Their gazes locked across the garden, and despite his overwhelming embarrassment, Darcy noted how the moonlight enhanced her natural beauty. Her dark hair shimmered, and her eyes held depths he had been too foolish to notice during their previous encounters.
She moved towards the balustrade, her silk skirts rustling softly, and Darcy felt an unexpected urge to approach her, to attempt some more adequate apology for his behaviour. But courage failed him, and he remained frozen in place, content merely to observe her graceful figure silhouetted against the night sky.
Whatever Lady Elizabeth Bennet thought of him now, he suspected it would take considerable effort to redeem himself in her eyes. The question was whether a mere steward would ever be granted such an opportunity.
Chapter Five
Elizabeth
Netherfield, October 1811
“Cousins! You must behave with proper decorum!” Mr Collins’s voice carried across the grounds with the pompous authority he seemed to believe his position afforded him. “Such unseemly romping is hardly befitting young ladies of your elevated station!”
Elizabeth quickened her pace along the garden path, hoping to escape both the sight and sound of their tedious houseguest. Behind her, Lydia and Kitty continued their game of chase around the fountain, their laughter a pleasant counterpoint to Collins’s continued protestations about appropriate behaviour for earl’s daughters.
The orchard offered blessed refuge from the domestic chaos. Here, amongst the apple trees heavy with autumn fruit, she might find the peace that had eluded her since Collins’s arrival the previous day. His presence had transformed their usually harmonious household into a stage for his endless sermons on duty, propriety, and the proper gratitude owed to his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Elizabeth paused beneath a particularly laden tree, stretching upward towards a cluster of rosy apples just beyond her reach. Her fingertips barely grazed the nearest fruit, and she rose on her toes, extending her arm as far as possible.
“Allow me.”
She startled at the familiar voice, turning to see Mr Darcy approaching through the trees. Without ceremony, he reached above her head and plucked the apple she had been striving for, placing it gently in her outstretched palm.
“Thank you,” she murmured, suddenly conscious of their proximity. He stood close enough that she caught the scent of soap and leather that seemed to cling to him, and she noticed how his dark hair caught the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.
They remained thus for a moment, neither moving nor speaking, before Darcy stepped back and cleared his throat.
“Lady Elizabeth,” he began. “I must beg your pardon for our previous encounter. I had not realised… that is, I failed to recognise your true station and spoke most inappropriately.”
Elizabeth turned the apple in her hands, considering her response. “As I said at the assembly, it appears my skirts might have invited such assumption. Though I confess, you were still rather rude.”
A flush crept across his cheekbones. “Indeed, I was. I fear I was overeager to establish my authority in this new position. This is my first independent posting, and I was perhaps too zealous in my attempts to make a favourable impression.”
“Well, since we are begging pardon, I ought to add my own. I took advantage of your discomfort at the assembly. I did not mean to mortify you in such a way to make you leave.”
He nodded. “I appreciate it.”
Silence settled between them and then, he turned as if to leave and Elizabeth’s mouth took on a life of its own.
“Where were you before this?” she asked, her curiosity overcoming her lingering pique.
“Lord Matlock’s estate, near Sheffield, working under his steward, Mr Jones. A good man who taught me a great deal about managing large properties and diverse investments. Before that, I was at another estate. Pemberley. Derbyshire”
“Pemberley? I have heard of it. I believe Mr Bingley mentioned it in passing.”
Darcy nodded. “He is from Sheffield, not far from Pemberley. He mentioned he was familiar with the estate.”
Indeed, he had spent some time talking with the young man after the assembly and again this very morning, when he had come upon him while out for a walk. The two were becoming fast friends, something Darcy had not thought possible so quickly. He was not usually the sort of man to make friends with ease.
“Your parents were employed there?” she asked, rubbing the apple against her skirt before taking a bite.
“My father was steward there. He died when I was thirteen.”
“Goodness, how awful for you and your mother.”
He grimaced.
“She preceded him in death. It is just myself and my sister now.”
