“Come now,” Mr. Bingley said, smiling infectiously as they all walked into the sitting room after the luncheon. The short sleep of the previous night apparently had no impact upon him, for he seemed quite spirited this day. “It is another truly fine day. We cannot waste this gift by staying inside! Let us take to the countryside to walk and enjoy the weather.”
The wide grin that, in Elizabeth’s estimation, had not left Mr. Bingley’s face since he awoke that morning was difficult to refuse. Elizabeth desperately wanted to seek out her bed once more, but she knew that if Mr. Bingley went out walking, so would Jane. And Elizabeth knew that while the couple may be engaged, they still required a chaperone. And Elizabeth owed that to her sister. It was a service that she would have normally discharged with great happiness. But exhaustion tugged at her bones.
“Alright, Charles,” Mr. Darcy responded, smiling to match his friend. “We shall join you. Won’t we?”
He glanced around to Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty. Lydia, much to Elizabeth’s relief, had been bundled back up to her sick-room by Mrs. Bennet as soon as the meal had ended. Elizabeth knew that Lydia would not be allowed to leave that room without a formidable chaperone for several weeks. Mr. Bennet had threatened to tie Lydia to her bed should the girl attempt escape. Elizabeth did not know if her father was serious, but she did not think it would be wise to test him. His nerves were quite frayed after last night’s events.
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, answering Mr. Darcy’s question. “A walk in the country sounds like just the thing to chase away our post-lunch sleepiness.” Elizabeth poked Kitty, who had been nodding off against her shoulder. “Up, up! Let’s get to it.”
A quarter of an hour later, the group found themselves setting out along a route that, eventually, would lead them through the lands of Longbourn and set them upon Netherfield’s holdings. Mr. Bingley and Jane walked a few paces ahead of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, while Kitty and Mary lagged far behind. Elizabeth guessed that her two younger sisters would turn back for their home as soon as it was politely possible.
“Charles wants so desperately for your sister to approve,” Mr. Darcy said quietly, inclining his head towards the couple ahead.
Elizabeth, surprised at the sudden initiation of conversation, glanced towards them and saw Mr. Bingley gesturing excitedly. It looked as if he were eagerly pointing out everything that he thought might be of interest to Jane. Elizabeth smiled, he fondness for her sister’s intended growing.
“He needn’t worry,” Elizabeth replied in the same volume as Mr. Darcy. “Believe me when I say my sister would approve if he were showing her a hovel fit only for field mice and rabbits.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled appreciatively and Elizabeth felt a warm satisfaction inside. He was not an easy man to make laugh, so she felt quite accomplished in the task. However, perhaps it was not so great an accomplishment, she reasoned, especially if he were as fatigued as she.
“I do believe you are correct,” Mr. Darcy replied, gazing ahead at his friend. “However,” his voice dropped into an exaggerated, scandalous tone. “What would your mother think?”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. His joke was so obviously full of affection for Mrs. Bennet, she did not know what else to do. It had never even crossed her mind that it might have been a cruel jape. The twinkle in his eyes, the dimples in his cheek, the way his curly hair flopped over his forehead: the miserable, cold and seemingly cruel man she remembered from his first visit to Hertfordshire was gone, replaced by this surprisingly warm companion.
She allowed her laughter to continue, perhaps longer than his jest deserved, because she needed a moment to realign her thoughts. A sudden surge of affection for the man had caused her head to spin, and her exhausted mind required more time than normal to resume its normal function. Once her mind was reoriented, her mirth faded and her thoughts went back to the cause of everyone’s fatigue.
Elizabeth had been certain that she would die of shame at the luncheon. She had desperately wanted to excuse Lydia’s abominable behaviour on her illness, or even the after effects of her excess drink. But there was no excuse, for Lydia’s foray into the raw spring air had not brought about the feared relapse—a few hours’ sleep had defeated her fever and chills once more—nor was she still impaired. To Elizabeth’s enduring mortification, Lydia’s behaviour on this day could not be blamed on some infirmity other than a pure lack of manner and sense.
“I feel, Mr. Darcy…” she began. She thought she saw him tense for a moment, but when she looked closer, he seemed as loose and relaxed as ever. “That I must add in my personal gratitude for what you did last night.” She thought she saw a flash of… disappointment cross his face, but again, when she looked closer, his countenance seemed as it had been.
“You and your family’s gratitude is appreciated, but unnecessary,” he sighed deeply.
“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“Surely you, with your uncanny observation and understanding of human behaviour and motivation, can guess why I say such things.” He gave Elizabeth a sad smile.
Elizabeth felt pleased by his praise, but undeserving for she had no insight into the things to which he alluded.
“I’m afraid the traits to which you refer are quite dormant today,” she said honestly, stifling a yawn as if to underline her point.
“Understandable,” Mr. Darcy sighed again. “I shall explain my feelings then: Surely you can guess that I feel as if it were my fault that Lydia were even placed in such situation?”
A slow, dawning understanding came over Elizabeth and she felt her heart go out to him.
“That you knew Wickham’s character but said nothing,” she said quietly.
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy confirmed. A miserable look caused his face to take on once more the countenance that had so often been displayed in Meryton in the past. Elizabeth found herself smiling despite the seriousness of the conversation.
“I saw him just the day before the ball,” Elizabeth confessed. “And I too said, and did, nothing. If you are to blame, then I am tenfold.”
Mr. Darcy looked at her, a pained look on his face.
“Nonsense,” he said quickly, but said nothing more. They walked a few steps further in silence before Elizabeth spoke once more.
“Perhaps we should both listen to you,” she said. “And believe that it is nonsense to blame anyone but Wickham for his evil intents.”
Mr. Darcy seemed to take in her words, smiling slightly. She could tell that her words were easier said than they would be to accomplish. Mr. Darcy was a man of immense pride and responsibility. It was a good trait, but one that probably caused him to take on stress that was not his.
“Your words are wise,” he agreed. “However, I know myself and know that I can promise nothing more than to try.”
“Perhaps it will make things easier if you were to hear your actions provided restitution for any wrong you perceive yourself to have committed. Whatever ills you bear upon yourself, they have been wiped clean by your courage and action.”
Elizabeth surprised herself in this compliment. Not because she did not believe it, but because it was far more forward than her normal comfort. The tongue-loosening exhaustion of the previous night had crept upon her once more.
“When I think what might have happened to Lydia if you had not followed.” Elizabeth shivered. She did not pretend to fully understand what men such as Wickham did to girls like Lydia, but a deep fear threatened to overcome her when she thought too closely about such topics.
“Wickham ruined last night,” Darcy said, anger tinting his voice. “Let us not give the rogue the power to ruin today as well.”
Elizabeth felt a bit taken aback by this response. This is why you need to watch your tongue, she thought to herself with regret and embarrassment.
“I am sorry,” she stammered, her humiliation showing. “I did not mean to offend.”
“No!” Mr. Darcy looked pained at her discomfort. “That was not my intent, forgive me. All I mean is… I prefer not to dilute the joy of your company with one such as Wickham. I would much rather discuss pleasanter things with you.”
Elizabeth felt herself go pink once more, not from shame but from pleased embarrassment. He found joy in her company? The thought pleased her deeply.
“You are kind to me, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “But I will honour your request. I wonder, what would you say to convincing Jane and Mr. Bingley to divert our course towards some of those mounds which I described in London?”
A wide smile broke across Mr. Darcy’s face.
“That, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, excitement clear upon his face, “sounds wonderful.”