Page 27 of A Prudent Engagement

“Miss Elizabeth,” he at last said, “you have become quiet.”

“I am only wondering.”

“About what?”

Her cheeks reddened, and she did not meet his eyes as she said, “What sort of father you will one day be.”

The now familiar jolt shot through Darcy once more.

He could easily enough track what line of thought had led from the conversation about his father to that statement.

And he once more had the sense that he was being judged by her, and he did not like that sensation.

“I assure you,” Darcy said, “that like my father, I shall fulfil every duty I have to my children. They will all be well cared for, and they will never need to fret about their material situation.”

Elizabeth looked at him with flashing eyes. She suddenly appeared angry and seemed about to say something.

Darcy wondered whether she had interpreted what he said as an insult to her own father.

It might have been, he realised, and he felt a little ashamed of that.

“I apologise,” he said. “I see how my words could be understood as unkind to your father’s memory.”

“Lord, do not apologise on this point!” Elizabeth cried out. “I know very well that he did not economise as he ought to have!”

Miss Bennet took Elizabeth’s hand and squeezed it, and Darcy wished he had the right to do the same.

He did not know what to say.

And their conversation had flowed so easily until then.

After a brief period, Elizabeth sniffled a little and sighed. “I am overwrought and so torn about. I hardly know what I say.”

“Miss Elizabeth, you certainly should not apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Elizabeth shrugged.

They then did not speak again for some time, except for words of the most inconsequential and practical sort.

However, when they changed horses, Mrs. Collins suggested they sample from the basket of food that had been prepared by Mrs. North.

Darcy had the joy of seeing Elizabeth delighted by excellent chicken, bread, and eggs.

She then asked, “Do you mean to return to London immediately?”

“No,” Darcy replied softly. “I intend to remain…well, for the time being.”

“Will you stay at Netherfield? No, it is closed up, and I suppose you would have had no chance to ask Mr. Bingley to use his estate last night.”

“None,” Darcy agreed with a frown.

Miss Bennet then sat straighter, her manner becoming oddly intent. “Have you seen Mr. Bingley much of late? Do you know whether he is presently in London?”

Darcy wished to squirm in discomfort.

He remembered what he had made himself forget: the Bennet family was mercenary and grasping.

Elizabeth was not of that sort.