Page 19 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

He nodded. “I will not detain you.”

Elizabeth clicked her tongue twice. Sarah followed at her heel as she walked the lane, her stride brisk but not hurried. She did not turn as she passed the bend and disappeared behind the hedgerow.

Darcy remained at the gate, the reins slack in his hand as they passed from sight. He did not mount the horse or move from the spot, but looked after Elizabeth, the line of his body unmoving as the dog’s figure receded into the gray of the morning.

When she was gone, he took a breath and glanced at the hedge again. The gap, though braced and fixed, was visible from where he stood, and the dog’s prints marked the fresh crust of mud.

He released the reins from the post, mounted, and rode away at a pace slower than he had arrived. The sky above remained overcast, holding its color and its silence.

Chapter 8

BY MID-MORNING, MERYTON was alive with the work of market day. Sun caught on the glass in the haberdasher’s windows and struck the bell above the bakery, where the line for bread reached past the door. A drayman heaved a barrel from the rear of the public house and rolled it across the ruts, his boots leaving bright prints in the last of the street’s dew. None of it mattered to Lydia, who stopped cold in front of a draper’s window, one gloved hand pressed against the glass, her body pitched forward and her bonnet ribbons still swinging.

She had spotted the officers at the far end of the street. They marched in a column, their cartridge boxes moving against their hips while a drummer followed behind. Lydia jabbed Kitty in the ribs.

“They are out for inspection,” she said, loud enough for the draper’s apprentice to look up from his bolts of ribbon. “I told you they would pass this way. It is the best street in Meryton.”

Kitty winced at the elbow but did not protest. She had edged around Lydia to secure a view of her own, and when the officers reached the top of the street, she exhaled like she had been holding her breath since breakfast.

Elizabeth stood a step apart, her face turned half-away from the parade. She watched the scene reflected in the window: the column, the girls at her side, and behind them, a thin veil of market smoke drifting from the fishmonger’s stall. Sarah waited at heel, one paw lifted, the tip of her tail never at rest.

“They will see you if you stand there,” Elizabeth said, without moving her mouth.

“That is the point,” Lydia replied. “We are not ghosts. I want them to notice us.”

She had arranged her hat to show more of her hair than propriety allowed, and the trimmed edge of her sleeve rested against the glass, flattening the fabric for display. Elizabeth knew what Lydia intended. She entered every room expecting an audience and treated the street the same way.

Kitty leaned forward as the officers advanced. Their navy and red uniforms stood out against the crowd, and even the older women at the market turned to watch. The officer at the head of the column was young and compact, with a sharp jaw and dark hair beneath his cap.

Lydia called to them with a wave that bordered on the heroic, and the column broke rhythm for half a step.

“They saw you,” Kitty hissed.

“They saw all of us,” Lydia said. “But you will never catch an officer’s eye from behind me.”

Kitty pulled her hand from her mouth and laughed, but she did not take her eyes from the officers.

The column reached the bakery and divided at the curve in the street. The blond officer touched two fingers to his cap, and Lydia returned the gesture with an enthusiastic wave. Nearby, market women laughed, and the butcher’s boy nearly dropped his basket while watching her. As the officers reformed in front of the inn and took their places along the curb, the drum and boots faded.

“I told you,” Lydia said, breathless. “They always end up at the public house.”

Kitty turned from the glass. “Should we go down? We could see them better.”

“There is nothing to see from here,” Lydia said, and moved off at a pace that made her skirts snap. Kitty followed, and Elizabeth, seeing no point in stopping them, released Sarah with a word.

The inn had emptied its regulars for the parade. In the doorway, the landlord stood with his arms folded while a knot of old men sat on the benches outside. On the flagstones, the officers formed a straight line and waited.

Lydia made for the front of the line, her steps light but her purpose fixed.

The blond officer noticed them first. He shifted his weight, glanced at the senior man, then smiled.

Lydia stopped close enough for the officers to smell her perfume. She waited for the right moment, then said, “Was the inspection dreadful, Lieutenant?”

His gaze lingered before returning to her face. “Nothing dreadful at all, miss. It is the reward for a week’s hard work.”

Lydia giggled, the sound cutting straight to the landlord, who rolled his eyes and spat on the step.

The dark-haired senior officer tilted his head at the exchange but did not smile. Lydia recognized this as the cue to favor the other, and so she did, leaning in with a whisper that was anything but private.