His tone, though measured, hinted at deeper frustration. His gaze drifted past her shoulder toward the fields beyond, as if calculating what repairs would cost and how quickly they must be done.
Something vexed the gentleman, and though Elizabeth wished to know, she could not prevail upon his confidence on so short an acquaintance. “We are eager to meet Mr. Bingley,” she said tentatively. “You said he is your friend?”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Yes. I believe he plans to occupy the place in two days’ time. He will come alone for now, though his sister will keep house for him.”
Elizabeth smiled, pleased. “So, the rumors are true, then. He will arrive before Michaelmas.” She scuffed her foot a little, biting her tongue against the question that threatened to spring forth. Would Mr. Darcy accompany his friend?
“I shall join him in October,” he offered up without provocation. “My friend has never had the management of an estate before and wishes for my expertise.”
Her heart leaped. “Then I shall look forward to furthering our acquaintance. It is not very often that we have newcomers in the area. Your company will please a great many people.” And it would add another single man to their midst. The ladies would go distracted.
Mr. Darcy shifted awkwardly. “Given the…unusual manner of our acquaintance, I shall tell you honestly that I do not enjoy social functions. I am often not myself in sizable crowds. I ask your forgiveness in advance if I seem…taciturn and proud.” He looked rather chagrined. “It is my habit to hide my uneasiness in company behind a stoic mask, and others often mistake it for pride or arrogance.” He paused for a moment before he continued. “It would be a boon to have another who understands that—someone whom I need not worry would judge.”
Elizabeth blinked. Such honesty—unvarnished, humble, and deeply human—was not what she expected from a gentleman so handsome and imposing. Her heart beat painfully for him. He sounded very much like Jane, though people often mistook her mask for complacency rather than a cover for her discomfort. “Your secret is safe with me, sir. I shall help you feel at ease, if that is your wish. I am adept at managing prying questions and overly flirtatious ladies. My skills at societal conversation and small talk cannot be bested!”
His mouth curved up into a half smile. “Is that so, Miss Bennet? Then I have found a formidable ally.” He put his hat back on his head. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I fear I must depart if I am to reach London before nightfall.”
“Meryton has an inn if you are not of a mind to return to Town just yet.” The accommodations were likely not up to hisstandards, if his fine attire and expensive mount were anything to go by, but Elizabeth wished to prolong their discussion.
“I confess I had considered it.” He paused, staring into the distance. “It is best if I return, however. Bingley will be waiting for my word.”
“Then I shall have to be satisfied with our brief conversation.” She hoped she did not sound too forward. Mr. Darcy seemed like an amiable gentleman, and she was eager to know him better.
Mr. Darcy mounted his horse. “I bid you farewell until such time as I return to Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet. Thank you for the stimulating conversation…and the directions, of course.”
“Good day, Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied and watched as he nudged his mount into a trot. As he rode away, he glanced back at her once more, and she drew in a slow breath, steadying herself.
The future will be interesting indeed.
Elizabeth remained rooted to the spot long after Mr. Darcy disappeared behind a small copse of autumn-tinted trees. The stillness of the countryside seemed suddenly alive—crackling with the possibility his presence had stirred within her. A light breeze brushed her cheeks, carrying with it the faint scent of hay and distant wood-smoke, as though the world itself released a contented sigh at the meeting that had just transpired.
She brought a hand to her breast, feeling the wild flutter of her heartbeat gradually subside. How odd that a chance encounter with a stranger could unsettle her so thoroughly. She prided herself on her discernment, her calm observation of character—yet Mr. Darcy had slipped past her defenses with ease, not through charm or flattery, but through sincerity. His confession of social awkwardness, his gentleness toward his horse, the unguarded way he had smiled… They lingered in her mind like the remnants of a pleasant dream.
Elizabeth let out a soft laugh at herself. “You are being fanciful,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You do not even know him.”
She could not deny the warmth curling through her at the prospect of seeing him again.
Gathering her skirts, she made her way back toward Longbourn with a step noticeably lighter than when she had set out.
Darcy breathed a sigh of relief as the road to London appeared before him. It would be several hours before he reached Darcy House. The ride would give him time to sort through his jumbled thoughts made even more tangled by the bewitching creature he had encountered.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he mused. She was a handsome woman, with dark hair and dark, sparkling eyes. Such fine eyes he had never before beheld. They were pools of chocolate brown, warm and rich with intelligence and expression. A man could drown in their depths. Her figure was light and pleasing, doubtlessly toned by frequent walks about the countryside. Though their conversation had been witty, she had not attempted to flirt or entrance him.
She was bewitching enough on her own without resorting to feminine wiles. As much as he had dreaded staying with Bingley because of his cloying, overly attentive sister, he now looked forward to being in Hertfordshire if only to know more of the fascinating young lady he had met that afternoon.
The rhythm of hooves striking the packed earth should have soothed him, but instead each stride seemed to echo his ownconflicted thoughts.Fool,he told himself;you know nothing of her. A chance encounter in a field should not overturn all your careful inclinations.Her image persisted—her smile, her unstudied grace, her frank intelligence as she spoke.
It was difficult to turn his thoughts to what he had discovered at Netherfield. His mind wanted to meditate on the great pleasure a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman brought. Stubbornly, he forced his mind to categorize everything he had learned and to contemplate the best way to present the information to Bingley.
He will need to be prudent, Darcy reminded himself. It was a very good thing Bingley was young and not ready to take a wife. To do so would add extra expense.Though if the lady had a healthy dowry, that would not be all bad, he reasoned. His friend fell in and out of love frequently. Bingley’s amiability drew women to his side like bees to flowers. Darcy had often helped him to extricate himself when expectations arose.
And now,Darcy reflected with a wry twist of his lips,I must extricate him from a foolishly purchased estate instead of a foolishly chosen lady.The thought did little to calm him. He would have to speak plainly to Bingley, perhaps for the hundredth time since their acquaintance began. Bingley rarely took offense, but Darcy still dreaded the crestfallen look his friend sported whenever Darcy was forced to be bluntly honest.
Thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet intruded once again .Thank goodness Bingley prefers blondes.The thought startled him—was he already contemplating Miss Bennet in such a light? There was no such thing as love at first sight, but never in all his years parading through the marriage mart had a lady so thoroughly ensnared his interest. What could he do but pursue the inclination? Perhaps it might lead to his future felicity.
You are ridiculous,he scolded himself.A man of your age and position should have more sense.Still…the hope remained. A small, stubborn spark that refused to be extinguished.
Patience, Darcy,he scolded himself.One cannot base an entire lifetime on a short, albeit pleasurable, conversation with a complete stranger. While that was true, he knew instinctively that he would like to know Miss Bennet better.
