Page 54 of A Practical Man
“Full dark and with admirable stealth. There is nothing new in my early morning walks, and I thought to make good use of the fact I shall not be missed before ten o’clock.”
Upon exchanging a look in which she continued to be calmly amused, and I stared at her like a benighted fool, she relented. “I see you are not a man to be taken where the tide washes you?”
“I prefer a map as you perhaps know from our expedition in Kent.”
A flash of mischief lit her eyes. “Upon seeing your reticence of yesterday, I felt I must break convention and force a private meeting. There is much I believe we would like to say to one another, and were I to wait for you to create an opportunity to do so, I would likely see another year pass by.”
This was so far removed from the usual course of things, my mind went completely dark. Did she expect me to make her an offer while we walked past the pigsty before the sun had even come up? Or—good God. Was I to hear something shattering?
“I-I do not know quite where to start.”
“Then we should start with my polite enquiry as to how you are feeling. We have a long walk in front of us, sir, and the liberty to indulge in simple conversation. Are you well?”
Had she indeed arranged to speak with me privately only to ask after my health? After a desperate regrouping of my thoughts, I said, “I am feeling much stronger, I thank you. How was your journey home from Pemberley?”
“Interminable.”
“That is the longest road, is it not? I find the reverse much shorter, though it is exactly the same distance.”
“True. And to add to the misery, I was plagued with—well, so many feelings.”
“Such as?”
“I did not want to leave, for one thing. Never in my life had I enjoyed myself more liberally. But you are being unfair to prompt me to say more before you have uttered a single sentence that was not a polite muttering.”
“There is a great deal I wouldliketo tell you. Perhaps more than even you might wish to hear.”
“Impossible. I would gladly listen to you speak for the next two miles.”
“Upon what subject?”
She rallied me then, and said, “My good sir, clearly you are not in the habit of conversation. Begin with the first stupidity that enters your head. What is the worst that could happen? You may say something foolish to which I would likely reply with a ready laugh. If you need somewhere more solid tobegin, perhaps you might explain why you struck north on the expedition that nearly cost you your life?”
“Ah. That is a subject upon which we would need more than two miles of easy walking to canvass.” We took a few more steps in silence, and I was then moved to say, “I see by your look of scepticism, however, that you are unlikely to excuse me from answering you, and so, succinctly, I shall offer only that the impulse was the result of a vague and longstanding dissatisfaction with the progress and content of my life.”
“Dissatisfaction? You? Surely not.”
“By that you mean to suggest that my circumstances give me no right to complain. But I confess when I looked forward to my old age, I saw only slight variations in an uninteresting turning-over of days, months, and years. The daily routines, the cycle of day and night, the food on my plate, the discovery of problems and solutions that seem to revolve endlessly on a tiresome wheel—all of it was so unvarying as to render me half-dead before I had even crossed through the prime of my life.”
Elizabeth remained thoughtful for a moment before she said, “Would it surprise you to know that I too have sometimes seen the same narrowness in the scope of my own life?”
“Perhaps you should plan a very long march upon some arduous and stony path,” I said lightly.
“If only I could! When Georgiana wrote to me of your plans and then the bits of news of you which she had to share, I was wild with envy.”
“Might I hint that the reality is much less charming than the idea?”
“You may, and I would believe you, but that would not lessen its value to a person’s life. Come,” she said, as we stepped around a muddy dip in the road, “confess to me what youreallydiscovered other than Roman ruins.”
“I am so altered, I would think you could see for yourself that I am not the same man.”
She grinned at me. “I see no such thing. You are the same gentleman who saw me safely to the edge of London in a gig.”
“No, no. That poor soul has since been humbled ten times over. And you? Have you changed since I saw you safely to Mr Gardiner’s house?”
“Saw me?”
“It should not surprise you that I followed your hackney coach and watched until the door safely closed behind you.”
