“As loquacious as I can be, Mr. Darcy, even I cannot speak into a void for long,” she said. “If you wish for me to speak, you must do so as well.”
“Is there anything in particularly you would like to talk of?” he asked.
“Tell me about Pemberley,” Elizabeth said. “I have heard snippets of how beautiful and grand it is, but I know nothing specific. Who better to get information from than the master himself?”
“That is a very broad subject,” he said. “Are you asking about the size or elegance of the house? Perhaps you want to know more about the landscape or the gardens. I could also go on at length about the tenants and servants.”
“Tell me what you love about it rather than what you think I want to hear,” said Elizabeth. “I think nothing could give me a more accurate picture than that.”
And he did.
He told her about one of his tenants who knew more about his wheat and his turnips than he did about his own children. Fortunately, the man was married to a very good woman who was excellent at taking care of the details in the man’s life as well as his children.
He told her about the time when the sheep from the home farm had all managed to get into the ornamental gardens on one side of the house. They had been nibbling on the hedges and flowers for a full day before they were found, and it took a year for all the damage to grow back completely.
He told her how one of his maids had managed to attract the eye of a very prosperous farmer. Both her parents and his objected to the match, but they married anyway and have been happy for ten years or more.
Elizabeth learned more about Mr. Darcy in the next hour than she ever imagined possible. It was clear, from his choice of what to discuss, that he was not particularly enamored with his wealth or status. What mattered most to him, what made him happy, was his home, his family, and the people who lived on hisland, whether they were servants, farmers, clergymen, or shop owners.
If Elizabeth had not been so blinded by his poor behavior, if she had not been so resistant to giving up her anger, she could have known this man weeks ago. It was not all her fault. After all, Mr. Darcy had been hiding his true self behind a wall of dignity and pride, but it was Elizabeth who had refused to see when he dismantled that wall.
When they arrived back at the house, Elizabeth allowed Mr. Darcy to help her out of the phaeton. The footman still placed the stairs next to it, but Mr. Darcy offered a firm hand to help her steady herself as she descended.
His hand was warm, and his strength was clear based on how steady he was when she leaned into his hold for balance.
Elizabeth could see that the stable boy was bringing Mr. Darcy’s horse around in preparation for the gentleman’s departure. Intending to say farewell, she looked up into Mr. Darcy’s face and found something that took her breath away.
His expression had relaxed into a gentle smile, and the banked coals in his eyes were much warmer now. Elizabeth felt herself grow warm from such a heated gaze. It made her want to be closer to him, much like one moves closer to a fire to better feel its heat, but such a thing was impossible.
Mr. Darcy took her hand and bowed over it. For a moment, Elizabeth hoped he would kiss it, but he did not. He said, “I am most grateful for your time today, Miss Elizabeth. It was a delightful drive. May I call on you again in a day or two?”
“It was, indeed, a delightful drive, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I would be very happy to see you again whenever you choose to call.”
“Thank you,” he said in such a low voice that it was just above a whisper.
He then climbed on his horse and rode away.
Elizabeth surprised herself by watching as he left rather than immediately going inside. He had a good seat on his horse, and his firmly upright posture hinted at the fact that he was likely far stronger than he looked.
She marveled to herself how much her opinion of Mr. Darcy had changed in just one day, just one hour. She shook herself out of her reverie by reminding herself that if her opinion had changed so much in a short time, it could always change more in the future. It took time to get to know a person, but she fervently hoped Mr. Darcy would give her that time, for she truly wished to know him better.
When he was out of sight, only then did she turn and ascend the steps to the front door.
Chapter 18
Mary was pleased to see the smile that graced Elizabeth’s face when she returned from her drive with Mr. Darcy. Apparently, her sister had finally forgiven him, and she was much happier for having done so.
Mary suspected that it would be very easy for Elizabeth to fall in love with him, though it would depend strongly on how adamant and consistent Mr. Darcy was in his courtship. That was something Mary could not predict, but she looked forward to seeing how it all played out.
Mary couldn’t devote too much time to her sister’s romance, however, for she had much to do and much to prepare for her own wedding. Since Mr. Worsley was once again in Meryton, he took up at least a couple of hours of her time every day. Not that she ever regretted the time spent. In fact, she wished she could give him more of her time, but that would have to wait until after the wedding.
The time she spent with her betrothed was sometimes taken up with matters of business and money, but there was plenty of time to just chat. Despite their resolve to keep themselves chaperoned, there were plenty of stolen kisses and caresses as well.
One morning, a week after Mr. Worsley had returned to Meryton, he and Mary were sitting in the parlor while Elizabeth was out for a drive with Mr. Darcy. Mary had asked a maid tostay in the room with them, but she was not within easy hearing range.
“I was thinking about what we will do with Braydon Hall after we get married,” he said.
“I thought we were planning to manage it from a distance, possibly lease out the house itself to keep it from falling into disrepair,” said Mary. “You said it would make a fine inheritance for a second son.”
