Though her company left much to be desired except for Charlotte, Elizabeth was glad she had agreed to accompany Sir William and Mariah Lucas to Hunsford this Easter.

Her qualms about conversing with her cousin who had so unceremoniously switched his favor from her to her friend were of a short duration when Mr. Collins insisted that the subject best not be broached. This left Elizabeth with the freedom to wander the lovely grounds betwixt the parsonage and the larger estate of Rosings Park, which was owned by the illustrious Lady Catherine DeBough.

She had stumbled upon a lovely grove of Beech trees while on one of her rambles, and thereafter gravitated to it whenever she had the chance for a walk. Even after several weeks of solitude were disturbed by the addition of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy to Rosings’ household, Elizabeth managed to find the peace of her walks within the grove on many mornings.

But after nearly two week of his coming, Elizabeth found more often now that Mr. Darcy had also managed to come unheeded to the grove as well on his own early morning excursions into the park.

At first Elizabeth wondered at the chance meetings, somehow thinking that perhaps he had followed her purposely to try to open unwanted conversations with her only to ridicule her to his family. But his demeanor was all politeness and civility, much more so than when he had abided at Netherfield.

He seemed to wish to merely be in her company, sometimes without more than a sentence or two passing between them. She gathered that he was quite familiar with the groves and must have come here often as a child when he pointed out several of the trees that he and his cousin had climbed as youths, and played pirates.

This was a side to him that she had never realized, but yes, he must have had some sort of childhood, a typical boy by his accounts, and she smiled at his confession of it, and she wondered what he would have made of her as a child climbing trees too.


But the chance meeting on this particular morning was not as congenial as those previous, for Elizabeth had received a letter from her sister which on the surface seemed like her usual soft spoken self, relating the goings-on at Uncle Gardiner’s house in London. She made mention of the making of a visit to the Hursts’ townhouse and calling on Miss Bingley as well. Jane’s letter was merely a narrative of the visit, but Elizabeth read more than what Jane had written, about how disappointing she had been at not being able to visit with Mr. Bingley. She was told that he was out with the Miss Darcy, and was very busy with more social engagements of the kind. Surely Jane was not a simpleton when she heard this revelation, and it would cause her to think that Mr. Bingley had not been as attached to her as she had thought.

How terribly sad she must be. How I wish I could be there to console her.

With Jane’s letter crumpled in her hand, Elizabeth’s thoughts were quite somber when she rounded a curve in the path and spied Mr. Darcy leaning against a tree, waiting for her.

Oh, dear. Now I shall have to be civil to the very person who has had a hand in Jane’s disappointment.

She sighed and was not smiling when he approached and bowed to her. His smile faded as he took note of her mood. He noticed she clutched a missive in her hand as they continued down the path in silence. Finally he spoke.

"I gather you are not your usual cheerful self this day."

"No, sir, I am not good company at the moment."

They walked on again both wishing to say something, but neither knowing how to begin. Finally he spoke.

"I see you have a letter…from home? I trust you family is well."

"They are well, Mr. Darcy, as far as I am aware. No, this missive is from my sister, who has been this last month in London visiting my aunt and uncle in Cheapside."

"I was not aware she had gone away from Longbourn on holiday," was his only reply.

"She has been there for long enough that I thought you might have seen her while you were in town, but, of course, you travel in quite a different circle than we do, sir."

He seemed troubled by her speech, but didn’t wish to argue the point, saying only, "No, Miss Bennet, I barely socialized when I was lately in London, and had not the pleasure of meeting your sister."

"Oh," she sighed.

They had left the groves to come upon a stream that led to a swelling pond and stopped to view the wildlife abundant in this still early part of the day. While standing silently by the water they saw a fish break the surface and splash back into the pristine water.

"Do you care to fish, Mr. Darcy?" Her question caught him off guard, and he gazed at her profile looking at the now calm surface.

"When I have the chance," was his reply which caused her to laugh and look over to him. "What have I said that amuses you?"

Shaking her head, she sat upon the stump beside the bank and replied, "that is exactly what my Uncle Edward says. His trade in town keeps him so busy, but his passion is to fish ‘whenever he has the chance’. He tried to teach me when I was a child."

She closed her eyes and pretended to hold the rod and line, and after pretending to cast twice to get the feel of the pole in her hand, she pretended to cast out into the pond with the precise flick of her wrist that Darcy had yet to prefect. Had she a real rod, he could imagine where the hook would drop far out into the water.

She opened her eyes, still holding the pretend pole and line, waiting for a fish to bite. "I always thought that the hook stayed when I had cast it, and that any fish foolish enough to be at that exact place would grab up my worm to be dinner."

She smiled at Darcy who was shaking his head. "The currents underneath would take the hook and line further down."

"Yes, and any novice fisher would incorrectly think he had a bite and pull the line in only to find a drown worm, and no fish."

"As I have done many of time," he admitted.

"The problem is, of course, that one does not see the current beneath the calm surface of the water, and so disbelieves that it exists. Because that sense is useless to the purpose, we must rely on our other senses, and look beyond merely seeing to glean what is truly happening."

"That is a very insightful statement, Miss Bennet," he said, suddenly wondering where this conversation tended.

She rose and they began walking around the pond on the path that led scenically back to the parsonage. "What opinion do you have of my sister, Mr. Darcy?"

"Well," he stalled caught off guard again by her sudden change of topic when she asked such odd questions of him. "Of your elder sister, I can say only that…I find her quite…serene, and…calm."

Yes, that is a most apt description of her, a calming force in a sea of chaos at Longbourn.

They stopped and stood by the pond, and she turned and stared into his eyes for a long while. Her eyebrow rose and his gaze followed hers out to the deceptively calm surface of the pond.

"Indeed," was her only response as she began again to walk down the path.

But she had set a seed of doubt in his mind as to his opinion of the elder Miss Bennet.

Had I misjudged her countenance as nothing more than a calm surface like that of the pond?

As they parted company, he was left with more to ponder than merely the loveliness of Elizabeth’s eyes. She had caused him to doubt his abilities to observe.

Was there more to Miss Jane than I have seen in my observations? Had I looked at her with only my eyes while in Bingley’s company, and not with my other senses to truly know her feelings for him? Could I have been mistaken in her regard because I wished Bingley to abandon the infatuation with Miss Jane so that I too would be free of my own longings?

Approaching the graveled path that led to the stairs of Rosings, he took off his hat and wiped the sweat with his handkerchief, and shook his head.

No, I could not have been that far a field of what was real. My powers of observation have never failed me in the past, and are not wrong now. Bingley is better off without the likes of Miss Bennet. No, Elizabeth must be wrong. I am right. I am sure of it.

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