Page 68 of The Briar Bargain
“My aunt did. She insists to this day that every proper estate ought to have tortoises in the conservatory.”
Elizabeth laughed. “How old were you when this experiment took place?”
He resumed removing the vine without breaking it. “About twelve, I suppose.”
The image of the precisely proper Mr. Darcy being afraid of a tortoise was so at odds with his usual dignified demeanour that the image quite entranced her. Elizabeth crossed her arms and gave him a mock-critical look. “So, to review, you are excessively tall, have gardening experience, and possess a familiarity with belligerent reptiles. Mr. Darcy, are you attempting to impress me?”
He glanced back at her with a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Is it working?"
"That remains to be seen," she managed, proud of how steady her voice sounded despite the peculiar flutter in her chest. "I shall require additional demonstrations of your skill."
He grunted. “No tortoises here, I fear.” He cleared the uppermost pot. “Will you steady the base while I lift this pot out?”
Elizabeth was pleased to do so, and the third pot was lifted and placed on the new stack without issue.
“One more, I think?” he asked, glancing at her.
She nodded. “I thought so too.”
Elizabeth found herself studying Mr. Darcy’s face as he worked, noting the concentration he brought to even this simple task, the careful attention to detail that ensured not a single grape cluster was damaged in the process.
“Why did you not ask a gardener to do this?” she asked. “You suggested that I could have asked one.”
He chuckled. “For two reasons. First, I suspect that once you set your mind to a task, very little would dissuade you from completing it. And second, as a gentleman farmer, I should never hear the end of it if I called in a gardener to rescue me from a vine.”
He cleared the fourth pot in short order and set it on the others.
Elizabeth smiled. She could not help it. A finished task always brightened her outlook.
"There," she said with satisfaction, brushing a few stray leaves from her skirt. "And not a single grape harmed in the process."
"Indeed," Mr. Darcy agreed, though when she looked up, she found his attention was focused on her. "Though I confess I am more concerned with casualties among the gardeners than the grapes."
The gentle concern in his voice sent warmth spreading through her chest. "No casualties to report, thanks to your intervention. Though I suspect my pride may have suffered some damage."
"Your pride?" He looked genuinely puzzled by this admission.
"I am not typically a woman who requires rescuing," she explained. "And yet you have rescued me twice."
Something shifted in his expression—a softening that made him look younger and considerably less formidable than usual. "Perhaps," he said quietly, "pride is less important than safety. You can do many things very well, Miss Elizabeth. But it is not necessary to do them alone."
Elizabeth looked away, pretending to busy herself with the trailing edge of the vine, though her thoughts had turned inward. Other than Jane, she had always managed things on her own, because if she did not, they would simply not be done. She had never expected help, let alone invited it, and the idea of someone stepping forward without hesitation, simply because he wished to assist her, unsettled her in a pleasant way. For the first time, she wondered what it might be like to have someone at her side. Not out of obligation or accident, but out of choice.
"I suppose," she said lightly, breaking the spell before it could grow too intense, "that next you will offer to rescue small children from a rampaging goose."
Mr. Darcy considered this with the same gravity he applied to everything. "If it shall aid my cause, I shall watch out for angry waterfowl."
She laughed again, properly this time. There was something liberating about this easy exchange, this playful conversation that felt so different from the careful verbal fencing of their earlier interactions.
"Your cause?" she asked, unable to resist the invitation to continue their banter.
"The cause of proving myself useful," he replied. "I find I have developed a particular interest in it."
Before Elizabeth could respond to this intriguing statement, a delighted squeak from the doorway interrupted their conversation.
"Oh!" Jane stood at the entrance to the conservatory, her cheeks pink with what might have been embarrassment or pleasure or some combination of both. "Forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt. Mr. Bingley mentioned you might be in here, Lizzy, and I thought perhaps you had discovered something interesting . . ." Her voice trailed away, her eyes moving between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth waved her over with an airy gesture, determined not to appear flustered by the interruption, though she was acutely aware that her cheeks had grown warm. "Nonsense, Jane. Mr. Darcy has saved me from a fall, that is all."
