Excellent point.I watched Miss Lydia’s reaction. She pouted her lips together in thought, momentarily troubled.
Elizabeth lifted her chin, her gaze fixed on Miss Lydia. “Apropergentleman seeks ways to contribute to others’ pleasure and well-being. They do not make promises they do not fulfill.”
Miss Lydia’s pout deepened. From the angry look she cast to her sister, I saw she understood that Elizabeth’s comment referred to Wickham. Still, she did not move.
Miss Kitty jabbed Miss Lydia, remarking loudly, “You heard Widow Scott speak highly of Mr. Darcy yesterday, how he climbed onto her roof to make repairs along with the other men in the village, and she was only one of the many people he helped.”
Mrs. Bennet fanned her face and scrutinized me over the lace-edged rim. She still did not know what to think of me, and I was not so disposed to optimism to believe one kind gesture sufficient to win her approval.
Elizabeth caught my eye, and I saw the twinkle there and the quirk of her lips. She held the box close to her chest, preventing her family from seeing inside as she looked away from me and doled the Turkish Delights out one by one. Bingley and Richard refused, saying they much preferred Mrs. Bennet’s plum cake, winning them the matron’s favor as well as my everlasting gratitude.
What had been an extravagant gift for one lady was insufficient for the Bennets. Six candies for seven people. My horror intensified with every paper-wrapped confection Elizabeth handed out. Mrs. Bennet moaned, Mr. Bennet smacked his lips, and Elizabeth’s sisters expressed their approval unanimously.
I watched in dejected embarrassment as Elizabeth pressed a finger into the sugar dust and raised it to her mouth. So well did she disguise the fact that there were not enough, not one person commented on it. But I knew, and I felt my failure intensely. Why had I not waited for a better time to present her gift?
Her smile widened as her family expressed their delight, making me realize that had I given her the candies without them seeing, she would have shared them and been happier for it.
There being nothing anyone could do or say to surpass the delight the Bennets found in the confections, we soon took our leave.
Mrs. Bennet tapped me on the arm with her fan. “You are welcome to call whenever you please, Mr. Darcy. There will always be a chair for you in my parlor.”
I turned back for one final glance at Elizabeth, wishing I could utter an apology without making light of her generosity. She caressed the empty box, fingering the satin ribbon with a look I did not trust myself to interpret correctly. From my perspective, my first attempt to woo Elizabeth had been an abysmal failure.
Wanting nothing more than to nurse my wounded pride in private, I made myself pause at the stables, attempting to console myself that tomorrow’s call would go better but with little success. After collecting the information I required for another surprise, I joined Bingley and Richard, and we rode for Netherfield.
“When you decide to woo a young lady, you do it proper, Darcy!” Bingley praised. “I did not realize you preferred Miss Elizabeth, but I am delighted to know it!”
I was not encouraged.
Richard rolled his eyes at me. “Look back at the window, you big lug.”
I scowled at him but looked over my shoulder. As soon as my eyes met hers, Elizabeth pressed her hand against the glass. My heart flipped and somersaulted. Beside her, Mrs. Bennet waved a handkerchief.
Richard laughed. “If your aim was to secure the ever-loving devotion of a lady, then I declare you have succeeded… with Mrs. Bennet!”
I had to laugh despite my disappointment. My first call on Elizabeth had not been what I had hoped, but I would keep trying. Figuratively rolling up my sleeves, I anticipated the morrow. And my next attempt.
CHAPTER 14
The flowers arrived the following morning before I wore a path in Bingley’s carpet—but only just.
Eager to be on my way, I paid the driver of the cart, took one end of the crate and, with Richard’s help, carried my prize to my rooms. With bated breath, I pried off the lid.
Nestled inside a bed of straw was a rectangular box. Inside, protected from the jostling of the cart it had endured from the gardener’s greenhouse on the outskirts of London to Netherfield Park, were blush orchids, roses, leaves of eucalyptus, and clusters of cream-colored hydrangeas. The stems had been wrapped in a lovely cream and rose-petal pink ribbon. The flower arrangement was as stunning as I had hoped it would be, evocative of my last visit to Kew Botanical Garden.
Richard, who had pretended to be neither interested nor curious about my delivery until that moment, sucked in a breath.
“What do you think?” I asked as though my cousin were a crystal ball inside Elizabeth’s mind and could tell me how delighted she would be to receive my latest offering. If her heart did not soften toward me at the sight of these blossoms, then I had mistaken her character. Elizabeth loved nature. She would marvel at the beauty brought to her from exotic lands.
Richard cleared his throat and finally found his tongue. “Startling amount of pink.”
I did not react. The arrangement was perfect. The gloss-paper-lined box would enable me to convey the flowers safely to Longbourn without damaging the delicate blooms. Time was of the essence; I must deliver them before they wilted.
Tapping the lid back into place, I changed my coat and donned my riding boots. “Where is Bingley?” He would wish to call on Miss Bennet, if he had not already done so.
“He has spent most of the morning with his gardener. Miss Bingley has grand ideas of building an orangery.”
Cradling the flower-filled box in one arm, I went out to the hall, where I came upon Bingley walking in my direction. He wore a beaming grin and carried a massive bouquet of pink flowers. “Look what the gardener helped me pick for Miss Bennet! Flowers from my own garden!”
