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“Your sister is the true victim here; the woman she was supposed to rely on betrayed her. How is she recovering?” Elizabeth found her anger rising at Wickham’s presumption. She had to restrain herself from kicking the artfully arranged topiary that lined the path.

“It was a shock, but I think the fact that she was suspicious and reached out to me helped her confidence. She has a new companion, Mrs. Ansley, who has been good to her. Our cousin Colonel Theodore Fitzwilliam is with her now in London and they will travel to stay here until the holiday season.” He would need to give his cousin a warning about Wickham.

Darcy added that to his list of things that he needed to do later in the day that would help him avoid Caroline Bingley.

“I hope their visit goes well, though I am concerned about his presence here affecting your sister.” Elizabeth’s maternal instincts were coming to the fore.

“Wickham is terrified of Theo, so it should be well enough. I will ask him to bring two of our bigger footmen, who are ex-soldiers. With someone to escort her, I think she will feel safe enough. I also spoke to the shop owners about not giving credit to the officers, as he does not pay his debts.” Darcy ran his fingers through his hair again.

Tilting her head, Elizabeth studied Mr. Darcy. “It seems like you do well with socializing in some settings. Do you find it easier to communicate with fewer people in the vicinity? Or is there some other reason, do you think?” Elizabeth questioned.

Pausing, Mr. Darcy considered her question.

Did he do better with some people than others?

He felt an interesting gladness when he considered he was doing well in some of his interactions.

“When I took over my estate, I had to interact with many people to make sure things started running smoothly. I found that if I felt the interaction was part of my duty, it was fine. If there was a reason behind my words, if someone needed something, I had no problems. I do not know why that worked, but I was grateful it did,” Darcy answered.

Reaching out, she ran her hand along the hedge that marked the edge of the garden.

It separated the pretty from the useful, as the kitchen garden graced the other side.

“That must be very helpful for getting everything taken care of. I know this is a change in subject, but I have a question that may be out of line and do not answer if you do not wish to. One thing Lieutenant Wickham said was that you were your parents’ only living son.

Did you have a brother?” Elizabeth knew it would devastate her to lose any of her sisters.

Darcy did not always think of his lost brother as it was so long ago.

“Yes, I had a twin brother. He was older than me by twenty-three minutes. He was not born healthy, and it was only a matter of days before he died. It affected my mother that she had lost him, as it had been a difficult pregnancy, I am told.” He was happy to have his sister but had not known his brother to regret him as a person, though he regretted the idea of him.

“I am sorry for your loss. I am sure that even though you do not remember, it affected your life,” Elizabeth said with compassion.

“That is very accurate. All my life, I was being compared to Tybalt, my poor dead brother who would have been so much better than me, by my mother. Of course, my father was no better. He was comparing me to Wickham, who seemed to be born with the ability to speak pleasantly and persuasively.” It appalled him that some people had a knack they would only exploit for their own dark intentions.

“Did he never see his baser proclivities?” Elizabeth had a hard time comprehending a man approving of any such activities.

Darcy had a hard time considering the relationship his father had with Wickham.

He hoped his father did not know how bad he was.

“I cannot be sure, and I do not know what feels worse—that he never paid enough attention to see what was happening, or that he did not care about what was happening. My father placed great value on appearances and Wickham can appear to be all that is genuine and good, while I have always struggled not to appear taciturn and judgmental.”

They continued along the path together, contemplating their own issues and lost in their own thoughts.

Despite their inattention to one another, they still moved in sync, their movements mirroring each other, their strides matching unconsciously.

They gained warmth and comfort from the other’s presence, always willing to support them.

“We both have reasons to regret our parents’ choices. So now that we have discussed all the serious matters, we should move on to brighter topics. What do you think of Mr. Bingley and my sister?”

Darcy was glad to change the subject. “He has always been a cheerful person and would sooner jump out of his carriage and help someone than pass by a person in need. Yet despite that, he has taken nothing completely seriously. When a carriage accident took both his parents and older brother, his opportunities and future changed. He had begun the process of obtaining his own estate, as his father had asked, but it had not transformed him. I think to him it was just another lark. But meeting your sister has been different. He told me he does not remember having a serious conversation with a woman before he met your sister. She is making him think, which is an excellent thing.”

“That is reassuring. I know my sister deserves a great many good things in her life. She spends most of her time trying to help people. Though being honest, I think making Miss Bingley think about her color choices would be more beneficial to us all than making Mr. Bingley think. Sadly, I do not see anyone being successful in that endeavor.”

Elizabeth’s thickly lashed eyes widened when Mr. Darcy did the most remarkable thing—he laughed.

He laughed so hard that it drew the attention of everyone in the garden.

Remarkably, when Elizabeth witnessed Mr. Darcy’s great booming laugh and dimples, her brain ceased to function.

She tripped over her own feet and landed in a heap on the path.

Powerful hands helped to pull her to her feet and Jane brushed off her dress.

Her eyes had a glazed, dreamy look, and the only word that floated through her mind was “dimples.”