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Was it possible that he had been staring because he admired her? Or that his comments had been meant to be teasing rather than insulting? Truthfully most of the worst comments had been made by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst; Elizabeth had just assumed he agreed with them.
It was true that he had not avoided her company when she had visited Netherfield. He frequently engaged her in conversation, and he had sought her as a dance partner at the Netherfield ball. Perhaps he did feel enough affection for her…Perhaps he did love her enough that the prospect of her engagement to Mr. Wickham would drive him to desperate action.
What courage he must possess to kiss her without knowing her feelings! To kiss her knowing that mortification was the inevitable result! And he was such a proper man, so aware of everyone’s judgment.
Elizabeth felt as if she had just opened her eyes and that previously unnoticed vistas had suddenly appeared before her.
But did she really want to explore this new territory?
The answer would have been no if Mr. Darcy had been the man she thought he was, but this other Mr. Darcy…
Oh. Elizabeth realized she was staring at him as they stood in the middle of the pathway. Their faces were only a foot apart, raising uncomfortable memories of their kiss yesterday. How had they managed to move so close to each other? Elizabeth colored and shuffled backward a few steps. In all her previous encounters with the man, Elizabeth had been certain how she should respond to him, but this new Mr. Darcy confused and vexed her.
“Can you find it in your heart to forgive my most grievous error?” His voice was quite plaintive.
Elizabeth considered as Mr. Darcy squirmed under the scrutiny of her gaze. Although she could not approve of the method he had used to separate her from Mr. Wickham, she understood it. He had been acting from the best intentions. He was penitent and desirous of her forgiveness. “Yes, of course, I forgive you.”
Immediately his body loosened, and he stood a little taller. Still, anxiety etched lines into his face, and she found herself wishing to give him some reassurance—some token that she might someday be favorably disposed toward him. “I am not…” Unable to bear the weight of his stare, Elizabeth turned her eyes to the park, staring at brown grass and bare tree limbs. She swallowed. “I am not lost to you.” His breath caught. “I…sent Mr. Wickham a note this morning informing him that I do not believe we may continue the engagement.”
Mr. Darcy sighed, and his body relaxed even more. “I am…relieved to hear that.” The tentative expression on his face suggested he wanted to discuss the state of their courtship, but Elizabeth was not equal to that conversation. She swung back toward the pathway and resumed walking.
Mr. Darcy fell into step beside her. Several minutes passed in which the silence between them grew uncomfortable. He had not offered Elizabeth his arm, and she was acutely aware that the pace between them was disjointed and uneven.
She glanced at his profile, stern and unforgiving. He was staring at the park as if it had somehow offended him. Was he angry that she had not immediately accepted his offer?
Finally, she could bear the silence no longer. “It is pleasant to have such mild weather this time of year,” she said with a sportive grin.
He was startled out of his reverie. “Hmm? Oh yes.”
Another silence stretched between them.
“Do you believe we shall have rain?”
He glanced at the faded blue winter sky. “I do not imagine so.”
“Snow then?”
He blinked. “No.”
“Hail?”
His lips twitched.
“No.”
“A blizzard perhaps?”
He huffed a laugh. “I do not believe that is likely.”
“Perhaps a plague of locusts?”
He slid her a sidelong glance. “I do not believe that could properly be considered a weather event.”
She shrugged. “Well, Mama always says I should discuss the weather when all else fails, but it appears I have no more weather to discuss.”
He snorted, then drew a deep breath. “I hope your willingness to discuss the weather is an indication that you are not too terribly angry at my presumption.”
There was another long silence. The path curved, taking them along the bank of a pond.
