Page 3 of A Letter in the Wind (Mayhem and Scandal Collection #1)

Elizabeth allowed the door to slam behind as she left the parsonage several days later. She pulled her shawl close with one hand and held her bonnet in place with the other as she sprinted down the lane. She had to get away.

All morning, Mr Collins insinuated that it was her fault they had not been invited to Rosings Park in the last few days. She was too outspoken for Lady Catherine. Charlotte thought it would be humorous to recreate the previous encounter at Rosings with an exaggerated effect.

Charlotte meant no harm, but it rankled Elizabeth, nonetheless. Annoyance flared in her. Usually, she could take a good-natured tease. Today, after reading a letter from her sister Jane, her nerves were too frayed. Elizabeth was reminded of home and how she had always been too loud or too impulsive or too something at Longbourn. Her mother scolded her morning, noon, and night. Any inconvenience or concern in the family was always laid at Elizabeth’s feet, including the predicament the family currently found themselves in.

Elizabeth suddenly declared she urgently needed a walk despite seeing trees bend and shake from gusts. Her friend’s calls behind her were drowned out by the noise of blustery wind. Elizabeth continued down the narrow path until she reached an oak tree at the fork in the road, where she stopped to catch her breath. One trail meandered through Rosings Park, the other continued to Hunsford Village. She hesitated and considered her decision.

Typically, she preferred strolling through Rosings Park. While she generally favoured wild and unrestrained beauty, Rosings’ gardens and wooded areas charmed her. During the first few weeks of her visit to Rosings, Elizabeth had enjoyed them daily. Then, a few days ago, she happened upon Mr Darcy. He said he always walked the path.

Their interaction both surprised and confused her. She bandaged his wounded knee and then he walked her all the way back to the parsonage. More than once, it seemed as if he felt protective of her. Surely that was only the effect of the wind. Less debatable was the fact that he was more open and friendlier than she had ever seen him before.

Yesterday, she walked the same path and had not thought she would see him again. For one, he should rest his knee. Although, more importantly, she had firmly believed that he disliked her—even disapproved of her as he found her unladylike and unsophisticated. He would take care to avoid her. Despite her assumptions, she happened upon Darcy again. This time it was nearer the parsonage—almost like he intended to call there. He insisted on turning and walking with her for a few minutes before escorting her back. They did not talk as much because the wind blew even harder and more frequently than the previous day. Instead, she caught him glancing down at her often.

She had always thought he looked at her to condemn, but it was harder to believe with her hand on his arm. Charlotte had often said Darcy fancied her, but Elizabeth knew that was impossible. Perhaps he did not entirely disapprove of her—at least not anymore. Of course, if he ever knew more about the Bennet family, he would decry them far and wide. Her cousin might even fall out of favour with Lady Catherine. Thankfully, everyone in Kent was blissfully unaware of the circumstances which deeply troubled Elizabeth. For the thousandth time, she prayed for peace and a miraculous solution.

Could she risk seeing Darcy again while already frustrated and cross? Having just read Jane’s letter, Elizabeth’s annoyance with Darcy was fresh. She blamed him for Bingley’s defection and Jane’s subsequent heartbreak. Darcy had made his feelings about the Bennets crystal clear; no friend of his would marry into a family he deemed poor and unimportant.

Yet, he had treated Elizabeth with the utmost respect and kindness recently. She was now uncertain if she was just in her feelings. Her opinion of the man had centred heavily on the report of Mr Wickham, whom Elizabeth learnt to distrust. If she saw Darcy today, she might be too rude to him. On the other hand, she was in such a state that she could just as easily take out her feelings on an innocent person. She had recently made friends with a free-spirited spinster in the village but knew that Miss Priscilla had other plans for the day. Elizabeth sighed. She ought to avoid the town.

Turning north, Elizabeth followed the trail through the beautiful woods of Rosings. The scenery calmed her nerves ever so slightly. Now that she was not so angry, she pulled out Jane’s latest letter to reread. The wind was not as strong here. Just as she withdrew the paper from her reticule, a sharp gust of air blew it from her hands. She tried to chase after it, but the blasts now swirled in the opposite direction. All of a sudden, her bonnet ripped off her head. As she had read the letter before, she followed after her hat. It would cost too much to replace.

Elizabeth pushed against the gale, her loose hair whipping in the breeze. She had nearly reached the erstwhile headgear when a fresh gust ripped through the lane. The bonnet landed on a tree branch. Despite stretching on tiptoe, it was just out of her reach. She looked this way and that and tapped her bottom lip. She could climb the trunk and snatch it, although, it had been many years since she had done such a thing.

“Do I dare?” she muttered to herself.

She could not justify staying on the path without a hat. She would have to return to the house if she did not retrieve it. At that intolerable thought, she marched toward the strong oak. She stared up at it, examining the best route of approach. Her gown was longer and more restrictive than it had been as a child. Additionally, her boots were less sturdy.

“May I be of some assistance?” a voice interrupted her silent musings.

Elizabeth spun around to see Mr Darcy approaching her, a slight grin on his face. She had not heard him.

When she did not answer, he pointed at the adorned bough. “I could lift you. I suppose you wish to climb to heaven.”

Elizabeth blushed but laughed at his tease. “I foolishly considered risking life and limb to fetch my bonnet.” She motioned to the offending item.

Darcy’s eyes never left hers, but he said, “Ah, I see.” A long moment passed in silence, then he glanced away and marched over to the branch. After easily plucking the headdress from the tree’s clutches, he presented it to Elizabeth. “I hope it is not too damaged.”

“I think my pride is more wounded, sir. My mother would never forgive me if she knew that I was caught in the act of climbing a tree at my age.” She jested, but it was not far from the truth. Mama looked for any reason to be angry with her.

When Elizabeth took the hat from him, their fingers grazed, and tingles leapt up her arm. That had happened the last two times they met while out walking, too. At first, she had excused it away. It was becoming increasingly apparent to her that she thrilled at the accidental touch from such a handsome man. Even now, she flushed under his inspection.

“She would probably faint dead away if she could see my hair,” Elizabeth muttered as she self-consciously looped it into a bun held together with one lone pin. The others were hopelessly lost.

“It is beautiful,” Darcy whispered.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame red. Her mouth dried as she had no idea what to say. Jane was always described as the beautiful one. For Darcy to say it now even though he had caught her acting like a hoyden and she knew she looked like a mess confused her greatly. Did he tease or mock her? His tone did not seem to suggest that. His compliment was contrary to everything she had been taught gentlemen wanted. Whenever uncomfortable, her instinct was always to make a joke—but she found it impossible. Before her slow tongue could come up with something to say, he had cleared his throat and held out his hand.

“May I escort you back to the parsonage?”

“I had just begun my walk,” she said, looking longingly at the path.

“I fear you lost this battle to the wind already.”

Elizabeth laughed and then tied the bonnet ribbon securely under her chin, cinching it tighter than before. “Then my enemy will never suspect my persistence. I trust your military cousin could devise some specialised term for such obstinacy.”

“I am sure he could. If you insist on continuing, may I offer my arm?” He raised a brow. “You may use your other hand to hold onto your hat, and I might be useful should you need help reaching it again.” He winked at her.

She placed her hand on his arm. “How is yours staying affixed to your head, sir? Do not tell me that gentlemen wear more pins than ladies.”

Darcy chuckled and then squeezed the hand which held his arm. “Unfortunately, as with many things of a gentleman’s wardrobe, it is quite snug.”

“I suppose active men have more important things to do than worry about their headgear. Fortunately, if one does fall off, it does not carry quite the same embarrassment and shame as it does for a lady.”

“I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, if my hat was knocked off my head, I would be quite embarrassed. My hair would not be so charmingly displayed as yours.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips and raised a brow in silent challenge. Darcy sighed and ceased their walking. She dropped his arm and watched in fascination as he raised both hands. After a sturdy tug, the hat gave way, revealing a mess of dark, curly hair askew in some areas and matted in others.

How adorable. A slow smile crossed her face. Her gaze lowered. He looked as he often did while conversing with her, but he nervously fiddled with the brim of his hat. He avoided her eyes. She cocked her head to one side. Had he mastered how to keep a neutral face but displayed his anxiety in other ways?

“Impressively dishevelled,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “Never fear, I shall not inform anyone that the mighty Mr Darcy is so mortal as to bleed and be less than tidy.”

Darcy smiled back and then replaced his hat. He put her hand on his arm and propelled them forward once more. “I do not care very much about my appearance. I am not a vain man.”

Elizabeth giggled. “Really, sir? You are always impeccably dressed in expensive attire. Well, except for the day you wore your valet’s shoes.”

Darcy immediately stiffened. “You do not see me at my home or at my leisure. Additionally, should I buy more affordable items? My purchases add to some worker’s purse. I am not a dandy and wear ostentatious things; my clothing suits my position in life.”

“I suppose that is correct,” she conceded. “Perhaps you care greatly about your reputation in all ways—not necessarily more about your looks like some men or women do.”

“That would be a fair assessment.” He relaxed a little. “What about you? You are always lovely but not consumed with the latest fashions or how you appear.”

To Elizabeth’s mortification, she flushed at his compliment. He stated it so bluntly. His tone conveyed fact, not flattery. It made her uncomfortable. “You have a sister, but I understand she is not yet out. Let me warn you now, the amount of time and effort that goes into dressing before any event will shock you. Now, I am uncertain if I should take what you have said as a compliment—for if it does not look as though I have laboured at it, then it must be effortless and natural—or as an insult and that you mean to say that I do not ever appear to take more than a few minutes at my toilette.”

“I would never mean to ridicule you. Forgive me if my praise was clumsy.”

Elizabeth felt a slight movement under her arm and noticed that he was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. Was he anxious again?

“You cannot convince me that you are vain—unlike so many ladies of the ton . For example, you did not care if you received your wardrobe while you tended to your ill sister at Netherfield. Borrowing another’s clothes did not concern you at all.” He glanced at her. “Therefore, I must conclude that the state in which I have had the privilege to see you many times is nothing more than your natural grace and attractiveness.”

His eyes snapped forward as soon as he finished speaking, but he rubbed his fingers together faster than ever. She had never heard him talk so directly, but it suited him. She could see that he could not put his thoughts in all the pretty packages of a well-delivered speech and perfectly timed flattery. She thanked God he did not have the silver tongue like another young man she knew.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth could barely hear her own voice. She did not know what to say. How was it that he could make her so speechless?

His gentle kindness since arriving contrasted starkly with his behaviour in Hertfordshire. Had something changed over the winter? Or was he trying to play some game with her? Was this not the same Mr Darcy who had cruelly separated his friend from Jane? Perhaps he did not intend to be cruel, but it had broken Jane’s heart, nonetheless. Maybe he regretted that, which is why he was so courteous to Elizabeth. Such questions filled her mind so much that she could barely attend to what he said during the remainder of their walk. Instead, she noticed that he continued his secret act of nervousness. Why should he be so apprehensive?