“I was not reticent,” Darcy quipped. “I was suffering from hideous megrims throughout the entirety of our early acquaintance, yet the woman insists on painting me as retiring and unapproachable in company.”
“You still are, my love,” she soothed, lacing her hand through his. “But I rather like it when you make that forbidding face, especially when I am standing beside you. It spares me the trouble of speaking with ever so many dull people.”
Bingley laughed outright. “You ought to have seen him at school, Mrs Darcy. I daresay, any friends he had were because they were friends of mine first.”
“And you were entirelytoosociable,” Darcy muttered, but not without an amused quirk of his brow toward Bingley.
“Ah, yes. And too easily led… I know well my faults, Darcy, and I have repented of them. It is a mercy I have always had you to pull me back to some semblance of rationality when I have quite lost my head.”
“That is not entirely true.” Darcy sipped his own lemonade. “I cautioned you when the repair estimates for Netherfield came in that you would end up footing half of it, but you plunged ahead anyway.”
“Well, it is only because Northam agreed to sell me the property at a tremendous loss to himself. He only wanted to have done with the thing, poor chap. By the by, did I tell you that Mr Bennet has agreed to sell me the farms that Wickham had suggested purchasing?”
Elizabeth straightened. “He did? When was this?’
“Last month, Lizzy,” Jane replied. “Just after Mr Collins and Mary announced they would be adding a little ‘olive branch’ to the family. Papa said, and I quote, ‘Let us not burden the poor chap with more than he can manage, eh? And I hope he sires twelve daughters for his trouble.’”
Elizabeth laughed. “That sounds like Papa. Well, Mr Bingley, I am quite certain that you will manage those farms far better than Mr Collins would when he comes into his inheritance.”
“If,you mean,” Jane sighed. “Papa says he means to outlive all of us.”
“He just might,” Bingley added, rising from the blanket to bring Jane another tarte and refill his lemonade. “With all the work of these last months, I feel like I have aged ten years, but Bennet relaxes in his book room and l think his age regresses every time I meet him.”
Richard, catching the tail end of their conversation, turned with a grin. “Speaking of work, Bingley, I hear you are nearly done with the restoration. It seems you have worked a small miracle.”
Bingley chuckled, a hint of bashfulness in his expression. “Oh, I would not go so far as to say that. But it is coming along. I am just grateful to see the house standing again. Itreally is the ideal situation. Just the place I want to raise a family.” He followed this with a warm smile at Jane as he reclaimed the seat beside her.
Jane Bingley stiffened. “Charles!” she whispered harshly. “It is too soon!”
“Not a bit of it,” Elizabeth insisted. “We all knew the moment you stepped out of the carriage, Jane. And how charming that the cousins will be close in age!”
Jane Bingley bit her lip and slid a cheeky look to her husband. “Indeed, Lizzy. It is only a pity that Derbyshire is not a terribly easy distance from Hertfordshire.”
“Nonsense. You forget, we will be wintering in London for Georgiana’s Season. My goodness, I hope Lady Matlock is right about that modiste.”
“Hmm?” Jane looked puzzled.
“Oh! She swears that a talented modiste will hide…” she swept a hand over her growing middle… “this. But do you know, I think perhaps I do not wish to conceal anything. I am rather proud of the fact that I can port around all this ponderous weight, and I have yet to injure my ankle again in the process.”
Richard roared in laughter. “Fear not, Mrs Darcy. I am certain you will find some opportunity or other to discomfit yourself, should the need arise.”
“Is that an insult, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” she shot back.
“No, the highest esteem, I assure you, Mrs Darcy. One never knows when a little ‘mishap’ may prove to be a convenient excuse, particularly during one of my mother’s soirees.” At the sound of Darcy’s snort, Richard turned his gaze to his cousin. “And what of you, cousin? Are you prepared for the whirlwind that is to come? I suspect Georgiana’s debut will be quite the affair.”
Darcy glanced at Georgiana, who was seated nearby with Elizabeth. “I am certain she will do wonderfully,” he replied, his tone soft with brotherly affection. “She is ready, even if I am not.”
Elizabeth turned to him with a teasing smile. “I daresay it is you who are most anxious about the event, Mr Darcy. Poor Georgiana has been much more rational about the matter than you have.”
Darcy chuckled, unable to deny it. “Perhaps you are right, Mrs Darcy. I suppose I still find it difficult to see my little sister grown and ready for society. But enough of such talk, for I see my poor sister is turning a rather pretty shade of pink again at all this attention.”
Elizabeth leaned a little closer to Darcy, her arm brushing his ever so slightly. She could feel the warmth of his presence, his steady calm in contrast to the lively chatter aroundthem. With a soft smile, she tilted her head toward him and whispered, “Shall we take a turn about the gardens then, Fitzwilliam? I find I could use a bit of air.”
Darcy’s eyes met hers, and she saw a playful glimmer in his expression, a contrast to his usual composed demeanour. He nodded, rising from his seat. “A fine idea,” he said quietly, offering her his arm. “Cheerio, everyone.”
She took it gratefully, feeling the familiar comfort of his strength as they made their way out of the drawing room. As they walked, the sounds of laughter and conversation from their friends faded, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the brook nearby. Elizabeth breathed in the fresh air, savouring the tranquillity of the gardens.
They walked in a comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying the peacefulness that the outdoors always seemed to bring. Elizabeth’s heart swelled with affection for the man beside her. It was moments like these—simple, quiet, shared—that she cherished most.
