And then—
Movement.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, watching as a group of carriages and horses traveled steadily along the distant road toward Netherfield.
She folded her arms across her chest, watching the slow procession with mild interest. That must be him—the mysterious new tenant of Netherfield. Mr. Bingley. The man who had been mentioned in nearly every conversation since the news first reached Meryton.
She could already imagine her mother’s delight. No doubt, before the day was out, Mrs. Bennet would be declaring him the future husband of one of her daughters.
Elizabeth exhaled through her nose and shook her head slightly. Let them have their excitement. Let Meryton spin its tales and build its hopes.
She had little interest in the arrival of Mr. Bingley. She was far too busy thinking about a man who was not coming to Hertfordshire. A man who, even now, was still fighting a battle that neither of them had ever wanted.
She lifted her chin, staring out at the distant road, lost in thought.
“I would have thought by now that you would think twice before wandering off alone.”
Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widening as the unexpected voice curled around her from behind. She had been too lost in her own thoughts, too distracted by the sight of the distant carriages winding along the road toward Netherfield, to hear the approach of hoofbeats.
Her eyes widened further.Hoofbeats?
Slowly, almost disbelieving, she turned.
Darcy was there, riding up the last incline behind her, his great dark horse moving sure-footed over the uneven ground. The wind ruffled his hair beneath his hat, and the autumn sun glinted against the buttons of his coat. He looked—well, he looked exactly as he always did, composed, serious, just a little bit exasperated.
But he washere.
Her mouth fell open, and she still had no words.
Sliding fluidly from the saddle, he landed lightly on his feet, adjusting his gloves and pulling the rein from around his horse’s neck. His dark eyes swept over her with something that looked almost like relief. “I do not believe I have ever seen you at a loss for words.”
Elizabeth let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “I confess, I was not expecting you to come riding over the hills of Hertfordshire like some sort of medieval knight. Have you come to fetch me back to London? Is there an urgent dinner party that requires my services?”
He tilted his head, studying her with unreadable amusement, but before he could reply, she pressed on.
“I assume Lady Winslow has extended one of her infamous supper invitations?” she suggested, ticking off her first finger. “You ought to go, you know. I hear she has great influence over Sir Donald Brampton, and if you mean to win more allies before the second election, you will have to curry favor in the right places.”
She tapped her second finger. “Then there is the matter of Mr. Percival Henshaw. He is not so easily swayed as some, but his wife—Mrs. Henshaw—adores music and will attend any gathering where she may hear a fine quartet. That is the sort of affair you must make certain you are invited to.”
Another finger. “And Lord Allenby, he will be at Brooks’s every Thursday morning at the usual hour, and if you fail to meet him there for some discussion of land tax, he will consider it a personal slight.”
She ticked a fourth finger. “And do not forget the circumstantial conversations that can be had by merely being in the right place at the right time. You see, Mr. Darcy, I am afraid you cannot simply stand upon your integrity. You must go out, shake hands, make promises, be seen.”
Darcy remained utterly silent, though his lips twitched slightly as though holding back a smile. Elizabeth frowned slightly, flicking another finger up for good measure. “Have you considered—?”
But she stopped.
Because at some point, while she had been so thoroughly laying out a strategy for his success, he had been walking closer. So slowly, so steadily, she had not even noticed.
And now, before she could move, he reached for her hands.
He had removed his gloves, and now, his warm fingers closed gently over hers, halting her speech entirely. Her breath hitched, her heart giving a strange, confused flutter in her chest. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth Bennet truly had no idea what to say.
Darcy arched a brow. “Have you quite finished planning my future for me?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, then shut it, nodding mutely.
He gave a slight nod in return, as if acknowledging a formal concession. But before he could speak again, his gaze drifted past her, toward the distant road winding its way to Meryton. The carriages she had seen earlier were still visible, cresting the far ridge. He squinted slightly, assessing the procession, then murmured, “That must be Bingley, all set to take up residence.”
