“Let us retrieve Kitty and Lydia and complete Mama’s list,” Mary chimed in. “I shall be famished by the time we walk back to Longbourn!”
With the youngest girls in hand, the Bennets and their accompanying gentlemen gathered everything on Mrs. Bennet’s list before setting off once more. The gentlemen led their horses, choosing to walk beside the ladies. Once again, Kitty and Lydia skipped ahead, whilst Mr. Collins and Mary strolled behind them. Mr. Bingley and Jane came next and, this time, Darcy and Elizabeth brought up the rear.
“I must tell you,” Darcy said as they walked, “that I felt great surprise and dismay upon seeing Wickham in Meryton today.”
“We had only made his acquaintance when you arrived,” she replied. “I confess I am curious about your remarks to the gentleman.”
“He is no gentleman,” Darcy muttered darkly, his jaw clenched. “He is a libertine and a seducer. His habits are not fit for a lady’s ears. Wickham may wear a charming countenance, but he is a snake.”
“Your warning to depart seemed to be received with clarity.”
“I hope so. I intend to send my man to Meryton tomorrow to make certain he is gone. Wickham leaves debts—and worse than broken hearts—wherever he travels. Meryton would be no different.”
She gently squeezed his arm. “I thank you for protecting us,” she murmured. “His charm was apparent even in so brief a meeting. I have no doubt he would have employed it to great effect here.”
They arrived at Longbourn and joined the family for tea. There, Mr. Bingley presented the Bennets with an invitation to his upcoming ball. It would be held on the twenty-sixth of November. He then requested Jane’s hand for the first and supper sets, much to Mrs. Bennet’s delight. Jane accepted readily, her face aglow with love and happiness.
Darcy, too, asked Elizabeth for the supper set, with a look so tender and hopeful it warmed her heart. She accepted graciously, bestowing upon him a secret smile she hoped conveyed the depth of her feelings.I do not care any longer,she told herself.I love him, and nothing will stand in the way of my happiness.
She knew certain truths that might yet stand between them, and she prayed that if he proposed, his affection would prove stronger than the peculiarity of her circumstances.
Mr. Collins requested the first set from Mary, and after explaining—somewhat sheepishly—that he was unfamiliar with the steps, she offered to help him before the appointed evening. Pleased, he accepted, then declared that if he felt sufficiently confident, he would be honored to stand up with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth as well.
When all was concluded, Elizabeth walked Mr. Darcy to the door, then stood at the window and watched as he mounted his horse and rode away, Mr. Bingley close behind.
Chapter Twenty
November 26, 1811
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Dreadfullywetweatherkepteveryone indoors for four days prior to the ball. Elizabeth chafed under the confinement. She abhorred being denied her daily walk. Longbourn lacked both a portrait gallery and a ballroom in which to exercise. Pacing only served to heighten her vexation. At last, the rain ceased the day before the ball, and she eagerly escaped the house to walk out.
It came as no surprise to find Mr. Darcy atop Oakham Mount, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the fields. When she stepped on a fallen branch, the sharp crack prompted him to turn.
“Miss Elizabeth.” His voice, warm and low, washed over her, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Good morning, sir,” she replied, moving to join him. “Are you as relieved as I to be out of doors again?”
“I share your distaste for being shut up inside,” he said agreeably. “I knew you would walk out this morning, even if the paths were muddy.”
She laughed merrily. “My maid will be dismayed when she sees the state of my boots and skirt,” she admitted. “She is accustomed to it, and I do attempt to tidy myself before she sees my things.”
“I am certain she is grateful for your consideration. Many would not take such care.”
Elizabeth looked at him with curiosity. “Do you?” she asked. “I confess, I cannot picture you scraping your own boots or brushing your own coat before going indoors.”
“My father had a boot scraper placed by nearly every door. And just inside, heavy rugs with stiff bristles were laid to remove the worst of the mud. A wise landlord keeps his servants content–or he risks resentment in his own halls.”
Elizabeth nodded, and for a while they stood in companionable silence, their arms nearly brushing. The wind blew the hem of her gown against his legs, and though no words were spoken, the moment felt unexpectedly intimate. She longed to take his hand; her fingers twitched at her side, but she resisted the impulse.
Darcy turned toward her, and she met his gaze. “Elizabeth.” Her name left him on a breath, quiet and rough with feeling, as he lifted a hand to her cheek. Slowly, he leaned down, and her eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation of his kiss—
“Ho there! Darcy!”
They sprang apart. “Blast,” Darcy cursed under his breath. Then louder: “My apologies for my language, Miss Elizabeth.” Turning, he raised a hand in greeting to Mr. Bingley, who had reined in his horse nearby.
