“Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “it is true that I have duties awaiting me at Pemberley, but I am sorry if I gave the impression that there was any urgency. I wished merely to take advantage of the fine weather and be on our way. We shall make it a leisurely journey, and I will seek out other sights along the route that may interest you and our sisters.”
Elizabeth blushed faintly, embarrassed by her own sense of inadequacy. By his standards, she and her family were simple, untraveled, unpolished, and the thought stung her more than she wished to admit. Her countenance, being an honest mirror of her feelings, betrayed her, and he rightly interpreted the fleeting expression that crossed her face. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her eyes flicked up to his. “No, sir. If you saw me cringe, it is only because I see how my family and I must appear to you, untraveled, and therefore uncultured. I wish my thoughts were not so transparent upon my face, nor you so observant.”
He shook his head. “I do not think that, Elizabeth. I think you and your sisters are unspoiled, wholesome women who have not had your natural curiosity schooled out of you by governesses or those dreary academies that exist only to produce paper-doll cutouts, acceptable to men who wish their worlds never to be challenged by women of intellect or accomplishment. Not all men are that way, and the world is changing. Someday, all fields of learning will be open to women, though I fear it will not be in our lifetime.”
His expression was warm. “Please, Elizabeth, do not ascribe to me opinions I do not hold. I find your mind as attractive as your beauty.”
Heat warmed her face again. “I did not know that you found me attractive, either in mind or in form.”
Color rose to his own cheeks. “I fear our early interactions have colored your view of me, and nothing I have said since has quite undone that impression. Yet I have told you more than once that I consider you the most handsome woman of my acquaintance. That includes your sister Jane, whom your mother praises to the skies, and Miss Bingley, who is well known in her social circles for her beauty.”
Her eyes fell from his. “I will strive to remember that, sir, though it will likely take a few more reminders for it to settle into my mind. For those fated words, coming from the lips of a man I once thought a modern-day hero, a knight from the legendsof King Arthur, sorely affected me, sir. It was a deep injury, especially because it was a public offense.”
His jaw tightened. “I am sorry that my words wounded you, my darling. They were never meant for your ears. If anything has the power to change me for the better, it will be the pain I have caused you.”
They reached the stream and joined the others; the moment of intimacy had passed.
Darcy wondered which Arthurian hero she had imagined him to be, and she wondered that he found her attractive in both mind and body. He had also called her his darling again. Could it be that he was opening his heart to her, or was it merely a familiar endearment spoken without feeling or intent?
They reached Hatfield by half past four that afternoon. Elizabeth found that the inn, though small, was clean and well-kept. There were not enough rooms for all in their party. Darcy and Richard would share a chamber, Elizabeth shared with Jane, and Mary and Georgiana shared another.
Elizabeth was standing at the window, looking down at the street below, when a rap sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Mr. Darcy stood in the doorway. “Would you care to walk to the Old Palace and see the grounds? It will be too late to tour the palace proper this afternoon, but many of the oak trees are over a thousand years old. We will also see the great oak beneath which Princess Elizabeth first learned of her accession to the throne.”
Elizabeth turned from the window eagerly. “Yes, let us go. I was just standing here wishing for a walk.”
Jane rose. “I will call our sisters.”
Both women took their bonnets and pelisses and stepped out into the hall. Darcy held Elizabeth’s pelisse as she slipped into it, his manner attentive but reserved. When the other women joined them, they descended the stairs and walked into the street. Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, and Richard escorted Georgiana, while Jane and Mary followed behind, arm in arm.
When they reached the Old Palace grounds, Darcy spoke with a groundsman and received permission to walk through the gardens. He then requested that the man give them a brief tour. They admired the formal box beds before the house, marveling at the parterres and topiary, and each threw a coin into the pond, making a wish. When Georgiana asked if they might try the maze, the gardener granted permission, and the two younger women ran ahead.
Jane, already exhausted from the long day’s travel, asked to remain behind. “I am not such a great walker as you are, Lizzy. Do you mind if I remain here, watch the swans, and rest?”
“Of course, Jane. We will not be long,” Elizabeth said, smiling.
Darcy offered his arm, and Elizabeth took it as they walked toward the maze.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said after a few moments, “will you tell me about your family? I know that you and Miss Darcy are orphans, and that the Colonel is a second son, his father an earl. My cousin told me that his patroness is your aunt.”
Darcy inhaled slowly, organizing his thoughts. He must tread carefully; she could not yet learn how angry his relations would be when they learned of their marriage. She must be protectedfrom that ugliness until their union was firmly established. He decided to speak only of his parents.
“My mother died shortly after Georgiana’s birth, so my sister never knew her. My father was crushed by her loss, though he had feared it for years. My mother longed for another child, though several physicians warned that she risked her life if she carried again. She died in childbed from a condition calledabruptio placentae, a form of hemorrhage caused in her case by uterine tumors. I believe my aunt and cousin suffer from a similar affliction. Both my mother and my aunt lost many pregnancies before carrying a child the full nine months. I fear my cousin Anne may have inherited the condition; she is very sickly and anemic.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Is Miss Darcy affected?”
“I do not believe so. She shows none of the symptoms my mother and aunt experienced.”
Elizabeth looked up at him curiously. “Symptoms, sir?”
A faint flush rose to his cheeks, and her attention was caught by the faint shadow along his jaw. He would need to shave before dinner, yet the slight growth made him in her eyes more handsome, more decidedly masculine. His next words drew her back to the conversation. “This is indelicate, but I will answer if you wish to know.”
“I do wish to know,” she said quietly.
