He was a confounding man. He bore all the distinctions of a proud man. What man with wealth, good looks, a high standing in society, and a mind half as sharp would not be proud?
Mr. Darcy, it would seem, for she could not rightly accuse him of pride. Not only had he exposed himself to criticism in front of Mr. Jones, but he had done so with humor. He had put her at ease at his own expense.
Frustration fanned the flames of Elizabeth’s determination. She would remember Mr. Darcy by the end of the day.
If knowledge was the key to understanding, then learning about Mr. Darcy would unlock her memories of the gentleman.
Feeling better having a plan of her own, Elizabeth let the sun warming her bonnet melt her fears and carry it away in the soft June breeze. Tilting her head up to warm her face, she heard bees buzzing, leaves rustling, and the gentlemen’s conversation fade into footsteps. She opened her eyes to see Mr. Darcy in front of her.
He held out his arm. “May I walk with you to Longbourn?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Without a chaperone?” He did not have the flash or flirtatious manner of a rake, nor could she imagine herself agreeing to marry one.
“We are engaged … if you wish to remain so.” His dark eyes captured hers, and she sucked in a breath when they flickered to her lips. She caught herself leaning into him, acting on her earlier, brazen thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s kiss awakening her and leaving Elizabeth uncertain as to the perspicacity of them walking alone. It was one thing to spin fantasies in the confines of one’s mind; quite another to act upon them.
She regained her balance. “I do … I think.”
Would a kiss restore her memory? She shook her head. Information first, then … maybe … a kiss. As a last resort.
Mr. Darcy smelled pleasant. She would wager he tasted pleasant.
His velvety voice broke the ensuing silence. “You look lovely.”
Elizabeth blushed furiously. Mr. Darcy could not have known the topic of her musings, but she felt as though he had caught her. As though he could read her mind.
She looked around, shocked to see they were already half-way to Longbourn. How long had she been pondering inappropriate displays of affection with the same man with whom she walked? Her ears burned.
He watched her, expecting a reply.
Right. Lovely. She looked down. The front of her wedding gown was wrinkled, the hem dirty. She knew grass stains smudged the back. The silk roses matching the ribbon tied around her waist — blue like Mr. Darcy’s waistcoat — were crushed and coated in dust.She did not feel lovely; and the evidence she wore proved she did not look it either.
“Are you too vain for spectacles, Mr. Darcy?” she teased.
He had a brilliant smile. It reached his eyes. “No, although my vision will always cast you in a favorable light.”
“You do me more favor than you do yourself. I recall you admitting to giving a poor first impression at our first meeting.”
He groaned, such a wince of displeasure twisting his features as to spur Elizabeth’s compassion and humor.
“You could tell me a more favorable account, and I would not know it,” she said, smiling up at him.
He did not smile. Clutching her arm more firmly to his side, he stopped, his eyes not once wavering from hers. “I could never take advantage of your ignorance. Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.”
Elizabeth believed him. They resumed walking.
She felt his chest expand, then his deep exhale before he began. “I had much to learn before I could even attempt to deserve you, and I pray you see my continued efforts to improve myself for your benefit as I relate those events which are now my most painful memories.”
“Events? There have been more than one?” She bit her tongue, chastising herself for speaking beforegiving her words proper thought. He had mentioned her refusing. That certainly qualified as a painful event.
Another wince and groan. “Regrettably, there have been several.”
Elizabeth frowned. She did not like being the source of his discomfort when he had done so much to comfort her that morning. “Then I must insist that for every difficult memory, you also share a pleasant one. I would very much like to know how we met. Perhaps, it will jog my own recollections.”
He sighed. “I insulted your vanity to your face, then refused to dance with anyone not in my party … at the public assembly.”
Swallowing her shock, Elizabeth listened as he described that evening from his perspective. His posture stiffened and his tone sharpened with every insult he confessed. Then, to her surprise, he gave the version she had previously told him from her point of view, until the disappointment of reliving these past events moved Elizabeth to intervene.
“Pray, speak not another word of the matter. I have heard quite enough for the present and am wondering what pleasantness could possibly have proceeded from such a beginning.”
