Page 41 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Elizabeth shook her head. “You made the afternoon more than tolerable.”

Mary said, “It is always interesting to see former friends meet.”

Wickham did not smile, but he dipped his head. “You remind me of my better nature, Miss Mary. I hope to see you both again soon.”

He bowed and turned back toward the regiment. Elizabeth and Mary resumed their walk, neither speaking until they had gone some distance.

Elizabeth said, “He has all the composure Mr. Darcy lacks, and twice the wit. I cannot see how anyone prefers the one to the other.”

Mary, who had been thinking, said, “It is possible to be both amiable and insincere.”

Elizabeth answered, “You are determined to find fault with everyone.”

“No, only to keep in mind that not all cleverness is for good,” Mary said.

Elizabeth smiled, not offended. “You sound like a sermon.”

Mary shrugged. “I prefer a sermon to a mistake one cannot correct.”

Elizabeth laughed, and their talk moved to new subjects.

The market square grew quieter as the afternoon passed. By the time they reached the last turning, the encounter on the street was already gossip in half the shops.

Chapter 15

THE SHEEP DISCOVERED the open gate before Elizabeth. By the time she reached the lower lane, six of them had pressed through the gap and spread themselves along the verge, cropping the new grass. A seventh stood halfway through the gate, then backed into the field.

Sarah stopped ten yards from the flock, head low, body still, and her eyes fixed on the nearest ewe.

“Stay,” Elizabeth said.

One ear turned toward her.

The gate had sagged during the wet weather, pulling one hinge loose from the post and leaving the lower rail to drag against the earth whenever it opened. The men had set it upright two days before, but no one had fitted the new latch. A loop of rope served in its place, but it was hanging loose.

Elizabeth caught the seventh sheep by the wool at its shoulder and pushed it back into the field. The ewe objected with a harsh complaint, planted all four feet, and then yielded at once when Sarah shifted half a pace to the left.

“You might pretend I am helping,” Elizabeth said, but Sarah continued to watch the flock.

The lane narrowed at the gate, with a bank on one side and a wet ditch on the other. The sheep had spread too far to bring back one at a time, and the brambles left Sarah little room to work.

Fetching help would mean admitting that six sheep had defeated both her and the best dog at Longbourn.

“Come by,” she said.

Sarah moved in a swift curve, keeping low along the lane. The nearest ewe raised its head, another followed, and for a moment the flock seemed as though it might gather.

Elizabeth straightened as hoofbeats sounded beyond the bend.

The sheep heard them a breath later, one crowding toward the ditch while two moved up the lane. The sixth stared at the approaching horse.

“Lie down.”

Sarah dropped at once.

The rider came into view before Elizabeth could decide how best to clear the lane. She recognized Mr. Darcy, seated on his dark horse with the ease of someone who spent as much time in the saddle as out of it. He checked the animal when he saw her, but the horse had already caught sight of the sheep.

Its head rose, and it pulled against the bit.