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Darcy couldn't help but feel positively mortified every time Caroline spoke. He knew that she was simultaneously trying to bait Miss Bennet and flirt with him, but he couldn't think of anything more reprehensible than her current behaviour. He could not fathom why Caroline would think that her barely disguised rudeness toward Miss Bennet would be in any way attractive to him. But then, perhaps he was just utterly exhausted with her flirtations.
Caroline Bingley had been flirting with him since their second meeting, when he and Charles were still in school and Caroline still had a governess. He could only attribute her slow start in pursuing him to her ignorance as to the size of his income. But as soon as that was rectified, she had quickly, and obviously, set her sights on making him her husband. Darcy knew that Charles had spoken to her on the matter before – he was not presently inclined to marry, and if he were, he would be obligated to marry the girl to whom he had been betrothed since birth – but Caroline did not seem to be deterred in the slightest.
Darcy shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had the oddest sensation of fuzziness in his mind whenever Miss Bennet was around. It made it hard to focus or even to speak properly, like a thick fog had invaded his brain.
"Please excuse me, I must attend to some other matters," he mumbled lamely as he stood up. He simply couldn't bear to be in this room any longer.
Darcy made his way outside, letting the slight breeze and cool air clear his mind and carry off his irritation. He was beginning to think that it was time for him to return to Pemberley for a while. As much as he enjoyed the company of his friend, Darcy missed his home and his sister, and his solitude. It was exhausting having to be constantly in an attitude of making new acquaintances, and he longed for the comfort of being around only people who knew him best. People with whom he could be himself, and not have any pretences.
“Mr Darcy!” Her voice rang out clear in surprise, startling him out of his thoughts. “Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude…”
Darcy looked around, realising for the first time that he had wandered into Netherfield’s rose garden. No flowers were in bloom, of course, but the garden still held a somewhat autumnal beauty. More striking than any of it, however, was the presence of Miss Bennet in the same garden, radiating a kind of wild beauty.
“You are not intruding,” he told her, recovering himself quickly. “I was simply… taking a stroll.”
“A stroll?” she repeated, somewhat dubiously. “That seems an unlikely occupation for you, Mr Darcy.”
He bristled at her comment. “On the contrary, I quite enjoy a good stroll.”
“My apologies, sir,” Miss Bennet replied, clearly trying to hide a grin.
This irked him even more. What reason did Miss Bennet have to be so smug? He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from asking question, which he knew would be rude. Just this once, he would prefer not to seem like a complete idiot in front of her.
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind some company on your stroll?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Privately, Darcy thought it was about the last thing he wanted. His whole purpose in coming outside had been to find some peace and solitude. And Miss Bennet, being someone who barely knew him at all and yet clearly did not hold him in the highest regard, was hardly his idea of a relaxing companion. Still, there was no way for him to politely decline, so he would be obligated to endure her company for at least a little while.
“It would be my pleasure,” he answered, offering her a polite, if somewhat stiff, smile.
Darcy turned, setting off down the path and waiting for Miss Bennet to join him. Within moments, he heard the crunch of the pebbles beneath her boots as she kept pace with him. For a while, they meandered through the garden in silence, and Darcy almost felt comfortable. It was shocking, how at ease he felt just walking quietly out of doors with her. But at the same time, there was a desire in him to fill the silence, to hear her voice as it echoed across the sloping lawn of Netherfield.
“How is your sister?” he asked after a time.
“She is getting better,” Miss Bennet answered vaguely, only quickly glancing toward him as she spoke. “We are both very appreciative of Mr Bingley’s hospitality, though I fear I am beginning to trespass upon the welcome of yourself and Miss Bingley.”
“Not at all,” Darcy answered. Miss Bennet turned to look at him with a peculiar expression, and he quickly felt the colour rise on his cheeks. “I suppose I can only speak for myself. Miss Bingley… Miss Bingley does not have much welcome to trespass upon, except for certain people.”
Miss Bennet smiled, a true smile, like she had when she’d spoken about dancing so passionately. His heart pounded at the sight, a phenomenon that he did not presently want to explore, since it could not be anything good.
“People like yourself?” Miss Bennet observed, her smile turning somewhat wry.
Darcy couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Please keep my observation in confidence.”
“Of course,” she agreed. Silence stretched between them for a few more minutes as they walked and then she stopped rather abruptly. “I should go back to Jane.”
“Of course,” he replied.
Without waiting for anything else, Miss Bennet turned and walked back toward the house, leaving Darcy feeling utterly confused. Had he said something wrong? Had she sought him out for a reason, only to change her mind? He could not understand what had just passed between them, except that the grounds of Netherfield felt existentially empty now that Miss Bennet had gone inside. He shivered as a cold gale whipped through him, but when he looked up, the branches of the trees were barely rustling. What was it then, that was making him feel so cold?