Perfect. I felt like that went rather well. I turned back to wiggle my fingers sweetly at Mr. Darcy as he gawked after us. He could face up to his misdeeds on his own, the cad, without embarrassing Jane any further.
9 December
“Isn’tthisremarkable?”AuntGardiner asked, pausing to let the jovial chatter of market-goers and the distant hum of a fiddle envelop us. “It takes me right back to the market days of my own youth.”
“The excitement truly starts early, doesn’t it?” Jane said, gazing at a nearby stall decorated with dried orange slices and sprigs of holly. “I aim to find a ribbon or trinket that Lydia will cherish, and perhaps some festive fabric for the house.”
Charlotte was walking rather slowly today, and she held my arm for support. Short of breath and paler than I liked to confess, she remained determined to enjoy our outing. My poor, dear Charlotte. She would expire on the sofa the moment we returned to Cheapside, but how could I deny her this enjoyment? “There is talk of a vendor selling this season’s first batches of mince pies. We simply cannot leave without sampling them.”
“Mince meat! I am hoping for an orange.”
Aunt Gardiner laughed. “Who knows but that you may receive one as a gift. Would that not be the most thoughtful thing?”
“The only gift I want is…” I stopped. Pasted a smile on my face, and turned to Charlotte. “Come, dear. Let us find those mince meat pies.”
We continued our journey through the market, carried along by the alluring scent of roasted chestnuts and the general air of festivity. Charlotte found her pies, and Jane was sniffing spices with our aunt. I was engrossed in examining a particularly vivid red ribbon when a familiar voice called out, “Miss Bennet! What a delightful coincidence!”
Mr. Bingley approached, his ever-cheerful demeanor brightening the winter afternoon. By his side was Mr. Van der Meer, and a few steps behind, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, was Mr. Darcy.
“Ah, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Van der Meer,” I greeted with an arch of my eyebrow, feigning surprise at our recurring encounters. Aunt Gardiner must have had something to do with this particular “coincidence.” The smug look in her eye, when I shot her a questioning glance, confirmed my suspicions.
“Miss Lucas,” Mr. Van der Meer offered, “that pie box looks rather heavy. May I carry it for you?”
Charlotte blanched, blinked at me, then gave a wan smile. “If you insist, sir.”
Well!That was certainly worth noting. I watched the gentleman for a moment, trying to study the way he touched her hand when he took the pie and looked into her eyes when he spoke to her. Perhaps no symptoms of particular regard—poor Charlotte had never been overburdened by gentlemanly attentions—but amiable, nonetheless. That would bear further scrutiny.
And speaking of scrutiny, my cheek was flaming as if… and yes, indeed. Mr. Darcy was staring at me again, with that steady, expressionless look he always had in Hertfordshire. What was the man’s trouble? He had seemed so determined to make it clear that I did not offend him when last we met, but his manner said otherwise. I smiled, that same prim little smile I had given him the day before when I left him. “Mr. Darcy, it appears that fate is determined to keep us in each other’s company.”
His lips twitched in what might have been a hint of amusement, but his tone remained characteristically composed. “So it seems, Miss Bennet. One might think the heavens are conspiring.”
“Or something is.” I tipped my head toward my aunt.
Mr. Darcy’s gaze followed my direction, but rather than permitting annoyance to darken his expression, he doffed his hat. “I hope you will introduce me, Miss Elizabeth.”
I think a mild breeze could have knocked me over. He desired an introduction to my aunt? The one heknewlived in Cheapside?
I cleared my throat. “Ah… yes, of course. Mr. Darcy, this is my aunt, Mrs. Madeline Gardiner. Aunt, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
“Oh, I am quite familiar with the name of Pemberley,” my aunt said warmly. “I grew up not far from there, near Matlock.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “Indeed? Then you must be familiar with Lambton?”
“Quite. My family often visited for market days. It is a charming place, is it not?”
For the first time, I saw Mr. Darcy genuinely animated, discussing familiar places and shared memories with my aunt. The guarded man from Netherfield was replaced by someone warmer, more open. The transformation was astonishing, like discovering a hidden talent in a reserved gentleman.
As Jane and Charlotte continued their chat with Bingley and Van der Meer, Darcy looked at me and seemed to catch his breath before he ventured, “Miss Bennet, might I impose upon you for an opinion?”
He… he wantedmyopinion? This ought to be interesting. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”
He gestured toward a nearby stall displaying delicate handcrafted jewellery. “I was hoping to find something for Georgiana. Your taste, I believe, is impeccable.”
“What a strange thing for you to say, Mr. Darcy. What ‘taste’ have I exhibited that might be of use in choosing a gift for Miss Darcy?”
“I have long noticed a similarity in our turns of mind,” he replied. “And I believe you and she are partial to the same books. You wear many of the same colors and styles. And above all these qualifications, you are not a gentleman, which makes you an infinitely superior choice to select something my sister might admire.”
I chuckled. “It is probably a fine thing that I amnota gentleman. I dare say I left you yesterday with an… ‘interesting’ conversation to mend.”
