“If you would excuse me, I see my father,” she interjected. “I believe he is looking for me.” Her cheeks burned as she walked away.
CHAPTER TEN
Darcy went from watching Miss Elizabeth walk away to staring at the man next to him. He had been introduced to Mr Edward Best earlier that evening and had thought him the usual sort of young man who spent his life in a small rural community—simple but inoffensive. Not long after the Bennets had arrived, it had been evident that he was infatuated with Miss Elizabeth, which Darcy found oddly irritating. Or perhaps what he meant was baffling. To be sure, Edward Best was not a bad looking fellow, but he was a bit soft. As soon as Darcy had the thought, he stopped himself. It was not especially kind, and if Bingley knew of it, he would be disappointed.What would he say? Likely that we do not know young Mr Best’s circumstances. He might be recovering from a broken limb that has kept him from his usual exercise.
Currently, Darcy decided he preferred his explanation for the man’s full cheeks and the slight roundness of his belly, which were sure to get worse with age; he spentmore time at the table than at sport. He must also be stupid to have said what he had regarding Miss Elizabeth’s dance partners. Darcy recognised that it was hypocritical ofhimto question another person’s ill-chosen words, but he had not known Miss Elizabeth when he insulted her; Mr Best liked her, might even think he was in love with her!
“It appears she does not wish to speak of that evening, so I expect you will not mention it again. I hope—for Miss Elizabeth’s sake—everyone ceases to remind her of it,” Darcy said, satisfied with the other man’s chagrined expression. Because he believed it was the right thing to do, Darcy then engaged him in conversation for several minutes, asking him the sorts of questions one is supposed to ask of people they have just met. Thus, he discovered Mr Best was indeed not fond of sport or walking for pleasure, but he enjoyed cards and other parlour games. He also was not much of a reader, and once Darcy discovered that, he could think of nothing else to say to the man.
All evening, Darcy had noticed Bingley glancing his way as though seeking reassurance that his friend’s behaviour was what he wanted it to be. It was another source of vexation for Darcy, and it was almost enough to make him vow to arrange his hasty departure from the neighbourhood. But he did not want to lose Bingley’s friendship, and while he believed Bingley’s concerns about his reputation being damaged amongst the local population were unfounded, he was not prepared to risk it. Not yet, at least.
And, funnily enough, he was beginning towanttoapologise to Miss Elizabeth. Was it seeing how annoyed she was at Mr Best’s comment about the assembly? It would be too much to say she was distressed by it, and if she had laughed about it—as he was sure she had done that night—he would forget about it, but she had not. Instead, she looked like she wanted to upbraid him or maybe even deliver a swift kick to his shin. The flash ofsomethingin her eyes before she had walked away was almost captivating.
Notalmost,Darcy was forced to admit, just as he was certain that Miss Elizabeth had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen; they radiated her emotions.
Leaving Mr Best, Darcy joined Bingley, who was standing with Miss Bennet and several other people whose names he could not recall but felt he should. Bingley pulled him aside so they could speak privately.
“Why were you scowling at Mr Best?” Bingley asked. Bingley looked more concerned than reproving, which was just as well. As much as Darcy wanted to maintain their friendship, there was only so much scolding he would accept—and he had tolerated more than enough the other night.
“Was I? I did not mean to.”
“I saw you and Miss Elizabeth speaking to him, and she did not look pleased when she walked away. I asked her whether she was well, and she said she was.”
Darcy told him what had happened. “I hoped for an opportunity to show her I can be polite. She is with Miss Lucas now and appears to have suffered no harm from my company—or that of Mr Best.”
“Darcy…” Bingley said, his tone conciliatory.
He waved away whatever his friend meant to say next. “Think nothing of it. Come, let us return to Miss Bennet and her friends.”
For the rest of the party, Darcy remained with Bingley, and after an elaborate if not toothsome supper, they returned to Netherfield. He did not speak to Miss Elizabeth again, but he was keenly aware of where she was—and that she was avoiding him.
As she did whenever possible,Elizabeth went for a walk early on the morning after the Bests’ soirée. In her opinion, the day was perfect for such an excursion, the autumn weather being neither too hot nor too cold, the sun appearing between the clouds often enough to provide a lovely warmth to her skin and added brightness to the countryside, and the breeze light. She reflected on the previous evening and determined she must ask her father to tell Mr Best—senior or junior, as he liked—that she was not interested in more than a friendship, really an acquaintanceship, with Mr Edward Best, and this time, he needed to be more direct about it.
Perhaps then he will cease to hover whenever we are together!
In thinking of the party, she could not help remembering Mr Darcy. “Yet another irritating gentleman,” she muttered. “Really, no decent person should be expected to keep company with more than one at a time!”
She was satisfied that she had managed to avoid his company for the most part, but he hadlookedat her so often! It seemed that whenever she happened to catch aglimpse of him, his gaze was on her. She made a noise of frustration and shook her hands in an effort to dispel her simmering frustration; it was much more agreeable to appreciate the quietude of the country and remember what made her happy.
Some while after setting out from Longbourn, she heard the unmistakeable sounds of a horse approaching. Elizabeth wondered who was riding the creature and hoped she would not be obliged to do more than say good morning—if even that—before they parted and she took advantage of her remaining solitude; she would have to return home for breakfast soon.
She was already smiling politely in anticipation of the expected greeting, but when she saw who it was, she fought not to scowl instead. Mr Darcy. Why did it have to be him? Swallowing the unpleasant emotions that had reappeared as soon as she recognised him, Elizabeth nodded and turned to follow the path back to Longbourn.
“Miss Bennet, please, a moment of your time,” he said.
Elizabeth’s steps halted, but she did not face him. By way of dismissal, she said, “Good morning, sir,” and resumed walking.
“Will you not speak to me for a few minutes?” His voice was too firm to make her believe he actuallywantedto talk to her. “I had hoped we might yesterday, but obviously, we did not have the opportunity. I consider it fortunate that we met.”
She stopped again and kept her back to him. “Whereas I do not. My father has insisted that I not talk to you. You can hardly wonder why.”
“I am only asking for a few minutes?—”
She spun round to look at him. “Which Icannotgive you. My father has forbidden it. Even my sisters have been told to spend as little time with you as possible. You know why and cannot blame him!”
Mr Darcy’s cheeks were flushed, and his jaw appeared clenched. She was surprised he did not simply decide to forget about apologising to her again—assuming that was his purpose—and depart. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke, his posture rigid and voice just as stiff.
“I am willing to admit I made a mistake. A few moments of your time are all I require.”
