“They are fortunate,” he observed, “to possess so devoted an advocate.” Did she know he had met them?
“They require one constantly.” Her voice colored with exasperated amusement.
Darcy smirked. “They also require supervision constantly, I am sure.”
“That too.” She reached out and tugged at a dead blossom on a rose bush.
“Though I suspect they rarely accept it.”
She laughed again. “Only when Mama is involved.” The fondness in her expression deepened.
Darcy watched her as she spoke and realized, with startling clarity, that every conversation with her revealed something new worth admiring.
Not merely wit and beauty. There was depth beneath both—warmth, intelligence, steadiness, generosity.
He wanted to know all of it. The realization arrived with unmistakable force.
They rounded the bend near the eastern hedge. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst appeared ahead.
Darcy felt Elizabeth stiffen slightly beside him.
Miss Bingley stopped before them. “How very remiss of you both,” she said brightly, though the sharpness beneath her tone remained unmistakable, “not to inform us of your intention to walk. Louisa and I might have joined you.”
Mrs. Hurst cast a sidelong glance toward her sister but wisely remained silent.
Elizabeth recovered first. “I beg your pardon,” she replied smoothly. “The walk was wholly unplanned, and I fear I have already been absent from my sister too long.”
“Naturally,” Miss Bingley said.
Elizabeth turned toward Darcy. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for the stimulating conversation.”
The words affected him unequivocally. They did not hold forgiveness, but neither were they wholly indifferent.
He bowed slightly. “The pleasure was mine.”
She gave a polite nod to the sisters and moved toward the house.
Darcy watched her go until she disappeared around the bend.
Miss Bingley followed his gaze with narrowed eyes. “She bears her circumstances with remarkable confidence,” she observed.
Darcy turned slowly back toward her. “Her circumstances appear to bear her equally well.”
Miss Bingley tittered lightly. “You are determined to admire her.”
“I admire many things in Miss Elizabeth.”
“And her origins?” The question came too quickly to be accidental.
Darcy’s expression cooled. “I find,” he said evenly, “that a lady’s character is often of greater value than the pedigree of her grandfather.”Did I not make myself clear the other evening?
Miss Bingley’s lips tightened.
With that, Darcy turned toward the house.
Behind him, Mrs. Hurst’s dry voice floated through the morning air. “At least Miss Elizabeth was raised by a gentleman. That is more than may be said for ourselves.”
“Louisa,” Miss Bingley hissed, “be silent.”
