Her smile tightened, but she persisted. “Would you care for some tea?” She already had the teapot in hand, a cup half-filled before I could even open my mouth.
“None for me, thank you,” I said quickly, settling into the farthest chair I could find. The fire seemed a better conversationalist than anyone in this room.
Caroline’s lips twitched. “Oh, but surely after such a ride, you must be in need of refreshment.” She extended the cup toward me with a forced smile.
This—thiswas why I avoided these situations. She was relentless, forever seeking to find favor with me, despite my best efforts to remain distant.
“No, really,” I replied, sharper than I intended. “In fact, I am hardly decent to be in company. I would not like to make myself an unpleasant presence in your drawing room.”
Beside her, Mrs. Hurst looked up from her embroidery, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Mr. Darcy has been...distracted lately,” she said, in a tone that made it clear she thought she was clever. “Preoccupied, perhaps?”
Distracted. That was one way to put it. The dead quiet from Ewan over the past three days had me on edge. His presence was irritating, but his absence was perfectly unnerving. If Ewan was silent, it meant he was planning something.
Miss Bingley beamed, clearly pleased that her sister had noticed my “distraction.” “Indeed, Mr. Darcy has much on his mind, I’m sure,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “With the ball and... other matters to think about.”
I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. The ball. She would, no doubt, be expecting me to open the evening with her, just like the last time.
“And how fortunate that we’ll have such an event to look forward to,” Mrs. Hurst added, with a glance at me. “Though I do hope Mr. Darcy will save a dance or two for the deserving ladies.”
“Quite,” I muttered, though I had no intention of discussing the ball any further. If I had my way, I’d be far from the dance floor.
Bingley finished his tea and set the cup aside, looking pointedly at my cup where it sat on the table beside his, still steaming. “Well, I’ve some letters to write. I believe I shall attend to some business before I retire to dress for dinner. Caroline, Louisa, you’ll excuse us?”
I followed Bingley out of the drawing room without a second glance, grateful to escape the stifling atmosphere of simpering smiles and forced pleasantries.
“Darcy.” Bingley wheeled on me the moment the door closed behind us. “Are you unhappy here at Netherfield?”
I straightened in alarm. “Good heavens, no. What gave you that idea?”
“It is plain as the nose on your face. You avoid my sisters, you hardly speak to me, and your behavior of late has been waffling between distant and irrational. Really, Darcy, is something the matter?”
I sighed. “No. Nothing that is within your power to correct, at any rate. Forgive me, Bingley, but you are correct that I have not been entirely myself lately. Nor have I been a very gracious guest. I shall attempt to remedy that.”
Bingley studied me for a few seconds, then his face brightened as if the matter were settled. “Well, do be sure to tell me if there is anything you need. I could send for Mr. Jones, of course.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Oh, well, then, very well. But the offer stands, should you choose.” I thanked him, and we parted for our separate rooms.
Dash it all. That blasted Scotsman had nearly made a very good man think I despised him and disdained his home and family. How I longed to be rid of the nuisance, once and for all!
Where in blazes was he?
I shrugged out of my coat and tossed it aside, already anticipating the relief of solitude. Perhaps I was only tired. I’d hardly slept since October, and a brisk ride on a cold day certainly set the chill into my bones. A bath would be just the thing, and since there had been no Ewan to loiter about to humiliate me in a state of undress, why… I stepped to the bellpull and rang for my valet.
Iwas half-listening asthe valet set about his usual tasks—hanging up my coat, preparing evening clothes for later, directing the maids on the bath water—but my mind wasn’t on any of that. Oddly enough, it was the wisp of lavender fragrance that kept capturing my attention.
I opened my hands to stare at my palms and sniffed them surreptitiously. I had not handled the journals since yesterday. Where was that fragrance coming from? I had no notion, but it no longer reminded me of my grandmother. It was another lady who also favored that scent, one with dazzlingly fine eyes…
My valet cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to the present. “Sir, the bath is prepared. Shall I assist you?”
I nodded, not bothering to glance at him as he opened the door to the next chamber, where the last maid was just leaving with her bucket. The scent of lavender steam rose through the room—the answer to my question, I suppose, but I’d no notion why that fragrance had suddenly been added to my bath water.
I assured my valet I needed no further assistance and made quick work of stripping off my clothes. My skin prickled with gooseflesh and I felt obscenely exposed until I hurried into the tub to restore some measure of my modesty. It was tempting to rush through the whole thing, but the warmth of the water as I slid into the tub forced a reluctant sigh from me.
I leaned my head back, trying to relax. If only I could wash away the thoughts of Ewan as easily as the mud and grime from the ride.
For a few moments, the room was blissfully silent, the heat soaking into my bones, the water rising just below my chin. Perhaps—just perhaps—if Ewan did decide to reappear, he would have the goodness to wait until I had enjoyed an hour of peace.
