Darcy was deep in his taciturn speculations when Elizabeth approached with a cup for him. He looked about and realized that, in his distraction, the refreshments had been served, and all the ladies of the house were bringing cups to their guests. He was gratified that Elizabeth had chosen to bring his herself. He had to press his lips together in an effort not to smile.
“Mr. Darcy, your tea.”
He could not help the slight upturn of his lips when he heard her voice while accepting the cup and saucer as he looked down at her. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”
He raised the cup to his lips to hide the smile that pulled at his mouth as he recognized she intended to stay near him instead of returning to the tea table to prepare another’s cup. His eyebrows rose only slightly upon tasting the tea and confirming it was prepared exactly as he liked it — with honey instead of sugar.
Was she indicating a preference for him by her continued presence and by her special preparation of his tea? She must be! And the idea thrilled him. Since leaving Hunsford, he had begun to suspect that she was indifferent, or worse, disinclined towards him. It had been a startling revelation that she might not have been expecting, with delighted anticipation, his addresses! This show of preference with the tea was highly gratifying — hopeful even — indicating a possible alteration of her affections.
He acknowledged her coy attentions to him by lowering his voice so others nearby would not hear. “Thank you for preparing my tea as I like it, Miss Elizabeth.”
The turn of her countenance from the blank expression she held to the steely set of her jaw was not what he had anticipated. He was slightly embarrassed and indeed disappointed when he heard her next words.
“Surely, you know that it is the responsibility of a lady to notice the preferences of her guests, Mr. Darcy.” Her tone was harsher perhaps than she intended, but Elizabeth was confused by his benign talk of tea. Moreover, she was still fuming at him for behaving so disagreeably on such a somber day.
She breathed slowly, realizing that if she allowed her anger to be noticed then she would not be able to manage what she wished. It still did not seem possible to her that Mr. Darcy might feel anything more than indifference for her despite some of his rather unsettling statements since leaving Hunsford. And he disdained her family and neighbors. It only pricked at her already volatile emotions that he could mock her accomplishments as a lady. Of course she knew how to entertain her guests!
Darcy hid his disappointment well and chastised himself for presuming more. Still he commiserated with her as she was obviously distressed. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth, you are the consummate hostess. It is especially meritorious in light of the difficult situation.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a few seconds as her heightened emotions abated. His gentle tone had diffused some of her frustration, and she remembered his benevolent and gracious manner towards her since encountering her at Hunsford. Her motive for bringing his tea had not changed; however, she believed she was under better regulation to go through with it now.
Darcy watched her eyes open and look up at him. He saw a fire in them and wondered at its source. Whatever it was, it made her eyes brilliant with passion. A single curl drew his attention. It was nearly escaping a pin at her temple and he yearned to pull it out and wrap it around his finger. He was so consumed in this delicious thought that he had not heard a word she had whispered.
When he had looked away from her eyes, she had gained the courage to whisper, “Mr. Darcy, I need to speak to you in private. If you are willing, I can meet you in the garden.” When he did not respond, she looked directly at him. His familiar stern gaze was boring into her. Elizabeth seethed as Mr. Darcy deliberated over her improper request with what looked like marked disapproval.
When his eyes returned to hers she cleared her throat and hissed through clenched teeth, “I can see that you disapprove, but I thought that under the unique circumstance . . . But indeed, it seems I am wrong. Forgive me for my presumption.”
Mr. Darcy furrowed his brow. What is she talking about? We were just discussing the tea. He hastened to correct her. “No, indeed, Miss Elizabeth, the tea is perfectly acceptable.” He said in confusion, and as if to prove it to her, he emptied his cup.
Fatigued by this frustrating man, Elizabeth dispassionately looked about the room, feigning the impression to anyone observing them, that their conversation was inconsequential. She spoke to him as her eyes wandered, “Mr. Darcy, sir, you do not need to dissemble. A simple decline of my request would have sufficed. I will trouble you no more then.”
Darcy was alarmed with her insolence and confused at her words. Request? He hastened to stop her and placed a gentle hand on her arm, just above her elbow. A current shot through his fingers at the feel of her bare arm. He swallowed.
Elizabeth tried to remain unaffected by the feel of his hand and the sensations running up and down her spine as a result of his touch. As she turned back to him, he released her.
He bent his head to her. “Request? Forgive me, but I heard no request. I confess I was woolgathering a moment ago . . . ” Darcy could see the skepticism in her face, and so he continued in a lower voice, “Please, Miss Elizabeth, will you not ask again? I assure you I have never been able to deny you anything you ventured to ask if it was in my power to grant it.”
Despite her frustration with him, or perhaps adding to it, she blushed. She absently rubbed the spot on her arm where he had touched her to dispel the heat still there. After a moment, she braved a look at him and nodded. “Sir, I wished to speak to you about a matter that cannot be discussed amongst so many people. I had asked if you might be willing to meet me in the garden for a moment.”
Breathe, man. Do not read too much into it. He was desperate to appear unaffected even as his heart raced. The garden. Alone with Elizabeth. Darcy took a deep breath as he returned her look. It was but a moment before he replied, “It will be as you wish, Miss Elizabeth. I will leave first if you like.”
With much relief, she said, “There is a set of stone benches behind the arbor on the north side of the house. I will meet you.”
He discretely nodded his head. Modulating her voice to a conversational level she said, “Mr. Darcy, sir, if you are finished with your tea, I will take that from you now.”
Mr. Darcy gave her a half smile. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” He handed her his saucer, careful not to brush his fingers with hers in the process.
She curtsied before she left him to deposit his cup. He spent a few minutes walking nonchalantly around the room, stopping briefly even to speak with Sir William Lucas. When he decided that enough time had elapsed, he excused himself from his present company and casually made his way towards the parlor door and out to the gardens.
* * *
He had very little trouble finding the benches she had indicated, and he was pleased to note that, although it was a small distance from the house, a large hedge obstructed its view of any windows. It was only after he had arrived at the bench and assessed its relative privacy that he allowed himself to imagine all kinds of contexts under which Elizabeth might plan this assignation. He knew from the tone of her voice during their exchange that she was not altogether pleased with him. Despite this knowledge, he could not help himself from dreaming more than believing that she wanted to acknowledge her awareness of his feelings and declare hers for him.
That happy fantasy was interrupted by the lady’s arrival a moment later.
Elizabeth was beginning to doubt the wisdom of such a venture. She knew it was one thing to encounter a gentleman by accident somewhere as happened in his study or the many walks at Rosings Park. It was quite another thing to seek out a private meeting. It was not like her to dispense with propriety, and if it were not for the importance of the topic she wished to discuss, she never would have considered it. Out of nervousness and habit, Elizabeth offered a curtsy, after which Darcy bowed.
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat when she began pacing. Well, this br
eech of propriety can only be added to the many things of which he disapproves about me. She sighed. The previous kindness he showed her at his home and his polite behavior throughout the week had made her want to esteem him. It bothered her that he might think ill of her, especially if caused by her own actions. And it bothered her that she was bothered by it! Add this to my book of sins, Mr. Darcy, she thought sadly.
“Miss Elizabeth, you wished to speak to me?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. Please, do be seated.”
He nodded and sat on one of the benches when she sat on the other. “Mr. Darcy, I recognize the impropriety of asking you to meet me here. No, please, do not argue. It is not proper for us to be here, and we both know it.”
Darcy wished to object again but instead nodded his head.
“If I thought we might have an opportunity to talk privately within company, then I certainly would have done so. As it is, with all the guests, I could not foresee such a possibility, and I did not know when you intended to return to Town. Indeed, I did not think you would have remained thus far.”
Darcy looked at her with an unreadable expression. “I wished to show my support for you . . . err . . . your family, by attending the funeral. I return to Town tomorrow.”
Elizabeth took in a deep breath. “Thank you for attending, though I do not know why you persist in putting yourself amongst company so disagreeable to you.”
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said in exasperation, “I do not find the company disagreeable.”
Elizabeth mistook that his frustration was for her speaking so bluntly, not with himself for understanding her accusation. As such, she spoke heatedly. “Oh, please, sir. Despite your kind manners this week, we both know how you find the society in Hertfordshire. We are already breaking with propriety by meeting together; you might as well drop the pretense and speak plainly. I certainly intend to.”
“Miss Elizabeth” — Darcy waited until she met his eyes — “I . . . I do not find the company here disagreeable . . . anymore. Is that plain enough for you?”
Elizabeth looked away, embarrassed to see that he spoke the truth and sorry to have made him admit his fault, especially considering the remorse clearly written on his face.
“But you stood just moments ago with a scowl on your face as you looked around at my friends and family,” she said softly without understanding the discord between his recent words and earlier behavior in the parlor.
“Did it not occur to you that a funeral would not bring to mind memories most unpleasant to me?” he answered with some truth. It had reminded him of his parents’ funerals; also, he did not want to discuss Wickham with her at that moment.
Elizabeth moaned. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, forgive me; I did not think.” She slipped to the edge of her bench and closer to where he sat on his and, without forethought, took his hand in hers. “I am sorry, indeed, truly repentant for presuming . . . ”
As much as Darcy relished his sudden possession of her hand and as much as he wished to keep it, he suspected she seized his hand without any intention of intimacy. Knowing she would be mortified as soon as she became aware of her actions, he gently removed her hand from his and placed it tenderly back on her lap.
“Please, Miss Elizabeth. It is of no consequence.” After a few awkward moments, he continued. “Is my behavior the matter you wished to discuss with me?”
“No . . . well, yes . . . but not entirely.” She stood up, causing him to stand. She could not prevent a small smile at his gentlemanly manners and sat down again so he could sit. She tried to formulate her thoughts. For her sister’s sake, she had risked his censure, breaching all propriety to discuss what he knew of Mr. Bingley’s intentions. She wanted to be prepared to care for Jane in the eventuality that he may abandon her again.
She looked at him and saw that he was standing again. “Mr. Darcy, please. You may sit, sir.”
He smirked a little. “I cannot if you will not, Miss Elizabeth.”
It was then she realized that she had stood again and had resumed pacing. She laughed a little and acknowledged he was correct. She returned to her seat, chuckling with him as he took his once again.
She bit her bottom lip as she hesitated. “Mr. Darcy, could you please tell me what Mr. Bingley is about in returning to the neighborhood?”
Darcy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What Mr. Bingley is about? He has come to show his support to your family.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I know that, sir. What I mean is, do you know whether he plans to stay in the neighborhood afterwards?”
Darcy was unsure what he ought to reveal about his friend’s private business regarding his affection for Miss Bennet and therefore was silent.
“Forgive me if I speak plainly of matters unpleasant to you, but I know about your actions last autumn regarding my sister and Mr. Bingley, and I wished to know whether I will have to guard her heart again from your friend.”
There was steel in her voice again that stabbed at his heart. How will she ever love me when I have hurt her so already? “Miss Elizabeth . . . ”
“No, Mr. Darcy, you may not deflect my question.” Impassioned, she continued. “For the sake of giving relief to my sister’s feelings, I care not how much I may be wounding yours. Is your friend a danger to my sister?” Although Elizabeth was filled with righteous anger, she finally felt relieved to be confronting him.
Darcy sighed. “I will tell you what I know if you will allow me to apologize for my hurtful and presumptuous actions last autumn.”
That he wished to apologize and appeared to regret his actions rendered her speechless, and she could only manage a weak nod.
“I was wrong, I admit, in acting to separate your sister from my friend. At the time, I did not think she had feelings for him, and I did not wish him to connect himself with someone who did not love him. I thought that your mother — forgive me, I can see that it pains you to hear it — had mercenary motives in the match. That I also wished to remove myself from Hertfordshire, I shall not deny, but not for the reasons you may assume.”
“What other reason could you have?” She was all curiosity. In the past few days, she found herself intrigued about the man who seemed so changed from before. I am only curious, she tried to convince herself.
His steady gaze caused her heart to beat rapidly, and a sensation she could not explain reminded her of similar feelings during her stay at his house in Town.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Can you not guess, Elizabeth?”
She barely managed to look away at his use of her Christian name. She felt discomfited and still could not fathom what he could mean by it. Recognizing her discomfort, he cleared his throat to address her with some composure.
“As for Bingley, I believe your sister is quite safe from him unless of course she would not welcome his attentions now . . . after both our actions last autumn.”
Elizabeth looked up. “I will not betray my sister’s confidence, but I believe that, if he is in earnest, then he will be most welcome in the neighborhood.”
“He is devoted to his mission, I assure you, and has only the most honorable of intentions,” he said with significance.
Elizabeth’s smile was bright and beautiful. It was the biggest smile he had seen grace her features since before Lydia’s death. His heart beat wildly, and he was lost to her all over again.
“I am pleased to hear it, sir.” Her smile faded. “He will have to wait, you know, as we are all in mourning. It would not be proper.”
“I know.” More than you know, Elizabeth!
Then a thought came to her, and she looked at him in horror. “Please do not think that any of us, that Jane, could ever forgo propriety in lieu of a chance for happiness!”
Darcy shook his head. “I could not think any of you capable of that. It would not be honorable for any man to be so indelicate as to ask that of a lady in mourning.” He paused, feeling his own conviction behind the
words. “Bingley will wait until it is proper and pay his addresses to your sister then — if it pleases her.”
Elizabeth was relieved at his assurances. Oddly, she felt more relieved that he did not think so ill of her family. Loath to interrupt their companionable silence, he was conscious they might be missed. “Have I satisfied you, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth startled but turned to him with a half smile. “Not quite; I have one more thing.” She reached below the bench to retrieve a small package wrapped in paper she had hidden earlier in the day. She handed it to him.
At the look of confusion on his face, she teased, “Oh do not be so missish, Mr. Darcy. I am only returning what is yours.”
He chuckled softly. “I shall not swoon at your gift, I assure you . . . ” my dear. “I was only . . . confused. And now a bit curious.” He raised an eyebrow at her as he turned the package in his hands.
She covered her mouth to hide her mirth. “Then you may as well open it.” Who knew Mr. Darcy had a sense of humor?
As he pulled at the hemp cords of the packaging, the paper fell away to reveal four freshly laundered and starched handkerchiefs with his initials on them and one with his sister’s. He laughed at the sight.
“I told you I was accumulating quite a pile. For the sake of our housekeeper and our linen closet, I found it imperative that I return them right away, sir.”
Darcy smiled at the mischief in her eyes. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I would not want to overwhelm your linen closet.” He found himself slightly disappointed that she had not kept even one. He had wanted to give her so much more than a few scraps of cloth — say, perhaps all his worldly goods.
“You can understand why I could not return them in front of my family.”
“I do.” He paused, considering for a moment. “I have a gift for you, too, Miss Elizabeth.”
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