6thNovember 1811
Oakham Mount
Elizabeth
Elizabeth had not expected solitude during her walk that morning. She had hoped, in fact, for the opposite, though she would not have admitted it to anyone, including herself. When she reached the crest of the mount and found Darcy already there, seated upon the same fallen log on which she had found him before, looking out across the valley.
He turned at the sound of her approach and rose.
"Miss Elizabeth."
"Mr. Darcy." She nodded towards the log. "Pray, do not rise on my account."
He did so nevertheless, and only resumed his seat when she took her place beside him, to his right, though Elizabeth ensured there was sufficient distance between them for propriety's sake.
His countenance appeared improved from the previous day, though there remained a shadow beneath it.
"You appear more yourself this morning," Elizabeth said before she could stop herself.
He turned and grimaced slightly. "Do I?"
"You do." Elizabeth nodded. "Yesterday evening, you appeared troubled. Distracted, somehow."
His expression shifted into something faintly resembling a smile. "I received some news yesterday that was not entirely welcome." Elizabeth noticed he chose the words carefully. "The matter is already in hand."
Elizabeth nodded. She did not press him. He appeared to notice this, and something in him eased.
They looked out across the valley together.
"You enjoy the view," Elizabeth said at length.
"I did not know I should come to like Hertfordshire as much as I do," Darcy replied. He said it simply, without self-consciousness, as though it were merely a fact he had recently discovered.
Elizabeth regarded him with interest. "What do you find agreeable about it?"
He considered the question seriously. "It is unpretentious," he said. "The country does not announce itself. It simply is what it is, and one finds oneself pleasantly surprised by it."
"That is rather a fine description," Elizabeth said. "Though I confess I have never thought to describe it at all. It is simply home."
"That may be precisely why you have never needed to."
She glanced at him. "And Derbyshire? How does it compare?"
"Favourably," he said, with a gravity she was now fairly certain concealed amusement. "Though I admit I am not entirely impartial."
"No," she agreed. "I have observed that people rarely are where their home counties are concerned." She paused. "Georgiana speaks of Pemberley as though it were the finest place in England."
"It is the finest place in England."
Elizabeth laughed. "There it is."
"I stand by it."
"I am sure you do." She folded her hands in her lap. "She described it to me at some length yesterday. The grounds, the river, the library." She chuckled, remembering the smile on Georgiana’s face as she described it. "She spoke of the library at considerable length."
"Georgiana has good taste."
"She said the same of yours. That you read everything and remember most of it, and are insufferably well informed as a result."
