Page 14

W illiam Darcy, lost in his thoughts and restless to boot, made a half-sighing, half-snorting sound and shifted in his chair.

“Don’t know what I’m doing here,” he said, though no one was listening.

Winter had taken hold of Meryton again after a brief January thaw.

The frigid temperatures returned with a vengeance, and Darcy reasoned he should be sitting at home in front of the fireplace with a good book, not traipsing around town.

Yet, here he was, in the waiting room of Dr. Gardiner’s vet office for the third time in two weeks.

“You didn’t need to come with me, Richard.” He shifted in his chair again, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, intermittently scowling at the sheriff, who was reading the local newspaper. “Didn’t mean for you to go out of your way.”

Fitzwilliam casually turned the page of his newspaper.“No matter. Nothing going on at the station today, and no garden or nothin’ to tend at my house. I’m glad for the company.”

“Hmmph.”

Elizabeth stifled a chuckle as she made her way through the waiting room.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, “we’ve certainly seen you around here a lot lately.

What are you doing to those animals out on that farm of yours?

They seem to be meeting with an inordinate amount of illness.

” She stopped in front of the two men, crossing her arms and giving him an appraising look up and down which made his pulse accelerate.

“Shall I call on our dashing Sheriff Fitzwilliam here to investigate?” She patted the sheriff’s arm, laughing, and he tipped his hat to her.

“At your service, miss.”

Darcy was taken aback, as he often was when Elizabeth teased him, but he answered, trying to hold back a smile. “Do your worst. I am not afraid of you, Miss Bennet.”

Fitzwilliam grinned. “Don’t mind my friend, Miss Bennet. He can be mighty stern and silent in the company of pretty ladies, although he is lively enough in other places.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, ma’am. Most certainly.”

“It makes one wonder—why can’t he be lively in mixed company as well?

” Elizabeth went behind the counter and leaned her elbows on it, her chin resting on her hand.

She drummed her other fingers on the countertop, in an exaggerated, contemplative gesture.

“Let’s see. Why should a well-educated man who has ‘lived and seen enough of the world’—as he once told me—why can’t such a man engage in clever discussion with the people he meets? ”

“Because he will not take the trouble?” the sheriff said, grinning wider.

Darcy frowned at Fitzwilliam, but he directed his answer to Elizabeth.

Voice low, gaze becoming intense and earnest, he replied, “The ability to easily start a conversation with new acquaintances is a gift, sure enough.Unfortunately, it is one I don’t possess.

I always find it difficult to comfortably discuss trivial matters with people I’ve just met. ”

Elizabeth pulled out a cloth and carefully wiped the countertop.

“You know, when I came to work in this office, I was unable to fill a syringe or give an injection, as I have seen my uncle do. But it was necessary, and I had to learn. Now, my fingers are not as agile and competent as Uncle Ed’s, but it is not because my fingers are not as capable, but that he has had rather more time to practice. Would you not agree?”

Darcy held her gaze. “Yes, I agree. However, I think you have employed your time much better for a lady. No one who has seen you dance or read to children or sew a party dress could think you inadequate in any way.”

Dr. Gardiner called out from the next room. “Can I get one of you fellas to give me a hand with these boxes?”

Fitzwilliam might have looked his way, but Darcy’s attention was completely absorbed in the sparkling eyes of the girl behind the counter.

“Uh…I’ll just go help Ed, then.” The sheriff exited the waiting room, leaving Darcy to continue his flirtation.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and went back to cleaning the countertop. “I’m sure Uncle Ed will be back in a minute with your supplies. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Not right now,” he replied with the barest hint of a grin. “But, thank you.”

He watched as she busied herself with some paperwork.She looked up at him periodically, and then away just as quickly. After a moment, he stood up and made a path around the room, looking at the pictures and certificates on the wall.

“I haven’t seen Mr. Bingley around the store much lately,” she asked.

“No, now that he has enough good employees here, he has been devoting more time to the store in Glasgow.”

“Oh? He has a house there as well?”

“Yes, he has a small house in town that he inherited from his mother.Bingley has been waiting to expand his business into that area, and this appeared to be a favorable time to do that. The old dry goods store in Glasgow went out of business last year.”

“It’s unfortunate that he has to be away from home so much.”

“Not so unfortunate. It’s not as if he had a wife and children depending on him. This is a time in his life when he can devote himself entirely to business.”

Elizabeth blushed, and he wondered briefly if she was considering being the mistress of Bingley’s house, but she said nothing else.

He walked around the desk and sat on a stool beside her. Leaning slightly toward her, he fixed his gaze on her. “Would you think it unfortunate to be far away from home? You appear to have a strong attachment to your family. Would you like to settle near them, do you think?”

Elizabeth looked surprised. “Well”—she stammered—“I-I mean it is possible to be too close to one’s family, I guess, no matter how much you love them.”

Footsteps approached from the back office. Darcy straightened at the sound of Dr. Gardiner’s and Sheriff Fitzwilliam’s voices.

“So, are you happy here in Meryton then?” Darcy asked politely.

“I like the people I’ve met here. Life certainly moves slower here than in Chicago, but there are advantages to living at a more relaxed pace.”

This answer pleased him, and he let a smug smile turn his mouth.

By this time, however, Dr. Gardiner had returned, ending the opportunity for further conversation, at least as far as Darcy was concerned.

He stood and paid his bill, shaking Ed’s hand as he involuntarily cast a glance over his shoulder at Elizabeth.

Without thinking, he approached her and left her with a gently spoken, “Goodbye, Miss Bennet.”

“He is the strangest man I’ve ever met,” Elizabeth said as she watched Darcy pass by the office window. “I can never predict what he’s going to say next.”

Ed looked from the window back to his niece. “He is reserved, but I’ve known him a long time. He’s a good man.”

Elizabeth returned to her papers. “I’m sure he is.” She wished Darcy had been more forthcoming about Mr. Bingley’s situation, though. She wanted to know more, for Jane’s sake. She didn’t dare keep asking though, lest Darcy believe she was hinting about Jane being the mistress of Bingley’s house.

“Darcy has had some trying times—shouldered a lot of responsibility for his age. I suppose that might make a man seem…a little serious to a young lady such as yourself.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Mr. Serious.”

“What?”

“Charlotte and I—sometimes we call him Mr. Serious.”

“Lizzy…” he said, chiding her gently.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s all in fun, Uncle Ed—all in fun.”

“I wonder if the man himself would find it so amusing.”

“Pardon?”

“At any rate, we’ve seen him here in the office more in the last month than all of last year.” Ed reached for a box to unpack. “Maybe he’s here to see you,” he teased.

“Oh Uncle Ed, how you do go on!”

“Every young man should admire my nieces. They are nearly perfect, after all.”

“I know that Mr. Darcy is a confirmed bachelor. You said so yourself.” Elizabeth blushed, thinking of how she had watched Mr. Darcy out of the corner of her eye while he paced the room.

He moved gracefully, for a man, each step confident and sure.

Or maybe it was his height that drew her interest. He was about the tallest man she’d ever met.

When he sat down beside her at the counter, she had surreptitiously watched as he stretched out his long legs in front of him—and then promptly flushed with embarrassment at her frank consideration of his person.

“I’m not sure what to think,” Ed said. “Maybe we should ask your aunt Madeline.” He picked up a jar of some kind of salve. “Or your mother,” he said, grinning.

“Don’t you dare!”

He laughed.

“No,” she said to herself. “Don’t you dare even think it.”