He had watched her face as she described the situation at Lucas Lodge—her concern for her sister, Miss Lydia, and her distrust of the assumptions made by her family. She had not spoken rashly, nor with the dramatic flair some young ladies might adopt. No, Miss Elizabeth haddelivered her thoughts with calm analysis, eyes bright with something that stirred admiration in him. Not just her mind, but her heart—open, unclouded by self-interest.
Smart, capable, lovely… Yes, she was that and more.
He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his signet ring, thoughtful. She had shown him a grace he had not deserved atop Oakham Mount, had offered him the chance to begin again—not with flirtation or fawning but with friendship and a clear-eyed gaze that made him long to be worthy of it.
Darcy sat forward again, picking up the letter from Derbyshire. But the words blurred as a different thought took hold.
Perhaps I might do more than merely offer assistance. Perhaps I mightobservediscreetlyand learn something of the household myself.He knew enough of household rhythms, enough of staff roles and misdeeds, to notice signs others might overlook.
And if doing so brought him into Miss Elizabeth’s presence again—well, that was simply an… advantageous coincidence.
He folded the letter without reading it and reached for paper and pen. He would speak with Bingley and propose a visit to Longbourn. For Bingley’s sake, of course. Naturally.
Darcy finished writing the letter and sealed it with his signet, the wax still warm beneath his fingers. He glanced at the remaining correspondence on his desk and sighed—half of it would remain unanswered until the evening. His concentration had fled, and it would not return until the matter of Elizabeth Bennet—and her unsettling household mystery—was settled in his mind.
A knock came at the door.
“Yes?”
The door opened smoothly, and Brisby, his valet, stepped inside with his usual unobtrusive efficiency. “The shooting party will be leaving shortly, sir. Mr. Bingley asked that I remind you, in case you had lost track of time.”
Darcy stood, stretching the stiffness from his back. “Quite right. Lay out the dark green coat—the one without the embroidery.”
Brisby inclined his head. “The plain wool, sir?”
“Yes.”
Within minutes, Brisby had helped him out of his morning coat and into attire more suited for the field. The dark green coat was paired with buff breeches, a soft cravat knotted simply at the throat, and high leather boots polished to a dull shine. Brisby moved with practiced speed, brushing the shoulders and tugging thehem to lie just so.
“Anything else, sir?”
“No. That will be all.”
With a nod, Brisby retreated, and Darcy made his way down the stairs and out to the stables, where the scent of horses, fresh hay, and autumn wind greeted him. The groom handed him the reins to his mount just as Bingley emerged from the barn, his cheeks pink with the afternoon breeze and enthusiasm.
“There you are!” Bingley called cheerfully. “I was beginning to think you had decided to abandon the sport in favor of your ledgers.”
Darcy swung easily into the saddle. “You mean you doubted me,” he replied dryly.
“I confess it crossed my mind,” Bingley said with a grin. “You have been rather lost in thought the past day or two. Distracted. Preoccupied. Dare I say…afflicted.”
“Afflicted?” Darcy arched a brow.
“Yes—by a pair of fine eyes and a quick wit, if I am not mistaken.”
Darcy shook his head but did not deny it. They nudged their horses into a trot, following the others towards the coverts along the edge of the estate.
After a quiet moment, he turned slightly in the saddle. “What are your thoughts on calling at Longbourn again soon?”
Bingley shot him a sidelong glance and laughed. “I knew it! There is no use pretending otherwise now, Darcy. You have already spoken of Miss Elizabeth, and we have not yet reached the field.”
Darcy opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it.
Bingley continued, good-natured and smug. “I am very fond of Miss Bennet, as you well know, and I should be delighted to call on her again. But let us not pretend this sudden eagerness is aboutmyinterests.”
Darcy looked ahead, schooling his features into a mask of impassivity. “It is not unreasonable to inquire after the well-being of a family acquaintance.”
Bingley chuckled. “It becomes less reasonable the more you pretend it is only that.”
