Elizabeth blinked, plainly surprised. “You think so?”
“They are both gentle in their ways. Reserved, but not from indifference—only caution. Georgiana is painfully shy. She…she hides her heart behind timid smiles. But I believe they are alike in character.”
He saw Elizabeth’s pleasure in his words, the genuine smile that curved upon her lips stealing his breath. “Then I should like to meet her very much. It is only fair, sir, for you have met all four of mine.”
Darcy laughed; a true laugh, rich and unguarded. “Yes, I believe I have been well initiated into the Bennet household.”
Elizabeth joined in, her laughter bright as sunlight after a storm. The sound lingered between them, a fragile delight, until Darcy, aware of how near they stood, inclined his head toward a fallen log. “May we sit?”
“Gladly,” she replied.
They seated themselves side by side. The log was worn but dry, and the wind, though brisk, had abated. The afternoon sun poured its mellow light upon them, and Darcy could not keep from studying Elizabeth. Curls had slipped from her bonnet, glinting with amber and chestnut. Her perfect complexion glowed in the golden rays, and every graceful turn of her head seemed to unman him.
He longed to take her hand, but instead folded his gloves in his lap.
“I have a confession to make,” he said, breaking the hush.If I wish for her to love me, I must be entirely honest.Her reaction filled him with apprehension. Would she be incensed? Would alltheir hard-won accord be undone in a moment?I once said that I had a resentful temper—that my good opinion once lost is lost forever. What if she feels the same?
Elizabeth angled toward him, attention fixed upon him. “Go on.”
“When Bingley was in town at the end of November, I…I encouraged him to remain. I did not speak falsehoods, only expressed concern. I thought Miss Bennet indifferent. But he would not be dissuaded. I returned with him only because he refused to stay away.” He glanced at her, searching her countenance. “But now, having observed her more closely, I see my error. Your sister’s affection is restrained, yet unmistakable to one who truly looks.” Indeed, now that Bingley had declared his feelings, Miss Bennet’s sentiments were plain.
Elizabeth studied him, her features unreadable at first. Then she nodded, grave but not angry. “I cannot fault you for loving your friend, or for wishing to protect him. But Jane…Jane feels things deeply. She conceals them even from me at times. Do not mistake her serenity for want of feeling.”
Her words eased the tightness inside him. But then she added, almost hesitantly, “She received a letter from Miss Bingley. Right before you all departed.”
His spine stiffened. He knew of the letter; he had suspected it contained something other than a farewell.
“She wrote implying that your sister was to marry Mr. Bingley, and that you supported it. I knew, of course, she wrote nothing but falsehoods, but knowing what I do now… about your sister…”
She trailed off, watching him.
His jaw hardened. “That is an abominable lie. Georgiana has never had any attachment to Bingley. She has not yet been introduced to society at all, and they have scarcely been in company together.”
“I doubted it. Miss Bingley did not mean to spread the rumor widely—only to dissuade my sister.”
“She had no right,” he said sharply. “No right to use my sister’s name in such a scheme.” Darcy’s heart contracted. What would Georgiana think, were she to learn her name had been tied to Bingley’s? Good heavens, Bingley was nowengaged. What a scandal that would be!
“I agree. But she did not succeed. Perhaps she might have, had you and Mr. Bingley not returned. And now—well, now it matters little, does it not?”
Darcy nodded, drawing a steadying breath to master his temper. “They are safely engaged, and I believe the marriage articles are signed. It will be well.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, a teasing lilt to her voice as she spoke again. “Do you often find yourself managing other people’s affairs, Mr. Darcy?”
He gave her a rueful look. “Too often, I fear. And seldom to good effect.” He pressed an ungloved hand over his face, cool against his heated skin.
She laughed, and he allowed himself to watch her, wonder stirring at the ease between them. The moment felt natural—inevitable. His heart beat with a longing perilously close to desire.
“Has your sister settled on a date?” he asked, shifting just enough that his knee brushed hers. The contact sent a thrill through him, and she did not pull away.
“My mother presses her to decide daily. Jane, for once, means to do precisely what pleases her most. She refuses to name the day until she and Mr. Bingley have spoken and are of one mind. My mother has made no secret of wishing for a spring wedding, so that we might procure fresh flowers. I do not believe my sister will delay until April.”
“Flowers may be purchased from a hothouse,” Darcy concurred with a nod. “Bingley is an amiable, obliging man, but I have observed in him a curious impatience. I cannot think Mrs. Bennet will persuade either party to delay.”
Elizabeth’s laugh filled him with delight, her profile bright with merriment. “Whatever they decide, I trust they will choose what suits them best. Nothing less would content either of them.”
Darcy quelled the impulse to declare himself then and there. She looked so beautiful—and with his gift resting upon her shoulders, she was the very image of perfection. He recalled his resolve of the previous night.
Only three days remain. Three miserable dog’s days.
