He smiled, a slight but genuine smile, and her heart fluttered. She warned herself not to be foolish.
“Bingley has come to see your sister, but”—he glanced about— “I found myself in need of some air.”
“Even after your ride here in the carriage?”
He paused, his expression thoughtful as he glanced first one way, then the other. “The countryside here is particularly fine in winter.”
She chuckled at the awkward gesture and banal remark. “Indeed, though I am surprised to hear you speak of it so favourably. I was under the impression that the charms of Hertfordshire failed to meet your standards.”
A flicker of guilt passed over his face before his features settled into their usual reserve. “I was too hasty in my judgement. Alas, it would not be the first time.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose at the admission. But she could not allow it to stand alone. “I misjudged as well.”
Mr. Darcy’s gaze, steady and contemplative, lingered on her, and something between them seemed . . . different.
“I trust your family is well?” he asked, breaking the quiet.
She smiled, thinking he could have just entered Longbourn and had his question answered. “Quite well, thank you. And yours?”
“They are well. My sister is enjoying her time in the country,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “She finds your family’s hospitality most agreeable.” He motioned back to the house. “She is no doubt already sitting with your sisters.”
Elizabeth studied him carefully. He was no thinner, but he still appeared tired. Before she could inquire about his own health, Mr. Darcy spoke again.
“I understand that the news about Lieutenant Wickham has been spoken of in the neighbourhood,” he said, his tone carefully measured.
She stiffened at the mention of the lieutenant, her earlier musings rushing back with renewed force. “It has.”
There was something in his manner, an edge of determination beneath his calm exterior, which made Elizabeth pause, and she searched his face, uncertain of what to say. The memory of hermisstep with Mr. Wickham weighed heavily on her pride. She drew herself up, folding her hands tightly before her. “I imagine you must feel vindicated, sir, given all that has come to light.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head slowly, his expression sombre. “Vindication is a cold comfort when measured against the harm Wickham has caused. I regret that you, Miss Bennet, were among those he sought to deceive.”
She was startled by the unexpected humility in his voice. “You need not concern yourself withmyfeelings, Mr. Darcy. While I had already begun to distrust the man, I must bear the responsibility for my own credulity. I trusted a man who was charming but unworthy, even when he said terrible things about you, and for that, I must apologise.”
He took a step closer, the frost crunching beneath his boots. “If there an apology to be made, it ought to be mine. I was dreadfully vague at the ball when we spoke of the man. And even before that, it was you at the Meryton assembly, was it not, when I uttered those unkind, untrue words?”
Her breath caught. So, he was aware that she had overheard. She inclined her head slightly, allowing him to continue.
“I was unforgivably proud,” he said, his jaw tightening. “To dismiss those I did not know with such arrogance, and in your hearing, no less. I had not realised it was you right away, though I do not know how. I looked directly at you.” He shook his head. “Until the Netherfield ball, I did not even consider that you might think ill of me, but how could you not? I assure you I have thought of both moments often and with great regret.”
Elizabeth hesitated, her heart softening at the penitence in his tone. “I cannot deny that your words coloured my opinion of you, but you have shown yourself to be a better man than I first believed. If you require my forgiveness, you have it.”
Mr. Darcy gazed steadily at her. “Thank you,” he said quietly, after a moment. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am grateful for it.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the stillness of the winter morning enveloping them. Elizabeth glanced away, gathering her thoughts. When she was more composed, she spoke. “There is something else I must ask, Mr. Darcy. Why did you not expose Mr. Wickham’s true nature when he first arrived in Meryton? It might have spared many from his falsehoods.”
Mr. Darcy tugged at his cuffs. “At first, I thought it unnecessary. I thought it best not to drag Georgiana’s name into a public quarrel, and I hoped that his true character would reveal itself in time, as it has done.”
“Miss Darcy? But how . . .” Elizabeth gasped. “Oh.”
Mr. Darcy nodded grimly. “She was spared, but he intended to elope with her in the hopes of accessing her fortune.”
“Which I must presume is splendid.”
“It is.”
“And Miss Darcy so young. When . . .?” She trailed off, recognising her impertinence.
He shook his head. “I trust in your discretion, Miss Elizabeth. It occurred last summer. I settled her with my aunt and uncle in town just before arriving here to visit Bingley.”
