There can be no Elizabeth and Darcy tourist trail.
Happiness takes them off the map. Even their author
doesn’t follow though it’s she who’s made them
so happy they wander miles without knowing
quite where. But to pose a prosaic question –
Lizzy and Darcy set off from Longbourn, a place
Lizzy has always walked, so how is it she’s ‘beyond
her own knowledge’ of the church gates and copses,
cottage doors and meadows they wander past?
Sleepy reds being deepened, flame-yellows lifted,
air gentled to hold still the suddenly elegiac robin;
the autumnal harvest of the day and which way taken
at the fork in the spinney – all this the pair fail
to notice; neither can they look the other in the eye.
Waiting by the hornbeam hedge of home, their author
sees the darkening sky. Was it hard in that chapter
not to follow, not to have her share? Three times
she tells us the lovers wander without knowing where.