Page 32 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“Certainly, it must be if I am to call you Elizabeth,” he countered. “Or, if you prefer, simply Darcy. Many of my relations do.”
Her lips curved upwards. “Darcy, then. That would suit me.”
“Good. We agree,” he said, nodding. “I had in mind to feed the birds as well, but I forgot to bring anything for them.”
Immediately, she extended a small bowl filled with spinach, lettuce, and other greens.
“May I assist?” he asked, his hand brushing against hers as he reached into the bowl. The contact was fleeting but absorbing. Darcy froze momentarily, dismayed when he noticed her eyes widen and her posture stiffen. He quickly turned away,tossing the greenery towards the hungry birds to diffuse the awkward moment.
“Maxwell! Josephine!” he called to the two swans fighting off smaller ducks for the greens.
Beside him, Elizabeth chuckled. “You have named them?”
“Of course. These two, and some of the geese as well. They’re not here now, but they often are in the afternoons.”
“And their names?” she prompted, tilting her head in curiosity.
He smiled, his earlier discomfort forgotten. “The swans are Maurice, Jacques, Jacqueline, and Celeste. The ducks visit less frequently and are harder to tell apart. I’ve decided they haven’t earned names yet.”
Elizabeth laughed, and the sound warmed him.
“I had not taken you for someone who names his birds,” she teased.
Darcy shrugged. “It’s a habit I picked up from my mother.” He paused, his voice softening. “I suppose, it is a way of honouring her.”
Elizabeth’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. “I would have liked to have known her. I’ve heard so many kind things said about her from the locals.”
“She deserved every word,” he replied, watching as the birds finished the last of the greens.
They stood in companionable silence for a few moments before Elizabeth spoke, “I must thank you,” she said glancingup at him. “For helping Mary and Kitty find meaningful occupations. They both seem so much more at ease already, and Mary’s delight in her lessons is plain.”
Darcy inclined his head modestly. “I am gratified to hear that they are settling in. It is Georgiana I must credit for the inspiration, however. She found similar solace in new pursuits after…” He hesitated, the shadow of old grief flickering across his face. “…after our parents died. She was so young then, scarcely aware of how her life had changed when our mother died but she was very aware when our father left us. Music became her solace.”
“Your parents’ loss must have been devastating for you both,” Elizabeth said softly.
“It was,” Darcy admitted. “But I also found distraction. Although not in music, I am afraid but rather in labour. As a lad of twelve, after my mother died, I began visiting the tenants on the estate. I even helped with their chores, or at least tried to.”
Elizabeth’s brow arched as a playful smile spread across her lips. “You hardly seem the sort of man to milk a cow, Mr Darcy.”
At that, Darcy laughed—a rich sound that seemed to carry the last of his tension away. “Quite right. My attempts at milking were a failure of notable proportions. My skills were far better suited to repairing fences, which is where I spent much of my time.”
Elizabeth grinned, her amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Did your father not mind such endeavours?”
Darcy’s expression softened at the mention of his father. “He was aware. If he disapproved, he never said so. I believe he rather liked the idea. He always believed that a good landowner understood his tenants and the hard work that they did. And there is no better way to understand a man than to work beside him. But my aunt…” Darcy’s jaw tightened slightly. “She came to call unannounced one day. She saw me covered in dirt, my shirt untucked, and my hair in such disarray it was evidently alarming to her. To say it set her bristles up to see me in such a state is an understatement.”
Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle, but Darcy’s voice took on an edge.
“She stopped my activities at once,” Darcy continued, his eyes darkening. “Summoned me into the drawing room and delivered a lecture on decorum. She said that it was not a suitable manner in which the heir to Pemberley should act. I suspect she was more incensed by the fact that I ignored her instructions, than by my dishevelled appearance. She has always sought to control my life, even then. And no one—no one—dares to stand up to her.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened into something closer to admiration. “But you did,” she said gently. “You didn’t marry Miss Anne.”
A wry smile tugged at Darcy’s lips. “And how did I manage that?” he scoffed, though without malice. “Not with words or courage. I concocted a ruse to keep from her match.”
“That ruse helped my family immensely,” Elizabeth said, her tone steady.
Darcy inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of her statement. “It did. But it doesn’t change the fact of my cowardice. I should have told her plainly that I would not be so dictated.”
“Perhaps you should tell her now how you truly feel?” Elizabeth suggested. “What more can she do?”
