The Beginning of Hope

Part 6

Pemberley.

How much the name of the great Derbyshire estate still made Elizabeth's heart lift. She had never seen it, of course, but she had read a little about it, that summer that she had known Darcy. Not when they had been acquainted, of course, but afterwards. It had been a form of torture to her, to read of the Darcy family's ancestral seat, to imagine its heir rising to inherit, to live a life she had once dared to dream might be hers.

How long ago that was now! She had all but forgotten Pemberley, if not its owner, but fate had conspired now to reunite them. There would be no forgetting Mr Darcy, but no recalling him either. This Darcy was a stranger, as they had agreed to remain. It was with great calm and self-control, then, that Mr Darcy took a step or two closer to the seat she shared with Caroline. For a brief moment, Lizzy thought he might join them, but he did not, circling the pair, instead, and selecting a chair beside Mr Hurst.

"I do not wish to bore you with details about an estate many miles north of this." He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on his finger-tips. "Suffice it to say there are a great many attractions in the countryside that might make any gentleman happy there."

Elizabeth felt an icy blast to her left and did not need to look to picture the scowl that Caroline Bingley would be wearing in response to such a display of partiality. She expected him to agree with her, I suppose, Elizabeth thought, resisting the urge to smile.

She was not well-acquainted with Caroline Bingley, but what she had seen was not entirely likeable and she could not help but rejoice to see the proud, snobbish young lady taken down a peg or two, even if it was at the hand of Mr Darcy. Further to that, although she would scarcely begin to admit it even to herself, she felt cheered by the acknowledgement that Darcy's opinion and her own were not dissimilar on this point. She held her breath and prayed he might continue.

"Country pursuits, you understand. In London, the vast majority of occupations are of a sedentary and sociable nature." Darcy smiled, a little reluctantly. "We are not all blessed with the skill or the desire to be forever among strangers, Miss Bingley. In the countryside, one might limit one's interactions to friends and neighbours, and be often alone, should one choose. There are ample opportunities for exercise, far more so than are available in London. Riding, for instance. Shooting."

"Shooting?"

The word had been something of a beacon to Charles Bingley, whose head shot up at the sound, looking in that moment not unlike an enthusiastic gun dog. Elizabeth, who had been taking a sip of her tea at the moment this particularly intrusive thought floated through her mind, choked back a laugh and struggled for a moment to do anything other than cough and splutter.

"Are you quite well, Eliza?" Caroline asked, icily.

"Quite well, yes, thank you," Elizabeth managed, at last, sucking in a great gulp of air and setting her teacup down on the small table beside her. "Forgive me." She looked helplessly to someone else to begin the conversation again and save her from further scrutiny, her gaze meeting Darcy's, who looked away almost immediately. Mercifully, he did begin to talk again, either to save her embarrassment or his own.

"I can well understand why such attractions might not appeal to young ladies, of course. Perhaps it is unfair for gentlemen to presume to claim one location is superior to another when we are the ones who benefit from the occupations it affords."

"Excuse me, Mr Darcy, but I believe my sister would have some choice words to share on that particular topic!"

This was Jane, whose musical voice took on the gently teasing tone that Elizabeth knew so well. She had her back to her sister and was unable to shoot her a quelling look without drawing still more attention from Caroline, the Hursts and Mr Darcy, so she did nothing but sink further in her seat, praying that the conversation would move on swiftly and allow Jane's comments to fall on deaf ears.

"Oh?"

Caroline picked up the baton, pursing her lips as she looked at Elizabeth. She was evidently expectant of having the joke shared, such as it was.

"Lizzy?" Jane chuckled. "I am surprised you have not already leapt up to deliver your treatise on the divisions between so-called gentlemanly and feminine pursuits!"

"Do not tell me you like to shoot, Miss Elizabeth?"

Charles had caught wind of Jane's teasing and longed to be part of it, and with a groan, Lizzy soon deduced there would be no escaping the moment without indulging her sister with an answer.

"I do not," she confessed, gritting her teeth and praying Jane would let the matter rest. No such luck.

"Why?" Jane asked, her voice trilling with the effort it took for her not to dissolve completely into giggles.

"My aim is not particularly good."

This was muttered into one hand, and Mrs Hurst leant forward with a questioning look to silently bid her repeat herself. With a sigh of resignation, Lizzy told the story that had been held over her head by her family for almost as long as she could remember.

"I have never held with the assertion that just because a certain activity is gentlemanly that no young lady could enjoy it. I determined that if a gentleman could shoot then I could learn to do it too, so...I persuaded our groundskeeper's son to teach me. Unfortunately, he did not warn me about the - the -" She could not remember the word she was looking for and reached a hand up to her shoulder, remembering the bruise that had turned it black and blue for a week, and the pain that had been her well-deserved punishment for her foolhardy adventure.

"The recoil?"

It was Darcy who offered this suggestion, and Elizabeth nodded, smiling at him almost before she was aware of doing it.

"Oh, goodness!" Mrs Hurst clapped a hand over her mouth. The sound of it pulled Elizabeth back into her story and she looked away from Darcy, biting her lip as she felt the eyes of every other occupant of the room fixed on her.

"I learned my lesson, and there's a tree on the outskirts of Longbourn that will forever bear the mark of my attempt to be gentlemanly." She hung her head in mock-shame and was relieved when a riot of good-natured laughter went up from all the others.

"So shooting is out, Miss Eliza, for obvious reasons. I trust you have not discarded all other countryside pursuits after it?" Mr Hurst asked, his expression brightening as if he thought he rather liked this adventurous neighbour and hoped she might visit them more often. "Do you ride?"

"I like to walk," Elizabeth conceded. "I ride a little but lack the passion for it. I much prefer to walk."

Her eyes met Darcy's again and this time he did not immediately look away. His expression was clouded as if he was recalling one of the walks they had taken together, through the many and varied London parks. He nodded, almost to himself, although it seemed to Lizzy as if the action was meant for her. Yes, it seemed to say. I remember that about you. I remember you.

All of a sudden, he seemed to catch her eye, though, and the spell was broken. He straightened, folding his hands over one knee and turned to Mr Hurst, seeking immediately to engage him in a discussion of guns surely chosen specifically that it might exclude Elizabeth. He might remember her with fondness, but that did not mean he was willing to think of her as a friend now.