Page 8 of The Heir and Spare
“Naturally.” He winked. “But with poetry, it is surely a stout way to douse love rather than enliven it, don’t you agree?”
She tipped her head. “I do indeed. Though it is a rare person who agrees with me.”
Mr. Darcy frowned. “Isn’t poetry the stuff of which love is fanned and flamed?”
“Of a stout love, perhaps. But any paltry beginning love will surely be stifled and find it too disagreeable a diversion as to alienate both parties.”
His brow furrowed. “So, we should halt before we begin?”
“That depends, Mr. Darcy. How sturdy is our love?”
His mouth dropped and his face drained of color. “Pardon me?”
But Elizabeth laughed until she coughed. “Oh, Mr. Darcy. I am merely teasing. I have no inclination of a love between us. I am merely attempting to make this seem less awkward. Am I failing terribly?”
His face was a charming rosy color which she never imagined to ever see on Mr. Darcy, but he nodded as if attempting to gain control again of his emotions. “We shall persevere, Miss Elizabeth, and find that perhaps I am handsome enough toovercome whatever weakness the Bard might bring to our young and fragile friendship?”
She felt herself bristle and before she could stop herself from responding said, “Handsome enough? You may well be. But what is handsome enough to tempt you, Mr. Darcy?”
His brow lowered. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Perhaps my wit is not as worthy to follow?” His confusion was a puzzle to her. Had he no memory of her really? They’d not mentioned yet their previous knowledge of one another. Was she so inconsequential that he’d forgotten her altogether?
“Handsome enough to tempt me?” He searched her face for some elusive answer to the questions he obviously had. “I suppose there might be many things…” He stumbled over the words. “What about you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I find the whole concept to be entirely too prideful in nature. Who deems people worthy of dancing, or handsome enough for attention.” She frowned and looked away. Suddenly all the previous ease they’d had, all the fun in smiles and flirtatious ground they’d gained fizzled away in the memory of his insult. And to think she’d not been handsome enough to even be remembered. She turned away. “Perhaps we should take turns reading it? You can go first and choose one for us to do?”
“Oh, well, certainly I can do whatever you wish. Might it be more enjoyable to read together…” His voice trailed off as she looked away, her frown deepening.
“Very well.” He lifted the book and sat back in his chair. He was silent for many moments and the uncomfortable feeling in the room grew. How could he have forgotten her? How could they openly use the same words and he not remember? What had not been handsome enough for him? She clasped her hands together in supreme annoyance. Then she stood and walked about the room. Mary was reading closely with her partner. Theyseemed perfectly in sync and happy with their pairing. They’d been able to function, to keep a friendly rapport. Why could she not do the same? Why must she overcomplicate everything?
When she turned back over her shoulder to see what he was doing, he was still engrossed in the book, with not a care for their situation or for her.
She told herself that he was only doing as she so clearly indicated. That who would want to read close with a woman who was angry at him, who openly frowned in his direction? But all the same, he could at least attempt to look in her direction again?
She knew he would not. A man could only put up with her supreme prejudice before his pride prevented him from pursuing further.
But had she not a right to be irritated, to not trust him, to already know that she was not handsome enough? Why should she allow herself to be vulnerable again when up against even the other women in her home city of Meryton, she’d been found wanting.
She had to get out of her head. This was most ridiculous.
“Come, Miss Elizabeth, your ghouls are disturbing even my peace of mind.” Mr. Darcy held up the book and patted the chair at his side. “Whatever your demons, let Shakespeare work his magic. This sonnet is a good one…” He wiggled his eyebrows and Elizabeth relaxed. No matter her opinion of the man, she could enjoy his company. She did not have to accept his suit. She could simply sit at his side and read Shakespeare. Perform Shakespeare for the party. Who knew the others who would attend. There would be more friendships available to her, presumably.
She eyed Mary again. And Elizabeth felt it worth the effort to stay and to participate if only for dear Mary who might not have another chance such as this again.
Her head dipped in acceptance. “I am being a bit of a torrent, am I not?”
“A cyclone of the smallest, most docile kind.” He grinned. “But are we not all that way sometimes?”
“I don’t know. It is a new sensation for me. I do think this will help.” She sat close. They placed the book between them. And Mr. Darcy grinned. “I think you will see what I see in this sonnet? It lends itself to a most diverting read, indeed.”
Elizabeth could be polite, but she determined then and there she would not be allowing the charming side to the double personality of Mr. Darcy to break down her defenses because who knew when the rude and prideful version would make an appearance and she fall short in his eyes once again.
Chapter 6
Arthur Darcy
Arthur didn’t know what to do with the skittish Miss Elizabeth. One minute he had barely warmed up her hesitancy and then the next without warning she was back to the cold bristly suspicious version he’d first met. Perhaps there was not more to her to know. Perhaps she was merely dealing with too much to accept kindness and caring into her life? He determined to be as gentle with her as possible but to look elsewhere for relationships at the party. Perhaps there was yet one who would be the warm-hearted woman he desired to have at his side. This house party was certainly not his last hope, but it would be helpful to find such a woman now and grow in their relationship over the course of the season as opposed to attempting yet again to find her in London amidst all the posturing and falsity that existed there.
They had retired for the evening in preparation for dinner at which Lord Shackley expected the rest of the guests. Darcy’s valet had already helped him dress, brushed down his dinner coat and spent an overly large amount of time to fix his hair to perfection, much to his consternation. Darcy stepped outside hisbedroom to see Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary exiting theirs as well, though at the opposite end of the hall.
