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You should have considered that before you got foxed, commented an angry voice at the back of his mind. He could offer no excuse. Despite knowing the possible consequences, he had indulged in self-pity and inebriation. He deserved any punishment he suffered.
Except exile from Elizabeth.
He adjusted his cravat, hoping the damn thing was still even. Fussing with it earlier had nearly driven his valet to distraction.
No wine, no brandy, and particularly no port, he admonished himself as he strode down the hallway to the drawing room. Before reaching for the door knob, he braced himself. What would he find inside? Would she ignore him? Act cold and distant? Cutting? Swallowing hard, he opened the door.
Elizabeth and Georgiana were seated together on a settee, their heads—dark and light—bent over a book. They looked up in unison as Darcy entered. His eyes darted directly to Elizabeth, fearing his reception. “Miss Bennet.” He nodded a greeting.
“Mr. Darcy.” Her smile was warm enough to melt the dread surrounding his heart. Darcy released a relieved breath. Perhaps she had forgiven the incident in the hallway.
“Elizabeth brought me a novel as a present!” Eyes shining with excitement, Georgiana held up the small brown book. “It is one of her favorites, but an author I have never read.”
Relief swept through his body, making his knees weak. She does not hate us! “That is very thoughtful of you.” He attempted to convey his gratitude for her forgiveness in the warm look he returned to Elizabeth but feared he merely appeared pained.
As he approached the settee, Elizabeth rose, watching him steadily. “The bookseller also had the latest volume of Mr. Wordsworth’s poetry. I remembered our lively conversations about his verses at Rosings, so I purchased it for you.” She held out a book that had been resting in her lap.
Darcy extended his hand automatically to take the volume. His fingers closed about the book’s spine, savoring the texture and weight. She has given me a gift! “I-I thank you, Miss Bennet.” He was entirely too stunned to frame another response.
Her eyes regarded him uncertainly. “You do not already own it?”
“No, indeed. It is a most welcome addition to my library.” He stared in wonder at the slim blue book, feeling as if he held a miracle in his hand.
“Very good.” She shot him another uncertain smile and settled herself once more beside Georgiana.
Darcy got himself into a chair, only staggering slightly. He was utterly nonplussed. He had prepared for coldness and disdain, not warmth and generosity—as if he had braced himself for a blow that had never come.
By the strict rules of propriety, he should decline a gift from an unmarried woman, but he had never been less inclined to follow the dictates of propriety. Refusing the gift would embarrass Elizabeth, and he had mortified her sufficiently for the week. Besides, the unassuming blue book had already become his favorite, and he had yet to open it.
Elizabeth knew how improper her gesture was, yet here she had flaunted the accepted rules. Why? What was he to think? Could Elizabeth possibly be flirting with him?
The thought caused his heart to beat a fast, relentless rhythm.
However, as she discussed the novel with his sister, Elizabeth seemed only slightly aware of his presence. Hardly the behavior of a flirt. And the smile she had bestowed on him had been gentle, not at all coy or enticing.
No, it would be presumptuous to think he had won her regard. He turned the book over in his hands, telling himself it was simply a friendly gesture. Elizabeth had purchased a book for Georgiana and had bought one for him as an afterthought. Darcy must not presume any other meaning.
Elizabeth and Georgiana were no longer conversing; his sister was drinking her tea. Darcy seized the opportunity. “You are too kind to us, Miss Bennet.”
She smiled at him, but her eyes quickly dropped to her lap. “It is you who have been kind to me. The friendship you and Georgiana have shown over these few months has been of immeasurable benefit during a difficult time.” Of course. She was speaking of Richard’s death. Darcy had almost managed to forget about Richard and his role in her life. How was that possible? “It is unfortunate that we did not have the opportunity to become cousins in truth,” Elizabeth said as she patted Georgiana’s hand. “You and Georgiana feel like members of my family—almost as if we are cousins.”
Georgiana clasped Elizabeth’s hand. “Yes, indeed! We are quite like cousins, are we not William?” Unable to utter a word, Darcy merely nodded.
The two women continued to speak, but Darcy did not attend to the conversation. Elizabeth viewed him as a cousin, akin to an older brother. The message could not be clearer, despite being unintentionally delivered.
It was for the best. Nothing had changed. Although he still loved Elizabeth, he could never act on it. He would satisfy himself with being her honorary cousin. Compared to the fear that she would refuse the acquaintance, this was a delight, he reminded himself.
Yes, honorary cousin was a great prize.
Why did some part of him remained unconvinced?
Chapter 10
Darcy resisted the impulse to fuss with his cravat or yank at his cuffs. His ensemble was perfect; his valet had fussed over it for an hour. But his hands must be occupied; he pushed his fingers through his hair. Had he had disordered his valet’s careful arrangement? Guiltily, Darcy smoothed the locks into place. Next his fingers worried the edge of his hat where it rested on his knee.
There was no helping it. His hands could not bear
to be idle.
