“That is the piece of news I like best, Mr Darcy. I confess I still worry somewhat about how easily Mr Bingley allows himself to be influenced by others and by circumstances.”
“You need not worry. It may sound as though I am attempting to excuse myself, but these past months have changed him greatly. The gentleman who stands before you now is not the same man who left Hertfordshire. Believe me.”
She was already inclined to believe him. Indeed, she found herself dangerously inclined to believe almost anything he chose to say.
“We do not appear to be heading towards the stables,” he observed as some of his confidence and humour returned.
“No.”
“Still afraid of horses?”
“Yes, Mr Darcy,” she replied mischievously, which made him smile.
“Well, Miss Elizabeth,weshall have to remedy that.”
The intimacy of those few words made her blush with pleasure. Left to herself, she would never attempt to overcome her fear. Yet the prospect seemed far less impossible if approached together.
“You sound exactly like Uncle Thomas,” she said with mock reproach.
“Yes, because we think alike. The horse is a man’s best friend.”
“A man’s, perhaps. Not a woman’s.”
“I expressed myself badly. A horse is a person’s best friend, whether man or woman.”
“I find that difficult to accept. A horse nearly killed me when I was a child.”
“I am very sorry to hear it.”
For one alarming instant, she thought he might take her into his arms as he moved towards her. Instead, to her secret disappointment, he stopped and merely offered her his arm.
She accepted, and for a long while neither spoke, each content simply to enjoy the other’s closeness.
Perhaps it is the heat, Elizabeth thought, feeling her heart beating wildly. Yet it was already afternoon, and she was accustomed to taking long walks even at noon when the sun stood directly overhead.
Darcy had no such doubts. He knew perfectly well what his excitement meant. He had known the answer long beforetheir meeting in Kent and required no further confirmation. Unlike Bingley, however, he did not dare ask the question again.
“You said that only yesterday you learned of Bingley’s intention to travel to Hertfordshire?”
“Yes.”
The answer was truthful, as he always was. He was not attempting to draw a similar confession from her. Elizabeth, however, found herself in a playful mood. She was not yet ready to answer the question he longed to ask, nor did she wish to drive him away.
“A rather hasty decision,” she said with a smile.
“Intrepid rather than hasty,” he replied, searching her eyes. Then, anxious to escape the force of feelings threatening to sweep away the last remnants of his composure, he added, “Do you intend to come to London?”
“Yes, perhaps even next week. Our uncle has some business to attend to, and he has invited us to spend a few days with him.”
It was the answer he wished to hear. More than anything, he wanted to transform their tentative truce into a lasting peace.
“And where do you intend to stay?” he asked, already prepared to invite her entire family to Pemberley House if necessary.
Elizabeth hesitated. She was on the point of answering that they would stay with her uncle Gardiner, but decided against it. Mr Darcy would discover the truth soon enough.
“We are staying with the Duchess of Beauford—”
“No!” His astonishment was so genuine that Elizabeth stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face him.
