Elizabeth looked askance at him, and he explained, “You are a studier of character. I wondered whether she matched the reports you have heard of her.”
“My, that is a brave question!—and would require a good deal of courage on my part to answer honestly if I happened to agree with any report that differed from yours. But, as good fortune would have it, you were right. Your sister is about my height, or rather taller.”
Darcy chuckled at her equivocation. “Very astute, I am sure.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Perhaps not, but five minutes’ acquaintance hardly qualifies me to know her better. I must say, it says much of your estimation of her character that you were not concerned how I might answer. I am quite sure I should not be valiant enough to ask your opinion of my sisters.”
“I do have a great deal of faith in Georgiana, but in this instance, I was relying more on your ability to perceive her true character beyond whatever else might have been said of her.” He hoped she knew he was thinking of Wickham.
A more serious, pensive turn came over her countenance. “Well, in that case…I see why you said she was shy, but she also seemed very earnest. And extremely eager to please you, which must be gratifying.”
He took Elizabeth’s elbow gently as they crossed the busy thoroughfare into Leicester Square, for carriages often thundered around the periphery with no consideration for pedestrians. “I am vindicated—you have understood her perfectly. Though her eagerness to please is certainly not confined to me. She is a very obliging young woman. Too obliging on occasion.”
“Is there somebody you wish she had not tried to please?”
Darcy baulked. He had made the remark without thinking, no doubt because Wickham was fresh on his mind. He scrambled to think of a different name. “My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, rarely bestows her good opinion, so naturally Georgiana expends the most effort attempting to impress her.”
“You will make me nervous. I am to meet Lady Catherine myself at Easter. If she can disapprove of Miss Darcy, with all her accomplishments, I had better prepare myself to be a vast disappointment.”
He smiled, knowing full well that Elizabeth was not the least bit afraid of rank and would be about as nervous of his aunt as he was of her young cousin Miss Gardiner. “Lady Catherine values intelligence and good sense. You will be anything but a disappointment to her. But…you are going to Rosings Park?”
She hesitated for some reason before saying, with a small frown, “No, I am going to visit my cousin, Mr Collins—who is your aunt’s parson, if you recall.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Darcy mumbled, as perturbed by the reminder of Mrs Randall’s remark—‘When your cousin proposed’—as when he had first heard it. He did not like toconsider the significance of its effect on him. Some admiration that Elizabeth had not shackled herself to a complete sapskull was to be expected, but relief powerful enough to render him stupid was less easily justified. He held his tongue and listened as she explained that Collins had married her friend Charlotte Lucas.
“And she informs me that we shall be expected to dine at Rosings at least once a week during our stay.”
“Likely. Her ladyship enjoys company.”
They fell into silence again, but since they were almost at their destination, Darcy allowed it to endure. Yet, as they turned into Henrietta Street, he remembered his other concerns.
“I understand your mother has joined you in town.”
“Yes—or rather we have joined her. She came last month to help nurse Mrs Randall back to health after an illness. That is why my carriage is here. I came to visit her, but she was not at home.”
“She must be a wonderful nurse, for Mrs Randall seems fully recovered.”
A flash of irritation passed over Elizabeth’s face, but she disguised it quickly with a smile. “Indeed, and we all hope that means she will be returning to Longbourn soon.”
They had reached her carriage, and she apologised to her coachman for making him wait before asking whether her mother had returned while she had been gone. The answer was negative.
“Well, that is me for home, then,” she said with unconvincing lightness. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr Darcy.”
“My pleasure.”
Seeing there was no footman to perform the task, Darcy opened the door and lowered the step for Elizabeth himself. He vastly enjoyed her astonishment, for he had learnt very soon after first knowing her that she was exceedingly difficult tosurprise or outwit. He had also learnt early on that it was one of his favourite things to do, because her countenance, when it happened, was at its most unguarded, her eyes at their most incisive, and he relished being the object of her intrigue. He relished, too, the delicate warmth of her hand as he assisted her into the carriage, not immune to thoughts of all the ways such a delicate, warm hand could please a man.
He waited only for her coachman to coax his horses into motion before turning on his heel and marching back to Grenier’s at twice the pace he had walked to Henrietta Street. The porter jumped when he saw him; Darcy forced himself to stop glowering.
“Mr Bingley’s room?”
“I am sorry, sir. He quit his apartments quarter of an hour ago.”
Darcy swore. He ought not to have left his card for Bingley to see. Lord only knew where he was to be found now—and Lord only knew with whom!
11
RUMOUR HAS IT
