They rode on toward Netherfield, the house rising into view through the trees, its familiar lines no longer offering the welcome they once had.
“How do you propose we tell Bingley?” Richard asked lightly.
Darcy’s mouth curved into something like a wry smile. “With honesty.”
Richard winced. “Ah. Then yes—he will most certainly take offense.”
Darcy squared his shoulders as they approached the drive.
Let him, he thought. Some offenses were unavoidable. And some distances—physical and otherwise—were not merely prudent, but necessary.
Darcy slowed his mount as the familiar sweep of Netherfield’s lawns came into view, the gravel crunching softly beneath iron-shod hooves. The house looked unchanged—orderly, respectable, even serene—but he knew better now than to trust appearances. Stability, like wealth, could be an illusion maintained only so long as no one looked too closely.
He glanced sideways at his cousin. Richard rode easily, humming under his breath, wholly unburdened by the weight Darcy carried. There was something enviable in that freedom. Not carelessness—Richard was anything but—but an ability to move forward without constantly calculating the cost of every step. Darcy had always done so; it was habit, duty, inheritance.Yet lately, Elizabeth Bennet had made him wonder whether such vigilance was always a virtue.
Purvis Lodge would give them distance, yes—but also clarity. A place where conversation need not be guarded, where decisions could be made without the pressure of Bingley’s moods or his designs. A place where Darcy might, at last, consider his future on his own terms.
And Elizabeth’s.
The thought of her returned unbidden, as it always did. Her earnestness, her moral seriousness, the way she wrestled with questions others dismissed. He sensed—though she had said nothing outright—that something weighed heavily upon her still. Whatever it was, it had not lessened with time. If anything, it pressed closer to the surface.Soon, he thought hopefully.Soon, she would trust him enough to speak.
Darcy straightened as they reached the stables, resolve settling more firmly within him. Change was coming—whether Bingley welcomed it or not. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Darcy felt no dread at the prospect; rather, he felt a cautious, steady hope.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Does Sir William entertain often?” Darcy asked as they walked side by side through Longbourn’s little wilderness, a winding path bordered by untamed hedges and the last stubborn blooms of autumn. The air was uncommonly warm for the season, the sort of day that felt like a borrowed kindness, and Elizabeth wished to take every opportunity to be out of doors before the weather inevitably turned.
“Yes,” she replied. “He is fond of company, and hosts gatherings whenever he can. They increase in frequency during the colder months.” She smiled faintly, thinking of Sir William’s enthusiasm; his booming laugh, his eagerness to assemble half the county beneath his roof at the slightest provocation.
“Then I shall look forward to the event,” Darcy said, his tone lighter than it had been in days, “and to being in your company.”
Elizabeth felt warmth bloom in her chest at the easy sincerity of it. She glanced at him, noting how relaxed he appeared here, away from his friend’s estate and its complications, his shoulders less rigid, his expression open. “How did your exodusfrom Netherfield Park transpire?” she asked. “Since removing to Purvis Lodge, you have been most difficult to consult.”
Darcy’s expression shifted at once, the cheer fading into a mixture of annoyance and something close to sorrow. “Bingley accused me of facilitating my cousin’s attempts to ‘steal’ Miss Bennet’s attention. Naturally, I protested vehemently.”
Elizabeth exhaled softly, more in exasperation than surprise. “Mr. Bingley is doing an admirable job of pushing my sister away without Colonel Fitzwilliam’s aid. Jane avoids confrontation and discord, and the more Mr. Bingley attempts to assert his ‘prior claims,’ the more Jane is apt to avoid him.” She shook her head, still marveling at how the gentleman had changed from the amiable neighbor who had purchased Netherfield into the jealous, brooding, possessive suitor he now appeared to be.
Darcy shook his head in turn. “I hardly know my friend anymore. How could I have misjudged him so badly?”
“We all make errors in judgment,” Elizabeth said gently. “Perhaps Mr. Bingley simply hid the worst parts of his character. Or perhaps the circumstances of your relationship never allowed the defects to make themselves known.”
He reached for her hand then, his touch warm and steady, and gave it a brief, reassuring pat. “Whatever the case, I am disappointed. His lot would not be so hard if he would accept my help. He begged me to assist him, but since that assistance is not in a manner of which he approves, he chooses to ignore my words.”
They rounded a bend in the path, the wilderness opening into a small clearing shaded by a large, leafless tree whose bare branches stretched like dark lace against the pale sky. There, seated on a stone bench, were Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam. They leaned toward one another, heads close, deep in conversation. Jane’s face was animated; her eyes bright,her smile quick, and her usual serene composure softened by genuine engagement.
Elizabeth slowed without meaning to.They look very well together,she thought, struck anew by the ease between them. Her sister’s animation had become increasingly common whenever she was in company with this particular suitor.
As Darcy and Elizabeth approached, Jane noticed them and shifted instinctively, edging away from her suitor a fraction. A handsome blush spread across her cheeks, yet despite her withdrawal, she made no attempt to remove her hand from Colonel Fitzwilliam’s grasp.
“It is time to return to the house,” Darcy said, a touch of humor threading his voice. “We shall need to return to Purvis Lodge to dress for our evening out.”
“Ah, yes,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied readily, though his attention did not leave Jane. “Sir William’s gathering. Their hospitality is abundant, though not so wonderful as Mrs. Bennet’s.”
“The company will be the same, however,” Elizabeth said lightly.
Her quip earned a deeper blush from Jane, who raised an eyebrow at her sister in warning even as she smiled.
“Go on now,” Jane said, shooing them away with gentle insistence. “Colonel Fitzwilliam and I will follow.”
