He thought of where to go with Elizabeth. He had few options of where to take her on such short notice, and Elizabeth would be reluctant to be far from Sandra—or be alone with him at all.
Elizabeth had hiddenin her office and poured herself into work she had been avoiding, work that could have been done later, and work that others could have done. Accounts payable, social media, website update, staff meeting agenda—it was all better than coming across Darcy. She had to meet the bus soon, and she hoped Darcy was riding a horse or meeting a tenant or doing anything that took him far from Pemberley House.
Outside, she looked at her text messages and saw Jane still had not answered her from two weeks ago. Elizabeth sent a quick “How’s it going?” along with a Reel she thought would make her smile. Maybe in another month she would get an answer.
She walked past the garage and saw Darcy pull out the convertible with the top down. She swallowed a curse.
“May I drive you?” he called when he pulled up alongside her.
“No.” Part of her wanted to keep walking and force him to crawl along next to her, but that would be rude. “It’s silly to drive such a short way.”
“I am going in that direction, anyway.”
There was no need to pick a fight, but she wanted to hold on to her anger a little longer. Otherwise, they would talk in the car and he would apologise for his remark about sacrifice and she would accept it, but nothing between them would change.
While she deliberated, he said, “Please allow me to drive you in the curricle, Miss Bennet.”
He grinned, and a reluctant smile slipped out. She climbed in, remembering driving around Pemberley with Darcy in his nineteenth-century version of a sports car. She could drive to Lambton with him, but that didn’t mean she had to talk yet. Sandra would be with them in a few moments, and this wasn’t a discussion she could overhear.
After they left Pemberley, she realised Darcy had turned the wrong way. “Why are we headed to Bakewell? Are we picking up Sandra directly from school?”
“No, I asked Georgiana to meet her bus.”
She scoffed. “That means you had to actually talk to Georgiana.”
Darcy dipped his head in assent, keeping his eyes on the road. “I did, and I do have to have a conversation with her. But not yet,” he added heavily.
“What are you waiting for?” she muttered.
“To talk with you first.”
She might have asked “About what?” but she didn’t care to hear about it. They rode for a while longer before Darcyturned onto Bath Street and parked in the mews behind her old professor’s house. “What are we doing here? It’s an Airbnb now.”
“We are staying for the weekend.”
She gaped at him as they got out of the car. “Georgiana can’t watch Sandra for that long.” In 1826, with a house full of servants, she could certainly mind a sweet seven-year-old who adored her, but not in 2026. “She can scarcely boil water for tea.”
“Frank and Gwen will get Sandra in the morning,” Darcy interrupted calmly, “and tonight Sandra will help Georgiana to order all the takeaway she needs for a day and a half. Roland will check on her tomorrow as well.”
“And why are we here?” she asked sceptically, looking at the building where she had lived for months, caring for her ailing father. Then she lived there with Darcy as he recovered from diphtheria and waited for the stone circle portal to reopen on the equinox.
“Because I didn’t think you’d want to go to Edinburgh or London and be far from Sandra. I wasn’t even certain you would get in the car. And, because this is the last place you and I spent time together with no distractions. I intend to pay you a lot of attention.”
After giving her a piercing look, Darcy took his phone from his pocket and tossed it into the trunk as he pulled out a bag and shut the hood. A hot flush ran over her body. That was sexy.
Her husband whisked her away for a weekend, intending to concentrate on her. For a moment, she forgot her frustrations and that he hadn’t touched her in a week. But then reality, with parenthood, and a displaced sister, and his detachment, and all her doubts about being worth Darcy’s sacrifices came rushing back.
“What if Sandra?—”
“They have been told to call you. Besides, they know where we are and live eight minutes away.”
That was true, but she still was irritated how Darcy had been avoiding everyone. “You’ve been so busy lately. Do you even remember how to exist without the phone?”
He gave her a wry look at her sarcasm before walking toward the door. “Who is more accustomed to not having instantaneous answers and entertainment? I am better at communicating with pen and paper and being content with my own thoughts than you are.”
That was true, but she wasn’t about to admit it today. Inside, number two Bank House looked the same as when she rented it from Professor Gardiner fifteen years ago. It was spare but cosy, and not one thing had been updated. It still had the “God Save the Queen” pillow in front of the bricked-over fireplace.
“We had a significant opportunity to get to know one another better here,” he murmured, taking in the front room. “What did we do with all that free time, with no Pemberley House to manage, no child to raise?”
