By then, they had reached the parsonage lane. Kitty inclined her head and smiled encouragingly. “Here I must leave you, sir. Good day.”
The following afternoon, Mr. Warwick called at the parsonage, where he lamented to Mary that he had missed Miss Kitty. His disappointment was so marked that Mary invited him to dinner.
When Elizabeth and Kitty returned from their parish rounds, Mary told them of the arrangement. Kitty flushed and whispered to her lovely elder sister, “I fear he will fall in love with you when he sees you.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Then I shall spare him the danger. I will enjoy an early dinner in the kitchen, say four o'clock, and then I shall take an evening walk in the grove at Rosings.” She turnedto Mary, “I will pack a little basket with fruit, cheese, and small sandwiches to take along in case I get hungry after my walk. The evenings have been unseasonably warm, but I will wear my heaviest cloak and will take mittens and a cap to wear under my bonnet in case the evening turns cold. I doubt I will become ill if I dress warmly.” She giggled. “It will be an adventure.”
Mary agreed with some surprise. “You shall take a lantern, Lizzy. I would not risk your losing your way upon the bluffs after nightfall.”
Elizabeth ate alone in the kitchen, a plain meal of leftover chicken pie, bread, and cheese, while the cook and her helper busied themselves with the family’s dinner. She packed her own basket with provisions for later, took the lighted lantern Mary handed her, and went out by the kitchen door. She walked to the edge of the bluffs, and a dramatic sunset met her eyes. Then, she walked on to the folly and spread a light blanket on the stone bench. She had been writing in her journal for a quarter of an hour when a step on the gravel made her look up. Mr. Darcy, finely dressed and darkly handsome, stood in the shadows.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a smile, “I hope I do not intrude. I saw the lantern light from my bedchamber, and curiosity got the better of me. I was compelled to walk down and investigate.” He glanced at the blanket, the basket, and her journal. “Is this your dinner, Miss Bennet? You have not touched it. I hope you are not unwell?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I am well, sir. I had dinner at four o'clock. These are extra provisions, should I become hungry on my adventure. Will you join me? There are sandwiches enough to share.”
He seated himself, and she offered him a small plate of finger-sized sandwiches.
“This is tasty,” he said after eating the small square in one bite.
“I made them myself,” she replied with a grin. “It was that or go hungry. I was asked not to remain for dinner at the parsonage, so I took a plain meal in the kitchen, and now I’m on an adventure.”
Darcy laughed. “Then I must suppose there was good reason for your banishment.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “You shall enjoy the jest. Kitty has an interest in a gentleman who dines there tonight, and she feared he might admire me too much if I were present.”
Darcy’s brows rose. “And who is this gentleman?”
“Mr. Stephen Warwick. He inherited his estate six months ago after returning from six years in the West Indies.”
Darcy considered. “Warwick? Then he must be Hugh Warwick’s heir. I know of him. So Miss Kitty has caught his attention? Interesting.”
Elizabeth smiled. “From what Kitty reports, he seems a pleasant man. But enough of him, pray, eat another sandwich.”
Darcy accepted, still amused. “You are the most accommodating sister I have ever met. I cannot imagine Miss Bingley doing anything so self-sacrificing for either Louisa or Charles.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No indeed, sir. I do not think there is any risk of that ever occurring.”
He gestured toward her journal. “You were writing when I came. Do you sketch?”
“No. Unfortunately, I cannot draw. But I like to write.”
He asked, “What do you write, Miss Elizabeth? Are you writing the next popular Gothic tale?”
She shook her head. “No, sir. Nothing so ambitious as a novel.”
“Then allow me to read your journal. Surely what you are writing is not so secret that it cannot be shared?”
“I fear that you may mock my efforts.”
Darcy looked at her. “I promise, Miss Elizabeth, I will not mock you or your work. May I?”
After a pause, Elizabeth handed the journal to him. He opened it and leafed through until he reached the most recent entry, then began to read in silence.
The Dryad
She dwelt unseen within her oaken shade,
Through endless years her somber vigil kept;
