Page 4 of Mrs. Gardiner: Matchmaker (The Pemberley Collection #3)

Elizabeth sensed Darcy's hesitation in speaking—and why shouldn't he be hesitant? Here she was, invading his privacy by coming to his home, wholly uninvited. She needed to apologize for the intrusion.

"Well, sir, your arrival has been most unexpected," she began slowly, looking down at the ground, "for your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till tomorrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country."

"Yes, it is quite true I was not expected until tomorrow," he answered. She peeked a glance over at him and saw he was also looking down, his face was red with a deep blush, "but business with my steward occasioned me to arrive some hours earlier than the rest of the party with whom I was traveling."

He paused and then added, "They will join me early tomorrow, and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you—Mr. Bingley and his sisters."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Mr. Bingley was coming here?

She'd not thought she would ever lay eyes upon the man again, not after he departed Netherfield last autumn and broke her dearest sister's heart. And then she blushed with embarrassment—the last time they both spoke of the man in question had been when she and Darcy argued at Hunsford. She stole a look at Darcy—he also looked embarrassed—he must have been remembering that horrible night, too.

He cleared his throat, however, and continued, "There is also one other person in the party who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?"

Elizabeth gaped for only a small moment before she shut her mouth again and nodded. She couldn't believe Darcy would want to introduce her to his sister, not after all that happened between them. This was most unexpected—and yet, she found she desired to meet the young girl, the one who was so nearly stolen from Darcy by the likes of that horrid Wickham last year. The fact that Darcy would deign to introduce her to his sister spoke volumes—it suggested to her loudly that he held her in some esteem, even now, even after everything.

Even if she couldn't see how.

They remained silent, the sounds of birds and wind whistling through the trees occupying their ears between their languid steps on the gravel path below their feet. Elizabeth wanted to speak, but she felt like she couldn't. She stole another glance at her companion—how handsome he truly was. His features were strong, his chiseled jaw and his pleasant eyes, his thick, dark hair, and his healthy, tall gait—how on earth had she allowed herself to be so blind as to not admire this man outright?

All because of some rude mutterings in a crowded ballroom?

What would have happened if she had shown Darcy an iota of grace for his mistaken words—what would have happened if she hadn't retaliated in her childish way, bandying about to all who would listen his rude behavior, like a sullied juvenile? What would have happened if she had allowed herself a dance with the man at Lucas Lodge? Or at Netherfield, that time when Jane was recovering?

What would have happened if she had only freed herself from being held captive by her prejudice against him?

Their pace was much faster than her aunt and uncle's, as she looked behind and saw they were falling behind, almost as if Mrs. Gardiner was dragging her feet in the most unnecessary way. No, Elizabeth thought to herself, that was uncharitable. She knew if her aunt claimed fatigue, then she meant it.

Besides, it was not as if her aunt had any idea of her troubled and precarious relationship with the man beside her.

As they made it near the carriage, the silence between them was nearly palpable. Darcy stopped and turned toward her.

"Would you like to return inside and rest, while we wait on your family?" he asked.

Elizabeth smiled at him, and incredibly, the effect her look had on his was noticeable—he straightened up ever so slightly, smiling a little back, his expression now resembling the one he wore in his portrait. She was struck dumb by how handsomely he appeared just now, and she wondered at her effect on him and its meaning—

He couldn't he still love her, could he?

"No, no," she said to him, "I am not so tired as for all that. I am happy to remain out here while we wait."

Silence once more, that little smile on Darcy's face no longer there. Elizabeth shifted awkwardly. Oh, how desperately uncomfortable she felt in this moment. She peered out at her aunt and uncle—what could possibly be taking so long? She looked back at Darcy again, noticing he was watching her intently. His gaze seemed to envelop her, sending shivers down her spine, a very uncanny feeling to have. Her face heated into a light blush, and she wondered if he could see the effect he was having on her. After holding eye contact for just a brief moment longer, he pulled his eyes away and walked a little in one direction, as if to stretch his legs, though they had just been walking so much. She clasped her hands together nervously, and she took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves.

Think, Lizzy, think. Speak to the man, for heaven's sake. Why are you mute?

"So, you have been traveling?" she heard Darcy suddenly say, and she was grateful to him for finding some such subject to speak upon. She replied and told him of all the sights they had seen throughout Derbyshire, visiting the peaks and other grand houses in the county. She kept her eyes on her aunt and uncle still, however, watching them move with the most dreadful, almost intentional slowness. If Elizabeth hadn't known better, she would almost say she thought she saw her aunt looking at them pointedly, just to turn her head away and slow down her walking even more . Goodness, how ridiculous this was getting. It was increasingly more and more awkward between her and Darcy, and her aunt was making things exceedingly worse by delaying!

Elizabeth shook her head to rid herself of such uncharitable, unfeeling thoughts about her beloved aunt. It wasn't Mrs. Gardiner's fault that things were terribly uncomfortable between her niece and the master of this great estate. Elizabeth willed herself to not think so unkindly toward her aunt.

She looked back at Darcy, their conversation waning. He was watching her again, but this time he pulled his eyes away with more haste, his face reddening intensely as he did so.

What was he thinking? It caused her to blush, too, when he suddenly glanced back and saw her looking at him. She averted her eyes, feeling like the greatest fool. She wondered again, self consciously, how it all must have appeared to him, her being here at his home, when just months ago she refused his offer of marriage.

If she hadn't, this would all be hers now.

And she might even be expecting a baby, too.

This thought certainly caused her to blush, but even more so, a strange pang ached through her heart, too. She hadn't even thought about children until this very moment, but realizing now that she would have born Darcy's children, the future heirs to this grand estate—it made her feel shaky, uneasy, wobbly on her feet.

She took a small step to right herself, but this only made the sudden onslaught of dizziness and nausea worse.

"Miss Bennet?"

It was the last thing she heard before seeing black.