Elizabeth’s expression flickered with something Darcy could not quite identify—discomfort, perhaps, or wariness. “The journey has been… educational,” she replied, her choice of words an echo of his own response at the Meryton assembly. The parallel was surely not accidental.
He hesitated, weighing propriety against curiosity. The latter prevailed.
“Perhaps, you’ve discovered that sudden journeys are fraught with unexpected difficulties that your parents had not anticipated.”
Elizabeth stiffened, her shoulders drawing back almost imperceptibly. “My parents have little say in my current travels, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, her voice carrying a brittle edge. “One might observe that at twenty years of age, a woman is capable of managing her own affairs, particularly when those affairs involve her future happiness.”
Mrs. Younge leaned forward with the air of someone stepping into a conversational breach. “Miss Bennet’s family is most understanding of her need for… independent pursuits,” she interjected smoothly. “Not all parents are so obliging, of course, but Mr. Bennet has always been notably progressive in his views on feminine independence.”
“Yet Miss Bennet has not explained what brings her to Derbyshire, other than vague references to distant connections. I had understood from Bingley that you were to remain at Longbourn for the foreseeable future. Some matter regarding family obligations, I believe?”
He was fishing, he knew, hoping she might reveal something about Collins’s presumed proposal. The thought of Elizabeth bound to that ridiculous clergyman continued to provoke an irrationally strong reaction, though he could hardly examine his reasons too closely.
Elizabeth’s expression grew shuttered. “Plans change, Mr. Darcy. Surely a man of your experience understands that circumstances sometimes require adjustment.”
“Indeed, they do,” he conceded. “Though I confess curiosity about what circumstances might prompt such a sudden departure from family and familiar surroundings.”
“Curiosity?” Elizabeth’s voice carried a note of challenge that made him instantly wary. “How interesting. And what of your own sudden departure from Hertfordshire, sir? I had understood you were to remain at Netherfield until after theYuletide.”
Darcy felt heat rise in his collar. Trust Elizabeth Bennet to turn the conversation in precisely the direction he wished to avoid.
“Business called me to Pemberley,” he said stiffly. “Estate matters require attention, particularly before winter sets in.”
“How conscientious,” Mrs. Younge remarked. “The mark of a true gentleman, attending to his responsibilities with such diligence.”
The flattery sat ill upon his ears. Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “And your visit to Lambton? You mentioned a relation.”
Mrs. Younge’s smile contained a calculating edge. “Miss Bennet’s presence was specifically requested. Some matters require a personal touch that correspondence cannot provide.”
“Indeed?” Darcy studied Elizabeth’s face. “And your parents approve of this journey? It seems remarkably sudden.”
“Not all journeys are planned weeks in advance, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Younge interjected before Elizabeth could respond. “Some arise from immediate necessity.”
Darcy ignored the interruption, his attention fixed on Elizabeth. “Are these relations on your mother’s side or your father’s? I confess I know of no Bennets in Derbyshire.”
Rather than answering his question, she shifted in her seat and regarded him with a directness that few in society would dare.
“You speak of family connections with such interest, Mr. Darcy. I wonder, did your father have brothers or sisters? One rarely hears of the extended Darcy family.”
The unexpected pivot caught him off guard. He had been probing her circumstances, only to find himself suddenly under examination. The question itself was innocuous enough, yet something in her tone—an intentness that belied casual curiosity—raised his guard.
“My father had a brother,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. “He died many years ago.”
“How unfortunate,” Elizabeth said. “Was he much like your father in temperament?”
The rain drummed steadily against the carriage roof, filling the silence as Darcy considered how to respond. Why this interest in hisuncle? It seemed an odd topic for someone who had never before shown any particular curiosity about his family.
“They were quite different,” he said finally. “My uncle was more…” He searched for the word. “Approachable, perhaps. Less concerned with society’s dictates.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened. “I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Darcy. Did your uncle have children? Cousins for you to play with as a boy? Perhaps an older boy to look up to?”
Something in her gentle inquiry touched a place he usually kept guarded. Unbidden, an image surfaced in Darcy’s mind—his uncle John, tall and laughing, tossing a giggling infant into the air while his wife looked on with mock alarm and genuine joy. Uncle John, who had been his father’s elder brother. Uncle John, who had married… Who was it? He couldn’t remember…
“My uncle had a family, yes,” Darcy replied quietly. “But they all perished in a house fire when I was eight years old.”
Mrs. Younge gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her throat. “Pemberley burned down? How dreadful!”
“No,” Darcy corrected, his voice cooling at her theatrical display. “My uncle and his family resided in a dower cottage on the estate grounds. Rose Cottage, it was called.”
