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Elizabeth did not sleep well and her first thoughts on awakening were of Darcy’s proposal and the fraught scene which followed. Knowing that attempts to return to sleep would be futile, she dressed quickly and once more left the parsonage before all others had awakened. She made her way along the now familiar route to Rosings Park and soon found herself in her favourite grove. The peace and beauty of the morning soothed her mind slightly and she sat down on a fallen log to contemplate the scenery.
In the hazy distance, she could see the dark form of the folly which had been Anne’s favourite childhood haunt, and closer in, the great house looked as yet half asleep, with little sign of activity about the place. It seemed that she was the only one in the park this morning. Then a rustle behind her gave lie to her words and she turned around swiftly to behold Darcy walking towards her from between the trees.
“Mr Darcy.” She sprang up from the log, her thoughts in confusion. “I... I beg your pardon. I had not realised that anyone else would be walking here this morning...” She turned and made as if to leave, but he reached out a hasty hand.
“Please... do not run away, Miss Bennet.” He dropped his hand and added, “Be not alarmed, madam, that there will be any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you.”
Elizabeth turned back towards him and hesitantly met his eyes.
“I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. I have spent much of the night in contemplation of your words and I feel I must address the offences which you laid at my door.”
Elizabeth flushed. “Sir, please do not feel the need—”
“Miss Bennet, I beg that you will indulge me in this.”
Elizabeth dropped her eyes and nodded, though she felt acute discomfort. Her harsh words last night had been borne of necessity and desperation, though Darcy had barely left the parsonage before she had already wished them unsaid. She had been expecting to find him today angry and resentful still, but instead to find him contrite and wishing to explain himself pierced her conscience. Her distress grew as she listened to Darcy’s words.
“I own that I may have judged badly during past events in choosing not to reveal the full extent of my dealings to you. I was brought up with good principles but taught not to trust in others. I acknowledge that I have a natural tendency to reserve and I am not well used to discussing my motives and plans with another. It was perhaps arrogant of me not to feel the need to explain myself, but I hope you will believe that it was due to force of habit rather than any intent to deliberately exclude you.”
Elizabeth looked up in agitation. “Mr Darcy—”
He held a hand up. “Please, allow me to finish.” He paused, then continued, “To one of your charges, at least, I hope I may offer a countermand. You wished to know the reason for my furtive encounter with the De Bourgh footman. The reason I hesitated to divulge the nature of our meeting was due to the fact it is of some delicacy and I did not feel that the right of disclosure is mine. However, I wish to demonstrate the strength of my trust in you. Therefore, I should like to make you my confidante in this matter and ask only that you respect the importance of secrecy.”
He turned away from her and walked a few steps towards the edge of the grove where he looked out onto the landscape below. “A few weeks ago, Colonel Fitzwilliam informed me of a worrisome development in the community here at Hunsford which had come to his attention. It appeared that a faction of the Luddite movement was growing in strength and numbers, inciting riots and causing damage to local works and machinery. Are you familiar with the Luddites, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Only by reputation. They are artisans who seek to destroy the machines which are devaluing their skills and threatening their livelihoods. ”
“Yes, these injurious efforts appeared to be coordinated by a leader who communicates with the members via anonymous letters. It is imperative, of course, that such a movement is curtailed and such riotous activities stopped. Previous acts of rebellion from such groups have caused great destruction and misery to the local community. The key rests on the discovery of the identity of the leader, a task which Colonel Fitzwilliam has been charged with by his superiors at the Canterbury militia. He is in a position to be of particular help in this case due to his advantageous connection with Lady Catherine and his ability to come and spend time in the area without suspicion. In particular, he would be able to liaise with the local source and retrieve copies of the anonymous letters for analysis.”
Darcy turned back to face her. “However, his duties prevented him from riding here sooner and, as he knew that I was coming in advance of his arrival, he tasked me with the responsibility of receiving the pilfered letters. That was the package you saw the footman handing to me that morning. The footman is a sympathiser with the militia and has agreed to act as a courier of information. As the information was of a sensitive and urgent nature, it could not await Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arrival—though had he known that he would have been riding hence a few days later, he could have spared me the rigours of the clandestine meeting. Naturally, we none of us expected Lady Catherine to be poisoned,” he said wryly. “Since his arrival, Colonel Fitzwilliam has taken over the duties of liaison and released me from those responsibilities.”
He came back towards her and said quietly, “For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Should your distrust of me make my assertions valueless, I hope you shall be convinced upon consultation with my cousin.”
Elizabeth knew not what to say nor how to react as she listened to Darcy’s words. She felt a sense of shame and embarrassment overcome her as she thought of his generosity in sharing this information.
“I hope on hearing this you will absolve me of any intentional deception through an arrogant presumption.” Darcy bowed to her. “I bid you good day, Miss Bennet.”
He turned and began to walk away. Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. She could not let him just leave like this—she did not know what she should do, but she had to say something.
“Mr Darcy!” She started after him.
He stopped and turned back to face her.
Elizabeth faltered. “I... I thank you for trusting such delicate information to my confidence. Indeed, I am conscious of the very great honour you are bestowing upon me. I too have spent much of the night thinking over our last interview and... I... I have much to regret in what I said.”
Some of the tension left Darcy’s face and his eyes softened. Belatedly, Elizabeth realised that he might take her speech as evidence of a change of heart and a chance for him to renew his suit. Hastily, she looked around for another topic of conversation and, catching sight once again of the main house in the distance, asked, “Um... How goes the search at Rosings for the syrup of colchicum?”
Darcy looked surprised for a moment by the sudden change of subject, but he accepted her lead without resistance. “It has been greatly successful,” he said.
“You mean you have uncovered the substance on the premises?” asked Elizabeth.
Darcy nodded. “Mrs Poole the housekeeper was discovered in the rear gardens, attempting to dispose of a vial of the syrup.”
“Mrs Poole!” cried Elizabeth. “So she is the poisoner after all?”
“Alas, it is not so straightforward,” said Darcy. “Her guilty actions were brought to my attention yesterday evening, after I returned from the parsonage, and I subjected her to a lengthy interview. Though she admitted the syrup to have been in her possession, she denied its use on Lady Catherine. She confessed that it had been obtained from her sister, the Widow Mags, for use as an abortifacient. Her young, unmarried daughter had recently become with child and Mrs Poole was keen to conceal this immoral development. As housekeeper, she is expected to adhere to the highest standards of respectability, and a pregnant, unmarried daughter would have been a scandal that she could ill afford.”
“Do you believe her confession?” asked Elizabeth.
“I do.” Darcy inclined his head. “It is an elaborate story which invites gossip and scandal to her name. I can see no reason for her to fabricate such an account. In any case, there is a simple method to verify the veracity of her statements.”
“How?”
“On the night of the poisoning, I had made sure to collect a sample of both the milk and the tea that Lady Catherine had consumed. As you know, Mr Hargreaves is a gentleman scientist with a keen interest in pharmacopoeia and he has been busy these past days in attempting to evolve tests which would determine the presence of toxins in those samples. He has set up a laboratory in the greenhouse and I hope to have some answers from him soon.” He gave her a slight smile. “In point of fact, I am planning to visit him there this afternoon. Should you like to join me, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth hesitated. She knew it was foolish to spend more time with Darcy—she should have been avoiding his society until such time as she would depart Hunsford. But she seemed unable to stop herself. “Thank you... I should like that very much.”
“Good. I intend to be at the greenhouse at three o’clock.”
Elizabeth wondered fleetingly how she could explain herself should Mrs Jenkinson see her in Darcy’s company and report the news back to Lady Catherine. Then she shrugged the worry away. She had already kept her promise—she had refused Darcy’s offer of marriage. Lady Catherine could ask for no more from her. She was no Anne de Bourgh and she would not allow Lady Catherine or Mrs Jenkinson to dictate her activities!
“I shall be there,” she told Darcy. “And now I should really return to the parsonage... Mrs Collins will no doubt be wondering where I am...”
Darcy hesitated, then said, “If you will permit me, I will escort you to the park gates.”
Elizabeth looked at him in surprise and pleasure. Then she smiled shyly and placed her hand on his arm. They walked slowly, as if each were loath for their time together to end. They could not yet be on easy terms with each other—the memory of the proposal was still fresh between them—but Elizabeth was glad to feel an easing of the atmosphere.
She darted a surreptitious look at Darcy and could not help noticing the way the sunlight glinted on his dark hair and traced the handsome contours of his face. He walked with a commanding grace and ease which she had not seen equalled in any other man. Was it only now—when she knew that she could not have him—that she realised how much she admired him?
