Page 6 of Not Without Me, Miss Elizabeth

Elizabeth studied him a moment; his countenance grave, dark hair fallen across his brow, his eyes still bright with some feeling. She drew a steadying breath. "That, sir, I can readily agree to. Good day to you."

She did not wait for his reply, but turned a third time and set off briskly up the trail. Whether he continued to watch her go, she could not say with certainty, though she did not hear his horse move off at once; only after some moments did the sound of hoofbeats reach her, growing fainter as he rode away.

What a disagreeable man,she said to herself with a rather unladylike huff.

The encounter had entirely displaced her earlier reflections upon the militia, her thoughts turning now, with some heat, to the character of Mr. Darcy himself.He is wholly without consideration for others, she decided.What could he have meant, riding through the woods at such a pace?

Her resentment carried her the rest of the way to the summit of Oak Hill, where she attempted to seat herself upon one of the great weathered stones scattered about the ground, relics, she had read, of some ancient people, but found she could take no comfort in the view this morning. She rose again almost at once and paced instead, turning over the events of the last quarter-hour.

Thank heaven he stopped in time,she reflected, still feeling the flutter of her surprise at his unexpected presence. Soon though, she began to chastise herself,how did I fail to hear him? Goodness, he must think me a very great fool.This second line of thinking caused her greater agitation.

Her thoughts moved in this manner some while, between relief, and vexation, and no small measure of self-reproach, until she had settled, to her own satisfaction, that the fault, though not entirely his, lay chiefly with Mr. Darcy; had he ridden at a more reasonable pace, the whole affair might have been avoided, or at the least resolved without alarm to either party. It vexed her, all the same, to own that she had been sufficiently lost in thought to miss what ought to have been the unmistakable sound of a horse moving at speed through the wood so near her path.

When she had paced long enough to weary of her own thoughts, Elizabeth judged it time to descend, the sun climbing higher and her family soon to break their fast. She took the familiar trail down, watching rather more carefully now for any other riders inclined to career through the wood, though she met with none upon her way home.

At Longbourn, she found by the evidence in the breakfast room that her family had already begun their meal. She helped herself to what pastries and eggs remained before joining them.

"Lizzy, late again to breakfast! Why must you go tramping about the countryside at such an hour? Have you no consideration for my poor nerves?" cried Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth, drawing a steadying breath and resolved upon composure, replied, "Good morning, Mama. A walk each morning sets me up for anything; I feel quite refreshed. How did you sleep?"

"I shall never understand you, Lizzy. It is too much entirely."

"You need not worry, Mama, I never go half so far as I should like, and always keep near Longbourn." She bestowed a brief kiss upon her mother's cheek before adding, "Now, have you had any further news of the militia?"

Elizabeth had, by long practice, become rather skilled in the art of turning her mother's conversation from subjects she preferred to avoid, and she employed this talent now without scruple, choosing the one topic certain to command her mother's whole attention.

She had determined, upon her walk home, that she would disclose the morning's adventure to no one, certainly not to her mother. She might, in time, confide it to Jane, though not today; she had lived through the encounter often enough already in her own mind to have no wish to relate it again so soon.

Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, had launched into all she had gathered from Mrs. Lucas concerning the militia, and Elizabeth, attending with something less than her full mind, offered only enough encouragement to keep her mother happily employed. She moved to the settee, where her sewing lay from the day before, while Jane regarded her with a look of such sweetness, and such evident understanding, that Elizabeth knew at once her sister had guessed the whole trick of the redirection. Elizabeth answered with the smallest lift of her brow, acknowledging as much, and took up her needle where she had left it.

It was only as she began to sew that she noticed her fingers were not quite steady;a small remnant, she supposed,of the morning's alarm, not yet entirely settled.

CHAPTER 5

A fortnight later, gossip of the militia had found its way into every corner of conversation in Meryton, the Bennet household not excepted. While Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters indulged themselves freely in fancies of handsome and heroic officers, Elizabeth remained rather more guarded in her enthusiasm; Jane was too pleasantly occupied with Mr. Bingley's attentions to trouble herself much over the new arrivals; and Mary took no interest in the matter whatsoever.

One evening, Sir William Lucas undertook to gather a party of young people and respectable neighbours for an evening's entertainment. Among the invited were Mr. Bingley and his party, the Bennets, the Alders and the Brookses, together with the newly arrived Colonel Forster and several of his senior officers.

The summer heat made for close conditions, and though Sir William had seen to it that every window in the ballroom stood open, the air remained warm and heavy, and the company kept close to the punch table in a general, if hopeless, effort to cool themselves.

Elizabeth had some hope of speaking with Colonel Forster, that she might learn what had recommended Meryton as a posting for his regiment, and how long they were like to remain. Her youngest sister Lydia had already made an attempt upon the colonel's young wife, and Elizabeth, wishing to make Mrs.Forster's acquaintance herself, was making her way toward them when a figure stepped directly into her path, obliging her to stop short and look up.

"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy’s tone was crisp but polite.

Elizabeth suppressed an inward sigh. She had marked Mr. Darcy's entrance some time before, and had taken some care since to avoid his notice. However, having approached her, there was no possible outlet that would allow her to retreat from that moment without being abominably rude. She offered a polite curtsy, as was expected of polite society, "Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she replied, resolved to be civil, though her eyes strayed past his shoulder toward her intended object.

"If you would," he started.

"How are," she continued.

Having both spoken at once, they fell silent together. And, Elizabeth inclined her head, yielding him the word, with a slight nod and demur smile.

"How do you do this evening, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy tried again.

This time, Elizabeth replied with speed, "Very well, I thank you.” She turned her head towards the direction of her younger sister, Lydia, “I was just now on my way to my sister.” She nodded in Lydia’s general direction. “If you will excuse me, sir." She had just began to attempt to move past him, before he interjected.

He spoke gravely. "Of course. But before you go, if you are not otherwise engaged, might I have the honour of the next dance?"