“I am very honest in my assessment.” He rose, suddenly conscious that they had been conversing for some time whilst he remained in his banyan, she in her morning dress, the intimacy of the situation somehow more pronounced than it had been when they first woke. “I should prepare for the day. I promised Arthur I would review some documents before breakfast, and I am already unconscionably late.”
“Of course.” She stood as well. “I should go downstairs. Jane will wonder where I am.”
They moved to the door, reaching it at the same moment. Darcy’s hand closed over the handle as Elizabeth’s reached for it, their fingers brushing. Both froze.
“After you,” Darcy managed.
“Thank you.” She slipped past him into the corridor, close enough that he caught the scent of lavender from her hair, then paused and glanced at him. “I enjoyed our conversation regarding the estate and about your cousins’ misadventures. If you wish to discuss such matters again…I should like that.”
Her admittance pushed aside any lingering doubts about their marriage’s potential. Darcy grinned. “As would I. Very much indeed.”
She departed, leaving him standing in the doorway watching her retreat down the corridor. She turned a corner and disappeared from view. Only then did he step back into the room, closing the door as his mind turned over the events of the recent hours with wonder.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth
“You are positively glowing, Lizzy.”
Jane’s observation drew Elizabeth from her thoughts as they descended the main staircase together. The morning’s conversation with Fitzwilliam lingered in her mind, pleasant and impossible to ignore.
“Am I?” She touched her cheek, half-expecting to find it heated.
Jane’s own mouth curved with amusement. “You have been smiling to yourself for the past quarter hour. I take it your morning was agreeable?”
Agreeable seemed insufficient to describe the tentative intimacy that had developed over discussions of drainage systems and crop rotation. Fitzwilliam had praised her intelligence without qualification or condescension. He had called her insights valuable and looked at her in a way that showed that her thoughts mattered as much as her appearance—perhaps more.
It was so unlike the gentleman at Lucas Lodge who had treated her mind as a defect requiring correction. The memory rose unbidden, his patronising explanation that ladies ought to concern themselves with more appropriate topics and his suggestion that her cleverness was unfortunate rather than admirable.
Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, had said he admired that same quality greatly. He had spoken of benefiting from it throughout their marriage instead of seeing it as a burden.
The difference between those two conversations felt monumental. And the latter made her feel very good indeed.
“Very agreeable,” Elizabeth managed, aware that elaboration would reveal more than she wished examined even by Jane’s kind scrutiny. “My husband spoke to me regarding his Irish estate. He was accommodating in his explanations.”
Accommodating was another insufficient word. He had been patient, certainly. But more than that, he had spoken to her as he might speak to his steward or land agent, with the assumption that she could comprehend and contribute meaningfully to the discussion.
And when she suggested alternatives he had not considered, he had not bristled or become dismissive because the ideas came from a woman with no formal training in estate management. Instead, he had considered them seriously and acknowledged their merit with the sort of intellectual honesty she had rarely encountered.
Jane nodded in approval. “I am glad. You deserve such consideration.”
They reached the drawing room to discover the entire family already assembled, a minor miracle given Mrs Bennet’s usual inability to gather everyone efficiently. Even more remarkably, Mr Bennet occupied the chair nearest the fire, looking distinctly pleased with himself rather than resigned to enforced sociability.
“There you are!” Mrs Bennet’s voice carried triumph. “I was just telling everyone how I managed to extract your father from Lord Matlock’s library. It required considerable persuasion, I assure you.”
“Considerable nagging, you mean.” But Mr Bennet’s tone held fondness rather than complaint. “I must say, the library proved difficult to abandon. Lord Matlock possesses a remarkable collection of medieval manuscripts. We spent two hours this morning debating textual authenticity in early illuminated gospels.”
“How fascinating that must have been for you both,” Mary responded.
Mr Bennet nodded. “It was extraordinarily stimulating. His Lordship possesses both extensive knowledge and the wit to deploy it engagingly. I begin to understand why you chose to marry into this family, Lizzy. Anyone who maintains such a library deserves respect.”
“I am gratified my choice meets your bibliographic standards, Papa.”
Lydia giggled from her position in a corner, where she and Kitty had been examining fashion plates. “Oh, Lizzy married for the library. That’s quite a tale to tell!”
“I married for considerably more complex reasons than access to books,” Elizabeth replied. “However, I will admit the library presents a notable advantage.”
Mrs Bennet waved her hand dismissively. “Libraries, manuscripts, medieval gospels…honestly, the two of you woulddiscuss dusty pages all day given the opportunity. There are far more important matters to address.” She straightened in her chair, assuming the expression that inevitably preceded pronouncements of great maternal significance. “Specifically, the question of our departure.”
