Page 51 of A Question of Character

Darcy descended the steps and entered the waiting carriage.

As it pulled away, he glanced through the window.

Elizabeth remained where she had left him, one hand resting lightly upon the open door, watching until the carriage carried him beyond her sight. When the carriage disappeared around the corner, he turned to face forward.

A few weeks.

Until that afternoon, the interval had appeared comfortably distant. Now it seemed absurdly brief. He had spent years believing time to be generous. It was proving remarkably otherwise.

seven

An Unsuspected Attachment

Elizabeth had never before considered that a familiar place might become dear merely because of the company one kept there.

Hyde Park remained Hyde Park. The broad walks were no greener than they had been a fortnight before, the Serpentine no more inclined to sparkle than on any other pleasant afternoon. Gentlemen rode by with practiced ease, ladies displayed the newest fashions from Bond Street, children escaped the vigilance of nurses whenever opportunity presented itself, and every bench appeared occupied by those determined to observe the rest of London without seeming to do so.

Nothing in the park had altered.

She had.

Or perhaps it was only that she had become accustomed to expecting Mr. Darcy at her side.

The realization was sufficiently unsettling that she occupied herself by adjusting the ribbon of her bonnet, though it required no adjustment whatsoever.

Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana had paused some distance behind to admire a flowering shrub which Mr. Gardiner insisted had been imported from the Continent at outrageous expense. Whether his account was accurate or merely intended to amuse his wife, Elizabeth could not determine.

The result was that she and Mr. Darcy had wandered ahead seemingly without noticing.

“It has been an agreeable season,” she remarked.

Darcy glanced toward the line of elms before answering.

“It has.”

“I suspect every gentleman says so before fleeing London for the country.”

“I rarely say so.”

“No?”

“No season has ever given me much reason.”

She regarded him curiously.

“You surprise me.”

“I have never enjoyed a season in town more than this one.”

The simplicity of the admission robbed it of all affectation.

Elizabeth found herself examining the ducks upon the water rather more intently than their habits deserved.

“I am glad of it,” she answered after a brief silence. “Though I flatter myself London cannot claim all the credit.”

“It cannot.”

She risked meeting his eyes.