After bathing, and dressing, the mistress received a note from one of the builders in Kympton. The man had an opportunity to purchase a large store of building material for the villagers from a bankrupt supplier. The decision had to be made before noon, and the materials had to be paid for immediately, and it might or might not be recoverable from the villagers. Elizabeth thought it a decision for Lady Matlock, but so far, that lady had steadfastly refused to give judgment. The infuriating woman only said she would fully support any decision Elizabeth made. If there were financial consequences that annoyed her nephew, she would either cover the costs from Matlock’s coffers, thump her nephew on the head, or more likely both.
In the beginning, Elizabeth worried over every shilling and had to consider ten pounds. She gradually grew so accustomed that an expenditure of fifty or a hundred pounds was fairly ordinary, but this was one thousand. The materials they were purchasing were worth close to two, so it was quite a good opportunity, but she had no idea the rate at which the villagers could pay it back, or even if Mr Darcy would demand repayment. She did not even know if he would accept it.
Elizabeth thought furiously about the matter and determined she would finally make Lady Matlock earn her keep, so she hurried out of the room to find her. The lady was likely still in her suite, so Elizabeth turned in that direction, but her progress was interrupted when she ran into a brick wall that had not been there previously. Before she could think, or even understand what was happening, she found herself falling backward toward what was likely to be a painful and humiliating landing flat on her back.
Much to the lady’s surprise, the ignominious fall was arrested in the middle, and she found herself gently restored to her feet. Her thinking was still a touch muddled, as she felt a pair of strong hands holding her about the waist, and then noticed her hands were atop a pair of shoulders. Finally, her eyes travelled up to find she was but a foot from the admittedly very handsome, but worried-looking countenance of none other than Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley.
In that instant, she was assailed with so many sensations she had no possible way to sort them out. She was vaguely aware that his hands still grasped her waist, and somewhat surprised to feel that it did not bother her in the least. As her dawning comprehension concentrated on that feeling, she found his hands neither grasped too tightly, nor did the owner seem in any hurry to release her. She felt, right in that moment, that those hands represented a bit of safety—as if Mr Darcy wanted to ensure her wellbeing and nothing else.
She found her own hands resting on his shoulders, and she very curiously felt no great need to remove them and restore the distance that propriety and long habit should require.
All those thoughts circled her head leaving it quite muddled, and there were no convenient ghosts to advise her, so naturally her mouth spit out the very first thought that occurred to her addled mind.
“Mr Darcy, what are you doing here?”
She was a bit distressed that the first words out of her mouth since the abominable proposal were an impertinent, and mostly irrelevant question, but was surprised to see something both new and unexpected.
Mr Darcy smiled, and in that smile, she saw things she might have recognised before if she had not been so biassed against him. She had never seen arealsmile from him, but she had seen their smaller cousins sometimes when he stared at her. Something about his countenance seemed… altered. She saw a hint of… what was it… perhaps chagrin… perhaps concern… impertinence… perhaps… vulnerability?
Before she could get her head organised to ask a more sensible question, the gentleman answered with a smile and a completely unexpected chuckle.
“I live here.”
Elizabeth laughed at the ridiculous exchange, but her mouth continued without any sense whatsoever.
“I am aware. I just meant… well… what are you doing inthis partof the wing?”
Once again, she thought the question idiotic, but the gentleman did not seem to mind, as he flicked his eyes to a door a dozen yards away and replied with a gentle smile.
“That is my room.”
Elizabeth looked at the door and snapped in indignation. “Why, that little minx!Georgie assigned me this room on my very first night. What was she thinking placing me only a dozen yards from your chambers?”
Surprisingly, the gentleman started to laugh, but it was a gentle one, completely devoid of censure. It still muddled her thinking considerably.
After his laughter died down, he replied. “What indeed? But I must correct you on one particular. It is true the rooms are buta dozen yards apart, but that is only in the corridor. Inside, they are separated by the thickness of a door.”
“SHE DID NOT!”
Darcy chuckled. “Perhaps my sister was being presumptuous, but I can assure you that I find no objection to you residing in the mistress’ suite.”
Elizabeth turned beet red in embarrassment. She did not know if she was more embarrassed by the impropriety of staying in that particular suite, or stupidity that she had not worked it out before.
Of course, then she wondered if Georgiana had painted her in an even tighter corner than her own actions already had. However, she decided it made little difference in the end. She had already been as presumptuous as it was possible to be, and it was hard to see how the choice of a bedchamber in that circumstance could change anything.
Darcy noticed her consternation, leaned his head closer, and said, “Fear not, Elizabeth. Nobody will read any more into this than you wish. Perhaps Georgiana was just being hopeful. She is young, and a bit impetuous, but I should hope that you are not terribly distressed by it?”
“No, I suppose not,” she sighed. “The entire experience has been so odd that it is difficult to know when we passed from unlikely to strange to ridiculous to fantastic.”
“I shall, to the best of my ability, ensure that you have your own choices. I would not have you forced to any action by any factor other than your own desires.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. I appreciate it.”
That said, she did not know what to do. So far, this had been the most peculiar discussion, and not at all how she expected to resolve their last conversation, if you could call it that, in Hunsford Cottage.
Elizabeth was mostly filled with confusion. She had come to know the real gentleman much better through the reports of his relatives and had come to a much better understanding of him, and also of herself. Of course, that just made her wonder what his interest inherwas, and if it had even survived. If he was a man who regretted making an offer, he was certainly not acting like it, but it was difficult to believe anyone with even a modicum of pride would still be interested in a woman who ran from him like a frightened rabbit.
Somewhat incongruously, Darcy said, “Jane, Anne, and Ellen Taylor will be here in a few hours, around ten at the very latest. I rode ahead to arrive last night. I talked to Breton and my aunt for some time, so I am aware of what a wonderful job you have been doing here. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done so far, and I will praise you to the skies, but I have substantial competition in that area.”
