Her hands stilled on the hairpins. Then she turned to face him properly, abandoning the mirror’s mediation.
“I hoped we might speak, when you returned. About our marriage. But I fell asleep before you arrived, which rather defeated the purpose.”
“You waited to speak with me.” He could not keep the note of pleased surprise from his voice.
“I did. And failed spectacularly at remaining conscious to achieve it.” Her expression was wry but not embarrassed. “I am apparently not suited to keeping vigil. My apologies for the failed gesture.”
“Do not apologise. I appreciate the gesture, even if sleep overcame you.”
They looked at each other across the room, tension that had existed in previous encounters melting between them. Then Elizabeth smiled, tentative but genuine, and Darcy felt his own mouth curve in response.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “since I missed my opportunity last night, perhaps you might tell me now how your village excursion proceeded? You returned very late. I trust nothing untoward occurred?”
He rose, reaching for his banyan from where it hung near the bed. “Nothing beyond Arthur’s determination to inspect every establishment in Snowhill and Richard’s conviction that he could drink the local innkeeper under the table. I spent most of the evening attempting to prevent my cousins from causing undue scandal or accumulating ruinous debts.”
“That sounds rather trying.” Her smile had widened, amusement lighting her features.
“It was quite educational.” He tied the banyan’s sash, noting how Elizabeth’s gaze followed the movement before darting away. “I now know far more about the ale production methods than I ever anticipated requiring. And I have been banned from returning to the White Hart Tavern, although the ban technically applies to my cousin, Richard, who may have challenged the proprietor to an arm-wrestling contest.”
His wife’s startled laugh rang out, bright and unguarded. “He did not actually challenge him?”
“He absolutely did. And lost, which Arthur found so entertaining he bought drinks for the entire establishment.”
“How mortifying for you.”
He moved to the washstand, splashing water on his face. “Excruciating. I must acknowledge that their intentions were good. They wished to celebrate my marriage, however chaotically. Richard sends his regards, incidentally, and suggests we join him for cards this evening. I took the liberty of declining on your behalf.”
“Very wise. I am dreadful at cards.
“As am I. We are well-matched in our inadequacies, then.”
Another smile, this one easier than the last. Darcy found himself reluctant to let the conversation end, to retreat into separate preparations for the day ahead. “I have been thinking,” he began, “about the estate in Ireland.”
“The one you inherited through your mother’s family?”
“Through a distant cousin, yes. The estate is in good condition, largely due to competent stewardship during the years of distant ownership. But there are improvements I wish to implement, particularly regarding the tenants’ cottages and drainage in the southern fields.”
“What manner of improvements?”
“Several cottages require new roofing before winter. The southern fields flood seasonally, which reduces yield and creates conditions ideal for crop disease. If we install proper drainageand redirect the stream that feeds the flooding...” He paused, realising he had begun speaking to her as he would to his steward. “Forgive me. You cannot possibly find agricultural drainage fascinating.”
“On the contrary, I find it quite intriguing.” Her expression held no trace of feigned politeness. “You said the flooding occurs seasonally. Does that suggest the problem worsens during autumn rains?”
“Precisely. The soil composition cannot handle the increased water volume, so it sits in the fields and creates bogs.” He felt himself relax further, encouraged by her engagement. “But if we channel the excess water in the direction of the eastern boundary where the land slopes naturally, and reinforce the stream banks to prevent overflow—”
“The water would drain away rather than pooling in the fields,” Elizabeth finished. “That seems eminently sensible. What of the cottages? Is the damage from weather or age?”
“Both. Some have stood for fifty years or more without significant maintenance. New slate roofing would last considerably longer than thatch, and while the initial expense is greater, the long-term benefit justifies it.”
They discussed the estate at length, Elizabeth asking thoughtful questions that demonstrated total comprehension. She grasped immediately why certain improvements would benefit others, suggested alternatives Darcy had not considered, and challenged his assumptions in ways that strengthened rather than undermined his plans.
“You have a remarkable head for these matters,” he noted when the conversation paused. “Many ladies would find such topics tedious.”
“Many ladies are actively encouraged to find anything substantive tedious. I happen to think estate management considerably more interesting than embroidery or watercolours, however, admitting such preferences typically brands one as unfeminine.”
“Not to me.” He held her gaze, letting her see his sincerity. “I find your interest and intelligence both appealing and valuable. You follow complex discussions easily, offer insights I would not have reached independently, and challenge me to think beyond my initial assumptions. These are qualities I admire.”
She blushed again, but she did not look away. “You are very generous in your assessment.”
