The carriage arrived at Longbourn at ten o’clock. The three men dismounted. Bingley ran up to knock. Jane and Mary steppedout into the sunshine. Darcy’s heart dropped when Elizabeth did not appear. He waited, hoping Bingley would ask after her. He was handing Mary into the carriage when Mrs. Bennet bustled out.
“Jane, my dear, here is a parasol. Take care not to burn.”
Darcy was dreading the day without Elizabeth when she stepped out, tying her bonnet ribbons. Mrs. Bennet frowned. “Lizzy, why are you always the laggard? Hurry along. You are holding everyone up.”
Elizabeth said nothing. Darcy bowed. “Miss Elizabeth.”
She curtsied. “Sir.”
He took her hand, pressed it lightly, then handed her up. Her eyes flickered with questions, but she said nothing. They set out. Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy through the window. He rode a fine mount, and his seat was elegant and assured. It was a shame that this handsome man was so disagreeable.
It was a fine day. The grey stone walls of the castle rose among the trees and green lawns. Darcy was glad he had thought of this excursion. He asked the housekeeper if they might tour the grounds, and she sent a boy to find the servant.
“The gardener will lead us on a tour of the gardens and the castle,” Darcy told them.
Elizabeth asked, “How came you to find a castle, sir? I never knew there was one here in Hertfordshire and so close to home.”
“There is also a Norman keep, Miss Elizabeth. I thought you would enjoy seeing the antiquities of your county.”
“I will indeed,” she said, still smiling.
The party followed the gardener. Bingley offered his arm to Jane. The Hursts came next. Darcy offered an arm to Elizabeth and Mary. The path was lined with scilla, daffodils, fritillaries, and flowering shrubs. When they reached the castle, Elizabeth dropped Mr. Darcy’s arm, took Mary’s hand, and said, “Come, sister, let us run.” They half-ran, half-skipped around the castle and then ran up the tower steps. Darcy followed, silent, watching Elizabeth standing on the tower, delighting in the gardens below. She turned to him. “The garden is enchanting. I can almost imagine fairies, elves, and pixies among the flowering shrubs.”
He saw nothing but her. Darcy was captivated by her brightness and lively spirit.
After they had wandered through the castle and the grounds, he asked the servant if they might take their picnic in the lower gardens. Permission was readily granted. He and Mrs. Hurst spread two thick carriage rugs on the lawn, and when he glanced up, he caught Elizabeth watching him.
“Miss Elizabeth, come. This one is for you and your sisters.”
She smiled and gratefully seated herself while he took one of the baskets from the footman and set it before her. Elizabeth opened it to reveal small chicken pies, warm rolls, and soft butter. She patted the blanket invitingly.
“Won’t you join us, sir? Jane is sitting with Mr. Bingley and the Hursts, so there is plenty of room for one more.”
The corner of his mouth curved upward as he lowered himself beside her.
“Here is a chicken pie for you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, handing one to him before passing another to Mary. She sliced the cheesethinly and placed it, along with the warm rolls, on a plate in the center of the blanket for everyone to share. A small jar of pickles and several oranges were also unpacked. She arranged them neatly, and when she looked up, she found Mr. Darcy watching her intently.
“Sir, you are not eating,” she said.
He chuckled. “I do not yet have a fork.”
She laughed and rummaged through the basket, producing several forks. She handed one to him, another to Mary, and soon they all began to eat. The little group was quiet, but it was a pleasant sort of silence.
Darcy paused to open a bottle of wine, and Elizabeth retrieved three delicate glasses from their holders in the basket. The whole arrangement charmed her: the clever basket, the delicious food, the lovely garden, and the fine company. She paused to consider.His fine company made her feel this way. He charmed her. She felt a moment of dread. Was she falling for a man she could never have? The thought was disconcerting, and she pushed it aside to ponder later.
Elizabeth reached for a tiny pickle and bit into it. It was crisp, tart, and unexpectedly pleasing. When she glanced up, she found Mr. Darcy’s eyes were still fixed upon her, and warmth rose to her cheeks. She prayed her face had not betrayed her thoughts. A man of his station would never condescend to pursue a woman of hers, and the last thing she wished was to appear a foolish girl reaching for her betters.
He broke into her thoughts. “Miss Bennet, does this place meet all your expectations?”
“It is enchanting here,” she said, accepting a glass of wine from him. “Everything seems made to delight the senses. Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for bringing us.”
Mary also offered her thanks, and Darcy’s smile deepened. Elizabeth could not help but notice how very young he looked when he smiled. She knew he was a handsome man, but today he seemed open and approachable.
Darcy, for his part, was careful not to provoke her. He hoped that, by the day’s end, she might soften toward him enough to accept his apology. She was clearly enjoying herself, and often when their eyes met, she smiled. He allowed himself a quiet measure of hope and congratulated himself on a well-laid plan.
When he handed her down from the carriage that evening, he walked with her to the door. He bent close so only she might hear.
“Miss Elizabeth, I hope this little day trip has helped to soften your heart towards me. I truly am sorry for my cruel insult. I wish to give you the correct opinion. I consider you one of the most handsome women of my acquaintance. I cannot think why I was such a boor the night of the assembly. There is no excuse. Will you pardon me?”
