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Mr. Darcy smiled at her, the sort of smile to make a woman’s heart race, and one that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the party. “I cannot say if I can describe all Derbyshire, Miss Bennet. But I shall share what I know.”

For some time thereafter the gentleman spoke of the wonders of the neighborhood in which he lived, taking some time to depict the sights of Pemberley, from a small waterfall and lake on the northern edge of the estate, to the woods and waving fields of grain, and an old Roman ruin just to the north.

Then he roamed a little further afield, speaking of Thorpe Cloud and Dovedale, which he said was only a few hours from his home, Derwent Edge and Winnats Pass in the peaks.

Then he spoke of some other towns nearby, and ended with some commentary on what she would find at the lakes.

Through all this, Elizabeth sat entranced by the rich sound of his baritone voice, picturing the canvas he painted in her mind.

For a time, Elizabeth found herself lost in the tales he was telling, and for the first time, she wondered what eloquence this man, who she had always considered of few words, could summon.

Then she imagined what it would be like when he came to Hertfordshire as he promised.

Was it possible for her to change her opinion to one opposite of what she had espoused in Hertfordshire early in their meeting?

Not only did it appear possible, but Elizabeth suspected that this Mr. Darcy could have an excess of power over her if he exerted himself.

Doubt about whether he would exert himself melted away like frost under a warm spring sun.

From there, it was a quick journey to anticipation, to longing for understanding of this quiet yet complex man.

Then suddenly she wished she were not to go to the lakes, for impatience began to build within her breast.

The last she tamped down on, knowing it was silly to consider such things.

Elizabeth was for the lakes, and Mr. Darcy would host the Bingleys.

They would meet again in Hertfordshire as Mr. Darcy had promised, and then Elizabeth would learn what her future held.

There was no reason for impatience, for Elizabeth knew she had all the time in the world.

“Mr. Bingley once said that you were an awful object on a Sunday evening when you had nothing to do,” observed Elizabeth when he stopped speaking.

The effervescent gentleman shot her a grin, recalling the comment—even Mr. Darcy, who Elizabeth had thought offended, appeared to remember it with fondness.

“It appears,” continued Elizabeth, “that a Friday afternoon finds you in a far better humor, and I dare say that you even possess the soul of a poet, Mr. Darcy.”

The gentleman regarded her with every iota of his attention, nothing wavering. “For the first, Miss Bennet, it is all about the company. With such excellent friends as these, who could find anything wanting?”

“Oh, to be certain!” exclaimed Miss Bingley, breaking into the conversation when Elizabeth wondered if she would remain altogether silent. “We have been such excellent friends for so long; it is wonderful to visit so, and I anticipate many more such days in the future.”

Her meaning was not lost on Elizabeth, though she noted that Mr. Darcy did not bat an eyelash at her veiled comment. The gentleman said nothing to her, instead returning to Elizabeth’s previous statement.

“As for the second,” said he, “I claim no ability to construct poetry, Miss Bennet. However, I will claim that the beauties of my home would inspire even the least poetic among us.”

“That, Mr. Darcy, is without question.”

“I am pleased that you agree.”

All things must end, and that came soon after as Elizabeth realized it was time that she must return to Lambton and rejoin her aunt and uncle.

Though with the greatest reluctance, Mr. Darcy called for his carriage while Elizabeth entered the house to refresh herself for the journey back to the market town.

The unfortunate result of this decision was that it allowed Miss Bingley to corner her and say what she had wished to say from the moment Elizabeth arrived.

“Your attempts have been most amusing, little Eliza,” said the woman as she stepped from a side hallway, intending to waylay Elizabeth, “but Mr. Darcy is too much a man of the world to fall for an unsuitable woman such as you.”

To throw those words back in Miss Bingley’s face and remind her just who was gently born was low-hanging fruit, such that Elizabeth rejected it without thought.

There was little this woman could do to harm her, and no chance of her affecting Mr. Darcy, despite whatever dreams she harbored, and Elizabeth had no interest in leaving Pemberley on the heels of an argument.

“Miss Bingley,” said she, taking another tack altogether, “I see no reason to argue between us. Your opinions do not align with my own, it is true, but there is little reason to engage in testy words seasoned with contempt. After all, I am to depart the estate at once and shall go north tomorrow to the lakes. I would not wish to argue the moment I am to leave.”

The woman considered her for a long moment. “Yes, I suppose it is fortunate that you shall remove from Pemberley. Perhaps your conclusion in the end will be what it should have been all along.”

Elizabeth shrugged, not willing to give an inch. “As none of us can know the future, I have no notion what the conclusion will be. What I do know is that I should like to part in civility.”

Again, the woman remained silent for some moments. “When Mr. Darcy invited us to join him at Pemberley, I knew it would be my greatest triumph. You must know that your quitting the field will leave me as the only one standing and the ultimate victor.”

“If that is so,” said Elizabeth, “then I invite you to go to it. When I came north, I had no notion of meeting you all again, and less that you and I would be at cross purposes.”

It was clear that Miss Bingley did not believe a word Elizabeth said.

Had Elizabeth thought Miss Bingley believed what she said herself, she might have pitied her.

As it was, the bravado was thinly veiled, though Elizabeth suspected she would do everything in her power to provoke a proposal from Mr. Darcy so long as she had him to herself as she supposed.

Even if she should go so far as to attempt to force Mr. Darcy’s hand, Elizabeth suspected she had no chance of obtaining what she wished.

Thus, she was more than willing to offer the woman her best wishes, for she knew it would avail Miss Bingley nothing.

“Very well,” said she at length. “Civility is something I can muster, though you should expect nothing more from me.”

“Trust me, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “Civility is more than sufficient.”

Miss Bingley walked away with barely a nod, excusing herself from Elizabeth’s presence.

Elizabeth watched her go for a moment and then, shaking her head, she turned to follow, knowing the time had come.

Before she could take so much as a step, Mr. Darcy emerged from a room nearby and regarded her, his smile no less than knowing.

“You handled that with remarkable restraint, Miss Bennet.”

“Perhaps that is what you think, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth wryly. “From my perspective, there was no reason to argue with her, for I will not change her opinion.”

Mr. Darcy considered her. “Do you suppose she is correct? Shall I fall to her charms the moment you are out of my company?”

“If you do, Mr. Darcy, then you are not the man I know you to be. In fact, you will not even be the man I thought you to be in Hertfordshire.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” was his ironic reply. “Tell me, Miss Bennet, what sort of man did you suppose I was when we first met?”

Elizabeth arched a brow at him. “Must we speak of this? Is there any reason to do so?”

“Humor me,” said the gentleman. “Your comment evokes memories of those days and has caused me to realize that I did not see so clearly as I thought.”

Though unwilling, Elizabeth could only say: “Let us say that you did not appear to be in the best humor, sir.”

“I was not, and the reason for that I believe you already understand.”

“I do. At the time, however, I knew nothing of it. All I knew was that a man had come to the neighborhood who appeared to disdain me and all I hold dear.”

Mr. Darcy cocked his head to the side. “Was the impression I gave that faulty?”

“This is the reason I did not wish to speak of it, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “Knowing what I know now, your perturbation of spirits is not unexpected.”

“Is it not the mark of a gentleman to put such concerns to the side?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Should I not have behaved as a gentleman even if I was not in the best spirits?”

“Perhaps you should have,” agreed Elizabeth. “We, none of us, are perfect, Mr. Darcy. You, no more than any other.”

“The point you made at Netherfield.”

“As I recall,” said Elizabeth, fixing the gentleman with no little amusement, “ you made that point yourself. I was the one who suggested you were a man without fault.”

“I suppose I did,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “Then you have given me absolution?”

“Absolution is not mine to give.”

“Perhaps. Yet I would know that you do not hold my behavior against me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Whatever resentment I once possessed weakened when Jane proved she was unaffected by Mr. Bingley’s defection and melted away as time and reflection altered my perspective. I have held nothing against you for many months.”

With a deft move, Mr. Darcy captured the hand that rested on his arm and raised it to his lips. “Then I am pleased to hear it, Miss Bennet. Given your words, you will welcome me when I come with Bingley to Hertfordshire.”