Mrs Lanyon looked embarrassed by her misstep, but Elizabeth did not look as though she felt slighted. “I am perfectly capable of findingmy own amusements. You must enjoy yourselves whilst the weather is fair. I am happy to walk the park.”
“I think,” Darcy said, and the ladies all turned to look at him, “that until the looting in Lambton is certain to be stopped, none of you ought to go far from the house alone.”
He felt his cousin’s sharp attention, but Mrs Lanyon and Georgiana agreed as they left. Elizabeth turned pale before his eyes. She alone understood there might be more to fear than her jewellery being taken. Whilst it was not likely Carew had been murdered for appearing like Elizabeth, there was still reason for caution.
Is she frightened to stay at Pemberley?Darcy wondered if he had been wrong to talk with her so plainly about his thoughts on Carew’s death. Her observations about Carew’s hands and her ring were astute, but he would rather not distress her by talking over the matter with her again.
“I promise to stay near the house,” she said.
“Perhaps, Miss Bennet, you would permit me to join you?” Utterson asked, with more pleasantness than he typically demonstrated. “I am willing to be of use and escort you anywhere you wish to walk.”
“Certainly,” she said brightly, “thank you.”
“I shall go along too,” Balfour added, “since Darcy said he did not need further help today. Besides, I cannot go to Buxton to gamble away my fortuneeveryday.”
“What fortune?” Utterson drawled. “As far as I know, your father is still alive and well.”
“Aye, as is yours, but at least on my father’s death, I expect anincreasein fortune.” Utterson looked away.
Elizabeth gave them a long-suffering glance before laughing. “So long as your quarrelling over fortunes and inheritance are left in the house, you may join me. Let me run upstairs to change my shoes.”
They all rose as she left, with Utterson, nearest to the door, opening it for her. She smiled her thanks as she passed, and he returned her gesture. It was odd to see an open smile on Utterson’s face. He often looked upon everyone with impatience.
But who could not be charmed by Elizabeth’s good nature and friendly manner?
“Utterson, do you admire Miss Bennet?” The jealousy Darcy had begun to feel on Wednesday, that had been building whenever he saw Utterson and Elizabeth in conversation, overrode his good judgment, and he immediately wished the question unspoken.
Utterson looked at him askance. “Why do you ask?”
“Because she is a pretty, sprightly woman,” Balfour answered for him.
“She is good company,” Utterson said with a shrug. “And I would never single out your or Balfour’s sister.”
“Quite right,” Darcy and Balfour muttered. Darcy noticed Fitzwilliam pointedly avoided looking at Balfour.
“Then,” Darcy said after a pause, “then you do admire her?”
Utterson wrinkled his nose in distaste. “She is too poor, and rather all in one straight line from head to foot for my liking.”
Darcy was unsure how to respond because to argue against these criticisms would show his own feelings. He felt half about to strike Utterson, and half ready to thank him for his reassurance. It ought to make him happy to hear that Utterson could not admire her, but as far as he was concerned, Elizabeth was the handsomest woman of his acquaintance.
“I mademysituation clear to her our first evening at Pemberley,” Balfour said, to Darcy’s surprise. “I must marry with attention to money, like most of us. Miss Bennet seems sensible; she would not expect a proposal because of a conversation or a walk.”
“I think,” said Fitzwilliam slowly, “that any man in this room could afford to marry wherever they liked if they better managed their expenses.”
Balfour laughed. “Miss Bennetispretty, but not worth the effort in my own case. I prefer to spend and act as I have always done.”
“Which is spending a lot and acting very little,” said Utterson, smirking.
“And you are right there alongside me, my dear Utterson.”
“You will sink into unmanly sloth if you are not careful, Balfour,” Darcy said, now in a lighter mood.
“Oh, nae, I have a desire to prove myself,” Balfour said in mock seriousness.
“A desire to prove that you can spend as freely as you like?”
“And that desire is little restrained by prudence,” Utterson added wryly before Balfour could speak.
