“Miss Bennet,” said Bingley after a time, “I wonder if you would consent to walk out with me.”
Bingley offered her his typical grin. “The season is late, but it is a fine day out of doors. My friend and your sister could accompany us.”
It was a transparent attempt to gain a little time with at least a modicum of privacy for them, and Miss Bennet did not hesitate. Her mother was enthusiastic in her approval of the idea, bringing back to Darcy’s mind the woman he had always thought she was.
“Thank you,” said Mary, when Mr. Bingley asked if she would accompany them, more out of politeness than any wish for her company, “but I think I shall remain indoors today. Lizzy and Jane are the walkers of the family.”
Even better, the youngest girls also begged off, but they had been speaking in whispers since Darcy and Bingley arrived. From the few words he had overheard, words such as “officers” and “handsome,” he knew they were amused as they were. Not for the first time, Darcy wondered why Mr. Bennet did not insist on decorum—the girls had far too much interest in militia officers for their age.
Outside, the air was calm and crisp, a blessing as any wind would have made it uncomfortable. The trees were bare of their summer bounty, the grass shriveled and brown, and the sun was a bright orb that gave little warmth. The solstice would be on them before they knew it, bringing with it the long, dreary months of winter.
When they walked out, Bingley and Miss Bennet led the way on a path which appeared well-traveled and familiar to the Bennet ladies, while Darcy followed with Miss Elizabeth. Darcy did not offer his arm, and Miss Elizabeth did not appear to require support. As such, Darcy walked behind the pair in front of them, keeping his attention on his friend and his ill-advised courtship, while paying only minimal attention to Miss Elizabeth. Darcy preferred it that way—the almost overwhelming interest from which he had fled in November had not quite dissipated as it ought.
In time, Miss Bennet led them to a break in the trees that overlooked farmland to the east, and Darcy realized it was Netherfield’s lands spread out below them. They stopped for a time there, enjoying the view, and though Darcy considered Derbyshire superior, he could not but own that Hertfordshire had its own form of beauty.
“Well, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bingley, turning to Darcy’s nominal companion, “Miss Bennet tells me that this is one of your favorite views.”
“It is,” agreed Miss Elizabeth.
“You know more about these lands than most others,” observed Darcy, surprising himself by speaking. “As I recall, you walked three miles to Netherfield to tend to Miss Bennet when she fell ill.”
When Miss Elizabeth turned to him, Darcy saw her speculative look. “I enjoy walking, Mr. Darcy,” was her simple reply.
“Then perhaps I should engage you to guide me to the best views,” replied Bingley with his boyish enthusiasm. “I dare say there are places that no one else in the district knows.”
Miss Elizabeth’s laugh was light and amused. “That is not a claim I will make, Mr. Bingley. It would be my pleasure tointroduce you to what I know, but perhaps we should wait until spring.”
“That would be for the best,” agreed Bingley. Then he turned back to the view spread out before them. “I believe the house is just beyond that strand of trees.”
“It is,” agreed Miss Elizabeth, following his outstretched hand. “If we continue along this path, there is another place that shows the perfect image of the house. It is a little further than we should walk today.”
“Then we shall see it in the spring,” declared Bingley.
Darcy ignored his friend, instead looking to Miss Elizabeth. “I did not know you walked so extensively, Miss Elizabeth.”
When she arched a brow at him, Darcy amended: “Your walk to Netherfield proved you were capable; I suppose I never considered the extent of it.”
“I am fond of walking, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. “Even my father would confess that I know Longbourn better than he does himself.”
That was not a boast, but it firmed certain suspicions Darcy had about the estate’s master. There was no reason to raise such subjects, so Darcy allowed the comment to pass.
After a few moments admiring the view, they turned away and began walking again, taking a branch soon after that Miss Elizabeth told them would lead back to the house. It was for the best, for even with the fine weather, it was too cold to walk long, especially with the ladies’ dresses, even covered by long pelisses. Darcy wanted nothing more than to end this visit and return to Netherfield—he had certain observations to make to Bingley, and though he did not think he would persuade his friend at once, he had some notion of Bingley learning the truth in stages. Perhaps he could yet extricate his friend from this madness of the Bennets.
AS ELIZABETH WALKEDwith Mr. Darcy, she saw something of his continued interest in Jane and Mr. Bingley, and she did not think she was incorrect in suspecting him of disapproval. What he meant to do about it, however, was another subject altogether.
Mr. Darcy was, she had determined almost from the start, an unpleasant sort of man, haughty and proud, and not inclined to give consequence to anyone who did not meet his lofty standards. That the Bennets of Hertfordshire were among that ilk was curious, considering he counted the son of a tradesman and his family good enough for his sensibilities.
Yet Elizabeth had never thought Mr. Darcy was untruthful or immoral—sometimes she suspected that his perception of such things was faulty, but she did not dispute his rigid adherence to his moral code. Thus, she did not think he would descend to untruth to pull his friend away from Mr. Bingley. The question, then, was how he meant to accomplish it. Mr. Bingley’s return in clear defiance of his friend and family’s expectations showed far more fortitude than Mr. Darcy likely appreciated—it would take an extraordinary measure of persuasion to bend him to Mr. Darcy’s way of thinking.
To counter it, Elizabeth knew she needed more information. That was why she began to speak to him, not from any desire to converse with the disagreeable man.
“Your coming to Hertfordshire was curiously timed, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth felt the weight of Mr. Darcy’s gaze upon her. “In what way?”
“I should think it is obvious.” Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy’s look, summoning her courage. “Did you not arrive only a few days after Mr. Bingley? He appeared quite certain that he would remain alone at Netherfield.”
Mr. Darcy appeared to consider this. “When I arrived, Bingley appeared sanguine with my appearance—he expected it.”
