Charlotte looked apprehensive. “Mr Collins speaks of her with such reverence that I confess myself somewhat intimidated.”
Darcy’s mouth twitched with what might have been amusement. “Lady Catherine is… formidable. But she is very fond of her gardens, particularly her roses. She has special affection forRosa damascena—Damask roses. A small offering of seeds would likely find favour.”
“How thoughtful of you to mention it,” Charlotte said. “Though Lucas Lodge has no such specimens.”
“Think nothing of it. I shall send some to Lucas Lodge. I had ordered some to plant come spring.”
Elizabeth watched this exchange with growing warmth. Darcy’s kindness to Charlotte revealed consideration thattouched her unexpectedly. He owed Charlotte nothing, yet sought to ease her path.
After Charlotte left, Elizabeth remained by the window, watching her friend disappear down the lane. The finality struck her—Charlotte would marry Collins, move to Kent, and their friendship would become mere correspondence.
“That was extraordinarily kind,” she said without turning.
“We should help others when we can,” Darcy replied simply. “Miss Lucas faces enough trials without adding Lady Catherine’s displeasure.”
“It was generous, nonetheless. Charlotte will remember your thoughtfulness.”
Something softened in Darcy’s expression. “We should collect our fishing equipment. The morning advances, and fish are most cooperative before the sun grows too warm.”
As he moved towards the door, Elizabeth felt that unfamiliar warmth in her chest. Perhaps there was more to discover about the man she had married than his competence and courtesy. Perhaps beneath his reserve lay qualities she had never suspected.
The prospect of spending the morning in his company suddenly seemed considerably more promising.
***
The lake stretched before them like polished steel, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple of wind. Frost still clung to the reeds despite the morning sun, and Elizabeth pulled her cloak tighter, wishing she had worn more layers beneath her practical brown dress.
“Are you warm enough?” Darcy asked as he arranged their equipment in the small boat.
“Quite comfortable, thank you,” she lied, not wanting to appear delicate.
Darcy affixed the bait to both rods, then handed her one which she took at once, eyeing it as though it were a sabre and she about to engage in battle.
“You hold it like so,” he showed her. “Then, you throw it out like this.” He demonstrated once more.
Elizabeth squinted and attempted to place her hands the way he had placed his. Her fingers tangled, not wanting to go the way she ought. Not wanting to look foolish, she proceeded to throw out the tackle the way he had done. Alas, the book instantly snagged in her gown and she let out a yelp.
“Perdition, how foolish of me,” she said.
“Do not fret,” he replied and quickly helped her untangle the mess. After fixing up the rod, he handed it to her again. “I went too fast, I beg your pardon,” he said. “Here, the technique is simple enough, though it requires coordination. Allow me to show you.”
He moved behind her, his arms coming around hers to position her hands on the rod. His breath brushed against her cheek as he did and she shivered at once. She forced herself to remain still. “Your grip should be firm but relaxed—here.” His fingers covered hers, adjusting her hold. The warmth of his body at her back sent heat through her despite the cold morning.
“Now, the motion must be smooth,” he said, his voice low near her ear. “Too forceful and you’ll frighten the fish. Too gentle and the line won’t reach far enough.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught at his nearness—the scent of his soap, the solid strength of his chest against her shoulders. Heat bloomed in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the November chill.
“I think I understand,” she managed.
They cast the line together, watching it arc across the water before settling with barely a splash. Darcy stepped back, leaving her oddly cold without his balminess.
“And now?” she asked, speaking quietly.
“Now we wait,” he said, settling beside her on the boats wooden bench. “Patience is essential in fishing.”
Elizabeth lasted perhaps three minutes before shifting on her seat. Another minute passed before she sighed. Two more minutes, and her fingers drummed against the boat’s side.
Darcy chuckled. “You don’t strike me as the most patient of women.”
