Page 57 of Dear Friend

“Naturally. How else is one to know one has won?”

Darcy laughed, and Elizabeth joined him. It struck him then how little the letters had actually told him of Julia herself. She had occupied nearly every page in one manner or another, yet always as the person to whom Elizabeth spoke, rarely as the subject of the speaking. Darcy had known the importance of the friendship long before he understood the woman upon whom that affection had been bestowed.

“What was she like otherwise?” he asked.

Elizabeth looked at him with some surprise. “You are remarkably interested in a woman you have never met.”

The observation struck close enough that Darcy’s step slowed.

“You speak of her with affection,” he said after a moment. “It makes her interesting.”

Elizabeth regarded him for a moment before her expression warmed. “That is very kind of you.”

She told him more as they descended the hill, small recollections which would have meant very little to anyone who did not understand what Julia’s absence had cost her. Julia disliked pears but was excessively fond of apples, could never remember the name of a new acquaintance until she had heard it several times, and had once walked halfway to Meryton before Elizabeth discovered that she wore two different gloves. Darcy listened, asking and commenting little now, though he found himself storing away each detail with the same care he had once given Elizabeth’s letters.

Their conversation gradually wandered elsewhere. They disputed the respective merits of Hertfordshire and Derbyshire, returned briefly to books, and finally considered whether Bingley’s enthusiasm for country life would survive his first winter at Netherfield. Elizabeth was easier with him away from company, quicker to laugh and equally quick to challenge an opinion she considered poorly defended. Darcy found himself enjoying the walk enough that the path dividing towards Longbourn appeared far sooner than he wished.

“I ought to turn here,” Elizabeth said, glancing towards the nearest houses in the distance. “If I remain away much longer, Mama will decide I have fallen into a ditch and send half Longbourn in search of me. Besides, Meryton is not always charitable towards coincidence. If we are seen walking together, I fear the story will have grown considerably before you reach the next milepost.”

“I should not wish to be responsible for either alarm.”

Elizabeth gave him that curious look again, as though there were something about him she could not quite place. It lasted only a moment before she smiled.

“Thank you for the company, Mr. Darcy. My walk has been rather more entertaining than I expected.”

“The advantage was mine, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” she said.

“Good morning.”

Darcy remained where he was as she turned towards Longbourn, watching until the distance between them had grown sufficient that he could no longer distinguish the details of her figure. Only then did he begin the return towards Netherfield.

He had learnt more of Julia Harding in the course of one morning than all of Elizabeth’s letters had told him in months, and Elizabeth had offered those recollections freely because she believed him merely interested in something dear to her. The knowledge ought to have left him wishing he had asked less.

Instead, as Darcy made his way back towards Netherfield, he found himself wishing he had asked more.

Chapter Twenty-One

18th October 1811

Longbourn

Elizabeth

Elizabeth found Jane in the small sitting room off the hall, already dressed for the day and sitting near the window with a book in her hand. At the sound of the door, Jane looked up, and the smile which immediately touched her face made Elizabeth suspicious before a word had been spoken.

“What?”

Jane's smile widened. “I said nothing.”

“You were preparing to.”

“I was only wondering what you encountered upon your walk.”

Elizabeth removed her bonnet. “Fields. Trees. A tolerable quantity of mud. Nothing Hertfordshire has not provided before.”

“How strange.”