Page 57

E lizabeth rose to her feet with her aunt as her father and Mr. Darcy entered the drawing room. They had been an inordinately long time, and she and her aunt had conjectured what might be being said.

She was sure of only one thing. If there had been open antagonism, they would have joined them sooner. And it was a relief to her that it seemed there had been some accord.

Her father nodded at them, and indicated that Aunt Cecilia should join him at the far fireplace. Her eyebrows rose as Mr. Darcy came towards her, his eyes alight with warmth and a fair amount of mischief.

He indicated the seat opposite her and raised his brows questioningly.

She nodded absently, looking over at her father and aunt. She looked back at him. “You know what I’m going to say, I’m sure.”

He appeared to be trying not to laugh. “I have no idea, my lady. You had better say it.”

“All right. Who is that and where is my father?”

His gentle smile warmed her through. “It is what I was going to ask you, Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps we can discover it while we converse.”

She smiled as she watched the footmen bringing in the trays of fresh tea and coffee. Her eyebrows rose. There were two sets of refreshments, one for each of those sitting by different fireplaces. Father must have decided early how the evening would proceed.

It seemed Mr. Darcy had the same thought, as he waited in silence for the servants to leave.

She raised a brow. “Well?”

He shook his head. “I do not know, madam. But he has arranged this opportunity and asked me to explain what we spoke about.”

“You were a very long time, so I think I might have discerned it. Although I don’t know what the decision is.”

Mr. Darcy seemed to be considering his words carefully. “His Grace has been generous enough to agree that I might call upon you — if it is what you wish for.”

His gaze seemed anxious, and Elizabeth felt her face warming in a blush. She concentrated on the teacup in her hands.

“Lady Elizabeth?” His voice was gentle and warm, reminding her of those dances where he’d not demanded anything of her but that she should enjoy herself.

She looked up. “I would like that, Mr. Darcy.”

He seemed to relax, and his smile broke up the stern expression he’d had for much of the evening. “Might I be presumptuous and begin tomorrow?”

“Begin?”

“Calling on you, my lady.” His chuckle warmed her through and through, comforting and gentle, like a hot chocolate in front of the fire on a cold winter’s day. She wondered how she could hear it again.

“Of course.” She nodded. “But there must have been a reason explained for his sudden change of heart.”

He looked at her carefully. “He wanted to discuss his concerns for your safety following your ordeal in Hertfordshire.”

Her lips tightened. “The need for me to marry expeditiously,” she said flatly. Her heart fell. While she thought she would quite like to marry Mr. Darcy, she wanted to have come to know him first, to be confident in his feelings for her, rather than a cold arrangement. “Well, ask away then, sir.”

His brow creased. “Your father told me you were as aware as he was of the necessity,” he seemed bemused. “And what am I supposed to be asking?”

She sighed. “Being aware of it doesn’t mean I have to like it. And as for asking, have you not arranged an engagement?”

He shook his head. “No, Lady Elizabeth,” he said quietly and gently.

“I will admit that he has asked me to call on you with the hope you might discover your feelings, whether or not it means you wish to get to know me better. But no. I would not agree to make an offer to any lady unless I felt she would be able to accept me from a position of affection, not obligation.”

“Oh,” she was surprised — and pleased, she could admit it to herself.

She smiled mischievously. “And how many others are you in competition with?”

His wry smile told of a rather more uncomfortable interview with Father than he seemed to be admitting to. “I don’t believe he will permit you to be inundated with callers, madam.”

“That is a considerable relief,” she said tartly. “So, how do we begin with your call tomorrow, Mr. Darcy?”

His smile was a little cautious, and rather more embarrassed. “Perhaps we could begin now? I hoped easy conversation would be a comfortable place to start.”

She relaxed a little. “I used to enjoy our dances when we had the opportunity to converse without having to hide my past.” She knew her voice was wistful.

“Then let us begin like that,” his voice was gentle and quiet. “Have you heard from Mrs. Bingley recently? I would think she is both sorry to lose you to town, but secretly relieved not to be hosting your father at Netherfield.”

Elizabeth smiled appreciatively. “Jane has not said as much in her letters, but I can read between the lines, and I cannot say you are wrong.”

She watched as Mr. Darcy sat back in his chair, seeming to be more relaxed. He smiled. “Does she say whether her mother has improved? I think you have been worried about her.”

Elizabeth nodded, feeling a little wary. Would Father have told him? “I believe she is happier that I am now well, although …” she hesitated. Perhaps he needed to know. “It is early, so we are not spreading the news too widely, Mr. Darcy, but Mama is expecting another child.”

His surprise was genuine. He leaned forward. “And how do you — did you — feel when you heard the news?”

She met his eyes. “I thank you for asking, sir. It was what was exercising my mind when I walked too far ahead of Dawlish that day.” She blinked, not wanting to weep.

“I knew Mama and Papa might have wanted to try once more for a son, having met Mr. Collins, but my heart was hurt that they might be replacing me.”

He reached out for her hand, seemingly without thought. “Please do not distress yourself, madam. It is hard to stop these thoughts, though I am sure you are right in deducing that Mr. Collins’ visit probably precipitated their decision.”

Elizabeth gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. I now just have to stop castigating myself for putting myself in a dangerous situation.”

Mr. Darcy squeezed her hand slightly. “You did not. It was Wickham who did this. It is Wickham who was to blame. If you had been closer to the servants, it would not have been different, I am sure.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Perhaps we ought to rejoin the others. I can play for you. And then I will look forward to your call tomorrow.”