Page 51 of The Difference of a Darcy
Elizabeth’s smile flickered. “I am an… acquaintance of Elizabeth Bennet’s.”
“Ohhh,” the woman said, brightening. “Longbourn—of course! Miss Elizabeth married the parson from Hunsford, did she not? Fine young woman. Bit quick with her tongue, but clever. You a cousin, then?”
Elizabeth paused, then dipped her head. “Something like that,” she said softly. “I recently came from seeing her in Kent. I must say, it was… quite a shock for me.”
“As it was for all of us.” The woman lowered her voice with evident delight at the opportunity for gossip. “Most of us thought it would be the eldest to marry first—Miss Jane, you know. Such a beauty. And everyone saw how Mr. Bingley—he’s the man who let Netherfield—how he looked at her.”
Darcy kept his expression carefully neutral.
“But then he up and left!” the woman went on. “Day after the ball, just packed up and went, he and those sisters of his. Never said goodbye proper. Not a word to anyone, not even Miss Bennet. Left all the servants without a quarter’s notice, too.”
“I had not heard,” Elizabeth said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And Miss Bennet?”
The woman’s lips pinched in sympathy. “Heartbroken, poor girl. It was all over town. Faded to nothing, they said. Still hasn’t quite recovered, though she puts on a brave face.”
Darcy stared down at his gloves, his jaw tight.
“As for Miss Elizabeth—Mrs. Collins now—well, no one expected her to accept the man, especially seeing how she turned him down the first time.”
“She did?” Elizabeth gasped.
The noise called the attention of two women stood near the back of the shop. “Talking about Miss Lizzy’s wedding again, are you?” one of them asked.
“Yes, I was just telling the lass here that it came as a shock.”
“Iwas not surprised,” the other woman said. “It was a good match for the Bennets, and I told Sir William as much the other day. And he agreed, you know. Said it had all the hallmarks—solid connection, respectable living, and just enough beauty to keep a man pleased.”
“Pray, excuse me.”
Darcy watched in consternation as Elizabeth bolted from the store, causing the women to frown after her.
“Please forgive my wife,” Darcy said. “She has not been feeling well lately.”
To his surprise, the women exchanged knowing glances. “She will be right as rain in a few weeks,” one of them said. “The first few months are always the most difficult.”
Confused, Darcy merely thanked them and paid for ribbon before following Elizabeth out into the cold evening air.
He spotted her a few paces away, standing stiffly at the edge of the street near the lamplight, her back to the door. Her posture was straight, but her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and even from behind, Darcy could see the tension radiating from her.
He approached quietly. “Elizabeth.”
She did not turn. “I know it was not real,” she said, her voice low and tight, “but to hear them speak of me that way. As though I were some… prize to be assessed for practicality. ‘Just enough beauty to keep a man pleased.’” Her hands clenched under her arms. “I would almost rather they had called me plain.”
“I told them you were unwell, and they said you would be well in a few weeks.” He hesitated. “I confess I do not understand why they said the first few months are always the most difficult.”
She let out a sharp burst of laughter. “They must think that I am… increasing.”
Darcy could feel heat flood his cheeks, and she laughed again before saying, “I must say,thatis certainly not a rumor I have had to endure before.”
He smiled faintly. “You bolted quite dramatically. I suspect they are crafting an entire backstory for us as we speak.”
She gave a weak giggle, then quieted again, her gaze drifting down the lane toward the familiar curve that led to Longbourn.
He followed her line of sight and said gently, “It is late. Shall we return to the inn?”
“Perhaps we could visit the bookseller first?” she asked. “It would be nice to have something to do this evening. Mr. Reid keeps quite a large selection of chapbooks, in addition to the usual expensive tomes.”
The idea of reading together in bed with a warm fire in the grate stirred something unexpectedly tender in Darcy’s chest.
