“Yes, we ought to leave off teasing Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said pleasantly. “He has a disaster to manage, lest you all have forgot.”
She gave Balfour and Utterson each a pointed look and then set to buttering her thick piece of toast with absorbed attention.
“It is well he did not join us because Darcy is a tolerably good shot and he would have left no birds for us,” Fitzwilliam said, smiling round the table.
They began to tell the ladies, who Darcy could tell did not care at all, about how they went out with a dog and Utterson brought backone brace of partridges and Fitzwilliam two, and one of them nearly stepped on a nest.
“How did you shoot, Lewis?” Mrs Lanyon asked Balfour.
“As I always do,” he cried, laughing. “I am a terrible shot, but I do enjoy it.”
“You are not as bad as you say,” Fitzwilliam told him. “There was one time when I thought you had a chance.”
“Nae, but you are kind to humour me,” Balfour said. “But where I could outshine both Utterson and you, Darcy, is fishing.”
Darcy was not equal to a reply beyond a polite smile, so Fitzwilliam said, “I suppose that is because you need not aim, and the fish come to you.”
Everyone laughed, and Darcy was amazed at how his cousin could take his friends shooting and keep up a course of friendly conversation. Even Elizabeth was talking with them through the course of her conversation with Mrs Lanyon and Georgiana.
When breakfast was nearly over, Fitzwilliam answered Mrs Lanyon’s question as to how he intended to pass the day. “I have business in Buxton and then in Matlock.”
Darcy wondered if the small movements of the widow’s lips and eyes showed disappointment that his cousin would be busy across the Peak, or if he only hoped to see that attachment there.
“BuxtonandMatlock?” Balfour cried. “It will fill your entire day!”
Fitzwilliam only gave a rueful smile.
“You won’t return before dinner. Let me or Utterson take care of some of the business for you. One of us can go to either Buxton or to Matlock.”
Utterson folded down his newspaper enough to narrow his eyes at Balfour. “I will thank you not to put me forward without asking me first.”
“Oh, are you much occupied today?” Balfour said, drawing back. “Plan to return to Tissington, do you? Feel the need to call on Poole again?”
“What if I was?”
“I would call you a fool, but it seems to be the day for lengthy and indulgent travels.”
Utterson’s glare softened. “I am not visiting Lord Poole. I have only to go for my post in Lambton”—he turned to Fitzwilliam—“so if you want me to go anywhere for you, I shall.”
“I am afraid my business must be done myself, not by an agent.”
This satisfied Utterson, who gave a little nod and returned to his paper. Balfour, however, would not let it go.
“It is fifteen miles east to Buxton; it shall take you over two hours to get there, and then you must pass Pemberley to go on to Matlock. That is twenty miles in all! Then the five miles back to Pemberley from Matlock.” Balfour checked his new watch, and it struck something in Darcy’s memory. “It is now half past ten. Can I at least go to Matlock for you so you can come right back after Buxton?”
“If only you could, but I have just learnt of an errand I must do for my father before I return to town.”
Darcy watched Balfour and Fitzwilliam share a commiserating headshake, as though both understood doing the bidding of one’s father. Balfour pocketed his watch and said, “You were good to take us shooting and put off your business, but it shall make you very late tonight.”
“It is no matter,” Fitzwilliam said, and he directly asked the ladies what they had planned.
“I had hoped to ride,” Mrs Lanyon said whilst giving Fitzwilliam a long look, before turning to her brother. “Perhaps you might like to join me?”
“Aye, so long as you don’t stop and draw,” he said with a teasing smile. “Miss Darcy, Mrs Annesley, shall you join us?”
“What about Miss Bennet?” Georgiana asked before turning to her. “I do not wish to leave you alone.”
“I have letters to write,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “Maybe I shall practise the instrument and we can play a duet soon.”
