Page 12 of The Same Noble Line
Darcy remained at Miss Elizabeth’s side as they strolled back toward Longbourn, their discussion pleasantly subdued. Bingley’s gaze frequently drifted toward Miss Bennet, his expression both fond and resolute, and Miss Bennet returned the look with more animation than he had seen in her last autumn.
He blinked when she smiled at his friend. Miss Bennet’s smile was as modest as she was, but there was admiration and affection in her aspect. Had he been wrong about her sentiments?
Everything in his life was uncertain at the moment, and he did not like it. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “forgive me, but does your sister care for Bingley?”
Miss Elizabeth was taken aback, but her answer was confident. “She does, Mr. Darcy.”
“Thank you,” he said. He believed her to be telling the truth, which meant they might not be leaving the area in two weeks. He glanced down at the woman who walked steadily at his side.
He found he could not mind.
Georgiana, her eyes bright with enjoyment, was listening intently to one of Fitzwilliam’s cheerful stories, and he allowed the sound to wash away his perturbation.
They were entering the house when a young woman’s voice broke through the quiet.
“Her hat ishideous, Kitty!” Miss Lydia cried. The words carried all the way to the front hall.
“Harriet thinks it fashionable,” Miss Kitty protested loudly.
“I could wear a bucket and look better!” Miss Lydia proclaimed.
Darcy saw Bingley grimace slightly at the raucous tone. Georgiana glanced up at her brother, her lips pressed together in an attempt to keep her composure, though a hint of compassion shone in her eyes. Fitzwilliam’s face revealed him to be quietly appalled.
“Lydia, it is not seemly to mock another, particularly one of your own friends,” Miss Mary’s reproving tone came next, its sanctimonious edge making Darcy wince, though he schooled his expression quickly. “You ought to have more consideration, as a young lady ought to set an example—”
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted, her voice laden with exasperation. “Who has ever seen a girl of eighteen act as though she is a parson? Leave them be, for goodness’ sake.”
It was clear where the youngest girl had learnt her manners.
A barely audible sigh escaped Miss Elizabeth. She shot a quick, resigned look at Miss Bennet as they both removed their bonnets and cloaks and without hesitation strode forward with a practiced air of calm and purpose. Bingley trailed after them. Darcy followed his friend, Georgiana and Fitzwilliam behind him.
“Kitty, Lydia,” Miss Elizabeth said gently but firmly, her voice somehow cutting through the din while maintaining areasonable volume. “That is quite enough about the hat. And, Mary,” she continued, a soft smile on her lips, “you are quite right, kindness is important. Let us just save our debate for another time, shall we?” Her head tipped ever so slightly in Bingley’s direction, and Miss Mary pressed her lips together, displeased. He felt somewhat in charity with Miss Mary. She was not wrong; she simply had a way of stating her concerns that had no chance of succeeding.
Miss Bennet added, “Harriet is a friend to us all. I think she would be pleased if we admired her new hat the next time we see her wearing it.”
Miss Mary, the tilt of her chin indicating a sense of vindication, tightened her grip on her book but refrained from adding anything more. Miss Lydia huffed, and Miss Kitty gloated, but then they sat back and began to work on some sort of craft that was spread out on a little table between them. For a brief moment, there was calm.
Bingley visibly relaxed, and Georgiana accepted the chair Miss Elizabeth offered her. Mrs. Bennet, though visibly put out, was resigned. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in it. Harriet is a sensible enough girl, though it is a pity about her taste. She will never have a beau if she insists on wearing such dreadful things.”
Miss Elizabeth cast a faint smile at her elder sister. Their ease handling the family’s chaos struck Darcy as rather maternal. In the past he would have ascribed that trait to Miss Bennet alone, but now he found himself admiring Miss Elizabeth’s quiet authority. Yet another trait that would make her an excellent bride.
For someone else.
Georgiana’s eyes held a flicker of pity as they swept the room, lingering on Mrs. Bennet and her daughters. Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, caught Darcy’s eye with a look of barely concealed dismay, his brow raised in a silent warning thatDarcy understood all too well. The message was clear: Could he imagine this family presiding over Pemberley? Fitzwilliam’s subtle headshake was all it took to confirm what Darcy already knew he should do. Walk away and never return.
Darcy required a moment to steady himself and turned toward the window. But as he did, his eyes fell once again on Miss Elizabeth. The fading winter light spilled through the glass and cast her in a soft glow. There was no denying her strength, nor the quiet dignity that seemed an integral part of her character. It captivated him against his will, and he felt the newly familiar, unwelcome longing for something he could not have.
She was everything admirable—compassionate, intelligent, and loyal—and yet her family, the very world she came from, was a storm of impropriety. He could scarcely envision her mother in Pemberley’s halls, her sisters under its roof, without flinching.
He would not be able to remain at Pemberley and watch everything his family had worked to achieve crumble to pieces through neglect and mismanagement. He imagined Mrs. Bennet would spend every last shilling in the accounts, and Mr. Bennet would not stop her. On the other hand, should Mr. Bennetnotbe connected to the Darcys, he and Miss Elizabeth would still be worlds apart, her family’s conduct forever marking a divide he could not bridge. Could he?
He could make no decisions until he discovered the truth of his fears. There was no point in ruminating over this now.
Resolute, he tore his gaze away from Miss Elizabeth, forcing the warmth he felt to retreat back into that dark, unyielding part of himself that shut away everything but duty. Still her image lingered, etched firmly into his thoughts as if she had already claimed a place in his heart from which she would never be excised.
Darcy forced himself to look about the room. Bingley was sitting by the fire, engrossed in conversation with Miss Bennet.Miss Elizabeth sat to one side of her eldest sister, while Georgiana listened to Miss Kitty’s recounting of the Netherfield ball. For once, Miss Lydia was not imposing herself upon the conversation but was instead speaking quietly to her mother. Miss Mary, as always, was engrossed in a book. This seemed as good a time as any. Darcy leaned toward Fitzwilliam. “Shall we pay our respects to Mr. Bennet?” he murmured.
Fitzwilliam nodded, his expression cool and impassive. “I will say it again: only if you wish to proceed.”
