He put his hands behind his back and hastened to reassure her. “Nothing dramatic, I can assure you,” he said, quickly. “I left, after telling her in no uncertain terms that I would never marry Anne, no matter what she tried to do. I may have said a few other uncomplimentary things about her.”
Elizabeth looked relieved. “Well, that does not sound so very bad,” she said. “It sounds like it was long overdue.”
“You do not know what it means for me to lose my temper. I have spent my whole life making certain never to do anything I would regret.”
“It sounds like an admirable goal, Mr. Darcy,” she said, “but perhaps you are too hard on yourself. It is not as if you embarked on a series of murders.”
He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then spotted the laughter in her eyes.
“Are you laughing at me, Miss Bennet?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, I would never—” A peel of laughter escaped her lips.
Suddenly he saw the situation through her eyes. He had lost his temper at his aunt. He had walked out of Rosings without taking his leave.
The world had not ended.
He began to laugh as well. “You should have seen my aunt’s face! No one says no to her. Not ever!”
“Well then,” said Elizabeth, with a wide grin. “Perhaps you have done everyone a favor.”
They had reached the edge of the park. They stopped, facing each other, and the laughter died. His gaze lingered on her, on the understanding in her eyes, on the ability to make him see the world differently.
This, he thought, this is why his sister had taken on Miss Bennet as a friend.
Their eyes met, and suddenly he was unable to breathe. His gaze dropped to the smile trembling on her lips. He had to tear himself away, before he made a fool of himself completely.
She put out her hand, and he reached for it without thinking, then dropped it, his breath catching as warmth seeped into his skin.
He bowed. It gave him time to compose himself.
“We are going in different directions,” he said, his voice sounding muffled to his own ears. “Thank you for listening to me, Miss Bennet. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
She curtsied. For once, her gaze avoided his. She turned away and started to walk in the direction of Cavendish Square, her maid and the footman coming forward and flanking her on each side. He stood and watched until she turned the corner, stunned by how strongly he was drawn to her.
He turned away and mounted his horse, seized by panic. It was as if he had discovered he was on a flowing river and was swiftly approaching roaring rapids. If he was not vigilant, the current would carry him away, and he would drown.
No matter how many admirable qualities Miss Bennet might have, Darcy could not permit himself to fall in love with her. He had to put a stop to it at once.
He just hoped it was not too late.
Chapter 20
As Elizabeth returned home from Hyde Park, she felt the stirrings of guilt. It had not been that long ago since she had mocked Mr. Darcy and presented him as a villain to her sisters. Slowly, over the last month, that image had slowly but surely dissolved. Today, she was struck forcibly by how mistaken she had been about him at the beginning. It became apparent to her that Mr. Darcy was a warm, compassionate gentleman who did not like to see someone suffer. Perhaps he had an excessively lofty concept of his own importance, but that came with his position in society, and it was only one aspect of him. She would never have expected him to speak to her about his quarrel with his aunt with so much concern in his voice. Why should it matter so much to him that he had been angry with Lady Catherine?Why should he be so concerned about Mr. Preston? This was a man who cared about others.
Everything about this morning had been odd. When he first came up to her, she had been surprised and pleased to see him, a little breathless and lightheaded. He had looked so straight and strong as he rode. She had noticed his strong hands as he touched the horse when he was on the ground, his gentleness as he smoothed down the horse’s mane.
There was a connection between them. As they walked together and talked, she spoke to him as she would to a friend. She felt comfortable enough to tease him and challenge him, and he had responded in kind. She felt at last that the barrier between them had come down, and to her surprise, she liked what she saw.
Except, of course, he was nothing like a friend. Not by a mile. Not if she had to judge by her reaction to him when they parted. When he took hold of her hand, she had felt a jolt go through her. Even now, there was a thrilling kind of queasiness inside her. Her feet bounced against the ground. She felt different, somehow, weightless, excited.
She was really looking forward to seeing Mr. Darcy again.
She was expecting Mr. Darcy to come that very afternoon. She took particular care with her appearance, and when the front door knocker sounded, she prepared herself to greet him in a friendly manner, even though her palms were sweating and her heart was hammering like a woodpecker’s beak.
Instead, she heard another voice talking to the butler. It was a female voice, and Elizabeth would have recognized it anywhere, even though she had only heard it once. Her heart sank. Why didMiss Bingley have to visit them on this specific day and destroy Elizabeth’s buoyant feeling?
“I remembered something I have to do,” she said to Georgiana, preparing to disappear into the library until Miss Bingley left. It was the cowardly way out, but for once, she did not care.
