Darcy nodded. “The supports are rotting. That must be rebuilt entirely.”
Elizabeth trailed behind them, scribbling furiously in her notebook, listing:
Repair roof, likely beam damage
Rehang and secure front door
Replace broken windowpanes (2 or more)
Rebuild porch supports
Clean and clear kitchen garden
Repair garden fence
Repaint exterior
Check for structural floor damage
Replace rusted hinges on cupboards
Inspect chimney, stove, and flue
Interior cleaning
As Darcy crouched to examine the old iron stove in the small kitchen, Elizabeth stood back, her pencil paused in midair. His coat stretched slightly across his back, highlighting the lean strength of his frame. There was something so natural in the way he bent to inspect the hinge on the door, fingers brushing dust from the surface with careful thoughtfulness. Not a man accustomed to such labor, perhaps, but one not above it when duty called.
And there it was again—that curious flutter. A light sensation low in her chest that made her hand tremble ever so slightly as she returned to her list. Elizabeth frowned at herself.
He is your friend, she reminded her heart sternly.Only just a friend. A very new one at that. Do not be foolish.
Still, she could not help admiring how seriously he considered the needs of those who would live in this modest home. He spoke with the authority of a man who understood responsibility—and not only understood it but welcomed it. What sort of landlord must he be to the tenants of Pemberley? Surely a kind and generous one.
Darcy stood and looked around the room once more before straightening his coat. “There is little more to see inside. Bingley and I shall walk the perimeter. I want to check the chimney and the back fencing.”
Jane handed the basket to Elizabeth and nodded. “We shall finish the list,” she said with a smile.
Once the gentlemen stepped out into the pale afternoon sun, silence fell over the small cottage. Only the rustling of wind through dry branches and the faint chirp of sparrows filled the air.
“You were quite absorbed, Lizzy,” Jane said lightly as she knelt beside the hearth to note the cracked stonework along the base.
Elizabeth shot her a quick glance. “Absorbed in my task, you mean.”
Jane’s eyes sparkled. “No, I meant with Mr. Darcy. I saw the way you were watching him when he examined the stove.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed. “You imagine far too much, dearest. I was observing a friend. A thoughtful friend, yes, but nothing more.”
Jane tilted her head, unconvinced but gentle. “He seems to admire you.”
“Then it is a very new sentiment,” Elizabeth replied with forced levity, returning to her list. “We are only just now becoming acquainted on better terms. Do not start dreaming up romances for me, Jane. Your imagination is nearly as rapid asMama’s.”
Jane laughed softly, and Elizabeth was grateful for the shift in mood. Yet as she wrote down the final notes, she could not deny the truth stirring quietly within her.
Shehadwatched him—more than once, and it had not felt like friendship alone.
As Jane turned her attention back to the cracked hearth, Elizabeth rose and crossed to the window, peering out at the figures moving about the side of the cottage. Darcy stood with his hands on his hips, head tilted as Bingley gestured animatedly towards a collapsed portion of fence. The wind caught the edges of his coat, lifting it slightly as he turned—just in time for his gaze to meet hers through the glass. Elizabeth felt her breath catch. He didn’t smile, but his eyes held hers for a long, steady moment before he nodded once, as though in silent understanding.
Chapter Nine
