the letters were not protruding, giving them an unobserved little shove to make sure.
She leaned in toward Elizabeth and said in a whisper, “Miss Darcy just informed us that she has some special plans for us tomorrow!”
“Special plans? Did she say what they were?” asked Elizabeth, feeling somewhat disappointed that she already had plans to visit the Ketterlings.
Rosalyn shook her head. “She is to tell us in the morning, but I think we are to go on a journey! Is this not the best news?”
“It ought to be very nice,” Elizabeth assured her.
“This is the perfect opportunity for me. While we are out on our little excursion, I intend to make Mr. Darcy notice me and to convince Miss Darcy that she absolutely cannot abide anyone else becoming her sister in the near future!”
“Convince Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, wariness colouring her features.
Rosalyn tossed her head casually and her lips parted in a rather artful smile. “Perhaps, once we become inseparable friends, a bit of persuasion on her part to her brother will help my cause.”
Elizabeth asked weakly, “How do you intend to do this?”
Rosalyn clasped her hands in her lap and tilted her head. “I shall divide my time tomorrow between Mr. Darcy and his sister. While I am with the one or the other, I shall be gracious, attentive, and most deferential in my words to them.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she listened to Rosalyn. Her brows furrowed as she considered poor Miss Darcy in the midst of Rosalyn’s undivided attention, and Mr. Darcy as he endured Rosalyn’s scheme to secure his affection.
“Rosalyn,” Elizabeth was surprised to hear her voice, and when her friend looked toward her, she took in a deep breath. “Please remember to be your natural self. I believe Mr. Darcy can easily detect artifice. I do not believe he is a man who wants to be incessantly and carelessly flattered.”
Rosalyn waved a hand at her. “Elizabeth, every man appreciates a little flattery! Besides, I have been nothing but myself here. I merely believe he needs to see another side of me.”
“Perhaps,” was Elizabeth’s only reply. Changing the subject, she asked, “Did you learn anything tonight from Mr. Hamilton about chess?”
Rosalyn shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. Hamilton. He is a lively, friendly sort. I would be pretty much taken by him if he had at least some fortune. I wish Mr. Darcy was as witty as he was. Sometimes Mr. Darcy can be so very serious. But I cannot forget his fortune—this Pemberley.” She sighed. “Oh, to be Mistress of it!”
Before leaving, Rosalyn grasped Elizabeth’s two hands. “Remember to pray for me tomorrow that I will have success. Will you?”
When Rosalyn danced out of her room, Elizabeth bit her lip. She knew she could not pray for such a thing and hoped fervently that Mr. Darcy would not succumb to Rosalyn’s attentions. She no more loved him than Elizabeth had loved him at Rosings.
With much agitation, she reached under the pillow and grabbed the letters, quickly placing them back under the book in the drawer in case Rosalyn suddenly returned.
Elizabeth opened Cowper’s book again. She read late into the night, delighting in his poems that were descriptive of scenery, his faith, and even his distress. Several pages seemed smudged, as if someone opened them often to read the verses on the pages over and over. She found herself studying portions that had been underlined and wondered if it had been done by Mr. Darcy himself.
Later that night, after reading many pages of poems, she slowly closed the book. She placed her hand upon it, absently stroking it, as if it were the very heart of Mr. Darcy.
The next morning when she awoke, she sat up in bed, at first wondering whether the previous evening’s time spent in the sitting room had been a dream. When she had at last convinced herself it had not, she began recollecting all that had been spoken between her and Mr. Darcy.
Certainly she had not been of a rational mind to hear his words as he had meant them to be understood. Having earlier that day contemplated that she might possibly love him, she certainly must have misinterpreted what was, most likely, a simple explanation of the game of chess.
She slipped the coverlet off and stood up, walking over to the window. It was grey and misty outside, certainly not the type of weather in which to go walking. She sat down in the rocking chair and again picked up Cowper’s book of poems. In a way she was grateful for the excuse not to go out this morning. She did not feel up to encountering Mr. Darcy. She did not wish to misinterpret more of his conversation and consequently betray her own feelings for him—if she had not already. It was scandalous for her to even consider that he might still have feelings for her. Even if he did, her current situation would prohibit any alliance between them.
After reading through several poems, she walked across the hall to Emily’s room.
She tapped on the door as she slowly opened it. “Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” she replied, stretching out her arms. “It is a most comfortable bed. Do not tell Mama and Papa, but it is far more comfortable than my own!”
Elizabeth smiled. “Mine is most comfortable, as well.” Even with all her thoughts and feelings that had been stirred last night, she had had barely a thought once she had placed her head down upon the pillow. “Why do you suppose that is?”
Emily looked up at Elizabeth with a broad smile. “I heard Mama and Papa say that Mr. Darcy is very fast… fast… fastid…”
“Fastidious?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, that is what Mama said. What does that mean?”
“Well,” Elizabeth thought before she answered. “To be fastidious means that you have a decided opinion about things and will not settle for anything less.”
“Is that good?” Emily asked.
“It can be good if the person’s opinion is reasonable and just.”
“Do you think Mr. Darcy’s opinion is reasonable and just?”
Elizabeth’s heart stirred as she contemplated Emily’s innocent question. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I believe it is.”
At breakfast that morning, everyone came in dressed for church. Miss Darcy announced to everyone the plans she had made for the afternoon, once they returned from services. Everyone seemed pleased with the prospect of a carriage ride through the peaks. The early morning fog was beginning to burn away, and the hope was that by early afternoon it would be a beautiful day.
Mr. Darcy made an agreeable declaration that he had two fairly large carriages for occasions such as this that would hold everyone comfortably. The kitchen staff was even now preparing a meal that would be sent along with them, and plans were to enjoy it at one of Georgiana’s favourite lookouts, an easy ride up the peaks.
Elizabeth admitted to herself a twinge of envy as she heard their plans and for but only a short moment considered cancelling her visit with the Ketterlings. She would not disappoint her aunt, however, and quickly dismissed that idea.
Later that morning, when they arrived at Pemberley Church, Elizabeth watched as Mr. Darcy walked briskly through the churchgoers, greeting many with a simple hello and bow. Georgiana appeared to be more attentive to them, asking about their families and answering their enquiries.
Mr. Darcy seemed intent on moving past these people and getting inside. She chuckled to herself as she recalled his comment when they were at Rosings that he did not feel comfortable amongst people with whom he was not familiar. She wondered how well he truly knew his neighbours.
As they approached the doors of the church, however, he stopped abruptly. The rector greeted him with a fervent handshake, and the two spoke briefly. He then turned, waiting for everyone to join him, and made introductions.
Elizabeth guessed Reverend Grierson to be close to fifty years old. He had a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. As he acknowledged and welcomed each person, he looked intently at them, as if truly caring for them. She liked him already.
Mr. Darcy led the party to the Darcy family pews at the front of the church. He and Georgiana took their
