He nodded as if acknowledging that Elizabeth had correctly appraised this aspect of his character.
“If it was not her belief in my indifference to her plight or inability to help, then what was it that caused her to keep all of that to herself?”
Here, Elizabeth paused once again. This time, her hesitation was not so much about spilling secrets, since Georgiana’s belief in Miss Devon’s tendre for her brother wasconjecture rather than fact, but she knew that it was a somewhat inappropriate topic for her to engage with a gentleman. A gentleman she barely knew. However, in that indefinite space she occupied between free-spirited girl and refined young lady, Elizabeth had always favoured the former. Better truth in a vaguely taboo conversation than unnecessary prevaricating.
“Having observed Miss Devon’s apparent attachment to you,” Elizabeth faltered a little at this revelation, “Miss Darcy did not want to interfere if there was any potential or desired ... connection.”
While she blushed slightly, Mr. Darcy stared at her, dumbfounded. He clearly did not understand.
“Connection?”
Elizabeth noted that he did not dispute Miss Devon’s attachment. Indeed, he did not seem at all surprised. She waited another few moments to see if he would realise what she was implying. He did not.
“For goodness' sake. She was afraid you might return Miss Devon’s affection and did not want to prejudice you against her. It was because she knows how much you love her and want to protect her that she stayed silent. It was her way of loving and protecting you.”
Mr. Darcy was silent for a long moment, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to look around. They were almost to the end of the path which would bring them to the edge of Barlow Hall’s western garden. Their direction must have been determined by Mr. Darcy, as Elizabeth had paid absolutely no attention to where they were walking.
“Thank you for explaining,” he said at last. Unable to read his tone, Elizabeth worried about what he was thinking and perhaps planning.
“What will you do?” It was not her business and the question was at the very least impertinent, but she could not help herself.
“What do you think?” he asked, finally looking her in the eye once again. It was as disorienting this time as it had been every time so far in their brief acquaintance.
“What do I think you will do or what do I think you should do?” she asked after a moment.
“I have no doubt you have a decided opinion on what I should do; however, I am curious as to what you think I will do and if the two diverge.”
“Having only met you this afternoon, I am sure I could not say,” Elizabeth answered sincerely.
“Well then,” he responded with a small smile, then his tone became serious as he added, “please allow me to thank you for your kindness to my sister. She is a good girl. I am glad you came upon her when you did. I hate to think what might have happened had you not been there to talk some sense into her.”
“I have no doubt she would have talked herself out of it. In addition to being good, she is also quite intelligent,” Elizabeth responded. “You will address her concerns?”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth accepted that that was the only answer she would get, knowing he did not owe her more reassurances.
They stood on the edge of the wood with Barlow house in the near distance, candles already lighting it up as twilight settled in.
“I will bid you good evening,” Mr. Darcy said with a quick formal bow.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth offered a curtsy, then boldly asked, “Will I be able to see Miss Darcy again soon?”
“It is unlikely. The family usually only spend a fortnight or so at Pemberley in the summer, and Miss Darcy is to go to Matlock house, by coach this time, soon.”
“I see.” And she did, but that did not stop her disappointment. As Mr. Darcy turned to go, Elizabeth added, “Thank you for the escort home.”
A bow was his only response as he proceeded back down the path. She stayed until he was out of sight.
Elizabeth thought of little outside of the Darcy siblings for the next few days. Despite Mr. Darcy’s response, she had hoped Miss Darcy might call. In truth, she had hoped they would call together. When this did not occur for several days, Elizabeth consoled herself with the idea that if the situation with Miss Devon had been resolved with her termination, there may have been enough uproar at Pemberley to make them forget about her at least for a time. And while she did not forget about them, Elizabeth remained active enough to find the occasionalmoment where her thoughts of them, or him, did not consume her.
In the week that followed her encounter with the Darcys, Elizabeth’s music master came for her usual lessons which were now three times per week. She visited the stables every day with treats for both the animals and the stable hands. This and her natural curiosity and happy disposition, especially when around the horses, had made her a favourite from almost her first visit.
Jane had recently suggested they make a special gift for their aunt, uncle and Mr. Barlow for hosting them. It was to be three embroidered pillows, and although at first Elizabeth resisted—she was both terrible at and hated embroidery—Jane arranged their work so that Elizabeth was left with the most simple tasks—spooling the thread, filling the pillows and the like. This helped occupy the sisters on two rainy afternoons during the week. On the second of these two occasions, which were carried out when the intended recipients were otherwise engaged, Elizabeth had difficulty focusing on the task at hand.
“Would you like to stop for the day?” Jane asked with her usual kind accommodation. And yes, Elizabeth did want to stop, but she knew Jane would simply find time to do all the work herself.
“No,” she answered, pulling more batting from the basket.
