Page 127 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“Mr. Darcy.”

He stared down at her for so long that she thought he did not mean to say anything further. She did not think she could find anything to say to him. Her mind was utterly blank. Finally, he spoke—in a voice of kindness and concern.

“Will you do me the very great honor of forgiving the hasty words I uttered this morning?”

Dear Lord, how will I resist him if he speaks to me this way?

Lizzy blinked rapidly, out of breath but not from exercise. She did not know what to say in reply. The most obvious response was to say she forgave him. But did she?

“You hurt my feelings, Mr. Darcy,” she said at last, frowning. “You questioned my judgement.”

He waited several heartbeats before responding in a remorseful voice. “I did. My only defense is that I reacted to my fear for you. I imagined you trampled and gored…and I…I reacted…poorly. I thought—pray excuse me—I thought such a tragedy could be avoided simply by you taking more care. I should have realized that you would not put yourself into unnecessary danger.” He swallowed, hard. “My heart was in my throat, Miss Elizabeth.”

Lizzy frowned at him, staring into his eyes, hoping to see if she could trust what he said. To her surprise, he reached out and took her hand, pressing it between both of his.

“First the stable lad, then your farm manager, told me how much they feared Clover,” he explained.

“So, you approached the paddock with fear already brewing?” Lizzy asked, understanding growing.

“That is correct,” Mr. Darcy said, a smile beginning to hover on his lips. “Can you forgive me? I promise you I do not dislike your love of animals—not at all. Not in anyway. I swear it.”

Unable to resist the sincerity of his apology, Lizzy nodded. “I forgive you. But, kindly do not shout at me again.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. Continuing to hold it, he added, staring intently down into her eyes, “I am not in the habit of shouting. My behavior shocked even me.” He smiled. “Thank you for shouting back. I deserved it.”

Lizzy chuckled and carefully withdrew her hand from his grasp. “My disposition is lively, but steady. Even so, I will not permit myself to be bullied.”

“Good,” Mr. Darcy said, stepping back and tugging down on his waistcoat. He glanced over at his carriage. “I see that Georgiana and Miss Mary are waiting for me. Thank you for your kindness.”

Lizzy curtsied, and he bowed before striding off toward the carriage. Harry came and sat beside her, leaning his body against her leg.

“You like him, boy, do you not?”

Harry chuffed.

“I thought so. Your approbation reassures me,” she said softly. “Because, you see, I find myself liking Mr. Darcy exceedingly well.”

Lizzy watched the carriage roll away until it entered the lane. Her heart, so heavy before, now sang with relief and guarded joy. She could not help hoping for the future she thought lost.

Darcy and Georgiana entered Netherfield after the visit to the farm to see Flora. They climbed the stairs to the first floor together. Georgiana hurried off to her bedchamber to wash, rest, and change. Darcy strode in the opposite direction, wondering if Bingley had arrived home from his drive with Miss Bennet. He could have asked the footman in the entrance hall, but he had forgotten to do so. As he approached the family drawing room, his footsteps slowed. Strong words sounded from within. A young maid hovered in the corridor, a tray of tea things in her hands, her eyes wide and staring. She clearly did not know if she should enter the drawing room, disturbing the heated words wafting out of it.

“Leave it on the table there,” Darcy instructed, motioning to a large half-moon table in a window alcove across the corridor from the drawing room door. She gratefully set it down, bobbed a curtsy, and scurried away. The door stood partially open—a habit formed from allowing Miss Darcy’s favored cat to roam freely. Darcy could hear every word.

“You cannot marry that girl!” Miss Bingley cried. “What are you thinking of, Charles, to even consider such a thing?”

“Jane is a wonderful woman,” Bingley stressed. “She is kind and—”

“She has no money! And no social standing!” Miss Bingley asserted. “And her mother! Good Lord. What an embarrassing woman. She would be your mother-in-law, constantly on your doorstep, plaguing you until you want to scream.”

“I like her. Her anxiety over her daughters’ marital fate greatly influences her behavior. Once all of them are married, I am certain she will be a delightful woman,” he claimed.

Miss Bingley harrumphed, evidently not convinced. “I would not hold my breath if I were you.”

Darcy heard the rustling of her skirts and imagined her pacing about the room. While he knew he should not eavesdrop, his concern over the outcome of the argument kept him listening.

Bingley huffed. “Caroline, there can be no objection to Jane’s birth—she has a higher social position than either of us. Her character is unimpeachable. And, she is held in high regard.”

“Here! But no one knows her in London. She will do nothing to improve your social standing!”