Page 42 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

Her expression matched his as she felt a rush of anger at her father for his indolence and lack of enterprise in providing for his family.

He spent money to buy the farm and its land, but did he truly never think about the income to be earned from his investment?

Guilt and sorrow followed quickly, which only reinforced how confused she remained in her grief.

“Elizabeth.”

Much to her consternation, she could not bear to meet his gaze.

Nor could she find strength or reason to pull away when his arms went around her.

She stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and, despite her confusion, she could not keep from taking solace in his arms. The warmth and comfort he gave her, now and by virtue of the attachment he had pursued with her, sank into her heart.

Her eyes fluttered shut when his warm breath brushed her cheek; it did not occur to her to protest when Darcy leaned down and grazed his lips against it.

Elizabeth lifted her face, turning just enough, so that his lips fell onto hers.

His kiss was gentle and brief—he seemed as startled as she by her boldness—and feeling bubbled up within her.

She nearly laughed as Darcy sighed and pulled away, and her countenance grew more joyful under his warm, endearing gaze.

He grinned. “You do love to laugh.”

It was a dull afternoon and nothing of interest to occupy the inhabitants of Netherfield.

Hurst and his brother Robbins were playing cards, their wives were looking at a fashion magazine together, and Miss Bingley was intent upon her correspondence.

Disruption and diversion arrived when Bingley entered the drawing room.

“Charles!” Miss Bingley rose from her chair and walked quickly towards him.

“Ah, the long-lost wanderer has returned!” cried Hurst. He moved to clap Bingley on the shoulder but the younger man took a quick step away. Hurst looked at him, perplexed.

“Sorry old man,” Bingley said with a chagrined smile. “Still a bit tender there.”

Robbins winced. “Ah, yes. I just heard the sorry news.”

“Just?” Bingley glanced at his sister.

“You wrote it so ill, Charles! As if you could not hold a pen!”

“Hardly so! Nor could you, apparently!” he cried.

“What is your excuse, for not writing to me about the tragedy suffered by the Bennets?” When his accusation met with silence, he continued.

“The Bennets are our neighbours, Caroline. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are our friends! What has been done for them?”

She sniffed in reply. “All that should be done, with every proper feeling. His neighbours buried him, his widow and her family are in black, and they host sympathetic company.”

“What have you done for them?” Bingley repeated, turning to his elder sister. “Louisa?”

The sisters’ reprieve came with the entrance of Netherfield’s other new arrival.

“Where is my cousin?”

The colonel strolled into the room, amused by the looks of surprise on every face but Bingley’s.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, welcome to Netherfield.” Bingley made the necessary introductions.

Miss Bingley, who assumed a greater intimacy with the colonel than was in fact true, took the first opportunity to sate everyone’s curiosity and create a respite from her brother’s ire. “Is all well in London, with your family?”

“Other than missing the company of a beloved brother, nephew, and cousin, all is well. Nothing to losing a husband and father, I assure you. I am deeply grieved for the Bennets.” With a cool expression, the colonel pressed his chastened hostess. “Am I not to find Darcy here?”

Miss Bingley exchanged a look with her sister, who, clearly understanding the younger’s reluctance to share information injurious to herself, finally spoke, though still without offering all the information sought.

“Mr Darcy has gone to Longbourn,” Mrs Hurst said delicately.

“Ah. My cousin is aiding the widow, I understand.” He watched as Miss Bingley blushed and moved away from the conversation .

Bingley looked grim. “Had I but known the awful news, I would have returned sooner.”

“With a bruised seat?”

Bingley waved off his eldest sister. “It is fortunate Darcy has been here. He is a good man and a good friend to his neighbours.”

“Yes,” Hurst growled, “but more importantly, he has turned into a romantic.”

“What do you mean? ‘Romantic?’”

The dark expression on the colonel’s face prompted a gasp from Mrs Robbins; her husband and Mrs Hurst led her from the room. Miss Bingley’s scowl was nearly as angry.

“His attachment to Miss Eliza,” spat Miss Bingley. “They are betrothed.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” cried Bingley. “Never did I imagine Darcy’s affections were engaged.”

Incredulous, the colonel echoed Bingley’s thoughts. “Darcy has proposed to the lady?”

“He had no choice! The hoyden threw herself at him.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam, though not yet recovered from his astonishment, could not lose his manners.

“Are you saying they were found in a compromising situation?” When Miss Bingley declined to affirm that it was so, he continued.

“I have met Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is no hoyden. She is a gentle-born woman of great wit and intelligence.”

He enjoyed the look of shock his words painted on Miss Bingley’s face.

“As are all the Bennets,” Bingley said in a sharp voice. “Poor Miss Bennet, to lose her father and now her favourite sister. To marriage and Pemberley, I mean, not anything dreadful.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and glanced at the colonel. “Darcy and Miss Elizabeth. Well, well, well.”

“Is the lady not in mourning? How could?—?”

“The settlement was signed before Mr Bennet’s death.

” Hurst looked between the two startled men and strode over to the sideboard.

He returned and thrust a glass of brandy into each man’s hand.

The colonel nodded his thanks and sank into a nearby chair.

His mind raced as he tried to make sense of his methodical cousin’s plunge into country society and enthrallment with a country miss.

He refused to think of his family’s reaction. He needed first to hear it from Darcy.

“He enjoyed her conversation,” he said, “but I knew nothing more of it.”

“To those of us at Netherfield,” Miss Bingley declared, “the Bennets’ schemes and attentions have been obvious. It is his good intentions as a neighbour which Miss Elizabeth has turned to her advantage.”

“Leave us, Caroline, and please see to a room for Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

The lady spun on her heel and stormed out. Bingley excused himself and followed. Hurst took a seat next to the colonel.

“It has been a dull, dull time here. Darcy here and there—mostly there. Playing chess with Mr Bennet, and then off to London. Back again after his death, common licence in his pocket. Little wonder Caroline is spitting fire. I can only imagine the tales being told in town.”

“No tales are being told, Hurst, as no one in London even knows of his-his engagement.” Disgruntled, and more than a little worried for his cousin, Richard knocked his glass against Hurst’s. “You have been here, in this house with Darcy. Has he been compromised?”

“Not at all. ’Tis an honest and happy engagement, if rather secretive beforehand. Miss Elizabeth is a good girl, knows how to put Caroline in her place.”

Whatever relief the colonel may have felt was lessened by the mockery a ‘love match’ would receive from his family.

And that would be the least of it. His father would be angry, his stepmother livid.

Hell has no fury like a woman whose daughter has been scorned, he thought before pushing aside any sense of amusement.

Lady Matlock had made assumptions, the earl had made investments and allowed his wife’s overspending in anticipation of the family estates and fortunes being joined; no matter what kind of girl Elizabeth Bennet may be, an alliance to her was not in the Fitzwilliam family’s interests.

Richard pressed on, eager to learn more about whatever Darcy had been doing in this place besides turning into a romantic fool.

“What is this ‘here and there’ business?”

“St Albans. Looking over some land there.”

A new investment. That sounds like Darcy. “Is there an estate that he has determined to purchase?”

Shrugging, Hurst drained his glass. “Your cousin is full of surprises, hunting for a wife and treasure. I know nothing of the details, but he suspects Roman gold on the land.” He chuckled and lowered his voice.

“Do keep this from my wife and her sister. They are too wound up with the wedding news as it is.”

Richard sat back in his chair. Engaged to a lady without lineage, wealth or connexions, and still mourning her father’s death, and Darcy was eager to purchase an estate he believes holds ancient treasures? Was the estate connected to the Bennets, and did they know of this windfall?

Remaining clear-headed and able to make a list of what repairs would be needed to the house and barn was difficult after such a moment as they had shared. While Darcy would be more than content to continue any such intimacies, a rundown house full of dust was not the place for such things.

He led Elizabeth outside to walk the grounds around the house, pointing out the fields and gardens and showing her where Larkspur Stream began, bubbling up from the ground and flowing for miles, as a trickle or a torrent, through farms and fields and woods until reaching Longbourn and Netherfield and beyond.

“Water rights begin here, which makes this land quite valuable.”

“Did my father know of this when he purchased it?”

“Of the water, yes—” Darcy stopped himself.

She exhaled quietly and nothing more was said.

A child who thought her father a perfect being in humour, love and understanding had grown into a young lady indulgent of his minor shortcomings.

No man wished to have his flaws and failings and inconsistencies exposed, most especially to the daughter he most esteemed.

It was oddly reassuring to Darcy that his own mistakes and flaws were already so well canvassed by the woman beside him.

When she shivered briefly, he shrugged off his coat and lifted it to her shoulders.

“I am well,” she said, trying to resist his aim.

“No, it is chilly and your mother would have my head if you caught cold before the wedding.”

She laughed and allowed him to drape it around her. The coat swallowed her up, its tails brushing the ground. She drew it around herself and looked up at him, her eyes glowing with warmth.

“You are so tall. At times I forget the disparity in size between us.”

Darcy stared at her blankly, unable to do more than nod in fear of losing control and kissing her madly. They had moved past tenuous tolerance to friendship; he hesitated to attempt anything more passionate. Yet.

“There are holes in the roof, the barn floor is rotted, and the well should be inspected,” he said at last. “I shall make enquiries for some workers come to clean the house and address the repairs.”

“Thank you, but my mother?—”

“This house is unfit for your mother. It shall be let and she shall collect the income. ”

Her astonished yet gladdened face pushed him onward with his plans.

“Your mother shall have a house near to Meryton, with windows looking out on the square.”

“What?”

“I have heard your mother dislikes barnyard animals and has tired of country life.”

“You have heard this from?—?”

Her chagrined expression was endearing and he was quick to reply.

“It is a known sentiment, and as Mr Collins comes in the New Year to do as he might at Longbourn, it behoves me as Mrs Bennet’s son to set her up in an establishment more to her liking. A house where she can see her neighbours and keep up with their business would be ideal.”

There was a moment of quiet in which Darcy feared Elizabeth was angry for deciding her mother’s life without consulting her, but then peals of laughter rang out.

“Ideal for her, but think of the neighbours. All of Meryton, espied on by Fanny Bennet.” She sobered and grew quiet.

“This shall cost a goodly sum of money. You have arranged this?”

“You have read the settlement, Elizabeth. Your pin money will be a greater amount than these expenses.” He lifted her gloved hand to his lips, and turned it gently to brush a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “I shall arrange it all, once I have your agreement to the idea.”

“Even did I not agree and accept on her behalf, you have already given my mother her greatest wish. A son.” Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes shy yet flashing with impertinence.

He would not tire of such an expression, so full of intrigue and intelligence.

She had led a small life in a small town yet there was so much within her to learn, and so much to show her. So much to love. It was terrifying.