Again, they strolled without speaking. He wanted to tell her that everything she had ever told him was securely locked into his memory. How often had he sought comfort in their past, the all too brief period they had enjoyed when they were happy! Elizabeth next broke the silence.
“It is very beautiful here, and I have always found that the world seems brighter, the air fresher after a heavy rain. I might not like the rain because it stops me from going out as I would like, but apart from recognising the necessity of such weather, I truly do appreciate how it…I am not sure of the best word to use. Perhaps restores or rejuvenates the world.”
He made a noise that signified agreement, at first feeling too much to respond properly. Her comment was like one she would have made before he disappointed her, and it gave him hope at the same time that it emphasised how much he had lost. She was sharing a piece of herself, and listening to her observations and thoughts had always enticed him.
“I cannot claim I appreciate winter storms, but I understand what you mean about summer ones,” Darcy said at length. He chuckled. “Once, when Bramwell and Fitzwilliam were staying here, there was a mighty storm, and we sneaked out of the nursery to run about in it. I must have been seven or eight years old. It had been so hot for days, and it only began to rain after nightfall. I have no notion what time it was when Fitzwilliam woke me, but he and Bramwell wanted to go out of doors, and I thought it was an excellent idea.”
She laughed and covered her mouth with a hand. “Did you? Were you discovered?”
“Oh yes, and our parents wereverydispleased. My father and the earl went on and on about the danger we had put ourselves in, and I do not know what else. By that time, I was too tired to really listen—to say nothing of uncomfortable, given I was drenched and my feet and legs were covered with mud.”
“I see how it is,” she said. “When I have a little bit of mud on my skirts because I dared to walk to Netherfield to tend my ill sister, I am judged, but it is perfectly acceptable foryou?—”
“I was a child!” he interjected.
Elizabeth had stopped walking. Her eyes danced, and one of her fingers was pointed in his direction. By instinct, he grabbed it and kept her hand in his. It was such a small thing, this interlude in which he told a silly story of his past, but they had spent so much of her time in Derbyshire the previous summer doing just that. It had allowed them to grow closer, to know more about each other, and, oh, how he wanted that feeling again!
They stood where they were, their eyes fixed upon each other’s. Her chest began to rise and fall quickly, and her lips were parted. If he dared, Darcy would kiss her. He believed she would let him, but foreseeing she would later regret it, he did not. What he did permit himself, however, was to caress her cheek, feel her warmth and the shape of her beloved visage. Her eyes closed, and she gently sighed.
Soon, they had no choice but to return to the house. As they walked, Elizabeth kept her arm wrapped around his, only removing it when they were within sight of the manor.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Elizabeth and the Bingleys left to view the second estate the following morning. Georgiana kept to her apartment or the music room and was always in company with Mrs Annesley. While they and Darcy took refreshments together after noon, he asked his sister if she would take a walk with him. She shook her head, maintaining a silence that had lasted all day—at least in his presence. He supposed it was her way of telling him how displeased she was that he had allowed Elizabeth to come to Pemberley. She might even have spied the two of them walking together the day before; after all, her apartment overlooked the gardens in which they had been.
Bingley’s enthusiasm for the estate, named Larch Lane, was evident from the moment he, his wife, and his sister returned.
“It is perfect, Darcy, absolutely perfect!” he continued to exclaim at dinner. “Is it not, my dear? Lizzy, I know you agree with me, if only because of the number of trees and rocks wesaw.” He began to describe Larch Lane’s manor and grounds, which to Darcy sounded exactly as they should be.
“Were you as pleased with it as your husband,” Darcy asked Mrs Bingley in an effort to encourage his friend to eat, lest the meal last until the next morning.
She smiled, reminding Darcy that he had once believed she smiled too much. He still thought it was true, but he no longer criticised her for it. She was simply a kindly lady who preferred to see the best in the world. He was glad for Elizabeth that she had such a sister.
“I was. We have seen many estates since leaving town, and this is the first one I felt could be our home.”
“You did too, did you not, Lizzy?” Before she could respond, Bingley continued, directing his remarks to Georgiana. “Although she has not yet actually agreed to it, Jane and I expect Lizzy to make her home with us. That is, until she is claimed by a worthy gentleman, which I suppose means it will not be for all that long!”
“Bingley…” Pink covered Mrs Bingley’s cheeks, and she looked between him, her sister, and Darcy, her expression suggesting she wished she could make his words unsaid.
Or perhaps it is only that I wish I had not heard them.
Bingley grimaced good-humouredly by way of apologising. “It is only sixteen miles from Pemberley, and the road is good. Would that not be something, Darcy? You and I settled so close to each other! Jane and I agree it is a distinct advantage of this estate, to know we have you nearby, and we have other friends not so far away. I do not recall whether I mentioned it, but we stopped in Northamptonshire and spent a week with my friend Grey.” He looked first at Mrs Bingley, then Elizabeth, saying, “The drive was very easy, was it not? It took hardly any time.”
“The roads were very good,” Mrs Bingley said, and Darcy saw her eyes dart to her sister.
“It took two days, Bingley,” Elizabeth said, but Bingley spoke on, evidently not hearing her.
“Graystone—Grey’s estate, you know—is a fine one. Very comfortable. Do you not agree, Lizzy?”
He winked at her, and she responded with a brief, hesitant smile. Fortunately, before Darcy was tempted to strangle him, Mrs Bingley spoke.
“Ought you not to attend to your dinner, my dear? After so long in the carriage, I hoped you would take me to view the gardens afterwards. I would hate for it to be too dark when the meal ends.”
Her husband agreed at once, and nothing more was said about estates, apart from Bingley requesting Darcy accompany him to Larch Lane in two days’ time to give his opinion of it.
“If it is not an inconvenience, Jane, Lizzy, and I shall extend our visit a little longer, Miss Darcy. If it is, we shall find an inn nearby.”
“Not at all,” Darcy said before Georgiana had the opportunity to respond—if she intended to, which was doubtful. “My sister and I are happy to have you remain for as long as your business keeps you in the neighbourhood.”
