“You are not her father, Bingley. Nor are you more than her suitor right now. Miss Bennet wished to go home, and so she did.” He did not mention how he wished Elizabeth had remained. She did not tolerate Miss Bingley’s vitriol, which had spewed in abundance since the two ladies had departed.
Bingley sighed and dropped into a chair. “I know. Do you think it is too soon to call upon her and see how she fares?” He looked so hopeful.
“I am sure it is not too soon. Shall I accompany you?” Darcy felt a keen desire to see Elizabeth again, having not been in her company for some time. Her arrival had filled him with anticipation, and he wished to be in her presence again.
“Yes. Let us go at once!” Calling for a footman, Bingley directed their horses to be saddled. The two gentlemen returned to their respective chambers to prepare. In twenty minutes, they were on their way to Longbourn, conversing amiably as they went.
“I am relieved we escaped the house without my sisters’ knowledge,” Bingley confided. “I cannot imagine why they do not approve of Miss Bennet. There is not another more congenial, angelic creature on the earth—I would stake my life on it.”
“Miss Bennet is indeed a kind, generous woman.” Privately, he thought her a little boring, but he could not say that to his friend. Bingley was entitled to his own opinion. Darcy preferred the darker looks and vivacity of the sister. “As for your sisters, I believe they had somewhat higher hopes for you. Mrs Hurst’s marriage elevated your family. They likely hoped your marriage would do the same.”
“Miss Bennet is above me—and them, for that matter. What can they be thinking?” Bingley shook his head in disgust.
“Your sisters likely have no knowledge of these things. It is not surprising that what matters to them is different from what matters to you. Ladies are taught from a young age that they must secure the best match possible. They do not have the same…opportunities and options gentlemen have.” Georgiana was one of the fortunate few. Her dowry would ensure she was well provided for, no matter what.
“I have never thought of it in that light. Perhaps Caroline hopes that if I make an advantageous marriage, then her chances will be better than Louisa’s.” Bingley shot him a sly glance. “There is no chance for her with you, is there?”
“Not in the slightest. No offense, Bingley, but your sister is not who I am looking for as mistress of my estate.” Darcy guided the horse around a stile. Longbourn was in sight now.
“None taken, I assure you. Caroline is difficult. I hope she can draw a man’s attention someday.”
They arrived at Longbourn’s drive and handed their horses off to two groomsmen. A few more steps and they were at the door. Darcy suddenlyfelt a frisson of anticipation go through him. He wondered if it was due to the desire to see Elizabeth, or the persistent curiosity about young Thomas Bennet.
The door opened, and the Bennet’s butler, Mr Hill, greeted them kindly and invited them inside.
“Are the ladies in the parlour?” Bingley asked.
“They are. Miss Bennet, bless her, is finally well enough to come downstairs. She still feels a little under the weather. Miss Lizzy is taking care of her.” Hill continued to ramble as he led them down the hallway to the large parlour. Miss Bennet and Elizabeth sat near the fire. The former had a lap rug over her knees and a shawl around her shoulders. Miss Bennet lit up like a candle when she saw Mr Bingley, though she remained in her chair.
Elizabeth met his gaze, her cheeks turning delightfully pink. He could not tell if she was happy to see him or not. She stood and moved to the settee, leaving her empty chair for Bingley.
“How do you do, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked politely, taking a seat. She sat next to him, keeping a proper distance between them. Still, she turned her body towards him.
“I am well, sir. Jane hoped Mr Bingley would come today. She felt awful about her desire to be in her own bed.”
“Your sister’s wishes were understandable. Who does not rest easier in their home rather than another’s?” He smiled kindly, and she responded in kind.Oh, how he loved the way her eyes sparkled with good humour.
Bingley and Jane fell into quiet conversation, their voices soft and private, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to themselves. The warmth of the parlour soothed Darcy after the crisp ride, and the fire’s glow danced across Elizabeth’s face, turning her eyes a luminous blue. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile.
“I hope the roads were not too poor for your ride, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her tone was light, but he sensed genuine care beneath the polite inquiry.
“They were passable enough, though the storms left many ruts,” he replied, allowing a small smile to soften the stiffness he often wore in company. “It is fortunate your sister recovered swiftly.”
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to her hands, and for a moment she looked every bit the young woman shouldering concerns too heavy for her age. “It is,” she agreed. “Jane bears her discomfort without complaint, but I could see how unwell she truly was. I am grateful she is mending.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room and its quiet chatter disappeared. Darcy felt the air shift, charged with something unspoken.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began carefully, “may I ask you something?”
Her brows lifted, curiosity brightening her features. “Certainly.”
Darcy hesitated. He rarely indulged personal curiosity, and it was rarer still for someone to invite it without motive. “What is your favourite memory from your childhood?” he asked, surprising even himself. He had meant to speak of the weather or the coming holidays, but the question had tumbled out before he could check it.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and a genuine smile broke across her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes in a way that made his heart catch. “That is not a question I expected,” she admitted with a quiet laugh. “Most people ask about my health, or whether Papa intends to hunt this winter.”
“I find I am more interested in learning who you are, Miss Elizabeth, rather than the affairs of Longbourn,” he replied softly, unable to tear his gaze from her.
She seemed to consider, glancing towards the window, where the weak November sun slanted across the carpet. “When I was a child, perhaps eight or nine, Papa took us all to a small glen near Oakham Mount. It wasspring, and the world was so green it hurt the eyes. Jane made crowns of wildflowers for all of us, even Papa, who wore his with great solemnity whilst reading from his book.” Her eyes softened with the memory. “I remember feeling as though the world could not possibly be more beautiful, and for that moment, we were all perfectly happy.”
