impressed by the affabilityand condescension with which you have honoured our little circle. And for myself, I must humbly declare that it has been an unspeakable privilege to observe your refined manners and gentlemanly deportment. Your presence has elevated our spirits and enriched our lives in ways too delicate for mere words.”
He concluded with a bow so profound he nearly lost his balance, recovering only with a triumphant air of satisfaction. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, exchanging the briefest glance, seemed equally amused and indulgent.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth stood quietly beside Charlotte and Maria, her eyes drawn, in spite of herself, to Mr. Darcy. He, however, appeared determined to seek every possible occupation—addressing his cousin with studied attentiveness, or gazing out of the window at the descending sun—anything, it seemed, but meeting her look. His reserve, once more so formidable, struck her as both a shield and a rebuke, and her spirits faltered.
She silently congratulated herself for not troubling to compose a second letter, but at the same time, she could not silence the pang of disappointment that she might never find an occasion to speak with him again.
At length, Mr. Darcy swept his eyes across the company and said, “Thank you, Mr. Collins, for your kind expressions. I trust they may prove true, and that we may meet again under happier circumstances. Please extend my compliments to your household. And now, dear Aunt, I must take my leave. My valet awaits; my luggage must be seen to, and the details of our journey settled. Farewell to all. My cousin will, I daresay, prove a far more agreeable companion in my absence.”
“Do not be deceived by what Darcy says,” Colonel Fitzwilliam interposed quickly, his tone light, as though eager to preventLady Catherine from commanding her nephew to remain. “He would have you think him dull, when in truth he abandons me to all the talk.” The cousins’ understanding was plain; their retreat had been arranged between them.
Mr. Collins bustled forward to bow yet again to the Colonel, who, with unaffected good nature, returned the courtesy in a manner that was no common gesture, adding a few words of encouragement to the clergyman. Lady Catherine, unwilling to lose her part in the scene, rose to add her authoritative observations on the morrow’s weather, which she delivered with the serene assurance of a prophetess.
Charlotte, perceiving Elizabeth’s anxious look, whispered, “I think you must let the Colonel deliver your letter to Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. Her hands twisted in her lap, betraying her agitation. “I did not bring the old letter, nor did I compose a new one,” she confessed, her voice low and hurried. “I had hoped I might speak to him—but he scarcely acknowledged me.”
“I had hoped you would write,” Charlotte answered, her expression composed though her tone carried gentle reproach. “But we must return to Hunsford now. Had her ladyship wished us to stay, she would have ordered refreshments or pressed us to remain for dinner. It would be quite improper to linger.”
Elizabeth sighed, her breast heaving with a mixture of regret and dread. “Heaven only knows what will happen now.”
“You are beginning to sound like your cousin, Lizzy,” Charlotte whispered back, her smile faint but admonishing. “Do not despair. Leave matters in my hands—I shall see what may yet be done.”
Then, with a smile to her friend, Mrs. Collins headed straight for Colonel Fitzwilliam. She discreetly pulled him aside from the conversation between her husband and Lady Catherine de Bourgh and handed him a letter carefully, explaining something in a low voice. The Colonel accepted it graciously, tucking it into his inner chest pocket. He then gave a conspiratorial smile to Elizabeth, who watched him with astonishment. Colonel Fitzwilliam had received the letter from Lizzy’s cupboard – the letter she had purposely left at Hunsford Parsonage in her room.
***
“You need to understand, Darcy. If you do not swallow your pride, you will remain a bachelor for a very long time—or worse, you will end by marrying some shrew content to endure your whims. Either way, my congratulations! You have at least taken a first step by writing to Miss Bennet this morning,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, chiding his cousin with the frankness of an elder brother.
“I do not know what Miss Bennet understood from my letter—from my feelings, my struggles. I am satisfied only that I answered the questions which seemed to trouble her.”
“Even so, you think too much of your own turmoil and too little of hers. Was it easy, do you suppose, for Miss Bennet to accompany the Collinses this evening, after reading your explanatory letter? Was it nothing for her to look at you, uncertain whether you would meet her eyes?”
“A kind gesture, perhaps—but one that was useless to anyone, Cousin.”
“You are ever too quick to dismiss what does not accord with your notions,” the Colonel observed, his voice edged with irony. “You do not make enough effort to improve your own situation.”
“I did listen to you,” Darcy retorted with impatience. “I followed you into my aunt’s parlour to endure Mr. Collins’s farewell address. At least he had the decency not to launch into a longer sermon.”
“You are mistaken again, Darcy. If only you had truly listened, we would have gone to Hunsford at noon, like gentlemen, to bid farewell. Then you might have seen for yourself what impression your letter had wrought—if any at all. You might have spoken to Miss Bennet, away from Aunt Catherine’s scrutiny. But no—you never look beyond the boundaries of your own opinion.” The Colonel shook his head reproachfully.
“A meeting at Hunsford would have changed nothing. Nothing has changed here either. I cannot believe Miss Bennet wishes ever to see me again.”
“I told you before—you leap to conclusions as though they were certainties. Recall what you did: you sat impatiently, barely glancing at her before hurrying away, in danger of appearing downright uncivil.”
“I received an answer from her,” Darcy muttered irritably. “What more could I expect?”
“Well, perhaps this,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, loosening a button on his tunic, raising his hand, and producing a folded letter from his breast pocket.
Darcy reached for it at once, but his cousin drew it back with a shake of his head.
“I ought not even give this to you, for you scarcely deserve it. Yet here it is. Miss Bennet wrote this letter this morning, before her walk in the park. Afterwards, she hesitated to send it. But Mrs. Collins, proving herself the wiser friend, corrected your mistake. Seeing that you contrived to avoid Miss Bennet, she entrusted the letter to me, in case it might reach your hands.”
“Miss Bennet hoped to speak with me?” Darcy asked, visibly astonished.
“Yes—so it seems. But you contrived to avoid her. I declare, Cousin, no one can fathom you anymore. Take your letter, though by rights it ought to be withheld from so obstinate a man.”
