Page 30 of The Lost Prophecy

He moved to occupy the large chair by the book table while Miss Elizabeth selected a volume. “How extensive are the grounds at Longbourn?”

She paused above the books, turning to stare at him. “Are you considering purchasing them?”

Darcy kept a straight face. “I am attempting to understand the neighbourhood.”

“You have resided at Netherfield for several weeks, Mr Darcy.”

“Bingley resides here. I am visiting.”

“Then the dimensions of Longbourn should trouble you even less.”

Darcy inclined his head. “Your argument is reasonable. Now, how extensive are the grounds?”

Her lips curved in delight despite her attempt to prevent it. “Large enough to walk without encountering one’s family, and too small to escape them permanently.”

The following morning, he discovered her in the breakfast room writing a letter while her sister rested upstairs.

Darcy stood in the doorway. “Which local walks remain passable after rain?”

Miss Elizabeth placed her pen next to the letter. “The western path beyond Longbourn dries first. Why do you enquire?”

Darcy stepped into the room. “I intend to ride extensively through the district.”

Miss Elizabeth smiled brightly. “Behemoth does not require a path. He could easily create one through a solid church.”

Darcy remained serious. “I do not think so. He dislikes consecrated ground.”

She studied him for several seconds, but he offered no amendment.

“Is that intended as humour, Mr Darcy?”

He met her gaze. “It is intended as information.”

Miss Elizabeth laughed. “I begin to suspect that the distinction is unreliable where you are concerned.”

Later, when Miss Bennet returned to the drawing room, Darcy asked Miss Elizabeth whether she preferred The Italian to The Mysteries of Udolpho. She accused him of compiling an inventory of her reading. He informed her that a man required fair warning before discovering which fictional Gothic villain a lady intended to compare him to.

Miss Elizabeth gracefully turned a page. “I had not selected one. You continually provide excellent candidates.”

Darcy leaned closer. “Montoni has poor judgement and even worse estate management.”

Miss Elizabeth smiled. “You object to him professionally, then?”

Darcy smirked. “I object on several grounds, but neglected property is the least forgivable.”

Miss Bingley entered before Miss Elizabeth’s laughter faded and immediately proposed music. Darcy declined, explaining that their discussion had not concluded.

Miss Bingley positioned herself close to him. “It concerns fictional villains. Surely Miss Elizabeth can continue alone.”

Darcy did not look at her. “She has gracefully done so already. I am merely attempting to keep pace.”

Miss Elizabeth found her book very interesting, but colour rose into her cheeks. Darcy sensed the tiny alteration in her pulse and found that the fierce hunger it stirred no longer explained everything moving inside him.

He fed before joining the family each day. Miss Elizabeth’s impossible scent still reached him, warm and insistent, but the initial appetite subsided under rigid discipline. What remained could not be attributed to blood. He anticipated her bright answers before she ever spoke, then discovered that she rarely gave the answer he expected. Her contradictions delighted him rather than irritated him. Each time he made her laugh, the gorgeous sound produced a satisfaction separate from the promise of mortality carried in her veins.

By the second afternoon, she had recognised that his strange enquiries served no rational purpose.

They stood near the large window while Miss Bennet and Bingley discussed the gardens. Miss Bingley had attempted to draw Darcy to the card table, but he had escaped by expressing an urgent need to learn whether Mrs Bennet often required smelling salts.