Elizabeth gritted her teeth for one last look about her. She needed to have a private conversation with Mr. Darcy, but that would not be possible if she caught her death and had to take to bed.
Reluctantly, she turned around toward Longbourn. When she heard hoof-beats behind her, she believed her mind only played tricks on her.
* * *
Darcy refusedto return to Netherfield Park until he gained control of his ill humor. He was expected to call at Longbourn, but he would make miserable company.
His horse flicked his ears and tugged at the reins as though to suggest that he was not too happy in Darcy’s company either.
“Grumpy brute,” Darcy hissed under his breath. Another tug and nod.
“I meant the remark for you, ungrateful beast.” Preferring his own thoughts to this useless exchange with his horse, Darcy considered his next step.
As yet, Bingley displayed the fickleness of an unsteady character. Darcy held every hope of his youthful friend growing into a steadier version of himself—Bingley was only twenty-two—but maturity was not gained overnight. Not in most cases.
Darcy remembered himself at twenty-two. He was hardly the master of himself. Those were carefree, pleasurable times until loss and grief cast their dark shadow over Pemberley. His father had died unexpectedly, thrusting upon Darcy the responsibilities he had been brought up to shoulder. He had not been prepared to undertake so much while he was yet in shock.
The weight of responsibility would have crushed Bingley… changed him. It had changed Darcy. Peers—people he had thought he could trust—had attempted to profit from his inexperience. Overnight, Darcy had lost his youth to emerge a serious, suspecting, resentful master and guardian. Darcy could not wish that experience on any man.
If not for his family’s loyal servants, the damage would have been far greater. From the least scullery maid to his father’s own secretary, they would retire in Darcy’s service. He would lay down a fortune in pensions, but that kind of loyalty could not be bought, and Darcy considered it his duty and privilege to reward them. They had acted not just as servants, but as friends.
What kind of friend would allow Bingley, a man he claimed was his close friend, to treat his future lightly? The man did not approach decisions with the care necessary contemplation required to avoid unfavorable consequences for himself and his eventual bride. Bingley would be safe with Georgiana—with Darcy’s guidance.
While Darcy had observed nothing in Miss Bennet's character to make him doubt her sincerity, he could not be so certain about her family. Mrs. Bennet made no effort to disguise her wishes. She would make Bingley miserable. Mr. Bennet would not take any request for advice seriously. This was a disastrous pairing when Bingley was not yet knowledgeable enough or decisive enough in his own right. Furthermore, the Bennets would limit his society in London.
On the other hand, Bingley was ill-prepared to mingle with the upper circles to which Georgiana was born.
Darcy shook his head. He valued Georgiana’s future and Bingley’s friendship too highly to be governed by doubts. His original plan had a solid foundation. They both required more time.
Urging his horse into a trot, Darcy cleared the top of the hill.
There stood the one person he most desired to see. Was she real? He blinked several times to make certain the lady walking in the fog was not an apparition. “Elizabeth?”
She spun around, hands at her throat. “Mr. Darcy?”
That she addressed him so formally still irked Darcy. Confidence could not be forced, but they were now past the first reading of the banns. She might at least use his Christian name.
His groom appeared behind him, and Darcy dismounted to walk with Elizabeth. She must be chilled to the bone. The least he could do was to walk her home.
She wrapped her fingers around the crook of his arm. He pressed them more tightly against his side. For warmth.
“I was hoping our paths would cross,” she said.
“Really?” He had hoped the same, or he would have chosen a different path.
“I wished to inquire about your sister. Is she… timid by nature?” The way she hesitated made Darcy think that was not the question she had wished to ask.
“Georgiana has always been shy, though until this last summer, she never had reason to doubt the affection of those closest to her.” He sighed. It was difficult to utter a compliment to the same lady with the power to inflict the greatest hurt to his sister, but fair was fair. “I thank you, and Miss Bennet, for attempting to put her at ease.”
Elizabeth leaned against his arm, her closeness more effective than a blazing fire. “It is no wonder she clings to you as she does. You are all she has, and she must fear that I aim to take you away from her.”
Her insight was a revelation to Darcy. Was that how Georgiana felt? It explained her possessive behavior.
She peeked up at Darcy from under the rim of her bonnet. “I saw how Miss Darcy looked at Mr. Bingley.”
His jaw clenched of its own volition.
She chuckled. “If I had a protective older brother, I imagine he would react as you do. Instead, I am blessed with younger sisters who suffer a new girlish infatuation every week at least.”
