CHAPTER EIGHT
“She said what?” Darcy stared at his friend, disbelieving the words just related to him.
“That had she known what she knows…or if you knew what she knows…no, no, if she knew what you knew she knows… Blast!” Bingley gave a helpless little shrug.
Darcy ran his hand over his face, summoning his patience. “You spoke of William? Or of Fitzwilliam?”
“Both,” Bingley replied. “She asked why I had not invited you—I mean why I had not asked Fitzwilliam Darcy—to come to Netherfield.”
“I am Fitzwilliam Darcy,” said Darcy drily. “And you said...?”
Bingley looked at the ceiling as he struggled to remember it. “Then she said something about a secret.”
“A secret!” Darcy exclaimed. “That is very good!” He thought for a moment. “Or perhaps not. Perhaps it is disastrous. A good secret? Or a bad secret?”
Bingley wrinkled his brow. “In truth, I cannot say.”
Darcy let out a frustrated growl. “Bingley! You are no help!”
Primly, Bingley informed him, “You look disagreeable again.”
“I do not care!” Darcy roared at him. “Now think on this, man! Think hard, like you have never thought before. What did she want you to tell me?”
Bingley pressed his lips together, and knit his brow exerting great effort into remembering precisely what Miss Elizabeth had said. Darcy watched him anxiously, his heart leaping with excitement when his friend’s lips at last parted to relay the treasured message to him.
“Forgive me, Darcy, but I truly cannot recall it.”
Darcy’s heart sank, but he refrained from lashing out in anger. “Never mind then. I will continue on as I have been, and we shall see where it will take us.”
He turned to depart the small alcove where they had escaped to talk. Elizabeth was engaged to dance with some other young man, but Darcy was determined the next set would be his.
“There was one thing I do remember quite clearly though,” Bingley called after him.
He turned back. “What was that?”
“She said she hoped to see Fitzwilliam Darcy here in Hertfordshire very soon. That portion I recall precisely. Very soon— her exact words.”
A burgeoning sense of hope took root in Darcy’s chest as he thanked his friend and hurried off to find Elizabeth, his steps quickened by his joy.
Still, the problem of when to reveal his true identity plagued him. Now? Was it done? Could he have her? Or should he wait, show her more of the changed man he was?
Elizabeth watched as Mr Darcy came towards her, a strange expression on his countenance. Delight? She knew not what might have delighted him. “Mr Darcy.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he replied. “You are much sought after as a dance partner this evening.”
With a sheepish grin, she admitted, “I will own I would much prefer to sit out for the rest of the night. I am exceedingly fatigued.”
“Oh.” Delight faded and he appeared pensive for a moment.
With a gentle smile, she prodded, “It is quite warm in the room, do you not think so?”
“I do,” he said absently. “What about?—”
“Some air, sir, would be a relief.”
“I believe all the windows are opened,” he said. “Alas, the breeze is only to the advantage of those standing near them.” He looked over, and Elizabeth followed his gaze seeing that Mr Bingley had taken Jane near the windows to enjoy the very breeze they spoke of. Still, he did not take her hints and she decided she must be direct.
“Mr Darcy?”
“Yes?”
“Would you escort me onto the terrace for some air?”
For a moment he looked surprised, then abashed. With a chuckle, he said, “I am rendered insensible in your presence, Miss Elizabeth. I could not take your meaning.”
An odd sort of smile came over her lips as she took his arm. As they walked to the terrace, Darcy formed a resolution to speak in a forthright manner and see where it led. “Miss Elizabeth, I wonder if you would think me impertinent if I asked you a question.”
“Not at all, sir,” said she. “Although we have only just met, I feel as though our acquaintance has been of many months duration.”
“As do I,” he said warmly. “Well then. You will recall, of course, that you asked if I was in my cousin’s confidence.”
She nodded.
“I am. In fact, he tells me everything. Everything of importance to him, he discusses with me.” Darcy swallowed. “He told me of his failed proposal in Kent.”
She appeared undisturbed by this news.
“Forgive me, but you do not seem surprised.”
She tilted her head, regarding him coolly. “I am not.”
“No?”
She shook her head.
He studied her. Did she know? Or did she not?
“In fact,” she said, “I have wondered if he sent you here.”
“Sent me?”
“Perhaps Mr Darcy wished to learn something of my heart in this matter. I cannot know where his thoughts might tend at present, nor can he know mine. A cousin, a new friend who will insinuate himself into my good graces, might be ideal.”
“I beg your pardon if my advances have appeared anything less than genuine, Miss Elizabeth. I assure you, I have no ill will or malice towards you. In fact, I am rather charmed.”
“Mr Darcy, being that you are in your cousin’s confidence and thus fully aware of his intentions towards me, do you not think it rather bold to flirt with me? I cannot think Mr Darcy would approve.”
“Pardon me,” he said quickly. “It is not my intention to romance you. You are entirely correct. It would be inappropriate, knowing my cousin’s heart as I do.”
“What is your intention then?”
“My intention?” Darcy stammered a bit. “I…I do not know that I had any intention.” He swallowed as a breeze tickled the curls at her neck.
“You did not wish to know my mind and my heart?”
“If you wish to tell me,” he said with a grin, “I would love to hear it.”
She laughed lightly. “No, I fear it is best kept between Mr Darcy and myself, should I ever see him again.”
“You will see him,” Darcy said, taking a step closer. “I believe he will come just as soon as he knows he is welcome.”
“I believe he can guess what his welcome will be.”
“He cannot,” Darcy replied. “The time since Kent has taught him that he understood very little about himself.”
“That is regrettable indeed,” said Elizabeth. “And a feeling I apprehend all too well—I, too, wish I had understood more of Mr Darcy.”
“You do?”
Her voice low, she added, “I have sought to know more of myself since my time in Kent. As I said to Mr Bingley, had I known, at the first moment of our acquaintance, what I know now, I would have behaved very differently.”
It was maddening, the urge he had to take her in his arms. They stood close, but not improperly so, facing one another. He indulged in taking one step nearer to her. “I believe if my cousin knew of your feelings, and understood whether they were matched to his hopes and wishes, there might be a second chance at this for you both. A second ‘first moment of your acquaintance’ so to speak, and a chance to begin on the right path.”
“What are your cousin’s hopes and wishes?” To his delight, she stepped a bit closer.
“To call on you,” he whispered, moving his feet several inches in her direction.
Her eyes went wide and she stepped back, her fine eyes betraying some confusion. “To call on me?”
“Um, yes.”
She considered that a moment, her eyes turned towards the moonlight. “Previously he asked for my hand in marriage, but now he wishes only to call on me?”
“The offer of his hand was rejected, as you well know. Now he seeks only to aim for that which he might reasonably attain.”
“I see.” Elizabeth had a faint smile dancing upon her lips. “I do believe I might agree to having him call on me—but with one stipulation.”
Darcy leant in. “Anything. I mean, I know he will agree to anything. What is it?”
Using a crooked finger, she beckoned him a little closer. Leaning towards him, she whispered into his ear.