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If she is not angry, perhaps I did not overstep too badly. Perhaps there is some hope for my courtship.
In the distance, a few farmers appeared on the road toward Longbourn. They gave no indication of having noticed Darcy and Elizabeth, but he nevertheless backed completely off the steps. I should leave her vicinity altogether. But Darcy’s confession seemed to have wrought a magic spell between the two o
f them, creating a fairy tale world where they could understand each other perfectly. As he gazed into her dark eyes, he feared that his departure would break the spell forever.
Yet he could not remain on the steps of Longbourn. He needed a purpose, or he would be driven wild from sheer inaction. “Elizabeth,” he said urgently, “there must be some service I might render to your family. My agents are still seeking Wickham and your sister, but it is not sufficient.”
“Surely it is.”
“No, it is not nearly enough. Tell me what other service I might render to you.”
She averted her eyes for a long moment. “I hesitate to mention it, but Mr. Weston has come close to discovering Longbourn’s secrets. If he remains, he will no doubt uncover them sooner or later. And he has made assaults on Kitty’s virtue…”
“You wish him gone,” Darcy said.
“But I know such is not within your power,” Elizabeth said miserably.
Darcy’s mind worked furiously. He must lend some assistance. “Perhaps I might persuade Collins that the estate cannot bear the expense.”
Elizabeth gave a slow shake of her head. “Unfortunately, I recently learned that Mr. Collins is not paying the steward’s salary. Lady Catherine bears the costs. Even if my cousin wished to rid himself of Weston, I do not know if he could.”
Darcy frowned at Elizabeth. “Why would my aunt pay for Weston?”
She shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps she believed he needed a job or that Mr. Collins needed a steward. Or both.”
He gave a decisive nod of his head. “There is a mystery to be unraveled. I might uncover it with a visit to Rosings Park—or might even encourage her to discontinue his sponsorship.”
Elizabeth’s face lit with hope. “Do you think you might accomplish it?”
“It is within the realm of possibility, but my aunt is a stubborn woman,” he warned. “She is often inclined not to heed my advice. Nevertheless, I will visit Rosings Park and attempt it. I owe her a visit in any event.”
He might as well have given her a diamond ring. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy!”
He grimaced. “Stay your gratitude until I have accomplished something. But I will leave tomorrow.”
“Even if you do not succeed, it is a great gift.”
The expression on her face was worth all the effort Darcy would put into it. He only hoped she would continue to regard him with favor if he failed.
***
The next day Elizabeth went about her duties in a haze of disbelief. Mr. Darcy loved her! How unexpected and strange. She had noticed some odd behavior on his part but had rationalized it. Now, however, there was no denying it—and she did not quite know what to do with her knowledge. She had acknowledged her own warm feelings for the man but had never expected—never dreamed—of capturing his deepest affection. Even when he had demonstrated his attraction to her, she had not anticipated a proposal. Marriage was not something she expected to come her way.
But over the course of the day she became more accustomed to the idea. Although she had once believed him to be difficult and proud, she had recently come to recognize that he was an honorable and caring man.
But could she love him?
Alone in the kitchen, she kneaded bread dough and mused about the state of her heart. Mr. Darcy was riding to Kent, and she already missed him. How was it possible for such a short time to seem so long? Every moment that her mind was not occupied with some other task she wondered when he would return.
Or she would wander into recollections about that kiss in front of Longbourn. Perhaps he might kiss her like that again when he next visited. It was wicked to hope for it, but she could not prevent the longing.
No matter how many times Elizabeth told herself she was being ridiculous, she felt this absence was far less tolerable than any of his previous absences.
She slammed the dough onto the table in frustration. Her obsession with the man perplexed her. He was handsome, to be sure, and had been kind to her and her family. He was wealthy beyond Elizabeth’s wildest dreams, yet such things had never turned her head before. His interest in her was very flattering, but she had sensed glimmers of attraction toward him before he had confessed his love.
She punched the dough harder than was necessary, as if it were responsible for her current confusion. Can I even trust his affection? Perhaps it is a passing fancy. Now I am being silly. He sought me out after we were apart for nearly two years. He proposed. These are hardly the actions of an unserious man.
She slammed the dough again, kneading it with a punishing rhythm. She was forced to recall her words to Georgiana about how one must fully trust a man to even consider marrying him. After the examples set by Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley, and even her own father, Elizabeth found it difficult to believe that men were constant in matters of the heart.
