the depths of those enchanting orbs, and he ached to ask them all. But even as the first one formed on his lips, her aspect sobered, the laughter fading to a curiously speculative regard of him before turning back to her companion.
What was she thinking? Why had she looked at him thus? Oh, this was intolerable! A faint voice as from a great distance protested that Fitzwilliam’s behavior should be nothing to him, that his heart was in great danger should he engage with her, and that he had sworn only a half hour before to show her no attention or favor. Without thought and certainly beyond reason, he rose from the chair and in only a few swift strides was upon them. Both Elizabeth and his cousin looked at him with a surprise that was no less than his own at finding himself, in truth, across the room.
“Your family, Miss Elizabeth, I trust they are well?” The question tripped more smoothly off his tongue than he had dared to hope, but Richard still appeared to wonder at his sudden intrusion. Little did Darcy care what his cousin thought of his manners, for at last her eyes were fully upon him.
“I left them all in health, sir, and have since received assurances that they remain so. You are very kind to inquire.” Her words were measured, polite, but her gaze withdrew from him almost before the end of her reply. Was that to be all? But, no! They flashed up at him again, exciting his anticipation. “My eldest sister has been in town these three months, Mr. Darcy. Have you never happened to see her there?”
A more unlooked-for dart she could not have loosed at him! How could he have forgotten? No, he had not seen her sister, but he had known of her, conspired against her. His conscience played havoc with him as she waited for his reply, her eyes strangely unreadable. Richard, too, looked at him curiously. He was a fool, a thousand times a fool, to have succumbed!
“No, Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed in apology. “I regret to say that I was never so fortunate to meet your sister in London.” She seemed to accept his word, but Darcy’s conscience smote him so that he could not continue comfortably at her side. Without another word, he withdrew to the window and stared out into Mrs. Collins’s garden. Let them think he was caught up in admiration of the blasted weeds! Anything other than the truth that he had nearly shown himself a fool in the teeth of his own convictions. Curse his weakness! It will not,
Chapter 2
Too Dear for My Possessing
The noises that seeped out from under the dressing room door were unmistakable. Turning over heavily, Darcy burrowed into the pillows in one more futile attempt to find a comfortable position in the great bed before Fletcher —
“Good morning, sir!”
Too late! Darcy groaned into his pillow and then, with his customary resolve, slid his hands flat against the sheets and shoved against the bedding. In one fluid movement, he rolled off the instrument of his nightly torture and was on his feet.
“It is a lovely, bright Sunday morning, sir. Just as it should be for Easter.” Fletcher reached up and twitched back the heavy damask curtains, which had, until that moment, held off the morning. He turned to his master, a smile pulling at the corners of his eyes. “Her Ladyship desires me to remind you that the barouche will leave at ten precisely and that breakfast will be served
“As they have been every Easter since I was four years old at least,” Darcy groused under his breath while he stretched out the aching muscles of his back. A yawn overtook him as he ambled to the window to judge the accuracy of Fletcher’s assessment of the coming day. Squinting fiercely, he peered out into the sun-drenched park. Yes, it would be a glorious day. The only clouds that troubled the expanse of blue sky were fleecy white and thoroughly benign in temperament. A slight breeze teased the leaves of the grove that separated Rosings Park from Hunsford village, their beckon causing him to wish that he had had his horse Nelson brought down and could meet the promise of such a day as it deserved.
“It is seven o’clock, Mr. Darcy.” Fletcher’s voice interrupted his vision of grassy hills and tree-lined lanes taken at a full gallop. “Shall I prepare…”
A hearty knock at the chamber door drowned out the valet’s question, causing both men to look over in surprise as the door cracked open and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s head appeared. “Oh, excellent, Fitz! You’re up! But, Fletcher…” Fitzwilliam stepped into the room and closed the door behind him softly. “You have not got him shaved yet! It is seven, you know.”
“Yes, sir, I was just about —”
“Well, go to it, man! Time marcheth on.” He grinned at the valet, who bowed his acknowledgment of the orders of a superior officer and smartly took himself off to prepare the barbering gear. Richard turned back to his cousin. “Did I say ‘marcheth’?” he asked wryly, then feigned a sigh. “Too long a soldier, I suppose. Soon I will not be at all fit for good company!”
Darcy snorted and turned back to his view of the park. “No fear of that! You seem to be doing quite well.”
“Yes, actually, I am!” Fitzwilliam beamed. “And that is why I am here. I wish to hurry things along this morning so that I may perhaps have some pleasure of the parsonage females before services begin.” He paused for his cousin’s comment, but receiving none he pressed on. “I daresay, the delights of
“Had a surfeit of him at last, have you? You have called at least twice this week,” Darcy murmured, his gaze traveling the distance of the path through the grove. He could just see a corner of the church tower above the sway of leaves in the distance. The parsonage would lie just to the right, would it not?
“A surfeit and more, to be sure! But I would have braved his tiresome prattle more often than twice if it had been proper…if you had thrown over the accounts and accompanied me, Fitz, and kept old Collins occupied as a devoted cousin should! Dashed if
Darcy suddenly rounded on his cousin. “Is it possible that we might have a conversation without the subject of Miss Elizabeth Bennet continually figuring in it?”
Fitzwilliam regarded him wonderingly. “I imagine so, Cuz; but I never knew you to be averse to discussing a fine-looking young woman before. If that is what you wish —”
“I do so wish,” Darcy interrupted emphatically and started for the dressing room. Surely Fletcher was ready for him by now, and if his shave would discourage Richard’s line, so much the better.
Fitzwilliam shrugged his shoulders in compliance and crossed his arms, assuming an apologetic stance. “Very well, but then it comes about that I bear you ill tidings.”
Darcy stopped at the doorway, his forehead creased in mounting annoyance. “What do you mean, Richard?”
“After you pled fatigue and left us last night, I suggested to our aunt that she invite the parsonage to tea this evening.” He stopped, considering with amusement the curious look upon his cousin’s face, then continued with an impish grin. “So not only will you be forced once more to bear Miss Elizabeth Bennet figuring in the conversation, you will have to bear Miss Elizabeth’s figure —”
Darcy closed the dressing room door sharply upon his cousin and then leaned heavily against it, only to hear Fitzwilliam’s laughter on the other side as he left the bedchamber. He glanced over his shoulder. The dressing room lay empty, and he was blessedly alone. Dropping his forehead lightly against the door, Darcy closed his eyes. The last five days had been some of the most afflicting in his experience, and the discomfort of his aunt’s great guest bed only incidental to the troubled passage of the nights. Shaking his head at the vagaries of Providence that had brought Elizabeth once more into his circle, he pushed away from the door and dropped into the barbering chair. Leaning back, he cocked his head up and began a minute examination of the ceiling.
After the disastrous exchange with Elizabeth concerning her sister, Richard had seen that his cousin wished to be away from Hunsford and smoothly facilitated their departure. But the moment they were out of earshot of the
