Darcy cleared his throat, thinking of a comment from a certain Meryton assembly that he had regretted from the moment it passed his lips and the subsequent loss of Elizabeth’s approval. “Our aunt has suggested practice.”
Richard laughed. “You will have to learn to woo a woman, you realise?” He went back to fencing with hedges as they walked down the lane. “With so taciturn a disposition, you may have to change your ways.”
He lunged at a particularly full hedge when they heard a piercing scream.
The cousins’ eyes met briefly before they took off at a run around the bend. Darcy thought it must be Elizabeth, cornered by a thief or highwayman. His aunt was not known for her charity, and a disgruntled tenant could have come for revenge. Or perhaps Elizabeth had fallen and twisted her ankle. She could have happened upon a vixen protecting her kits.
The men found a terrified MrCollins cornered by a hissing gander. Darcy noticed Elizabeth behind the animal, her hand over her mouth and her eyes full of mirth.
Darcy exclaimed. “What has the demon bird done now?”
MrCollins shivered and wiped—were those tears?—from his cheeks. “I am a man of the cloth, her Ladyship’s own clergy, and you must know in no uncertain terms that I am not to be treated in such a manner.”
Richard raised an impertinent eyebrow. “Are you speaking to the goose, sir?”
“I do not see how that signifies whilst I am being attacked in the garden!”
Darcy took Richard’s walking stick out of his hand and held it in front of him, shooing the gander back towards the garden. He heard Richard directing MrCollins to return to the parsonagewhilst MrCollins argued that he must speak to the gamekeeper immediately about the dangers of waterfowl left to wander across the park.
Once the gander seemed to be on its own away from the chaos of MrCollins, Darcy gestured to Elizabeth to join him in escaping the same. She took his arm, much to his delight.
“I am surprised, MrDarcy, in your abilities as a gooseherd,” Elizabeth said with a smile in her eyes. She always had a smile hidden in her face, Darcy had long ago noticed. Sometimes in the corner of her lips. Sometimes in her eyes. Sometimes in an arched eyebrow. Often in a dimple on her left cheek. Sometimes, when she laughed at Caroline Bingley, she had tucked a curl behind her ear.
They made their way back to the trail surrounded by hedges in quick order and could no longer hear Richard or MrCollins begging the colonel to escort him to safety.
“Miss Bennet, have you ever had the feeling or dreamt that you have lived a day before? Everything appears the same, but I am certain it is not.”
“That sounds unsettling, sir.”
“I am seized by a most uncomfortable familiarity. It is almost as if you did not reject my proposal yesterday and we are mere acquaintances once more.” He laughed. He did not intend it to be laced with a touch of bitterness, but he did not think she would mind his honesty. Not after rejecting him so unkindly the day before.
She stopped to stare at him. “Whatever do you mean, sir? I rejected no such proposal, MrDarcy.”
MrDarcy said nothing. There was nothing to say. Did she think him daft that he would forget so momentous an occasion as his own rejection? Or was this some dreadful dream that he fell into with every toss in his sheets? Did his own dreams betray his sense of dignity?
“I cannot—that is to say—I am honoured, MrDarcy, by your kindly consideration, but I have to—I admit I would politely decline should you propose.”
She had the decency to look abashed, Darcy thought whilst she fidgeted with her shawl.
“I thank you for taking up so much of your time to humour me in my walk around the park. Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”
He bowed and left her at theYin the path, one path leading to the parsonage and the other to Rosings. He continued down his own course, mind wholly engaged in dissecting his entire association with one Miss Elizabeth Bennet. A relationship fraught with confusion, misunderstanding, and sentimentality. The day defied sense. So did she. Whether or not he had dreamt his original proposal, she had given him fair warning that she would refuse him.
He did not wait for his cousin to return. He gained the stairs to his rooms and picked up the book next to his pillow.
The birds chirped outside. The spring had brought about a cacophony of birdsong which on any ordinary Easter trip to Rosings would have delighted Darcy, but this spring it was unwelcome. Darcy’s eyes popped open when he heard the honk of a gander below his window. He sat up immediately.
Hines entered, efficient and unruffled. “Lady Catherine has invited the Hunsford party to dinner, sir.”
“Again? They dined here last night.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. They did not come last night.”
Darcy rubbed his temples.
Hines raised an eyebrow. “I would remind you that Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brandy is a touch stronger than you are accustomed to, sir.”
Darcy groaned.
