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A thrill ran through Elizabeth. She reminded herself sternly that he likely had sensitive news about his aunt. His “private word” would not include kisses.
“Of course.” Although they did not touch, their proximity felt quite intimate to Elizabeth, making it difficult for her to focus on Mr. Darcy’s words.
“I arrived just now from London and visited Rosings Park the day before.”
“Do I have you to thank for Mr. Weston’s abrupt decision to leave Longbourn?” she asked.
He colored most becomingly. “I suppose in a roundabout way, but not through any actions on my aunt’s part. She refused my entreaties to recall the man. However, I did encounter Mr. Weston and Mr. Collins immediately after my arrival at the estate…”
As he related the story of the clover and the wheat, Elizabeth started to laugh and seemed unable to stop. By the conclusion of the story, Mr. Darcy was chuckling as well.
Finally, she sobered. “I must thank you, Mr. Darcy. I know you abhor deception.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I do. However, I found this experience unexpectedly…satisfying. Weston does not belong at Longbourn. Since I was unable to persuade my aunt to recall him, I am pleased to play a role in affecting his departure.”
“Did she explain why she hired him? Is she completely oblivious to his faults?”
Mr. Darcy leaned against the stone wall of the house. “It is quite an interesting tale. She sent Weston to Longbourn in the hope that he would allow Collins more leisure time to visit Rosings Park.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot upward. “Surely it would be simpler to invite him.”
Mr. Darcy grinned. “Indeed, but I believe she harbors a hope that Collins might return to Rosings permanently.”
It took Elizabeth a moment to parse this information. “She misses Collins?”
“Apparently, the new rector is not sufficiently sycophantic for her requirements.”
Elizabeth was compelled to laugh at that dry observation. “She may have him and gladly! I will even wrap a bow around him.”
He grimaced. “Yes, I know there are few at Longbourn who would mourn his absence. But Weston’s departure, however necessary, will make it more likely that Collins wants to be actively involved in the estate.”
Elizabeth thrust her hands into the pockets of her dress. “Yes, it is an enticing idea that we might send him to Kent, but I do not know how to accomplish it. I have been singularly ineffective at convincing my cousin to do anything. Perhaps the best strategy would be if I told him not to go to Rosings.”
This earned her a chuckle from Mr. Darcy.
They stood in silence for a moment. Elizabeth scanned the courtyard, considering all the parts of Longbourn her cousin found distasteful. “Oddly enough,” she said finally, “Mr. Collins might be happier at Rosings. He does not seem to…take pleasure in being the master of Longbourn.”
“Hmm…” Mr. Darcy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He enjoys the clothing, brandy, and cigars.”
“Oh yes, he takes pleasure in living like a wealthy man,” she agreed. “But he dislikes the everyday tasks of running the estate. He loathes making decisions—any decisions—or altering anything in any way. If it were in his power, he would write to Lady Catherine daily and surrender every decision into her hands.”
“Nothing would make her happier,” Mr. Darcy observed. “Perhaps he belongs at Rosings after all.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Perhaps, but would Mrs. Collins prefer Kent? Here she is near her family and far away from Lady Catherine.” Her brief bubble of hope had popped. “Charlotte is my friend. I would not secure my happiness at her expense.”
“Your feelings do you credit,” Mr. Darcy said, his dark eyes holding hers. “But perhaps you should speak with her on the subject. She, beyond anyone, would know whether her husband would be happier in Kent and could relate her thoughts on the prospect.”
“I will endeavor to speak with her tomorrow,” Elizabeth agreed. Although she found it difficult to care about Collins’s happiness, she did worry about Charlotte’s.
Mr. Darcy regarded her intently. “If Collins can be persuaded to leave Longbourn for good, then you might be free to…make other decisions…”
She suddenly noticed how close his head was leaning toward hers. “Perhaps…” she whispered.
And then he was kissing her again. The kiss expressed the two days of pent-up longing and loneliness that Elizabeth had experienced as well. He had not said that he missed her—that he ached with her absence—but it was not necessary after such a kiss.
He drew her closer, pulling her body against his until s
he could feel the beat of his heart through the layers of their clothing. His hand cradled the back of her neck, teasing the exquisitely sensitive skin there. She longed for his touch elsewhere on her body, uncaring if the sensations were wicked.
