“Entirely,” Darcy said. “Bingley does not love by halves.”
She met his gaze, her heart quickening at something unspoken. The moment did not last.
“We have determined,” Lydia announced as she burst into the room, “that the weather is warm enough to justify a picnic.”
Mrs. Bennet brightened. “A picnic? In the little wilderness?”
“It would be delightful,” Kitty said.
Mary added, “There would be shade from the evergreens if it grows too warm.”
Miss Bingley lifted her brows. “To dine outdoors like rustics seems a singular amusement.”
Elizabeth had scarcely turned toward her before Georgiana spoke.
“We often have picnics at Pemberley.”
The room shifted. Darcy leaned slightly toward Elizabeth. “Brava.” Elizabeth smiled despite herself.
Plans began at once. Lydia spoke of cakes and pastries, Kitty of tea and scones. Mary volunteered to see that everyone had rugs and cushions for comfort. Mrs. Bennet called for Hill to help with the arrangements. Georgiana joined in with growing confidence. The date was set for two days’ hence.
Elizabeth listened, the earlier disturbance in her thoughts softened, though not gone.
When she glanced toward Darcy, she found his attention upon her. She looked away first. Still, the warmth remained.
And as the room settled into smaller conversations and ordinary concerns, Elizabeth was left with the uneasy certainty that something within her had shifted—not violently, not painfully, but in a way that could not easily be undone.
The press of conversation within the drawing room did not long contain them.
It was Lydia who first declared that the air must be enjoyed while it remained so agreeable, and Kitty seconded the notion with such enthusiasm that even Mrs. Bennet, who might otherwise have insisted upon the comforts of indoors, was persuaded. Shawls were fetched, bonnets adjusted, and in a matter of minutes the party found itself moving out toward the grounds, their voices carrying lightly across the gravel as they walked.
Elizabeth stepped onto the path, her hand resting upon her walking stick, her attention settling as it always did once she crossed the threshold into open air. The light was brighter than it had been earlier, though not so harsh as to cause immediatediscomfort. She angled her face slightly, adjusting to it, and allowed herself a moment to take in the warmth upon her skin.
Mr. Darcy fell into step beside her without ceremony. “Do you often walk here?” he asked.
Elizabeth inclined her head. “When the weather permits it. The paths are familiar, which makes them preferable.”
“And unfamiliar ones?”
She smiled faintly. “Require more patience.” She did not inform him she knew all the paths around Longbourn by heart.
Darcy glanced at the ground before them, then back toward her. “You do not lack for it.”
“I have had reason to cultivate it.” There was no bitterness in her tone, only acknowledgment. The group moved ahead in small clusters, Lydia, Kitty, and Mary leading Miss Darcy with lively conversation, while Mr. and Mrs. Hurst followed at a more measured pace. Mr. Bingley remained near Jane, his attention as fixed as ever.
Miss Bingley, however, did not remain where she had been.
She appeared at Elizabeth’s other side with a brightness that did not reach her eyes. “Miss Bennet, you must tell me—does the air here always agree so well with visitors, or have we been particularly fortunate?”
Elizabeth was forced to turn her head at an uncomfortable angle to see her. “I believe Hertfordshire does its best to oblige.”
Miss Bingley gave a small laugh. “How fortunate for us.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted.
“Miss Bingley,” Lydia called suddenly from ahead, her tone bright with purpose. “You must tell us where you had your gown made. I have never seen such trimming before.”
Kitty added at once, “It is very fine. Is it London work?”
Miss Bingley hesitated only a moment before turning toward them, clearly pleased by the attention despite herself. “It is, indeed.”
