“Enough,” Fitzwilliam cried. “Please. No more.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Truly, Mr. Darcy made quite an impression.”
“My cousin should take better care with the Darcy name,” Fitzwilliam growled.
“I imagine he would if he had any fear that word of his behavior might reach all the way to London from, as he and Miss Bingley repeatedly labeled our community, such a rusticated backwater as this, although truly he was so dreadful that the tale might travel that far.”
Surprise slackened much of the anger from Fitzwilliam’s features.
Elizabeth gasped, realizing the truth. “You think he intended for word of his behavior to reach London.”
With fresh surprise, Fitzwilliam focused on her. “Again, I did not realize I am so easily deciphered.”
Elizabeth flushed. “You appeared near anger one moment, that emotion gone the next.” With that revelation, more pieces fell into place. “He was attempting to draw out his would-be abductors. He wanted to ensure that word of his location would reach London.” She frowned. “But then, why come here at all?”
“I believe he feels his chances of evading, and even capturing, any ill-doers to be greater here than in London, where there are many crowds. Not to mention, a great many dark corners into which those who hunt him can disappear.”
“I see.” It was worse than Elizabeth had first thought. She’d feared that Mr. Darcy’s presence might bring unsavory elements into their community but had not realized he intended for them to come.
“But I did not ride out this morning to speak of my cousin,” Fitzwilliam said.
Then he had, indeed, come here seeking her. Warmth suffused her. “Of what did you ride out to speak?”
“My…” He shook his head, his expression suddenly full of chagrin. “Well, Georgiana.”
“So, you did ride out to speak of your cousin?” Elizabeth asked with a laugh, understanding his consternation.
“I should have said, I did not ride out this morning to speak of Mr. Darcy.”
She nodded. “That would have made more sense, but I can see no harm done. I, too, hoped to speak of Miss Darcy. Please assure me that my relations and I did not worsen her sorrow with our lack of consideration for it.”
“On the contrary, you were correct. Your sisters’ treatment of her seemed to alleviate some of her misery.” He gazed down at Elizabeth earnestly. “I came to thank you. You cannot imagine what a relief it was to see her even somewhat restored.”
“You are most welcome, and I, in turn, must thank you for your willingness to attempt my suggestion.”
“That hardly seems to deserve thanks.”
“That you believe so is testament to what a fine gentleman you are.”
His gaze roamed her features, and Elizabeth wondered when they had come to stand so close. Warmth raced through her, threatening her cheeks as she gazed into those dark, troubled eyes.
“Miss Elizabeth—” he began, at the same time as she blurted, “For how long did Miss Darcy remain less sorrowful?”
Silence returned them to staring.
He cleared his throat, taking a half-step back. “She spoke with animation on the ride back to Netherfield Park. And later that afternoon, I found her practicing one of the pieces she played at Longbourn. To time.”
Elizabeth had no idea why Miss Darcy would not play a piece to time, as she had evidenced considerable skill the previous afternoon, but she smiled at how pleased Fitzwilliamsounded. “Perhaps you will call again, then, or we should call on Netherfield Park.”
“I would…that is, I am certain Georgiana would like that.”
“I will make the suggestion of a call to my mother.”
“Yes. Your mother.” He took another step back. “I should return for breakfast.”
“As should I,” Elizabeth admitted, though she hated to see him depart.
She answered his bow with a curtsy, then watched him readjust his horse’s reins, mount, and ride away. Before disappearing from view, he turned back once and waved. Elizabeth returned the gesture, hoping he didn’t realize how much she enjoyed taking in how well he sat his horse, and the easy competence with which he directed the animal.
