Rebellion at Longbourn

Jests aside, Mr. Darcy did rather strike Elizabeth as a Greek hero, determined to prove himself worthy of a maiden’s love. Absurdly she was charmed by the picture of him wearing a toga. But it is all foolishness, she realized in the next moment. He has no interest in me; he only wishes to be of service to my family.

“I will think on the matter,” she promised. Of course, the ideal solution would be to ask for his assistance with the scheme to improve Longbourn’s agriculture. She could think of any number of ways he could give advice or provide material assistance without anyone being the wiser. But she dared not share their secret enterprise with him. She did not know if they were breaking any laws, but their behavior was certainly improper. Mr. Darcy was unlikely to regard it with civility.

“Please do,” Mr. Darcy said. “I may only linger another day or two in Hertfordshire, but I will return at a later date and will hope for a response then.”

Glancing at the angle of the sun, she realized it was later than she expected. “I should return to Longbourn,” she said. “They will wonder where I have been.” She would not mention that she was needed to cook dinner.

“Yes, of course.” He offered his arm to her, and they immediately set a brisk pace toward the town. The conversation was light and innocuous. As they reached Market Street, something he said reminded her that he would remain in Meryton for a couple more days.

Elizabeth wondered at the unreasonable flare of happiness these words granted her, but surely it was because she relished the novelty of new company after a long winter of seeing the same faces in the neighborhood.

She wondered at his absence from Pemberley. How could he believe a prolonged sojourn in Meryton was worth his time? If he lingered solely for her family’s sake, then he must feel a great burden of guilt indeed. Elizabeth herself experienced sudden sympathy; nobody should be walking around under such a cloud of self-recrimination. Except Mr. Wickham.

But Elizabeth knew very well that she could not persuade Mr. Darcy to change his mind. The man was inscrutable, and the wealthy could afford to indulge their whims. Perhaps it would be best for him if she could devise some task that he could quickly and easily perform that would discharge his sense of duty to the Bennets. But nothing occurred to her at the moment. Perhaps Jane would have some ideas.

He accompanied her to the far edge of the town, where the street transformed into a country road that would lead back to Longbourn. “I thank you for a most pleasant walk,” he said at the very moment she should have been thanking him. To her astonishment, he took her hand and kissed it. A mere brushing of his lips over the back of her hand, and yet it raised gooseflesh along her arms.

It has been too long since I have been around an unattached gentleman, she told herself sternly. Any man who treated me with civility would provoke such a reaction.

“I know it is not my place to say this,” he murmured, “but I think it would be a shame if you never wed.”

Not knowing what to make of this statement, Elizabeth mumbled goodbye and hurried down the road. He was the most confusing man who had ever lived! Why must he always do what she did not expect?

Chapter Seven

The following morning Darcy rode to Longbourn. He had passed the night arguing with himself about the advisability of seeing Elizabeth again so soon. I should not. I know I should not. I do not want to give rise to false hopes.

Of course, she had declared she did not intend to marry. How startling. Could she possibly mean it?

The more Darcy considered the assertion, the more it troubled him. He had assumed she hoped for, but did not expect, a proposal from him. But if you had even the slimmest hope of marrying a man, you were hardly likely to declare intentional spinsterhood to him.

For two years he had been pining for her, failing to shake off persistent longings. And during that time she had not been thinking of him? It was a lowering thought.

Unless… His breath caught. Unless she sensed his interest in her and sought to tell him gently that she did not share his sentiments. Yet surely she would not reject him out of hand, not when he could offer so much benefit to her family.

Perhaps she did not mean anything by it. Perhaps it was merely a passing fancy. Her dowry was indeed small, but she was beautiful and vibrant; she would make some man an admirable wife. And surely she did not want to remain at Longbourn for all of her days.

But would Elizabeth Bennet say such a thing on a whim?

No, it must simply be that she believed Darcy beyond her touch.

Still, the idea of her growing old in Collins’s household or as a governess to someone else’s children struck a note of despair in his heart. It was foolish. Imagining her perpetual loneliness threatened to tear him in two.

I have no right to such sentiments, he told himself sternly. If I have no intention of wedding her, I should not care if anyone else does so.

As he reined in his horse on the gravel drive in front of Longbourn Manor, he noticed Elizabeth standing near one corner of the house, deep in conversation with a woman he did not recognize. Her manner of dress suggested she was the wife of one of Longbourn’s tenant farmers, although it was a bit odd to see her visiting the manor house.

“Do not forget to feed yourself as well as the babe,” Elizabeth admonished the woman with a smile. “I put some good cheese and apples in the basket, along with a loaf of bread.”

The other woman smiled. “Is it Hill’s barley bread?”

Elizabeth hesitated for a fraction of a second. “No, it is a wheat loaf.”

The farmer’s wife shrugged. “All her breads are good.”

Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck. “I do not want to mislead you, Mrs. Larson. You will be subject to one of my efforts at baking.”

“Oh!” The woman’s eyes widened. “Well, I am sure it will be very good.”