“Better?” Elizabeth scoffed. “What do you imagine we do all day at Longbourn? Dance ourselves silly and host droves of interesting people to tea? I assure you, it will be the pleasantest way to pass the afternoon. Now, help me climb back in so I can set about the business of soiling this thing properly so we have a truly decent excuse to keep to ourselves in the stables for the rest of the day.”
Charlotte actually chuckled at that and extended her hand. However, before Elizabeth could put her foot up on the step, another carriage came into view.
Elizabeth’s heart leapt when she recognised Mr Bingley’s carriage. As it rumbled closer, she squinted, her pulse quickening when she made out her father, Mr Wickham, and… and Mr Darcy inside. Jane’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink at the sight of Mr Bingley, but Elizabeth’s thoughts were spinning on quite another gentleman.
So, the rumours were true! Mr Darcywashere, and so soon! Did he remember her? That awkward, muddy encounter that had left her mortified and curious about him all at once. Had he thought of her at all since then? She ached to find out, to read something—anything—in his expression.
The carriage came to a stop, and all the gentlemen stepped out—well… all save for her father, who leaned out the window and shook his head when he beheld her gown. But her father’s gaze could not hold her interest when there were three others in closer proximity.
Mr Wickham stepped out first, tipping his hat, followed by Mr Bingley, and then her stomach dropped as she locked eyes with Mr Darcy. He looked just as she remembered—tall and imposing, with those intense, dark eyes that seemed to see right through her. His features were as striking as she recalled, too, the sharp angles of his jaw softened slightly by the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips. His dark hair, impeccably styled, framed a face that was both handsome and severe.
His initial smile of recognition quickly gave way to a look of surprise as his gaze travelled down to her mud-splattered shoes. Elizabeth’s cheeks heated to scalding. Naturally, shehadto have fresh splatters on her gown! He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. She started to explain, even as she saw him start to bow in greeting, his eyes never leaving hers, but then he checked himself.
Of course… they would have to wait upon a proper introduction—he could not politely greet her as if they had already been acquainted. Elizabeth’s heart pounded as she forced a pleasant, disinterested smile onto her face and waited for one of the other gentlemen to do the honours. Surely, she could count on Mr Wickham to do the gallant thing… and, hopefully, overlook her state of dress.
Drat it all. Why did she have to go and stomp in the mud just to make Charlotte smile? Mr Darcy would think she did not even own a clean pair of boots! Elizabeth scowled inwardly, and her lips thinned by the instant. The knot in her stomach only sharpened as they stood there, silently staring at each other, the moment stretching out interminably until someone else stepped forward to bridge the gap.
Mr Wickham glanced over his shoulder towards the carriage, where Mr Bennet remained seated, clearly disinclined to get out. Wickham’s eyes narrowed slightly, obviously wondering if Mr Bennet intended to do the honours and introduce his daughters. After a second of hesitation, he turned back to the ladies with a charming smile, deciding to proceed himself.
“Good afternoon, ladies! Such a pleasure to encounter you all today! You must allow me to introduce my friend and guest, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on Elizabeth. Wickham continued, gesturing towards them each in turn, “Darcy, this is Miss Jane Bennet, and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, both daughters of our guest.” Another fruitless glance toward the carriage. Elizabeth forced a pained smile as she flicked her eyes to her father, who sat watching from the carriage as if he knew none of them.
Mr Wickham cleared his throat and turned back. “And Miss Charlotte Lucas,” he said with another gesture, “the daughter of the Sir William of Lucas Lodge—the fellow we were just speaking of.”
Mr Darcy made bows to each of them, but his gaze returned quickly to hers. Elizabeth’s heart gave a strange little trip as his brows slanted again at her appearance. The formalities were now out of the way, and his desire to speak was plain in his eyes, but also the silent acknowledgement that the sentiment must wait.
Well, perhaps she would grant him that wish. If they ever had another opportunity.
Elizabeth Bennet. There she was again… and again, covered in mud. Uncanny!
The first time they met, she had been in a similar state, and it seemed time had done little to change her circumstances. Was she always so… indecorous? That faint glint of defiance in her eye suggested that, quite possibly, she was. What a jolly change that would be from the powdered belles who frequented his aunt’s salon. He could hardly pay her any notice—not any real notice—but he would be a cad and a blackguard if he did not confess to a burning curiosity about this feral creature who lurked the muddy byways of Hertfordshire.
A scandalous thought struck him and then stuck in his mind to tickle his fancy for a moment before he could catch it and crush it down. Why, this was exactly the sort of woman who would make his aunt and half thetonthrow up their hands in horror while the other half crowned her as the Season’s bold Incomparable.
The absurdity of it almost made him want to laugh, but not in company, with others looking to him to make the proper courtesies to the ladies they were introducing to him.
But how could he look at either of the other two whenshewas scorching him with a gaze that was every bit as amused andbemused as his own? She was trying to gauge his thoughts, even as he would have liked to hear her unvarnished tongue loosed once more. If only they could speak freely, but propriety demanded otherwise.
“Forgive us for interrupting your outing,” Wickham was saying to Elizabeth Bennet. “I fear we may be inconveniencing you and possibly even delaying your return so long that the weather may become unfavourable.”
Her eyes snapped from Darcy’s back to Wickham’s…blast the man… and her face brightened with a laugh. “Oh, it is no interruption. You merely find me discomposed because I was testing the road for safe travel. Our cart was slipping a little, and we were trying to decide whether we ought to go on.”
“I might urge you against continuing,” Bingley said. “Evenourhorses were struggling a bit on the slope.”
Jane Bennet pursed her lips with a look to her sister that suggested this statement had confirmed her own sentiments, but the latter frowned. “But surely, your horses are very heavy…”
“But far stronger than your pony,” Bingley replied gently. “If even they are slipping, I fear your poor pony would not fare better.”
“You may as well give it up, Mr Bingley,” Mr Bennet called at last from the carriage window. “My Lizzy will go wherever she pleases, no matter my thoughts—or anyone else’s—on the matter.” He put his head back inside, and Darcy heard a distinct chuckle.
Elizabeth’s cheeks were scarlet by this time, and she crossed her arms in frustration. Then, however, she seemed to cast off her discouragement in a moment. “Well, then, there we have it. It is not safe for us to continue, so we shall turn back. I thank you gentlemen for your timely advice.”
“Shall we escort you?” Wickham offered.
“No, no, that will not be necessary. We were quite safe this far, and besides, how are we to gossip about handsome gentlemen if there is a carriage full of them right behind us?” Elizabeth tipped her head, picked up her skirts, and offered a deep curtsey. “Good day, gentlemen. AndPapa,” she added, with a pointed glance at the carriage.
Darcy was fairly certain he heard another chuckle from within the carriage.
