A different version of what happened when Lizzie runs from the church through the pouring rain and Mr. Darcy catches up.
Lizzie could not help but to think of him and the suprise that struck her upon seeing him at Rosing's. Had his presence truly been a coincidence? She hadn't known whether it was a pleasant surprise or not, for all she had experienced were mixed emotions and a twisting in her gut. The last few times they had met hadn't exactly been pleasant or even cordial. She often wondered what truly went through that mysterious mind of his, what secrets were held behind such stern countenance. Anyone who didn't know him well would see he was close minded, seemingly miserable and easily irritated; at least that is how Lizzie knew him so far. Yet, she felt there was some kind of mystery behind such manners. She had yet to figure it out.
Pulling her mind from Darcy, she ventured to start a suttle conversation with the colonel, over her cousin's dull voice.
"How long do you plan to stay in Kent?" she asked.
"As long as Darcy chooses," Fitzwilliam answered, "I am at his disposal."
"Everyone appears to be," Lizzie commented, "I wonder he does not marry and secure a lasting convenience of that kind."
"She would be a lucky woman."
"Darcy is a most loyal companion. From what I heard, on our journey here, he recently came to the rescue of one of his friends just in time."
"He saved the man from an imprudent marriage."
Lizzie's stomach all of a sudden felt like it had dropped lower. Could it be?
"...Who was the man?"
"His closest friend, Charles Bingley," the colonel whispered.
A lump instantly filled Miss Bennett's throat, as her worst suspicions were confirmed.
"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reason for his interference?" she managed to voice out.
"There were apparently strong objections to the lady."
"What kind of objections? Her lack of fortune?"
"I think it was her family that was considered unsuitable..."
"So he separated them?" she desperately tried to cover her distress.
"I believe so...I know nothing else."
Feeling the blood drain from her face, Lizzie dared to glance back at where Mr. Darcy was seated. Realizing he was already looking at her, she quickly turned back to face the stand.
"Could you excuse me please Colonel?" she asked, her voice almost faltered as she stood to leave the pew.
"By all means," he responded, his eyes respectfully remaining on Mr. Collins as he shifted to let the young lady out.
Lizzie, quickly and quietly strode from the church aisle and out into the lobby. She had forgotten the rain until she opened the door and saw it pounding down. Too angry and hurt to care, she took a deep breath, wrapped her shawl tighter around her, and plunged into the blinding sheet of water. She knew her distress may have been evident by her leaving, but she didn't care. She had to get away from the church, away from that awful man! Somewhere she could think and vent in peace. She kept running, starting to feel the rain soak through her muslin dress, she crossed a narrow bridge that ran over a small river, crossed a field, her boots sloshing through the mud, until she saw a small grecian summer house, surrounded by pretty trees , overlooking a lake. She took cover under the columns, catching her breath and leaning heavily with her back against the cold stone.
How could Mr. Darcy do such a thing? Didn't he know her sister was the dearest most important thing to her on earth? Didn't he realize how much in love Jane was with Mr. Bingley, and how much she looked upon a proposal? How dare he separate two people who deeply loved one another! How cruel! All for the inferiority of her family, all for insecurity, low rank and poor breeding! If Darcy cared at all for his friend, wouldn't he have stood for his choice instead of tearing it down? Now Lizzie knew, this man did not believe in love. In his eyes, a marriage was clearly all about a large income.