Elizabeth laughed. “I highly doubt that. Is that why you interrupted us? I had him right where I wanted him.”
“Which is where?” Jane asked, hurrying a little to keep up. “Befuddled and frustrated with that rambling sort of exchange you call ‘conversation’?”
“Oh, do not pity him so much. Mr. Darcy seems impervious to most things, including good cheer.”
“Lizzy!” Jane sighed, though she could not hide a smile. “I only mean to say you might try being kinder.”
“Kinder? I am always kind. It is not my fault he takes offense at every sentence.”
“Kitty, Lydia, you might slow down,” Jane called. “It is still early. I doubt the officers are parading through town at this hour.”
Lydia and Kitty—bouncing ahead as usual—seemed oblivious to both the weather and decorum. “They might be!” Lydia shot back over her shoulder. “And what if we miss them?”
Elizabeth shook her head fondly. “Let them tire themselves. I have no desire to chase redcoats through the mud.” Just as well, for Kitty and Lydia were long gone, and even if Elizabeth and Jane ran to catch them, they would not manage it at this point.
“Do not speak too soon, Lizzy,” Jane said as a peculiar grin overtook her face. “They may not be the only gentlemen you see today.”
Elizabeth frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jane gave her a meaningful look just as a familiar figure appeared ahead, rounding the corner near the haberdasher’s shop. Mr. Darcy, his tall form unmistakable, walked beside Mr. Bingley, who waved immediately upon spotting them.
“Oh no,” Elizabeth said under her breath. “Not the officers, but the generals.”
Good heavens, was she constantly to be faced with the man? Mr. Darcy ought to know well enough that his place was at Netherfield, and he ought not to depart from it without her leave. She sighed. This wager was becoming rather vexing, consuming far more of her time and energies than she liked.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth! What an excellent surprise!” Mr. Bingley called cheerfully, making his way toward them with little regard for the mud splattering up from his boots.
Mr. Darcy followed, his pace slower, though there was no mistaking his notice of Elizabeth. She felt it like a weight—no, a presence—that lingered even after he looked away.
Elizabeth curtsied as the gentlemen approached. “Good morning, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy.”
“Good morning,” Bingley replied warmly. “Are you out to take the air?”
“I am not sure there is much air to take this morning,” Elizabeth said, glancing up at the leaden sky. “But yes, we are.”
“It is brisk,” Bingley agreed, apparently untroubled by the chill. “I am convinced a walk does wonders for the spirits, though Darcy insists otherwise.”
Elizabeth turned to Darcy, her smile teasing. “Does he? I should think Mr. Darcy prefers the company of his books.”
“I am fond of exercise when the occasion requires,” Darcy replied. “Though I find this mud less charming than others appear to.”
“Ah, but the mud is all part of the adventure,” Elizabeth said lightly. “Surely you do not let it deter you?”
Darcy glanced at the hem of her gown, already flecked and soggy where the damp had splashed it. “You seem unbothered.”
“One must learn to endure a little inconvenience for the sake of one’s spirits,” she replied. “Or have you not been lectured on the virtues of fortitude, Mr. Darcy?”
Bingley laughed. “You have him there, Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s gaze remained on her, though she could not quite determine its meaning. “Fortitude has its place, Miss Bennet, though I doubt it requires ruining one’s shoes.”
Elizabeth gave a mock sigh, looking down at her half-muddied boots. “A pity, sir, for I was rather counting on clean shoes to make me look respectable. In such a state as this, what am I?”
“A challenge,” Darcy said, almost under his breath.
Elizabeth blinked, startled by the quiet remark. For a moment, she wondered if she had misheard him, but no—he was watching her with that same unsettling directness, as though her words and presence had unsettledhimin turn.
She recovered quickly. “How fortunate that I find challenges invigorating.”
