The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A s soon as her father saw Mr Darcy, he grinned.

“Well, Mr Darcy, this is a coincidence. Did you also experience a desire to run away from your home—albeit a temporary one, in your case? I cannot imagine you felt as confined as Lizzy and I did, given how large Netherfield is.”

Mr Darcy glanced at her, making her wonder whether he was unsure how to answer. He said, “I did not wish to distract the ladies from their preparations. They impressed upon Bingley and me that there is a great deal for them to do in advance of the ball, and while they have not hesitated to demand their brother assist them, they would hardly be so free with me.”

“Please, Papa, try not to tease Mr Darcy. He is not used to your ways,” Elizabeth said.

Mr Bennet chuckled. “Or yours, my dear. You are almost as capable of teasing someone as I am. Very well, I shall not allude to you possibly being uncomfortable at Netherfield, Mr Darcy, and I shall refrain from sharing my next joke, which was about finding it small compared to your own estate.”

His eyes held a mischievous twinkle; that, combined with his words, told her that he liked Mr Darcy. It gladdened her, and as she had done before, she marvelled at how quickly their opinions had all changed of each other. In response to her father, she rolled her eyes, and Mr Darcy shrugged, which she took as him agreeing with the statement; Mr Darcy’s expression was one of good humour, and Elizabeth could see that her father approved.

For the next while, they spoke of books. Her father sought Mr Darcy’s thoughts on several of the bookseller’s latest finds, which led to them asking each other whether they owned or had read certain volumes and what their opinions had been. Elizabeth participated when she felt like it, but she was content to listen and observe.

There was no denying she was attracted to Mr Darcy in a way she had never felt before. To be sure, she had experienced one or two infatuations when she was younger, but they had never lasted long. What was it about this gentleman that inspired her tender feelings? She appreciated his good looks, he had an excellent mind, and spending time in his company was agreeable and remarkably easy, but there was more to it she had yet to sort out. Was it seeing how he treated Budge, that he clearly cared for the little creature, despite also finding him embarrassing? She suspected it also had to do with his willingness to admit his faults. He had listened to the censures of his friend and her father, and— instead of dismissing them or simply leaving Meryton—he had stayed and demonstrated that he could do better, which took an inner strength that was worthy of praise, as did being so open about how Mr Wickham’s betrayals had affected him. Or maybe it was all of this plus an indefinable something that created a certainty in her that he was worth knowing.

More and more, she felt lighter, happier, and oddly fuller in his company. The way he kept glancing at her gave her ample reason to believe he returned her feelings, and that his recent attentions had not all been about apologising for insulting her. Although less than six weeks had passed since then, she felt like she had known him for years.

Having concluded his business, which involved purchasing three books, Mr Bennet said, “What say we go to the inn and take refreshments before we return to our respective abodes? We can avoid all the talk of the ball a little longer.”

Mr Darcy and Elizabeth agreed, and soon they were sitting in a small parlour. Plates of cheeses and meats and soft fresh bread and tea covered the oak table. Her father mentioned that he had lately written to Mr Frederick Darcy. “I hope to hear from him soon. Perhaps it is old age creeping up on me, but I have found it rather…enlivening to think of seeing a friend from my youth once again.”

“You see friends from your youth all the time!” Elizabeth said.

He waved his hand, dismissing her comment. “Goulding, Best, and the lot of them do not count. They are men with whom I was thrown together because we happened to be born in the same corner of Hertfordshire. Frederick Darcy is a friend I chose. The situations are entirely different.” Turning to their companion, he continued. “You said he has a daughter about Lizzy’s age, did you not? What is she like?”

After taking a sip from his cup, Mr Darcy returned it to the table before replying. “My cousin Rebecca is twenty. I do not know how to describe her other than to say she is a lovely person. Actually, I believe she reminds me of Miss Elizabeth.” He blushed, and his gaze fell to his plate; he busied himself slicing a piece of cheese into bits small enough for a mouse.

“Does she?” Mr Bennet said, looking at Elizabeth and quirking an eyebrow. She gave him a stern head shake, begging him to say nothing further.

“You mean, I suppose, that she likes some of the same things I do—taking walks, reading, avoiding practising the pianoforte as much as she should, occasionally teasing people. And dogs, especially those with uncommon names,” she said.

Mr Darcy regarded her and chuckled. “Yes, more or less. She enjoys being in the open air, walking but also riding. She claims her fingers are incapable of finding the right keys on a pianoforte so does not play at all, and she is fond of books, particularly those about travel and exotic locations. She tolerates Budge.”

“What is a Budge?” her father asked.

Answering that meant having to explain that she and Mr Darcy had met on several mornings. She had worried how her father would take the news, but he bore it well; indeed, she did not think he minded at all. She credited that to her admission that she had been reluctant to speak to the gentleman at first—which Mr Darcy confirmed—and telling him about the role Budge had played in encouraging her to listen to him, which made him laugh and tease Mr Darcy for his choice of dog and Elizabeth for only liking him because of Budge.

After completing their repast, they agreed they had best depart, having been absent from their family and friends long enough. They said their farewells in the street, standing by their carriages, which the innkeeper had called for.

“Thank you for including me in your excursion,” Mr Darcy said, bowing his head politely.

Elizabeth curtseyed and was about to reply, but her father spoke first.

“Think nothing of it! Plenty of people will have seen us, and since gossip is the most popular sport in the neighbourhood, everyone will know we spent an agreeable couple of hours together. That will surely give them the impression that you do not look down on my daughter or family.”

Elizabeth was too shocked to say anything, while Mr Darcy spluttered, “That is not—I assure you, sir?—”

Mr Bennet laughed and slapped him on the shoulder; it was not the first time she had seen him do it, and it was yet another sign that he liked him. “If you are to be our friend, we shall have to teach you to recognise a joke! Come along, Lizzy. I swear I can hear your mother and sisters’ anxious remarks drifting in the wind, wondering where we are, or more to the point, where the trinkets you bought for them are. We shall see you tomorrow, Mr Darcy. Our regards to your friends.”

Not knowing what to say to Mr Darcy, especially with her father beside her, Elizabeth only smiled at him. She was more than satisfied with the look he gave her in return.

Bennet spent the short trip back to Longbourn studying his daughter. Uncharacteristically, she remained silent and looked out of the window, although there was nothing noteworthy to see. He was glad they had happened upon Mr Darcy. To think that he had loathed the man just a few weeks ago and would have been glad never to see him again. He had even wished Mr Bingley had not leased Netherfield. At present, Bennet was quite glad events had unfolded as they had. Thanks to it, he felt a sense of pride in himself he had not experienced in years because he had been willing to undertake the task of improving the lives of his family, all in an effort to ensure their respectability and that no one would dare to insult his daughters again. He also had the prospect of seeing his old friend again, and had he not met the young man, he doubted it would ever have occurred to him to seek out Frederick Darcy.

It is as well that we shall renew our connexion, because I have a strong notion that our families will be tied together by more than simple friendship one day soon.

It had been surprising and amusing to learn that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy had met during her early morning walks—and that she had kept it secret. It helped to explain why he had noticed a degree of familiarity between them that went beyond what was expected after only meeting at a few evening parties. Bennet liked Mr Darcy more and more and believed Elizabeth did as well. It was almost painfully evident that the gentleman’s appreciation for her fine qualities was growing. If their connexion continued to deepen and reach its natural conclusion, would he be a good husband to his dearest girl? If Jane and Mr Bingley also married—and he was almost certain they would—the girls would be pleased to know their husbands were close friends.

Stop, you old fool! You are in danger of sounding like your wife. Let the young people sort themselves out. And prepare yourself to give over care of your two most deserving daughters to other men.