Page 41 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The following morning brought mild temperatures and clear skies, ideal for the six-mile ride to Copperdale.

Darcy rode first to Longbourn, where he assisted Elizabeth into the curricle.

Her eyes were bright with a sense of adventure and relief, and he was gladdened by her high spirits; she radiated a joyful enthusiasm that was foreign to the usual company he kept, and he could not regret her insistence on accompanying him to see for herself the state of the house and the land.

Like him, she was an early riser and thus they made an early start, off before nine, carrying a basket with a cold lunch and a flask of brandy to ensure their warmth.

It would be the first and longest period of time they had ever been alone together. They had sat in rooms and had met on walks, but now, recognised as an engaged couple, they were riding alone together. It was a tantalising but fraught situation.

Elizabeth clearly was eager to escape the confines of Longbourn and her mother’s lively preoccupation with the wedding—however small and solemn.

She apologised when she spoke of needing to away herself from talk of laces and white soups.

“Of course, a lady should feel joy at her wedding plans, but you know I am a wilful creature, and discussing the finery of the day whilst we are clothed for mourning is a painful irony. It does not mean I dread our wedding, simply the family celebration itself.”

As he felt much the same way, and found his own thoughts wandering to the more private celebration and ceremonies of their wedding night, Darcy had no trouble quickly assuring her that they were of like mind on anticipating their wedding day, and added, “It must please you that your mother has some happy diversion from her grief.”

His observation earned a warm, if resigned smile.

“She has long wished to marry off her daughters, especially the one least willing to please her. Being the centre of her attention tires me. Jane says it is the emotions of the day, and I believe she is close to the truth. That does not lessen my frustration,” she said, her wry smile drawing him further into her confidence, “for if I am to be fatigued, I prefer to be doing what I like.”

Darcy met her final words with a blank stare, desperate to tame his physical reaction to such a revelation.

Elizabeth had said it with full innocence, and she was due a smile or compliment for her mirthful self-awareness; instead, his mind went immediately to activities that would bring them, together, both fatigue and pleasure.

Cursing inwardly, he managed a smile but not before seeing the light dim in her eyes.

Dammit . This was not what he wanted. She was coming to him as a hesitant bride, an innocent, and he must take care not to overwhelm her with the physical expressions he repressed in her presence.

He valued her as an intelligent, witty, joy-filled lady whose company he did not tire of and who would enrich his life and Georgiana’s.

Her beauty and liveliness would not fade, nor would her spark; its flame had drawn him in since the moment they first met.

It had been subdued since her father’s death, but here it had appeared, if fleetingly, and he had ignored it; worse, he had acted as though it was wrongly felt.

Repressing his desire for her had become difficult; allowing her to think he was repulsed by her was intolerable.

Seeking to recapture her earlier liveliness, he smiled and reached to squeeze her hand briefly.

“Then you are a fortunate being, for I tire of doing so many things—even conversations with nearly everyone I meet can exhaust me to my very soul.”

“Poor Mr Darcy,” she laughed, “popular and admired by both friends and strangers.”

“And you, I hope?” He said it reflexively, and felt himself an idiot soon after.

“I believe I am beyond friend or stranger and thus beyond shallow sentiments.”

“Popularity and admiration are only as shallow as the minds of those who express it, although I admit to receiving such sentiments with unwanted frequency. My friendship with your father and the felicity of our future connexion has forged good will towards me here; my natural reserve would not have done so.”

“Ah,” she replied, her hand in the air, counting on her fingers. “Let me add honesty, self-deprecation, and self-knowledge to the long list of your admirable traits.”

“A long list, you say?” How she teased him! It was wonderful!

“I shall write it out for you and present it to you on our wedding day. Shall you do the same for me?”

“Of course. I shall need a full pot of ink and a fresh quill when I begin, and cannot vow whether Netherfield has an adequate supply of paper for my list.”

They laughed together, a genuine sharing of merriment.

It boded well for the rest of the day. Elizabeth had never been to Copperdale, and Darcy had not been to the place since riding out the day after Mr Bennet revealed its existence to him.

The farm and the connexion between his role in securing it for the Bennets and marrying Elizabeth was a delicate subject, and one he had not wished to pursue in conversation.

They had begun in hostility and managed a peace; as their teasing laughter showed, there now existed an amiability and affection that grew deeper on every meeting.

He was not yet prepared to complicate that promise by discussing the farm’s history and the potential it held for the Bennets’ future, but he did wish to know of Elizabeth’s memories and attachment to the place.

“Your father said you and Jane were acquainted with Matthew Wadham?”

“We were very young, and he was so tall and kind. He would tell us stories and use sticks to draw pictures in the dirt for me. Animals and flowers, as I recall.”

She sighed and drew her coat more tightly around her. “Lydia is a year older than Matthew was when he died. Is there no surviving family?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“’Tis a shame to have an entire family gone.

” Elizabeth looked ahead at the curving lane before speaking again.

“You have met near all my aunts and uncles and cousins here in Hertfordshire and in London.” She paused a moment before saying quietly, “I know of your parents, and I am sorry for it. You have been both brother and parent to your sister for some years. Managing a young girl cannot be easy for a man burdened with so many responsibilities.”

“My cousin, whom you have met, joins me as her guardian.” He hesitated, thinking briefly of the past year’s events, before going on to enlighten her about Georgiana’s shyness and love of music. “I hope you will be friends,” he concluded.

“We shall be more than friends, we shall be sisters. The Bennets could use a shy sister,” she teased him, “as well as one whose love of music is defined by taste and aptitude. I am afraid only my sister Mary and I play, and neither of us very well. One has the skill and the other the emotion, and as you know, one without the other is both tiresome and painful for the audience.”

“I have not heard you play, but yesterday, in church...” Darcy trailed off. After flicking the reins, he managed his reply. “You have a lovely voice, pure and melodic. I hope very much to hear you sing often at Pemberley. Duets, perhaps, with Georgiana.”

The blush he stirred on her cheeks, hidden by her bonnet, was nothing to the high colour she could now see on his own.

It was moments such as these when Elizabeth wondered how to reconcile the silent gentleman who had sat beside her at church and who stood amongst her neighbours, accepting their good wishes but revealing only reluctant signs of amiability, with this warm, teasing, even charming man.

It would be her life’s work to study him; the thought was less frightening than it would have been even a day ago.

After they arrived at Copperdale and he brought her down from the carriage, Darcy took her hand and they walked side by side towards the house. As they neared the door, Darcy stopped, and turning, asked her to stay back, behind him, a few steps.

“Do you suspect a fox or a nest of squirrels are inside? I am not afraid of forest creatures,” she said, a little affronted.

“I believe you are better equipped than any lady of my acquaintance to handle such encounters, Elizabeth.” The levity in his voice shifted to a solemn tone.

“More than just foxes and squirrels lurk in these woods, and a house that stands for years without inhabitants is not one I wish for you to enter until after I have seen inside.”

The humorous rebuttal on her lips died when she saw the grave look in his eyes.

He was right; there was no telling what, or who, might be inside the house.

He turned the doorknob and walked inside.

She waited in the silence, and after a minute or so, saw movement as he opened the shutters to let in the daylight.

Another window was opened up. A few minutes later, Darcy appeared in the doorway.

“Come in and see.”

She followed him inside and found small rooms with covered furniture and faded paper. The floors were in good condition, the stairs were sturdy, and the kitchen in need of a great cleaning after what appeared to be years of neglect and misuse.

“It surprises me to find no signs of trespassing,” Darcy said, “or of travellers or hunters in need of shelter when the weather goes sideways.”

“The house is well off the main road and the Wadhams were a respected family.” Elizabeth moved towards the sitting room, where an open window let fresh air into the stale house. “Did my father say why it was never leased? It has stood empty since the death of Mr Wadham.”

Darcy’s silence drew her attention. She turned and found him staring absently at the wall.

“Darcy?”

He grimaced.