“People will talk,” she warned.
“And I will be forced to marry you?” he teased. “Such a terrible punishment.”
Her smile flickered, and he apologised. “I do not wish you to lose the option of choosing your own future,” he added, “and although a truly terrible part of me wishes to hurry you to my way of thinking, the larger part insists that you must have time and freedom of thought.”
“Thank you,” she said. They took several more steps before she said, “Actually, Mr Goulding’s conversation has always been quite dull, even when he was telling me of his trip to Ireland and Scotland, so I will say yes to your request for the supper dance.”
“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” The footpath they were following narrowed, and he conferred with Elizabeth and decided to leave his horse in a small meadow, tying the reins on a branch of a willow tree where Atlas could nibble on the bark and on nearby dried bramble canes. As they resumed their walk along the footpath, Darcy said, “I do not see how talk of Ireland and Scotland could be at all dull.”
“Well, sir, if you think it interesting to rattle off the names of every distillery and brewery he visited, I give you leave, but telling me, ‘In Dublin we went to the Bow Street Distillery, and the John-something and then the Thomas-something-else Distilleries, but our very favourite was the spirits we had at the…Marrowbone’? Could that really have been the name? It sounded quite anatomical, for a distillery, but still quite tedious.”
“No mention of Trinity College, Ashton and Dublin Castle, Glendalough?”
“Not even a little bit. Please tell me which sights you enjoyed!”
And Darcy did. He spoke of the cobblestone quadrangles of Trinity College, and especially that college’s Old Library, with the famed Book of Kells. He described the overgrown church, cathedral, tower, and graveyard of Glendalough, studded with Celtic crosses and imbued with an ancient atmosphere. He mentioned a renovated chapel, a thirteenth-century tower, and a blind harper instructing boys at the Dublin Harp Society.
“I knew that Dublin must have something to recommend itself, other than distilleries!” Elizabeth sighed happily, adding, “I love the way you can speak so easily about your travels, even though, when I first met you, you could barely speak at all.”
He chuckled. “I said ‘good morning.’ I told you my name, and I informed you that Bingley had just stepped out of the room for a few minutes.”
“Indeed you did, sir, and I suppose I should acknowledge that, under the unique circumstances, you did quite well. However, when I asked if you could show me to my sister, you said, ‘Certainly,’ and then you walked one way. Then you changed your mind and said, ‘I do not actually know…’ and you walked the other way without even telling me what it was you did not know. I have been wondering ever since….”
“You know very well the things I did not know that morning. Which room your sister was convalescing in was one of my most obvious areas of ignorance. I also did not know what it was I felt as I saw your mud-encrusted dress, your glowing cheeks, and your sparkling eyes. I did not know how to cope with a missing host and a beautiful stranger to whom I had not been introduced. I even forgot how to swallow, speak, or breathe. Take your pick, madam—that day many sorts of ignorance were laid before you for your entertainment.”
At that moment, they reached their destination. Darcy was surprised at the size and depth of the pool, given that the creek was not even large enough to qualify as a stream. One edge of the pool had frozen overnight, but he felt certain that the jostling of the water entering and, eventually, leaving the pool would soon break the thin ice crust.
They perched on the boulders near the pool, but only for a minute. It was simply too cold to sit or stand; they began to retrace their steps to Atlas and then back to the large paths and, eventually, the road.
Darcy was pleased to feel so comfortable with the long stretch of silence. Hoping Elizabeth felt the same, he dared to ask, “Do you feel as easy as I do with both our conversations and our silences?”
She nodded. “It is one of the first things I noticed about you: it is as pleasant to be quiet in your company as it is to converse. The only other person I feel this comfortable with is Jane.”
“For me,” Darcy said, “it is my cousin Richard. But I do not spend as much of the quiet times I am with him wishing to kiss him.”
The laughter bubbling out of Elizabeth’s mouth was very reminiscent of the chuckling sound of the creek running over rocks, and Darcy bowed over her hand, kissing it reverently, even as she laughed.
When Darcy and Bingley called that day, Bingley was delighted that Jane was well enough to be downstairs. Sitting by the fire with her needlework, Jane smiled warmly at him, and after he hurried to acknowledge the rest of the family, Bingley sat near her, and they began to talk. It had been several days since they had been able to visit, Darcy knew, even though she had been residing in Bingley’s house. Although Darcy had yet to exchange more than greetings with the lady, and he hoped to better know the sister who was closest to his love, he was glad to see the two of them so eager to speak.
Darcy sat near Elizabeth and, at her prompting, started to tell her about a small Darcy-owned estate, named Kiltullagh-on-Tweed, which was located in Scottish Borders. The family had used it for more than a century as a vacation home. He detailed the rolling hills and woodlands of the area. He was explaining about the horseshoe-bend of the River Tweed that almost surrounded the estate when Mrs Hill came to the parlour door to announce, “Mr Goulding.”
Everyone nodded as Mr Goulding entered. His eyes widened at the sight of Darcy sitting next to Elizabeth, but he politely acknowledged everyone with a bow and acted everything proper when he was introduced to Darcy.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Goulding said, “you look especially lovely today.”
“Thank you, Mr Goulding.” Elizabeth smiled and said, “Why do you not sit opposite of Mr Darcy and myself? Mr Darcy was just explaining about a small estate he owns in Scotland. It sounds lovely.”
Goulding’s eyebrows shot up. “I was recently in Scotland, sir. Where is your estate?”
“It is near Peebles.”
“I do not recall such a town.”
“It is roughly five and twenty miles south of Edinburgh.”
“Ah, I definitely visited Edinburgh. What a mix of elegant society and malodorous rabble!”
“Might not those words also describe London?”
