Page 3 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)

D arcy stared out at the gathering storm clouds from the sanctuary of the library and cursed his own weakness. The flood had made travel to Longbourn impossible, and now there would be no relief from the danger that lurked beneath Netherfield's roof.

Not the rising waters. Those posed no threat to the house itself, situated as it was more than a mile from the river and on higher ground.

The true danger was far more insidious: she had appeared at Netherfield looking like a particularly vexing woodland sprite, pink-cheeked, bright-eyed, with tousled hair.

It was now how she appeared nightly in his dreams. Even in his sleep he found her insufferably alluring.

He had very nearly smiled at her in the hall this morning. Very nearly allowed himself the luxury of genuine conversation. It was precisely this sort of carelessness that had brought him to his current predicament.

Ridiculous, he told himself firmly. Utterly ridiculous.

The library door opened, and Darcy straightened, prepared to greet whoever entered with cool civility. When he saw that it was only Bingley, he permitted his shoulders to relax marginally .

"There you are, Darcy," said Bingley, his voice cheerful. "I have just dispatched a rider to Longbourn so the Bennets need not worry.”

“The northern bridge is passable?”

“Just.”

"Good," Darcy replied. If only the northern bridge was wide enough to allow for a carriage, his problem would be solved. But it was not.

Outside, a heavy rain continued to fall. No, the Bennet sisters would not be leaving Netherfield today. "How did Miss Bennet receive the news?"

"Miss Bennet is exceedingly gracious, as always," Bingley enthused, coming to stand beside him with the sort of dreamy expression that suggested he was mentally composing poetry about his latest love.

"Her sister told me that Miss Bennet wished only to convey her gratitude for our care of her. Of course, Miss Elizabeth took on the most difficult burden.”

Of course she had. Miss Elizabeth seemed devoted to those she loved. It was one of her many admirable qualities that he absolutely refused to admire.

"I was thinking," Bingley continued, oblivious to Darcy's inner turmoil, "that we might organise some amusements during our confinement. Caroline is already lamenting the lack of society, and Louisa has taken to her room with a headache. Perhaps cards this evening? Or music?"

Naturally Bingley's idea of happiness involved everyone being together every moment. For Darcy, it would be torture to sit in the same room as Miss Elizabeth while pretending not to notice how her fine eyes lit up when she was amused.

She had found much to amuse her during her stay. Not that he had been watching.

"If you wish," Darcy replied, his tone carefully neutral and betraying none of his internal struggle .

"Come now, Darcy, do not be so dour. This is a splendid opportunity!" Bingley leaned closer, lowering his voice with all the subtlety of a man who had never kept a secret in his life. "And Miss Bennet has agreed to join us for dinner. She is feeling well enough to come downstairs."

"I see" was all Darcy said, which was probably for the best as what he was thinking was significantly less gentlemanly.

"Miss Elizabeth, as well," Bingley added with what could only be described as a smirk.

Darcy made no reply, though his jaw tightened.

"Did you encounter her earlier? I thought I saw you speaking in the corridor." Bingley waited patiently for a reply.

"Merely exchanging pleasantries," Darcy said, after a pause.

His friend’s smile was entirely too knowing. "She is a remarkable young woman, is she not? So unlike the ladies we typically meet in town."

"Indeed," Darcy said neutrally, though what he meant was that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was remarkable in the most inconvenient way possible.

He had met other pretty women before, but her singular sort of wit and cleverness made her dangerous to his peace of mind.

She did not simper or flatter. She teased him with that little smile that suggested she knew exactly what he was thinking.

He certainly hoped that was not true.

"Well," Bingley said, evidently realising he would get no further conversation on the subject, though his expression suggested he was filing away Darcy's responses for future reference. "I shall leave you to your solitude. Try not to sulk too dramatically while I am gone."

"I do not sulk," Darcy said stiffly.

"Of course not," Bingley replied with insufferable cheer. "You contemplate matters with a serious mien. Much more dignified. "

After Bingley's departure, Darcy remained at the window, ostensibly watching the rain but actually engaged in what was definitely not sulking. He was contemplating. With a serious mien.

Which just now meant standing in the library, staring at storm clouds, haunted by the vision of a maddening woman with tousled curls.

Just before dinner, a soft knock at his chamber door interrupted Darcy’s letter writing, a perfectly mundane missive about grain yields and storage concerns that had somehow taken him three attempts because he kept thinking about Miss Elizabeth.

"Enter," he called, expecting his valet.

Instead, it was Bingley's housekeeper, Mrs. Nicholls. That was odd.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Bingley wonders if he might consult you on an estate matter of some importance."

At last, some occupation that did not involve examining his feelings.

Mrs. Nicholls led him downstairs to Bingley's study, where he found his friend poring over a crude map with concentrated anxiety.

"Ah, Darcy, thank you for coming," Bingley said, looking up with obvious relief. "The river has breached its banks. The tenant cottages nearest the east wood are at risk." He pointed out the spots. “Two, possibly three. I suspect you have dealt with such an event before?”

Darcy examined the map, grateful for something concrete to focus on. "I believe the west wing has several unused servants' quarters," he said immediately. "If so, they would be suitable for temporary accommodation."

"If I may," came a feminine voice from the doorway, and Darcy's entire body went tense with recognition, "there is also the old gamekeeper's lodge. "

He stifled a grunt of irritation. It was uncanny how she could appear at precisely the moment he believed himself safe.

Miss Elizabeth hovered at the threshold. "It has been empty these five years, but it is closer to the tenants' homes and situated on high enough ground that it has never flooded. The men, at least, may wish to remain there with their livestock."

"Miss Elizabeth," Bingley said, practically beaming, "please, come in. Your knowledge of the area would be most valuable."

She approached the desk with confident steps, and Darcy caught a faint scent of jasmine.

Concentrate on the map, he told himself. The map.

"The gamekeeper's lodge is here." She placed her finger on a knoll a short distance to the north between Netherfield and the river.

"How do you know this?" Darcy found himself asking, his voice sharper than he had intended.

She met his gaze directly, and he caught a glint of humour in her eyes that suggested she had noted his defensive tone.

"Netherfield has long been without a family in residence and shares part of its border with Longbourn.

I have walked these fields countless times.

Both Jane and I are at least acquainted with all of the families here. "

The subtle rebuke was delivered without making him feel like a complete fool, which was almost worse, because it suggested she was being kind to him. Damnably gracious of her.

The gamekeeper's lodge was, annoyingly, an excellent suggestion.

"I thank you, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley said with obvious admiration, and Darcy realized he was supposed to contribute something to the conversation.

"Yes," he managed, though the word came out rather stiff .

Miss Elizabeth's eyebrows rose slightly, and he caught that flash of amusement again. She was laughing at him. Silently, politely laughing.

Would she laugh at him still were he to capture those teasing lips with his own?

"If you wish, I will make up a list of the families who will need to be moved," she offered. "It will save Mrs. Nicholls some time. Jane and I may be visitors, but we prefer not to be idle ones."

“That would be appreciated,” Bingley told her. “I believe there is a writing table in the library with everything you require.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded and disappeared.

After she departed, Bingley murmured, "Miss Elizabeth is a very capable woman."

Darcy did not respond, though he silently acknowledged the truth. Capable, yes. But also reckless. He had been watching Miss Elizabeth for weeks before her unexpected arrival at Netherfield.

In that time, he had seen her step up on a stone to retrieve a young lady’s ribbon from the branches of a tree, reaching out a good deal farther than was safe.

He had witnessed her perched atop a shaky ladder at Lucas Lodge, plucking Miss Maria Lucas's kitten from the guttering while dressed in her evening attire.

She was already halfway down with the creature before he could move to assist. And the last time he had been in Meryton, he had seen her dart into the road to retrieve a wayward child who had escaped his mother.

Those riding past could see Miss Elizabeth far better than a child who had only just begun to walk, but the road had been busy.

She was capable. But she was also impulsive. Kind, but reckless.

Dinner was a carefully orchestrated exercise in social torture.

Miss Bingley lamented their confinement with theatrical sighs while shooting pointed looks at the Bennet sisters.

Mrs. Hurst remained upstairs with a convenient headache.

Mr. Hurst indulged too freely in wine and was becoming philosophical.