As Elizabeth let her eyes roam over the green-gold hues of the sun dappled glade, an expansive delight stole through her, manifesting itself in the contented smile now affixed firmly to her face. The very alive-ness of the place hung thick in the air, as the peppery scent of fresh lichen and wet earth permeated her senses. It was an aroma that, to Elizabeth, was more alluring than any pungent and oily perfume. The path was wide and smooth, leading them on a very direct route through a grove of ancient beech trees whose new leaves fluttered merrily in the gentle breeze. Their dance cast roaming shadows on the vibrant carpet of the forest floor, now speckled with the first hesitant bluebells that were emerging like small specks of purple stars.
She breathed deeply, closing her eyes to savor the first blush of spring as she listened to Charlotte's familiar tread beside her. She was, for this moment at least, at peace. For Elizabeth, there was no greater pleasure than walking in the open air in good company. She wondered idly how it was that polished society preferred the contrived elegance of a drawing room to the ancient beauty of the woods, fields, and streams.
"I knew you would enjoy this path," said Charlotte with a smile.
Elizabeth beamed with gratitude before asking, "Do you often get the opportunity to walk at Rosings?"
Charlotte shrugged, "When I am not needed. I do not enjoy walking out as much as you do, so I am content even should I lack the opportunity. I encourage my husband to take exercise often though – for his health, of course."
She cast Elizabeth a sly sideways glance. It was by silent agreement that neither woman spoke ill of Charlotte's husband explicitly, though Charlotte did at times reveal something of her exasperation. She was, aside from these subtle lapses, a very dutiful wife who did nothing that did not increase her husband's respectability.
After settling into the comfortable and unassuming Hunsford parsonage, Elizabeth was surprised to find that her friend appeared to be more at ease here than she had been in Hertfordshire. This observation was coupled with a small pang of guilt as she began to realize how deeply unhappy Charlotte had been. As she was not a woman who used her breath to speak of herself, Charlotte's discontent had gone unnoticed by them all. If perhaps she did not speak as much as she had used to, who was to remark on it? For there was always so much noise in Hertfordshire society, and most especially when the Bennets were anywhere in the vicinity.
Charlotte had wasted no time in earning the trust and respect of the servants, which, though pleasing to see, had surprised Elizabeth not at all. The parsonage ran with fluid efficiency – no propriety unobserved, no sill undusted, and no silver unpolished. Charlotte, not one for vagaries, was clear in her expectations, yet reasonable in her requests. So respected was she that Elizabeth was pleased to note the way the servants would often approach the mistress with the most pressing matters of the household rather than the master. Charlotte had a skill for resolving problems quietly and without fuss. Doubtless, this also served to keep the diligence of her Ladyship at bay, for when there was no issue to resolve, none of that lady's benevolent solutions could be offered.
As for her cousin, Elizabeth found him to be very much as she expected – news that was sure to delight her father. Out of respect for her friend and guilt at her own poor showing as a confidant, Elizabeth chose not to put in ink some of her cousin's more ridiculous performances. She did, however, reflect on them with a chagrined amusement. However, with no other person in the parsonage with whom to share her diversion, Elizabeth was obliged to roll her eyes only when enjoying her solitary rambles.
Indeed, maintaining her equanimity had been a considerable test of her composure, especially during those first awkward moments at the beginning of her stay. She had not stepped out of the carriage for five minutes before he turned a bitter eye on her.
"I must flatter myself that my wife is sensible of the good fortune of our situation," he said, giving Charlotte a pompous smile, "She shows her deference to Lady Catherine with such joyful gratitude – which is very proper considering her ladyships' station in relation to our own. My choice has proven to be very fortuitous, especially when one considers the tendency of many young women towards selfish independence."
Here he cast her a look which was only understood by his wife and Elizabeth, causing a blush to perfuse her friend's cheeks. Sir William Lucas and Maria, blissfully unaware of the intended slight, smiled warmly at the gentleman's praise of his new wife. Charlotte, deftly as ever, turned the topic to his patroness, sending her an apologetic look as she did so. Mr. Collins was then naturally obliged to praise Lady Catherine's beneficence for the improvements to his home – which he had, of course, undertaken at personal expense.
At first, Elizabeth worried that her stay in Kent was destined to be an unhappy one, owed largely to Mr. Collins's oppressive diligence in attending his guests. As much as she had eagerly anticipated her reunion with Charlotte, being in company with her cousin was a trial, even at the best of times. His thinly veiled dislike of Elizabeth found its outlet in the occasional comment buried in conversation, but said with such an emphasis that his meaning was not to be mistaken by her.
Yet, Elizabeth suspected Charlotte had soon called her husband to order, for as the days had gone on, the gentleman had instead avoided her wherever possible. This change was no hardship. Indeed, Elizabeth found her days were more tranquil when he was not present. Things had improved further as, after the first week, her cousin was obliged to return his attention to his divine responsibilities, lest he risk the disapprobation of his estimable patroness.
"How is Jane?" asked Charlotte, breaking into Elizabeth's silent reverie.
Elizabeth considered for a moment before responding, "She is well on the whole. I received a letter from her just this morning. Mr. Bingley continues to call regularly at my uncle's home."
"And yet he has not offered at least a courtship?" Charlotte asked with a frown.
Elizabeth recalled words from Jane's letter, still fresh in her mind:
'I fear I was not entirely honest with you in my last letter. Mr. Bingley made his intentions perfectly clear during his second visit. Just before leaving our uncle's house, he pulled me aside to ask for the opportunity to court me openly. I hope you can forgive my lapse when I tell you I had not shared this rather momentous declaration because I could not understand my own feelings on the subject. Whatever excuse he may have, I must own that his abandonment hurt me deeply. And so, I could not consent. Yet, in spite of everything, I find I cannot give him up, whatever his sins to me have been.'
"I do not think she would accept his suit at present," said Elizabeth, delicately. "Mr. Bingley has hardly inspired her confidence of late."
Charlotte nodded slowly. "And what of his sisters? Doubtless they must still object to the match?"
Another excerpt from Jane came to her:
'We spoke again of Caroline. I was stunned to see such a disgusted look upon his countenance when I mentioned her. He assures me that, although he has not yet confronted his sister regarding her duplicity, he has every intention of doing so. I cannot remember his exact words on this point, but his meaning was quite clear. He does not wish for the disruption that must arise from such a confrontation. He wishes instead to devote his efforts towards myself — at least until I decide if his overtures are welcome. I gather from this that he anticipates some unseemly behavior from her when he comes to the point at last. I cannot say I am wholly surprised. Given what I have discovered of the lady, and I must own what you have long suspected, it no longer seems inconceivable to me. He was very forthcoming when speaking on this topic.
He told me how much he learned of himself after hearing of her deceit, and he now feels the overwhelming need to make amends for the damage their perfidy occasioned. He is sure that Caroline's reckoning will come, though he fears she will only learn to resent him, rather than gain any meaningful lesson from the matter.
I am surprised and heartened to know that he does not blame his sister in isolation. I could never trust a man who believes himself powerless to affect change in his own behavior.'
"It seems Mr. Bingley has renewed his acquaintance without his sister's knowledge," said Elizabeth after some consideration.
"I am glad to hear it. At least we may be assured that any decisions made will be free of interference," said Charlotte, wisely. "You did not mention how he came to know she was in London? Jane had not called on him, if I remember correctly?"
This time, a portion of Georgiana's letter came to her mind:
'Mrs. Annesley and I called on the Hursts today. I had hoped to see Mr. Bingley but was disappointed to find him away when I arrived. We were obliged to sit with the ladies for nearly an hour before I despaired of the idea that he might make an appearance and decided to go home.
My presence was hardly required on the occasion of my visit, for Miss Bingley seems already to know my thoughts and readily voices them to spare me the trouble. If I had more patience, I could, perhaps, have stayed on a while longer, but I found the biting of my tongue became too painful to endure.
As I was about to leave, however, I saw a glimpse of Mr. Bingley in his study and, with as much stealth as I am capable, decided that I must make your communication immediately. Just that morning, Miss Bingley had revealed her brother's intent to return to Hertfordshire the next day, else I should never have stooped to such sly behavior. I alone understood his design in seeking your sister in Hertfordshire, and I alone knew that he would not find her there. I was compelled to set matters to rights before another opportunity was lost and yet further pain was inflicted upon two innocent parties. What specifically I said, I cannot recall. Yet, I am certain he understood my meaning. How terribly unseemly must you think me when I confess I quite enjoyed the thrill of such clandestine charity? I am sure my Aunt Catherine will say that I have read too many novels. Yet, it has been far more diverting than painting a table or covering cushions.
If it is not too much to ask, will you tell me what becomes of my efforts? I find I am growing impatient enough to call on the Hursts again.'
Elizabeth considered her response for a moment. She had told no one but Jane and her father of her association with Georgiana Darcy, despite having been given no direction for concealment. In truth, she had been reluctant to share this knowledge as much for her own privacy as Georgiana's. Yet, Charlotte was sensible . . . and discreet.
"It was Georgiana Darcy who made him aware," she said, knowing that this reply would raise more questions than it answered. At her friend's questioning look, Elizabeth proceeded to explain how she had come to be on intimate terms with the young Miss Darcy. When she had finished, they walked together in silence for a time as Charlotte contemplated this information.
"Might I ask you a delicate question?"
Elizabeth slowed to study Charlotte's thoughtful countenance, nodding with trepidation.
"Is it possible Mr. Darcy has developed a tendre for you?"
Elizabeth's eyebrows climbed her brow slowly as a moment later a bubble of laughter burst from her, the sound carrying merrily across the glade.
"Charlotte, you cannot be serious!" cried Elizabeth.
"As much as you might want to discredit the question, it is not so unthinkable," Charlotte said with a shrug.
"No, no, no. Never that. He sought me out because he admired my sisterly affection for Jane. As you well know, we have done very little but argue since the beginning of our acquaintance."
"I was rather thinking he might have softened toward you, Lizzy."
Elizabeth's incredulity was apparent as she shook her head, another chuckle escaping her. "I have no reason to suppose he considers me as anything but a friend to his sister. One who will not trouble him by using a connection to her to seek elevation, or gain intimacy with him by wheedling my way into his good graces."
"I might argue that you are already in that gentleman's good graces. Has your opinion of him not altered since his slight at the assembly? You certainly know more of him now."
"I assure you, there is no secret longing between us. Our relationship has improved only in that there is now at least one topic on which we can agree. I may even be generous enough to admit he had briefly risen in my esteem as Georgiana's devoted brother. But alas, he has since fallen into quite the same disgraced position as before. I know not what to think of the accusation Mr. Wickham has made against him, but regardless of this, I can never forgive him for attempting to ruin Jane's happiness."
"I see," said Charlotte, with a small chuckle, "That is just as well, for her ladyship boasts often of the expected union of her daughter and Mr. Darcy. I shudder to think how Lady Catherine would despise you if her nephew showed you even the barest preference."
"She need have no fear. Her hopes will not be dashed on my account," Elizabeth said with a snort.
"Have you any proof of Mr. Darcy's part in Jane's heartache, Lizzy?" asked Charlotte, with a curious glance.
Elizabeth thought of another passage from Georgiana's latest:
'I know how my brother's interference must appear to you, Elizabeth. Yet, I must be frank. I do not think him capable of willfully hurting someone so dear. It is not in his nature. Whatever his motivations in separating your sister from Mr. Bingley may have been, I cannot imagine he sought to cause anyone pain. If I were a braver woman, perhaps as brave as you, I would speak to him of this. As it is, I fear his disappointment in me for taking on such an office as speaking to his friend against his (admittedly ill favored) wishes. It is odd. In speaking of this, I now see my brother's own forwardness is exactly contrary to my own reluctance. Perhaps we would do better to emulate one another?
As I am certain I mentioned, my brother and Cousin Richard are traveling to Rosings shortly after your own arrival there. I must own I am consumed with jealousy that they will see you before I do. You may be assured that I regret my missishness in no small measure as I observe preparations for Fitzwilliam's removal to Kent. I am sure you will understand my reluctance once you have at last met my aunt in person. Would that I could disguise myself and stay at the parsonage with you, I should leave this very day. As I fear nothing would scandalize Lady Catherine more than this, I shall content myself to look on from afar. Short of being with you in the flesh, I am sure I could be no better informed than I will be with three separate accountings of the happenings in that place.
Until the day we meet, write soon and write often.
London is so lonely just now.
Georgiana'
Elizabeth could hardly expect Georgiana to hold her brother accountable for his misguided actions. His affection for her made impartiality impossible. To her, his behavior had always been impeccable. Returning to Charlotte's question, she was obliged to explain her own suspicions as well as some details of Mr. Darcy's part in Mr. Bingley's removal and abandonment of her sister.
"In fairness, with no explicit intention spoken between the couple, Mr. Darcy's interference could not be considered wholly improper."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in incredulity. "You cannot pretend Mr. Bingley did not display such an obvious preference as to make his intentions well-nigh impossible to misinterpret."
"I do not argue what he did was ungentlemanly, but as he made no overt designs on her, society as a whole will not censure him."
Elizabeth looked at her friend in an outraged silence.
"I am not saying either gentleman was right, Lizzy," said Charlotte, in an exasperated tone. "In fact, they were most decidedly not in the right. Yet, I fear it is an issue that must be between themselves and God."
"And Jane!" cried Elizabeth.
"And Jane," she agreed. Changing the subject, she said, "Mr. Collins leads me to understand that Mr. Darcy and his cousin, a distinguished colonel, are expected at Rosings soon. Perhaps Mr. Darcy will seek you out? He does claim to know you, after all."
"I hope he does not," said Elizabeth seriously. "I would not wish to embarrass you should my anger towards him lead me to act uncivilly."
Eyes still trained on the path, Charlotte turned away to hide her smile. Elizabeth reached out and plucked a leaf from a low hanging bow of a beech tree. As they walked on silently for a time, Elizabeth twirled the little stem between her fingers, watching it spin with a thoughtful frown.
"Charlotte, can I trust you not to speak of my relationship with the Darcys?" she asked at last. She was unwilling to let such knowledge into the open and risk making herself the topic of idle gossip.
"You know I would not," said Charlotte.
Elizabeth pressed her hand warmly, saying, "Of course not."
Then, pointing in the direction of another path, Charlotte said, "Come. This one brings us back to the parsonage."
Darcy had been in a state of exquisite distraction during the entire journey to Kent. His anxiety mounted with every creaking mile that brought him closer to her. He considered how soon he might seek her out, what he might say, and how, after these many months, she might receive him. In the end, after all his resolutions not to betray an overeagerness, he had not been at Rosings a day before he asked his cousin to accompany him on a visit to the parsonage.
Mercifully, Richard required no convincing. After hours in a cramped carriage and then further hours in Lady Catherine's unpleasantly formal drawing room, Darcy's cousin was nearly as eager as he was to distance himself from the oppressive atmosphere of Rosings Park. Once they had changed and excused themselves, they took to the paths of the park, both inclined to silence as they enjoyed the fine feeling of warm sun and bright blue skies – and in Darcy's case, the roiling trepidation now building in his chest.
All too soon they arrived at the parsonage. Darcy's heart lurched painfully as he crossed the threshold into the Collins's drawing room.
Elizabeth.
Brighter than memory, and more vibrant than light itself, standing here in the small, drab drawing room of the most obsequious man he had ever met. A lone ember, glowing warmly among the ash. She was somehow just as he remembered and yet also less real to him than ever before.
She wore a simple sprigged muslin. He could have drawn the pattern upon it from memory for all the weeks he had spent trying to ineffectually scrub such details from his mind. At this moment however, he allowed himself to revel in it. He remembered Hertfordshire as if it were a dream, vivid, yet somehow hazy around the edges. Seeing her here, dark eyes glinting with that air of restrained mischief, Darcy could have convinced himself that it was a dream, were it not for the presence of his cousin – and hers.
His muscles did their office automatically as he removed his hat and bowed, a gesture that was reciprocated with a deliberate curtsey. As she rose, she met his gaze with an unhurried lift of her brow, and the unconscious parting of her lips. It was the poison and its antidote, this silent, protracted look. Darcy felt his heart accelerate as the seconds lengthened, her eyes still lingering on his. Was she surprised to see him? He could understand nothing in her expression.
When his head began to swim, Darcy realized he had not drawn breath since he had first entered the little parlor. With a conscious effort not to gasp, he drew a long breath into his lungs with deliberate slowness, willing himself to stay composed. Too soon, she looked away, casting an earnest smile at his cousin.
In a distant part of his consciousness, Darcy vaguely registered that someone was speaking to him. His brow creased in reflexive irritation as he forced his eyes away from the only thing in the room worth seeing. They settled unhappily on the small man who was now addressing him from a comically crouched posture, as if he could not unbend himself from his bow. It took a moment for him to register the words coming from that man's mouth.
"Mr. Darcy, we are so honored that you would condescend to visit us so soon after your arrival. Indeed, I had no notion that you would be so generous to us." Mr. Collins clapped a hand to his mouth in horror as he quickly amended, "Please forgive me, sir. I do not think you are ungenerous – in fact, your revered aunt assures me you are, by nature, very benevolent. I only meant I am surprised you should consider us when you are doubtless so eager to spend time with the esteemed family De Bourgh."
Richard let out a snort that was disguised almost instantly as a cough. Elizabeth's eyes sparked as she flashed Darcy's cousin an appraising glance. Darcy belatedly returned his eyes to the toadying man, saying simply, "It is no trouble."
"You are charitable indeed, sir," said Mr. Collins, who was still looking up at him from his ridiculously bent posture, "Her ladyship informs me often of the manifest duty and responsibility that comes with the higher ranks. We are extremely grateful that you should favor us in this way. Doubtless, there are others more worthy of your notice."
Darcy glanced back at Elizabeth to find her with her lip caught between her teeth, a very nearly believable attempt at placidity gracing her features. He looked away to marshal his own smile. It was his cousin who cut in then, "Pray, pardon my interruption, but I am afraid I have only been introduced to Mr. Collins. Would you kindly –"
"Yes, of course," Darcy said, cutting his cousin off with an apologetic look.
Darcy had opened his mouth to rectify this mistake when he was quickly interrupted by Mr. Collins, who took the office upon himself, folding his torso in instinctive deference.
"Please forgive my manners, sir! Quite inexcusable of me!" he cried, standing once more to his full, and unimpressive height. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, this is my dear wife Charlotte Collins, my sister by marriage, Miss Maria Lucas and…" he hesitated, as if he wished to cease the introduction there, "my cousin. A Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Miss Bennet!" cried Richard with a warm smile. "I have heard much of you from my cousin. I believe he met you in Hertfordshire this past autumn."
"You are quite right, sir. Though, I cannot imagine there was much to say," said Elizabeth, inclining her head with an impish grin. "Our acquaintance was only some weeks in duration."
Richard had opened his mouth to dispute this, when he caught sight of Darcy's quelling look, and changed tack, "That is as may be, but yours was the only name I recognized."
"I know with certainty your cousin was introduced to Mrs. Collins and her sister, as well as my cousin there, though I may boast the distinction of abusing his ears with my lackluster performances at the pianoforte."
"I see you are not inclined to boast. You must make this your merit if you have not the talent for music."
"Sir, you do not know for certain that I am not boasting. You may, in fact, find that I am not just awful, but truly dreadful."
"Your playing was not awful, Miss Bennet," said Darcy, desiring to take part in her banter.
She arched one finely formed brow at him, "Such a fine commendation. I thank you for your honesty, though it does ought but disparage your own taste."
"Shall I call for tea?" asked Mrs. Collins, glancing about the room.
"Yes, of course you must, dearest!" her husband urged. "We must show our guests that, though we may lack the sophistication of their elevated sphere, we are not lacking in hospitality!"
As the party settled into the drawing room, Darcy was determined to secure the seat across from Elizabeth, while his cousin took up the seat next to her on the settee. His place afforded him the distinct advantage of a more natural view of her countenance, which he studied as often as he could without attracting undue attention.
As Mr. Collins bumbled away in his usual self-gratifying and self-deprecating manner, Darcy was irritated to see his cousin tilting himself towards Elizabeth, saying something so quietly that only she could hear. Her eyes crinkled in delight as the smile tugged at the corner of her lip.
"Pray, tell me how is your family, Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy, very nearly cutting off the parson's ridiculous monologue.
"They are all in good health," said she.
Darcy thought he perceived a particular emphasis on the last word. Was it his guilty conscience which made him understand it was only their health of which she spoke, or was he correct in his assumption that the brief hardening of her expression meant to convey something more?
"I am glad to hear it," responded Darcy, who could think of nothing more meaningful to say in the present company.
"How do you find Kent?" asked Richard with a smile.
"It is not Hertfordshire, so to me it is full of the many exotic delights that a region under a hundred miles from my home can boast. Though the flora and fauna are much the same, the bluebells fare far better here, which delights me to no end." After catching sight of her cousin, she prudently added, "And of course, Hunsford is such a charmingly comfortable home. I am pleased to be offered such hospitality."
"You flatter me cousin, though you must offer her Ladyship her portion of praise for our humble abode. She has condescended to help us with all the particulars of its establishment and management. Indeed, nothing is too small to be above her notice."
Darcy briefly glanced at Mrs. Collins. "Our aunt's generosity knows no bounds."
Charlotte dipped her head to hide a faint smile.
"I hope our aunt will condescend to invite you to Rosings during our visit. I should very much like to hear you play so that I may judge your humility for myself."
Elizabeth let out a bright peal of laughter as she fixed Richard with a delighted smile. "I will certainly oblige you, though I must warn you that my performance may make our invitation the last during my stay here."
Darcy glared at Richard.
"Nonsense, Cousin," cried Mr. Collins in genuine mortification. "Her ladyship is too good to withhold an invitation simply because you do not play an instrument well. She may only ask that you not repeat such a performance in the future, which is, of course, her right in her own home."
Darcy shifted as he glared irritably at Mr. Collins. His vexation took an inward turn as he regretted not taking up the seat beside her, for as he watched, Richard made merry conversation in low tones, much to Elizabeth's obvious pleasure. As the conversation flowed easily between them, Darcy's sense of hopelessness increased. He could never be as easy with Elizabeth as his more convivial and outgoing cousin. He was left to make stilted conversation with the others in the room, all the while feeling the miserable longing for just one glance or just one word that did not come.
He bitterly observed the light dancing in her eyes as she gave his cousin all her smiles, all her attention, and all her love.
No. Darcy reprimanded himself. He was being impetuous. It was nothing more than a lively conversation between two amiable people. Reluctantly, he turned away to fix his glare on the very young woman who had just addressed him. She had shrunk back at the grim expression on his face, causing Darcy to wince inwardly. She was hardly to blame for his vexations at present. Suppressing a sigh, Darcy relaxed his face into an expression he hoped was more pleasant, or at the very least, more neutral.
"My apologies. I did not hear you…" He struggled for a moment to recall the girl's name. "Miss Lucas," he offered, gently.
"Oh. Erm. H-how long do you intend to stay in Kent?" she asked again.
"We will likely stay some weeks to help our aunt with the hiring of a new steward, though we have no fixed departure as yet."
Darcy exerted himself to engage the girl in gentle conversation, even as he perceived the ever-increasing mirth of Elizabeth and his cousin on the settee. Another quarter of an hour ticked by before Darcy finally rose, certain he could abide no more of this wretched visit. Yet, even as he began bringing about the farewells, Darcy considered how he might see Elizabeth the very next day.
"It was a delight to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet," said Richard, bowing with warm civility to a pleased-looking Elizabeth. "I hope we will meet again very soon."
She inclined her head with a gracious smile, saying, "I would like that, sir."
As the entire party drifted towards the door, Darcy found himself as close to Elizabeth as he had been since they shared a set so many months ago at the Netherfield ball. He was close enough that he could see the faint freckles on her shoulder just over the lace of her gown. The loose locks of hair which had escaped their confinement, falling in perfect disorder about her shoulders. He was close enough now that he could smell her. She smelled of lavender and something less recognizable that reminded him pleasantly of the little blooms that grew along the edges of fields in the autumn.
For just a moment, he and Elizabeth were standing alone in the room as the rest of the party proceeded down the hall towards the entrance. A wild impulse erupted past his stiff propriety, as abruptly, his hand shot out in search of hers, catching it before he knew what he had done. At Elizabeth's quiet gasp of surprise, Darcy relinquished his light grip with a start of his own. She turned back to face him in some confusion.
"Eli– Miss Bennet, just a moment," he said, his voice sounding more breathless than he would wish.
She said nothing, but searched his face with an expression of bewildered curiosity.
"I-" he started, unsure of what he would say, now that he had been bold enough to create such an opportunity, "- I wanted to thank you again. For Georgiana."
Elizabeth tilted her head to look at him. "Again, sir? I believe you have already been so bold as to do so once before."
Darcy's cheeks burned at the hint of censure in her voice. The ill-judged note he had sent those weeks ago floated between them for a time as she continued to look upon him, her fierce stare making him wish to shrink away and simultaneously put his lips to hers.
"It bears repeating," he said, mouth now inexplicably dry.
She pursed her lips, but said nothing.
"Your eldest sister, is she well?"
"I have had no further word since you asked me earlier, but be assured, I will tell you should anything untoward happen in the next few minutes." After a moment she added, "She has been in London these past few weeks. Have you happened to see her there?"
Darcy shook his head. "No, I have not had that pleasure."
Elizabeth gave a solitary nod, turning as if to leave, then asking over her shoulder, "How is Georgiana?"
"She seems. . . herself once more," he said in a low, fervent tone.
Turning back, she said softly, "That is a comfort. She has become so very dear to me."
Darcy reached out to take her hand once more, squeezing it gently in his and fixing her with an expression that conveyed all the earnestness of his feelings. "You know not how much I owe to your kindness, Miss Bennet."
She returned his gaze much more warmly than she had just moments ago. Then, with a playful smile, she added, "I am told it bears repeating…"
Drawing her hand from his, she turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance, leaving Darcy with his empty hand hanging limply in the air.