Mr. Darcy's Diary Amanda Grange (android e book reader .TXT) 📖

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before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear

interested in their concerns, as I often see done,’ I agreed.

‘My fingers do not move over this instrument in the

masterly manner which I see so many women’s do, but

then I had always supposed it to be my own fault –

because I would not take the trouble of practising.’

I smiled.

‘You are perfectly right.’

At this moment, Lady Catherine interrupted us.

‘What are you talking about, Darcy?’

‘Of music,’ I said.

Lady Catherine joined us at the pianoforte.

‘Miss Bennet would not play amiss, if she practised

more, and could have the advantage of a London master,’

declared my aunt.‘She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne’s. Anne would

have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed

her to learn.’

I scarcely heard her. I was watching Elizabeth. She

bore with my aunt’s comments with remarkable civility,

and at the request of Colonel Fitzwilliam and myself, she

remained at the instrument until the carriage was ready

to take the party home.

I thought I had rid myself of my admiration for her. I

thought I had forgotten her. But I was wrong.

Monday 14th April

I was taking a walk round the grounds this morning

when my steps led me unconsciously to the parsonage.

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Finding myself outside I could not, in all politeness, pass

by, and I called in to pay my respects. To my horror, I

found Elizabeth there alone. She seemed as surprised as I

was, but she was not, I think, displeased.Why should she

be? It must be satisfying for her to think that she has captivated me. She bid me take a seat, and I had no choice

but to sit down.

‘I am sorry for this intrusion,’ I said, feeling the awkwardness of the situation, and wanting to make sure she

knew it had not been by design. ‘I understood all the

ladies to be within.’

‘Mrs Collins and Maria have gone on business to the

village,’ she replied.

‘Ah.’

‘Lady Catherine is well?’ she said at last.

‘Yes, I thank you. She is.’

Silence fell.

‘And Miss de Bourgh? She, too, is well?’

‘Yes, I thank you. She is.’

‘And Colonel Fitzwilliam?’ she asked.

‘Yes, he too is well.’

Another silence fell.

‘How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last

November, Mr Darcy!’ she began at last. ‘It must have

been a most agreeable surprise to Mr Bingley to see you

all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but

the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when

you left London?’

‘Perfectly so, I thank you.’

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‘I think I have understood that Mr Bingley has not

much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?’

‘I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that

he may spend very little of his time there in future. He

has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends

and engagements are continually increasing.’

‘If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be

better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the

place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled

family there. But perhaps Mr Bingley did not take the

house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it

or quit it on the same principle.’

I did not like the subject, but replied evenly enough.

‘I should not be surprised if he were to give it up, as

soon as any eligible purchase offers.’

I should have left the parsonage then. I knew it. And

yet I could not tear myself away. There was something

about the shape of her face that invited my eye to follow

it, and something about the way her hair fell that made

me want to touch it.

She said nothing, and once more there was silence.

I could not say what was in my mind, and yet I found

I could not leave.

‘This seems a very comfortable house,’ I said.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘It must be agreeable for Mrs Collins to be settled

within so easy a distance of her own family and

friends.’

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‘An easy distance do you call it?’ she asked in surprise.

‘It is nearly fifty miles.’

‘And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than

half a day’s journey.’

‘I should never have considered the distance as one of

the advantages of the match,’ cried Elizabeth.

‘It is a proof of your own attachment for Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of

Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far,’ I said.

‘I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family.’

Ah. She knew the evils of her relations and would not

be sorry to escape them. When she married, she would

leave them behind.

‘But I am persuaded my friend would not call herself

near her family under less than half the present distance,’

she continued.

‘You cannot have a right to such very strong local

attachments,’ I said, pulling my chair forward a little as I

spoke, for I felt an overwhelming urge to be near her.

‘You cannot have always been at Longbourn.’

She looked surprised, and I was halted. I had almost

been carried away by admiration and tempted into saying that she could have no objection to living at Pemberley, but I had gone too quickly and I was thankful for

it. Her look of surprise saved me from committing

myself to a course of action I would surely regret. I drew

my chair back, and picking up a newspaper, I glanced

over it.

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‘Are you pleased with Kent?’ I asked, with enough

coolness to depress any hope she might have been entertaining from my ill-judged manner.

‘It is very pleasant,’ she said, looking at me in perplexity.

I embarked on a discussion of its attractions, until we

were saved from the