Page 86 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

She smiled. “Then you need only tell yourself.”

Darcy inclined his head. He felt no need to challenge her opinion.

She stopped at the end of the row. “Mr. Darcy, I likely have about ten minutes before my mother remembers that she would like to join us, and so I shall use those minutes now, if you are willing to hear me.”

“You have my attention,” Darcy replied.

She took a breath and began. “My mother has put me in the way of every available man in London this season. It is February, and I am already weary nearly to death. By my count, you and I are among the two most hunted people in town at present, and it seems to me a great waste for the hunted to avoid one another when we might offer solace instead.”

A cold tendril of alarm began to curl around him, but he thought it better to know what exactly Miss Finch was suggesting. “I am listening.”

“I thought you a good man when we met, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Finch said. “But please believe me when I say that I did not immediately fall in love with you. I am not a fool. I am not considering you, and you are not considering me. I have liked you much better since that was settled in my head.”

The tendril released its hold. Darcy was not offended, but he was curious. “When did you settle that?”

“When I spoke with Miss Elizabeth Bennet at your mother’s party.” Darcy must have paled for Miss Finch shook her head. “You were not obvious. Indeed, I do not believe that Miss Elizabeth noticed anything at all.”

He kept his eyes on the camellias. “Miss Finch, if I have given any affront, I must⁠—”

“Heavens, you have done nothing for which you ought to apologise. I was watching only because I wished to know how much trouble you were going to be to me.” She said it without a particle of embarrassment. “With a mother like mine, Mr. Darcy, I am rather attuned to such things.”

There did not seem to be anything safe to say in reply.

“You need not look so guarded. I do not wish to know anything about it, and I shall certainly not carry tales to either of our mothers.” She turned a leaf over with one finger, examined its underside, let it go. “I should simply like to be on friendly terms with you, and Miss Elizabeth as well.”

She wanted nothing from him. It was an unusual position to find himself in, and he embraced it. “Gladly,” he said. “For my part, that is.”

Miss Finch nodded. “Excellent. I hope you did not mind that nonsense about country and gardens. I wanted to see how gentlemanly you are, and I was not disappointed. You were even a little amusing about it.”

“I do what I can.”

Her smile was a wry one. “I had no intention of finding a husband this season, but my mother is evidently determined to be rid of me. I had other hopes for the year. A better mare, for one.”

“What is wrong with your mare?” he asked as she turned back to the flowers, because it seemed the sort of thing one might ask a woman who was also a friend.

She straightened. “Everything is wrong with my mare. She shies at nothing on the left side and at everything on the right, is afraid of sheep even when they are nowhere near her, and stops dead at every gate. She is a great trial to me, but I cannot sell her, for my father remains very pleased with himself about obtaining her at an excellent bargain.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “I am sure it was a bargain. For him.”

“I do love my parents, Mr. Darcy. They are very good to me. I think Papa would not mind if I stayed home forever, but Mamma would like grandchildren. And so I am being led about for inspection much as my mare once was. Lately I find I have more sympathy for her.” She took one last look down the row. “I am not certain you are aware, but Miss Elizabeth watches for you as well.”

“What?” Darcy’s throat was dry.

Darcy had been certain Miss Elizabeth could not think of him at all. His mother had thought so, and although he had wished it otherwise, had never really believed it.

Richard and Em had known that he was interested in Miss Elizabeth. But Miss Finch was the first to tell him that Miss Elizabeth might be interested in him.

His heart felt lighter, and while he still harboured some doubts as to Miss Finch’s conclusions, the hope he felt carried him past them. He would speak to Miss Elizabeth when she attended Georgiana’s evening and ask whether he could call on her.

Lady Finch was waiting near the tea table. The moment she saw them enter together, her fan came up and she took half a step forward. Then she saw the space between them as her daughter stepped into the room first. The fan sank again.

Miss Finch crossed to Darcy’s mother and curtsied. “Thank you for the tea, Lady Anne. It was very good of you to receive us.”

His mother inclined her head. “Not at all.”

Miss Finch glanced once towards the conservatory. “The camellias were stunning, I must say. Lord Matlock’s camillia house will be a marvel when it is completed.”

Lady Finch brightened. “Perhaps we might⁠—”