“Would you like the grey waistcoat or the blue? I need to mend the silver, but it could be done by this evening if you would prefer.”
Something niggled at Darcy. Had that question been asked before? He let out a sigh. “Whatever would be easiest for you.” Darcy rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I would like to shave and dress as soon as possible. I should like to walk in the garden. I will have a tray in my room after I return. Do not tell my aunt or cousins that I have gone out. Tell them I have a headache—that will keep my aunt away.”
With a sense of purpose, Darcy stalked the gardens looking for Elizabeth. He knew she would be here. She had been here every confounded morning. Every morning was the same at Rosings, but since she had come here, nothing was the same. The birds had all gone mad, and his aunt was as ridiculous as ever. He was in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, and he had chosen folly more than once in the last week. He had proposed and been rejected—thrice. It was not like him to lose—nor to be so thoroughly undone by a woman.
“It would grieve me exceedingly if it were thought that Rosings had been made the scene of hopes which, however natural, cannot be indulged.” MrCollins droned on from behind a hedge, but in a tone of voice that was elevated to the point that anyone nearby might hear. “MrDarcy is not only above your station in birth, but also in manner. Her Ladyship would be deeply distressed to believe that imprudent expectations might unsettle the tranquillity of Rosings.”
MrDarcy scoffed but did not intervene. Not when he could hear an unguarded Elizabeth speak about him.
“I am obliged to you, Cousin, for your concern, though I cannot accept your conclusions.” Elizabeth had a fascinating talent for making anyone at ease.
Despite Darcy’s immediate reminder of the rejection of her affections, he noticed the same skill to assess the prevailing humour of people in her company whilst at Meryton. It was a skill he knew he sorely lacked and one of the talents he admired greatly in Elizabeth.
“A young lady without fortune or connexion must be doubly vigilant, lest her conduct be misunderstood—” MrCollins screamed.
Darcy spotted the tail of a gander sliding through the base of the hedge. The tell-tale hissing sound alerted Darcy to move quickly.
“Good morning, Mr Collins.”
“MrDarcy, you must leave the area at once. There is a goose attacking anyone on the path!”
“Then you must inform the gamekeeper. My aunt looks down on animals not following her carefully considered edict to remain in their habitat.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth and let out the smallest cough, which Darcy highly suspected hid any amusement at Collins’ discomfort.
With no little agitation, MrCollins looked between Darcy and the gander, who had now added honking and snaking his neck whilst flapping his wings, puffing up, and walking around the parson.
“At once, MrCollins! I shall escort Miss Bennet back to the parsonage.”
MrCollins darted down the path, the goose in hot pursuit.
“MrDarcy, I had not taken you for such a fearless defender of Rosings,” said Elizabeth, her handkerchief to her mouth, hiding her dazzling smile. God, but he loved that smile.
“Allow me to accompany you.”
“Lead on, sir.”
The walk back to Hunsford was uneventful, but for the first time, MrDarcy was not summarily insulted by a rejection of his proposal. Perhaps waiting and watching was the proper course with Elizabeth. She did not trust him, but perhaps that could change—he could spend an eternity at her side until he learned enough about her that she would never again reject his proposal.
He returned to Rosings and spent the day with his cousin. When it came time to change for dinner, he did so nervously. What would he talk to Elizabeth about this evening? If she did not want him to propose again, he was not sure if seeing her was the right course of action.
As he dressed for dinner, Hines carried his silver waistcoat over his forearm. “Despite my best efforts with your waistcoat, the Hunsford party has unfortunately cancelled their attendance at dinner. Something to do with Lady Catherine having a meeting with her gamekeeper and grounds people.”
“Ah, yes. I may need to meet with the steward to soothe his pride. If dinner is to been famille, I would rather not go down.”
He picked up a book from the shelf and turned to the first page:It is a truth universally acknowledged that trouble always comes in threes.
Darcy snorted in amusement.“Tell Lady Catherine and Richard I will have a tray in my rooms. I’m not hungry.”
He waved off his man and flipped the book over to read the title.Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Manby Suzannah Addison. He slammed the book on the table. “Absolutely not.” But after a moment, curiosity won out, and he opened the book again.
Chapter 3: Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man
by Suzannah Addison
Rosings Park, Kent
Thursday, the 9th of April, 1812
