Page 56 of The Same Noble Line
Elizabeth hesitated, her hands twisting together in her lap. “Perhaps both. There is something in his character, something steady and strong that calls to me. But until he speaks plainly, I cannot allow my heart to settle on him. I cannot afford to.”
Her father regarded her for a long moment. “You are clever, my girl,” he said finally. “And braver than most would be in your position. I shall simply remind you the best gamblers know the outcome of a wager does not rest solely in their hands.”
Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “I am well aware of that, Papa.”
He chuckled softly, though not unkindly. “And here I thought you averse to melodrama. Did you not return Lady Morgan’s novel without finishing it?”
“The Missionary?” She was momentarily diverted. “I did.”
“Yet you are overset by the attentions Mr. Darcy may or may not be paying you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Perhaps I am more affected than I ought to be. But I will not let uncertainty rule me. If Mr. Darcy cannot reconcile himself to the truth of who I am and what might be required of him, it is best to know that as soon as possible.”
Her father stood, moved around the desk to sit in the chair next to her. “That, my dear, is the voice of reason. And should Mr. Darcy prove himself unworthy of your regard, I daresay youwill be better off for knowing now. Somewhere, there is a man who will truly earn your esteem.”
“Perhaps.”
“You wish for Mr. Darcy to pass this test of yours, then?”
Her shoulders sagged. “Yes.”
“Well, then,” Papa said. “If the man has even a fragment of sense, he will know better than to let you slip through his fingers.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she replied. It was kind of him, but he was her Papa and put greater store in her value than did the rest of the world.
“Now,” he said, rising from the chair, “let us not speak of Mr. Darcy any longer. It seems to me that both your heart and your mind are already overburdened with the subject, and your gambit has left the next move to him.”
Elizabeth nodded, grateful for the reprieve, and their conversation shifted to lighter matters.
As the hour grew late and Elizabeth mentioned dinner would be served soon, her father stood and, when she rose as well, placed a hand on her shoulder. “I have said it before, but perhaps it bears repeating. As long as I am the master of Longbourn, Lizzy, you shall always have a home here.”
She rose and kissed his cheek. “I know, Papa. And I will always be thankful for that.”
Chapter Nineteen
The late afternoon shadows pressed heavily against Darcy as he guided his horse to Netherfield’s stables. Miss Elizabeth’s revelations swirled in his mind. He had come to Hertfordshire to investigate Mr. Bennet, not to become ensnared in his feelings for the man’s daughter. And yet, here he was, wondering about her.
Miss Elizabeth deserved better than the turmoil he had to offer. But there was no way to resolve that turmoil until he knew more about Mr. Bennet’s heritage. He worried about Miss Bennet should her presence in town be brought to the attention of the earl, but if he was no longer the powerful master of Pemberley, there was not much he could do about that.
“You are fretting again,” Bingley’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Darcy turned to see his friend approaching on his own mount, his usual easy smile tempered by concern.
“I am thinking,” Darcy corrected, though he knew it was a poor defence.
Bingley’s eyes remained on the path before them. “Jane mentioned that Miss Elizabeth was probably confiding to you what she was herself confiding to me. I hope you did not find it troubling.”
Darcy’s lips tightened. “She trusted me with the information. I do not take that lightly.”
“No, you would not,” Bingley said. “And yet as far as I know you do not keep company with the Earl of Essex. What are you truly worried about, Darcy?”
For a moment, Darcy considered deflecting. But Bingley’s genuine concern deserved a response. “I fear that my feelings may be clouding my judgement,” he admitted.
“Feelings?” Bingley’s brows lifted. “For Miss Elizabeth?”
Bingley would be more sympathetic than Fitzwilliam. Darcy nodded once.
“My friend,” Bingley said gently, “if you care for her, you must decide whether your fears outweigh what she means to you. And if they do not, you cannot let them stand in your way.” He shrugged. “I ought to know.”
“What if pursuing her brings harm? What if my presence in her life causes her pain she might otherwise avoid?”
