Lydia turned a frown on Kitty. “Because Mr. Bingley would already have ordered them. You are so simple.”
“I am not simple. You are simple.”
“Girls,” Mrs. Bennet snapped as a masculine voice rumbled in the entrance hall.
A voice that caused Elizabeth’s heart to halt mid-beat.
Their maid stepped into the doorway. “Mum, Mr. Darcy is asking if you are at home.”
Elizabeth’s heart decided to pick back up, triple time, dizzying.
“Which Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “There are too many Mr. Darcys to keep track of.”
“Even one Mr. Darcy is too many, if he is going to raise our hopes and then dash them,” Kitty declared.
“I thought the first Mr. Darcy was the most fun. He insulted Lady Lucas’s hat, but it is the boring, serious Mr. Darcy.” Lydia huffed a sigh and plopped back down on the sofa, then added, “The one who is really Miss Darcy’s brother.”
“Is Miss Darcy with him?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“I did not see her, but I never had the chance to ask if I may write to her. If he is her brother, I can ask him.”
Kitty joined Lydia on the sofa. “I will ask as well.”
“You always copy me.”
“I do n—”
“Show him in,” Mrs. Bennet said over Kitty and Lydia’s squabbling, then, “Girls, silence. Pinch your cheeks, Elizabeth. You look like a ghost.”
Elizabeth ignored that, but Kitty pinched cheeks already gone red from arguing with Lydia, causing white blotches to form.
“Mr. Darcy, mum,” the maid said as she and that gentleman appeared in the doorway.
Mr. Darcy…somehow taller, more brooding, and more handsome than Elizabeth recalled, and she recalled him as quite a bit of all three. Her heart gave a dangerous flutter as she stoodto exchange greetings. She clenched that treacherous organ, for she did not esteem men who lied to her.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet greeted. “How pleasant to see you again, and this time knowing you are you. Would you care for tea?”
“May I write to Miss Darcy?” Lydia cut in, stepping forward.
Kitty mimicked the movement. “I want to write to her as well.”
“You may if she wishes,” Mr. Darcy replied, then returned his attention to Elizabeth’s mother. “Mrs. Bennet, I thank you for the offer of tea, but I have come to ask Miss Elizabeth to walk with me.” Eyes like a tempest caught Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Elizabeth has been out of sorts.” Mrs. Bennet gestured. “Kitty is in lively spirits, and the fresh air does her so much good.”
“I am afraid it is Miss Elizabeth with whom I must speak, madam.”
“Well, then, Kitty and Lydia can follow—”
“There is no need, Mama,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Mr. Darcy and I will speak in the garden. We will not stray from sight of the windows. I will fetch my cloak.” Elizabeth dropped her gaze, not meeting Mr. Darcy’s as she strode past him.
She administered like treatment moments later when she returned to lead the way from the house. Ignoring the arm he proffered, she marched to an open area set with a sundial and four cardinal benches. When she reached the dial, she made a show of studying the afternoon shadow, her every nerve aware of Mr. Darcy halting behind her.
“I have come to apologize.”
His voice rumbled through her, full of worry, tugging at her. “For?”
“For deceiving you, and for putting you through the anguish of believing that I had become engaged to Miss Bingley, if you believed such?”
