He resolved, then and there, not to squander the reprieve.
When breakfast concluded, he approached her with what he hoped was calm assurance. “Would you care to walk in the gardens after breakfast, Miss Elizabeth? The morning is clear, and I should like to make better use of the time we have been granted.”
Her expression brightened at once, the thoughtful reserve lifting as though it had never been there. “I should like that very much.”
They walked together beneath the bare-limbed trees, the gravel path crunching softly beneath their steps. The gardens were quiet at that hour, dew still clinging to the edges of leaves, the world hushed and expectant.
After a few moments, Elizabeth spoke. “You have mentioned your cousin often. Are you close to any other family, besides Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy considered his answer carefully. “There are others, though not all are… easy relationships. My stepmother’s sister, Lady Catherine, lives in Kent. She is a…. formidable presence,” he added dryly.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I believe I can imagine.”
“My stepmother and my sister visit yearly, around Easter, and I join them when I can.” He hesitated. “You bear a resemblance to her, Miss Elizabeth. Not in manner—Heaven forbid—but in features. The same carriage of the head. The same coloring of hair and eyes.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “I am not sure whether to thank you or protest.”
“I intend it as a compliment,” he said, smiling despite himself. “Though I imagine Lady Catherine would consider the comparison entirely in her favor.”
“And her family?” Elizabeth prompted.
“She has a stepdaughter, Anne,” Darcy replied, his tone shifting. “A quiet young woman. Very fragile in spirit. She finds it impossible to leave home. Even stepping beyond the front door causes her great distress.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened at once. “That must be very hard for her.”
“It is,” Darcy agreed. “My aunt means well, in her fashion, but she believes determination alone can cure all things. Anne does not share that belief. She is most at ease when the world is kept small.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Safety is not always found where others expect it to be.”
Darcy glanced at her, struck again by how readily she understood what he had not even said aloud. As they continued their walk, he was keenly aware that this extra day—this unexpected reprieve—felt less like indulgence and more like necessity. He only hoped he was wise enough not to waste it.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth told herself, more than once, that the day meant nothing.
Mr. Darcy had been attentive—thoughtfully, steadily attentive—in a way that made the hours pass with alarming ease. He anticipated her wishes, fell into step beside her without effort, and listened as though her observations were worth the keeping. She laughed more than she intended. She found herself watching his expressions when he was not looking at her. And each time she caught herself doing so, she scolded her own foolishness.
It was entirely possible, she reminded herself sternly, that he was merely being polite. Or bored. Or that he considered her only a pleasant companion, a friend to fill the hours while circumstances kept her at Netherfield. To assume more would be vanity of the worst sort.
Do not let your heart become engaged, Lizzy,she warned herself.Not so easily. Not so soon.
If nothing else, she was grateful that Caroline Bingley seemed to have vanished for most of the day, whether by design or divine mercy. The quiet absence made everything lighter.
That illusion did not last.
After dinner, when the gentlemen withdrew to their port and the ladies remained behind, Caroline appeared as though summoned by the scent of contentment. She seated herself at the pianoforte with an air of bored indulgence and turned sharp eyes upon Elizabeth.
“Perhaps you would play for us, Miss Elizabeth,” she said with saccharine sweetness. “It is your last evening here, after all.”
Elizabeth complied without comment, seating herself and playing a familiar piece with calm precision. When she finished, Caroline gave a small, measured clap.
“Well done, considering” she said. “One would hardly expect such execution from someone so clearly untaught. One of the pities of being in the country, I daresay.”
Elizabeth’s fingers paused on the keys.
“I imagine,” Caroline continued lightly, “that when one grows up in a household as lively as Longbourn, one must seize whatever scraps of refinement present themselves. There can be little time for masters when there are so many sisters to manage, and so many relations in trade clamoring for attention.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate.
