Page 17 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

He beamed and set the book on the table. “I thought she might enjoy something from the Netherfield library. Is that too much, do you think?”

Caroline said, “It might be premature, Charles. You do not yet know her.”

He thought it over, then shrugged. “I will mention it anyway. She can refuse if she likes.”

Louisa smiled. “She is too polite to refuse.”

Hurst set down his fork. “A wager, then. I say she accepts, and Darcy must deliver the book himself.”

Bingley laughed, delighted. “Done.”

Caroline said nothing, but saw the way Darcy’s hand hovered an instant over the book before he folded it back into place. It was not a large gesture, but she caught it.

The discussion turned to other matters: the parish news, the state of the hedgerow, the merits of local cheeses compared to those of Yorkshire. Hurst weighed in on the last with the gravity of a man who ate both in bulk.

Darcy withdrew into silence, the air around him colder than the morning’s chill.

Caroline watched him stare at a patch of sunlight on the table.

She fixed her gaze on Darcy as he turned a page of the newspaper he had not read, and allowed herself a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Chapter 7

CLOUDS COVERED THE sky, though the mist above the lane had thinned since first light.

The hedgerow bordering Longbourn and Netherfield ran in a wavering line, its hawthorn stems still marked by the breach where sheep had pressed through several days before. Elizabeth walked the lane with Sarah at her heel. The dog’s black and white coat looked clean in the flat morning light. The mud had dried along the edge, but the prints of hooves and the scuffed earth remained. Elizabeth examined the gap as she passed. The fallen fence board remained wedged across it, though the broken branches and churned sod showed where the sheep were forcing their way through.

At the spot where the hedge dipped to the ditch, Elizabeth paused beside a hawthorn trunk that leaned against the lowest fence rail. The air smelled of moss and damp wool as she pressed one hand to the bark and tested the rail with the other. Sarah waited beside her, watching her face, until Elizabeth felt both hold firm and straightened to brush the dirt from her skirt.

Sarah trotted forward, then paused, ears shifting. Elizabeth followed the dog’s attention up the lane and saw a figure on horseback, the Netherfield chestnut moving at a slow walk. Darcy sat motionless in the saddle. His coat was close cut, the color dark enough to be almost black. Even at this distance, the polish on his boots and the even shine of the horse’s mane caught her eye. He brought the horse forward at a walk, the reins in one hand. His posture matched what Elizabeth remembered from the Meryton assembly, but his gaze moved over Sarah, the broken hedge, and her beside it.

He drew up a few paces away, dismounted, and looped the reins over the gatepost. His boots met the ground with a quiet thud, and the mud did not mark them.

Elizabeth felt Sarah move to her side, then a pace ahead, her body low and expectant. When she said, “Here,” the dog halted. Darcy’s gaze moved from Sarah to Elizabeth’s face, then to her hands, loose at her sides.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” he said.

“Good morning.” She adjusted the cuff of her glove, exposing the roughness at her knuckles. “I see the Netherfield pastures survived their invasion.”

“They did.” Amusement entered his voice. “The only casualty was a length of hedge, and your dog made quick work of the rest.”

“Then I am glad the trespass was temporary.”

Sarah stepped in a half-circle, her nose to the ground. Darcy kept his eyes on the animal.

“She seems well trained,” he said. “What is her breeding?”

“Her parents came from working stock in Scotland. Mr. Hart kept the best pup from the litter for us.”

Darcy smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “She manages well. Some dogs need years to learn that sort of precision.”

“She required little teaching.” Elizabeth allowed the words to settle before adding, “When the work is clear, she manages without confusion.”

He studied her for a moment, then shifted his weight. “And when it is not?”

Elizabeth’s mouth turned, the ghost of a smile. “She finds some.”

Sarah, sensing the pause in conversation, came to heel and sat beside Elizabeth’s left boot. Darcy regarded the dog, then the woman, and seemed to find the resemblance worth noting.