“On so little acquaintance?”
“Papa, you are in a strange mood, and I am too tired to puzzle it out. I shall retire.” She began to stand, but he stopped her with a light touch on her arm.
“I shall not keep you, but before you do, I wish to leave you with a piece of wisdom I have acquired over the years. Do not rush to decide people’s goodness or lack of it, and avoid stubbornly clinging to opinions that might bear to be re-examined.”
Her brow furrowed and she stared at him. “Are you suggesting I am mistaken about Mr Darcy?”
He pursed his lips, and there was a short silence before he said, “I do not know him well enough to say for certain. Upon further acquaintance, I might decide we should forgive him—or that he will never deserve it due to some fundamental character defect. My observation was more general than that. You never know when your first impressions might lead you astray—either approving of someone you should not or disapproving of someone you should. I recommend both you and Jane practise a little more care in that regard.”
“She is too prone to like everyone, and I am too prone to hate them?”
In answer, he kissed her hand and wished her a restful sleep.
Darcy was pleasedthe party at Lucas Lodge had provided him with an opportunity to speak inpraise of the Bennets and to attempt to demonstrate his desire to be on better terms with Bingley’s new neighbours. Having given more thought to his recent conversations with Bingley and everything that had happened since he had come to Netherfield, he had been forced to admit that his behaviour towards others was worsening, and if he was not careful, it would soon deserve even more severe censure than he had recently received from his friend and Mr Bennet. He had never been particularly comfortable amongst strangers, and this tendency had become worse after his father’s death, when he had increasingly been the subject of gossip and speculation, chiefly regarding when and whom he should marry. With his breeding, connexions, and wealth, he was viewed as an extremely eligible match. On the one hand, it was an enviable position to be in; few ladies would refuse an offer from him, and when he found the woman he wanted to marry, he was confident he would succeed in securing her. On the other hand, it was natural that he wanted to be valued for the man he was, not for the size of his fortune or who his parents had been.
In that light, should he not ensure people saw in him a character who deserved praise for his affability and goodness? Hewasa good person; he was confident that his servants, tenants, and friends would agree—even Bingley, despite his recent unhappiness with him. But he was also judged on how he treated others, and by those not dependent on him or who liked him based on their history or because they were his relations. He recollected an important lesson his father had imparted to him: if you find you have made a mistake, the gentlemanlyresponse is to set about correcting it as soon as possible. It might be too late for him to significantly improve Miss Elizabeth’s view of him, to say nothing of Mr Bennet and his other recent acquaintances, but he should make the effort nevertheless, if only because it would please Bingley. And, admittedly, Darcy was bound to feel a sense of pride in himself for undertaking the task, which would be agreeable, given how low he had been since the summer.
The morning after the Lucases’ party, Darcy had accompanied the Bingleys and Hursts to St Albans, which they had wanted to visit, given the tie to the late Mrs Bingley. They had remained several days, and Bingley had managed to discover a handful of residents who recalled his mother’s family. At times, Darcy had felt like an intruder and wished he had remained at Netherfield Park or returned to London. Bingley and his sisters had spoken of their parents a great deal, and Darcy believed it had affected the ladies such that they had gained an appreciation for why Bingley was determined to fulfil his father’s wish for them to have a connexion to the county. Privately, his friend had told him that he hoped it meant his sisters would make more of an effort to establish friendships in Meryton.
“You might say the neighbourhood is not fashionable enough, but I like it,” Bingley had said to him. “I might like to settle there. For good, I mean.”
“Choosing an estate based on fashion would be a dangerous proposition,” Darcy had replied, wondering whether he had ever disparaged Meryton in such amanner. “If you would be happy living there, there is no reason you should not.”
The morningafter returning to Netherfield, Darcy decided to take a ride. It had been a few days since he had last seen Miss Elizabeth. She was much in his thoughts, which was natural since he would not accomplish his goal of reconciling himself with Bingley, the people he had lately met, and especially his conscience, until he had succeeded in apologising to her.
“Which will surely be such an easy matter,” he muttered sarcastically.
Riding was a favourite pastime, and, possibly, he would meet the lady, as he had previously. If he did, he would attempt to speak to her again. As far as he knew, Mr Bennet had not rescinded his ban on her talking to him, but she might be willing to overlook it, especially after his behaviour at Lucas Lodge. He did not know how else to go about his task; it would be impossible if she kept avoiding him. If only he could convince her to listen to him for a minute or two, he might persuade her to agree that he was attempting to do as she and her father had requested and apologise.
Today, he had managed to coax his lazy oaf of a dog to accompany him. Glancing down at the creature, Darcy wondered whether perhaps he ought to hope he didnotmeet Miss Elizabeth. She might despise him for his unfashionable choice of canine companion. Was she that sort of lady? He did not believe so, but he hardly knewher—which was why she had said he could not truly regret his remarks at the assembly.
“Come on,” he grumbled. “Can you not go any faster?” His horse—as fine a specimen as any in the country—whinnied, almost as if he had taken Darcy’s words as an insult. He patted the long, brown neck, and said, “I was not speaking of you but rather of?—”
Suddenly, off ran the dog, showing more energy than he ever had in his life, leaving Darcy to chase after him.
“Budge, where are you going?” he cried, alarmed when he ran through undergrowth that was impossible for Darcy to cross. “Bud, you maddening thing! If you get lost, I-I…” There was no way to end the threat; the truth was, he would continue to search until there was no reason to keep doing so. His sister would be heartbroken if anything happened to Budge, and there was nothing Darcy would not do to keep his sister from sorrow, especially after her ill-fated sojourn to Ramsgate the summer past.
A few minutes later, a single bark provided Darcy with the clue he needed to find his dog. “Stay exactly where you are, Budge, or you will be sent to your bed without dinner for a week!”
Rounding a tall stand of vegetation as he spoke, Darcy almost fell from his horse at the combined sensation of surprise and deep embarrassment.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was crouching, patting a clearly enthralled Budge. She looked up at Darcy, a wide smile on her face, and laughed. Her eyes danced, and it was impossible to deny that it made her especially lovely. For a second, he forgot to breathe.
“Did you call your dog Budge?”
He dismounted, using the moment he had his back to her in a largely vain attempt to regain his composure. “I did.” He spoke the words slowly, then rolled his eyes and continued, “He began his life with a much more dignified name, but he was—still is—lazy and would fall to the ground acting exhausted wherever he was. My sister, who was only ten or eleven at the time, would always urge him to budge. She said she liked the way the word sounded, which was her excuse for saying it so maddeningly often. The silly thing—the dog, not Georgiana—would not move no matter how much we prodded him. Eventually, he would only respond to Budge or Bud.”
Her lips twitched, telling him she was finding it difficult not to laugh; he could not blame her. “What sort of dog is he? I do not have a perfect understanding of breeds, but I do not believe I have ever seen a similar one.”
Budge was neither large nor small, and he was almost entirely white, with fur that always appeared in need of grooming. But he had his own appeal, with big dark eyes and a mouth that made him look like he was smiling no matter the circumstances.
If Miss Elizabeth wanted to speak of his dog for the next hour, Darcy would oblige her. That she was willingly asking him questions, looking at him with friendliness, was a victory he had longed for—more than he had realised until this instant. “His parentage…is uncertain. One of the groundskeepers at my estate found him when he was a young pup. Georgiana loved him at once, and so we kept him.”
“But he isyourdog, not your sister’s? I assume as much given he is here and she is not.”
He sent a silent prayer to the universe that he had not become as red as a ripe strawberry. “He appears to prefer me.” He quickly went on, not wanting to admit that Budge showed signs of illness whenever Darcy went away without him. “You have an affinity for animals, I see.”
