Page 77 of The Briar Bargain
Mr. Darcy was about to answer when their conversation was interrupted by Miss Bingley, who had set aside her embroidery and approached them with a strained smile.
"What can you be discussing?" she inquired, her voice light but her eyes sharp. “My goodness, poor Mr. Darcy looks positively grim."
Elizabeth almost sighed. Mr. Darcy didnotlook grim, he appeared thoughtful. Did Miss Bingley not know the difference, or did she only wish to insult? If so, she would not like to know that she was insulting Mr. Darcy as much as Elizabeth herself.
"We were discussing estate management," Mr. Darcy replied evenly. "Hardly a topic to inspire levity."
"Oh, how tedious for poor Miss Eliza," Miss Bingley said with a laugh that sounded forced. "But perhaps her education was more in agriculture than the arts."
Elizabeth felt her jaw tighten at the casual dismissal of her intelligence, but before she could respond, Mr. Darcy spoke.
"On the contrary, Miss Bingley. Miss Elizabeth has demonstrated her knowledge of many and varied topics."
The quiet firmness in his voice was lovely. She understood he felt bound to defend her, but she liked it nonetheless.
"How unusual," Miss Bingley said, her smile becoming more strained. "I confess I find such subjects quite beyond my comprehension."
"Perhaps that is because you have never been required to think of them," Elizabeth said pleasantly. "Those of us who are brought up on estates must often concern ourselves with more mundane matters."
Miss Bingley's expression remained fixed in its artificial sweetness.
Mr. Darcy's lips twitched, and Elizabeth felt a moment of satisfaction. It was good to have him on her side. Would he still be, once she departed for Longbourn and their bargain was officially ended?
The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar fashion, with conversations flowing and reforming around various topics. Elizabeth found herself drawn repeatedly into exchanges with Jane, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy, their discussions ranging from books they had read to observations about the countryside around Netherfield. She was surprised by Mr. Darcy’s willingness to share his thoughts but was very glad to learn more of him.
As the afternoon wore on and the light began to fade, Elizabeth found herself stealing glances at the man beside her, noting the way he listened when others spoke, the careful consideration he gave to his responses, and the occasional flash of dry humour that transformed his entire countenance. He was already a handsome man, but when he smiled . . .
Two days, she reminded herself. In two days, this unexpected interlude would be over, and she would return to her ordinary life. The thought left her with a feeling that something important was about to slip through her fingers before she had quite grasped what it was.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Darcy stood at the window of the library, watching the first rays of light stretch across the lawn. The storm had long passed, yet its tumult lingered both in the sodden landscape littered with branches and leaves, and, if he were honest, within his own unsettled mind.
Miss Elizabeth had unsettled him. Her presence had worked upon him in ways both subtle and startling, softening some of his more rigid convictions, sharpening his awareness of faults he had once considered virtues. She was entirely unlike the women of his acquaintance, and not simply in her countenance or conversation, though both were undeniably captivating. No, the difference lay deeper. She expected him to be a better man than he had been. And because he wanted her good opinion, he found himself wanting to improve.
He turned from the window and crossed to the writing desk, where a small pile of correspondence now awaited his attention. The familiar weight of responsibility should have grounded him, returned his thoughts to more practical matters. Instead, he found himself scanning the topmost letter, another report from his steward at Pemberley detailing the state of the barley fields nearest Lambton and setting it aside unread. The barleycould wait. Indeed, all of Derbyshire could wait if it meant he might spend another morning in Miss Elizabeth Bennet's company.
Such thoughts were unsafe. He knew this with the same certainty with which he knew his own name, his duties, his place in the world.
But he simply no longer cared.
When Miss Elizabeth looked at him with eyes that seemed to see past his reserve to something worth her regard, all his rational measures crumbled like the Roman ruins. When she challenged his opinions with that mixture of wit and gentle mockery, he felt more alive than he had in years. When she walked into a room, everything else faded to insignificance.
A quiet knock at the door interrupted his musing. A footman entered bearing the coffee he had requested and set it upon the side table. Darcy dismissed him with a nod, then paused as the young man reached the door.
"A moment," he said, surprising himself with the sudden decision. The footman turned expectantly. "If Mrs. Nicholls is available, please ask her to come speak with me.”
The footman's expression remained carefully neutral, though Darcy caught a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “I shall, sir.”
When the housekeeper entered the room, Darcy smiled at her. “Mrs. Nicholls, I am aware that this is not my place, but might I request that the tea this afternoon be rather more generous than yesterday's offering? And kindly inquire if Cook might be persuaded to send up something fresh-baked. I should like the Miss Bennets to have pleasant memories of their final day here."
Mrs. Nicholls smiled knowingly. "Shall I specify any particular delicacies, sir?"
Darcy considered this. “Whatever Cook has on hand will suffice, I am sure. If she has any of the savoy cakes remaining, I would be grateful if she would include them.”
Mrs. Nicholls nodded, as if a gentleman visitor taking on the role of hostess, as he had in small ways since Miss Elizabeth had first fallen ill, was a perfectly normal occurrence. His younger self, the one who had first come into Hertfordshire, would have been appalled. His present self found he cared not a whit for his younger self's opinions.
He pushed the letter tray away decisively. For now, he had a more pressing concern: how to spend as much time as possible in Miss Elizabeth's company before she left for her home.
