Darcy recalled the rest of the conversation with Richard.
The silence returned, but now it was less sharp.
“I do not know how to do this,” Darcy admitted quietly. “How to…unlearn everything I’ve become.”
Richard stood,placinga hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You start by listening. By giving people a chance to show you who they are before you decide for them. Georgiana still loves you—she always will. But you must earn her trust again. And maybe—just maybe—you ought to try to earn the trust of someone who is not a blood relation.”
Darcy nodded, slowly, the weight of truth sinking into his chest. “I shall try.”
Richard gave a crooked smile. “That is all I ask.”
The rhythm of hooves against the dry autumn path brought Darcy back to the present with a jolt. The past—the confrontation with Richard, the guilt after Ramsgate, the realization of how far he had fallen from his father’s example—still echoed in his mind. But it was midday now, and the golden light of the sun filtered through the thinning canopy above. Netherfield lay a few miles ahead, and he was once again astride his horse, the wind brushing his face, his gloves faintly dusted from the trail.
He shifted in the saddle, the warmth of the sun doing little to ease the tightness in his chest.
He had done it.He had apologized. It was a good first step.
Darcy could hardly believe the words had passed his lips, and yet they had—awkward, earnest, imperfect. Elizabeth Bennet had stood before him, flushed from her climb, hereyes bright with surprise, and rather than retreat behind his usual armor of reserve, he had offered her honesty.
It had cost him more than he had anticipated. To admit fault, to lower his pride even a fraction, had felt like stepping into the unknown. But what surprised him more was howrightit had felt once it was done.
Her response had not been what he expected. She had listened. And more than that—she had accepted it.
Darcy frowned slightly, reins slack in one hand as his horse climbed the slight rise of the road.How easy it had been to speak with her.That still unsettled him. Conversation, especially with strangers, often felt like a performance or an obligation. Yet with Miss Elizabeth, it had been natural—like breathing in fresh air after too long indoors.
And she had not spared him. She had met his apology with wit, with probing questions, with that arched brow of hers that seemed to pierce right through his polished exterior. She had challenged him—and he had welcomed it.
He thought again of Richard’s words, spoken weeks ago with a soldier’s bluntness:You shut people out, Darcy. You forget to ask what others feel. You wear your reserve like a fortress and call it strength.
He had not listened then—not fully. It had taken Georgiana’s near-ruin to openhis eyes. But it had taken an insignificant country miss to press him, to make him try. Change was not just necessary—it was possible.
A part of him still resisted. Small talk remained a torment and likely always would. Meaningless society chatter drained him. And after years of betrayal, false friendship, and avaricious flattery, he had learned to guard his trust with barbed wire. But today, atop Oakham Mount, he had laid down a piece of that armor—and he had not perished for it.
What now?
He glanced up at the road ahead, squinting against the sunlight. Netherfield would soon come into view, with Bingley no doubt eager for a hunt or a dinner party or some other cheerful engagement. Miss Bingley would resume her subtle, suffocating campaign. The drawing rooms would once again echo with idle gossip and brittle laughter.
Buthewould be different. At least, he would try. He would not waste this moment of clarity. Miss Elizabeth had offered him a second impression. He would not squander it.
He straightened in the saddle, the cold air brushing past his jaw. For the first time in days, perhaps weeks, something like hope stirred within him—not for society, not for approval, but for a self he might still yetbecome.
“Darcy!” Bingley called to him from the stable doors as he approached. “I had no notion you were out riding. I would have accompanied you had I known. Tell me, what think you of the surrounding countryside?”
He contemplated his answer carefully as he dismounted. It would not do to let the restless irritation that still simmered beneath the surface to lash out and attack Bingley. “It is lovely,” he finally replied. “I rode to a little hill the locals call Oakham Mount. Your stable master recommended it.”
“Giles is filled with knowledge.” Bingley strode to his side as Darcy handed off the reins. “There are ruins and such in the county. I should love to explore.” They strode side by side towards the garden, Bingley leading the way. Darcy glanced at his friend curiously but followed along silently until they were some distance from the house.
“In truth, I sought you out so I might speak with you,” Bingley said as they came to a stop beside a bench. “I want your opinion on a…sensitive matter.”
“Go on.” Bingley was one of his closest friends. Darcy wouldhelp if he could.
“It is Miss Bennet,” came the reply. “I know I just met her, but is it possible…does love at first sight exist? Two dances and one evening in her company and I feel as if I have known her for my entire life. I cannot speak to my sisters of the matter. They will declare me mad and do everything in their power to separate me from the lady.”
“Slow down!” Darcy held up a beseeching hand. “Now, let us speak of this rationally. Does love of that nature exist? I cannot answer you. Never have I experienced such a thing. Can one form an accord—an immediate bond with another after but one meeting?” He paused, thinking about his discussion on the hill with Miss Elizabeth. “Yes, I believe it is entirely possible for that to occur. And it sounds as if you experienced such with Miss Bennet.”
“That is precisely what I mean! It is as if she and I were meant to be.”
Darcy sighed. “I will not dispute your sentiments, my friend. Only show caution. Take your time coming to know Miss Bennet—or any lady in whom you may show interest. Our society and its expectations for propriety make it difficult for a young couple to truly know each other before marriage. Do the best you can.”
