Elizabeth
MyeyesfollowedMr.Darcy’s retreating form until he disappeared into the crowded Lambton street. I pressed a hand to my racing heart, willing it to slow. What must he think of my foolish behavior, refusing even to meet his gaze? But the shock of seeing him again so unexpectedly had stolen both my courage and my manners.
“Lizzy!” Jane tugged at my arm. “Why did you not greet Mr. Darcy properly? He clearly recognized you.”
“Hush, Jane!” I pulled her back down onto the bench, glancing nervously toward the counter where Mr. Watson worked, oblivious to our whispered exchange.
“I still cannot believe it was him,” I murmured. “He is so... changed.” My mind conjured the image of the tall, imposing figure who had just departed. So unlike the skinny, awkward boy of my memories, who was usually too shy to speak to anyone unless compelled by duty. The man I’d just seen looked like he was used to authority and decisiveness.
“He recognized you, did he not?” Jane pressed.
“I think so, but...” I twisted my handkerchief, shame creeping into my cheeks. What must he think of me now? “Well, probably not. Everything is different, Jane. I felt utterly unprepared. My gown is dirty and six years out of date, I have only one boot on, and there stood Fitzwilliam, looking as grand as a duke!”
“Oh, Lizzy.” Jane shook her head, a gentle smile playing about her lips. “Still such particular friends with him after all this time, are you?”
I swatted her arm with my handkerchief, eliciting a giggle. Trust sweet Jane to find amusement in my discomposure. “It was not Fitzwilliam who was my particular friend. He was so much older than George and I were. By the time I was old enough to remember much of him at all, he was away most of the year at school. I could not presume…”
“Lizzy, you used to be one of his family. Just as much as you are now a part of ours. Surely, you could have spoken to him.”
“It has been seven years!” I protested. “He was like an elder brother to me once. But now...” I pictured the formidable man who bore the name Master Darcy. Would the laughing, shy youth I once knew still linger behind those intelligent eyes? Or had he hardened into a stranger? My heart squeezed at the thought.
“At least we know they are arrived in Derbyshire for the summer,” Jane commented. “Although I confess surprise to hear him called merely ‘Mr.’ Darcy. Is his father...?”
A knot formed in the pit of my stomach, my own unspoken fear taking shape.Surely not, I counseled myself. Fate could not be so cruel as to steal him away without even a farewell. Although...had I not suffered that very cruelty when they sent me from Pemberley all those years ago?
“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice broke my reverie. “Do you think Mr. Darcy’s father has passed?”
I shook my head firmly, as much to convince myself as her. “I cannot believe it. Although...” I hesitated, hating to give voice to the possibility that had lurked at the edges of my perception ever since we came to Lambton. “Although I have heard no word of him in the village gossip. Only a passing reference to ‘Mr. Darcy’ overseeing the estate, the same as ever.”
Jane smoothed her skirt pensively. “Indeed. But as I said, I think Mr. Darcy recognized you. Surely you will call on the family?”
“If he had recognized me, he would have said something.”
“Perhaps he was not certain, but he truly did have a strange look on his face when he saw you. I say you should take your card by. What need is there to stand on ceremony with old friends?”
“Perhaps...” I twisted my handkerchief again, my mind spinning faster than the carriage wheels carrying Mr. Darcy back to Pemberley. What would I say if I faced him again? Demand answers about why I had been so callously cast out and forgotten? Pour out seven years of buried anger and heartache? Or simply pretend the past had never happened?
“Lizzy?” Jane prodded gently. “If they were such dear friends once, should you not call?”
“I… I shall have to consider it carefully.” I stood abruptly. “Let us see if my boot is repaired.”
Jane’s eyes followed me with curiosity, but she let the matter drop as I hurried to the counter.
Soon, we were equipped again for walking, my freshly mended boot once more securely on my foot. As Watson counted my coins, my eyes were continually drawn to the door through which the mysterious “new” Mr. Darcy had vanished.
What was I afraid of? As a girl, never would I have permitted awkwardness or pride to keep me from the company I craved. Surely, beneath the expensive clothes and imposing stature, some glimmer of my old friend Fitzwilliam remained?
But it was not Fitzwilliam who made my heart sing, still after all this time. It was not Fitzwilliam whose merry voice and blue eyes had never left my imagination for more than a day.
George himself was another matter. Had it beenhein that shop, I’ve no doubt I would have leapt up and made him spin me in a dizzy loop until we both collapsed from laughter, like in the old days. Had it been George, he would not have stared at me with that question in his eyes like he was trying to place me...
No, I pushed that tender string of thought aside. This was not the moment to unravel old wounds. I had found the elder Darcy brother again after years of aching curiosity, and that was… well, that was something. Was that not an opportunity to be seized before it slipped through my fingers once more?
Jane and I stepped back out into the bustling high street. My eyes instinctively sought out a particular carriage, but neither the vehicle nor its occupant were anywhere in view. I wondered if Mr. Darcy was even now arriving at the stately house on the hill, so beloved in my memory. Would he speak of encountering me? Wonder at my behavior? Or had the fleeting meeting already faded from his thoughts?
“Lizzy!” My uncle’s voice called out, followed swiftly by his figure exiting the inn. “There you are. Let us away home, for I am certain your aunt and Mrs. Westing are eager for our return.”
Jane greeted my uncle warmly as he helped her into the carriage. But while she chatted brightly over the excellent views and glorious day we had enjoyed, my thoughts drifted once more to Pemberley. To the past, to the future...and to Mr. Darcy. One of them, anyway.
