Page 26 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Darcy

15th October 1812

D arcy entered the house, struck by how quiet it was. Georgiana, Mary, and Kitty had departed the previous day for Matlock. Mary Bennet had been notably unimpressed by the idea of the journey, which had disappointed him. He had hoped she would find some cheer in the venture. Yet, he wondered now if her melancholy, which had persisted for the last ten days since he first discussed the trip with her, wasn’t rooted in homesickness after all. Elizabeth and Kitty had insisted that wasn’t the case, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation. Perhaps her time at Matlock would improve her spirits.

Lady Matlock had been more than willing to host the three of them. In fact, Darcy had learned that both Richard and Anne had already announced their intentions to join the gathering. Not so, of course, with Lady Catherine, whose absence was likely to be a relief to all involved.

He shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips, and then paused as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps on the marble floor behind him. Turning, he met Elizabeth’s curious gaze.

“What are you shaking your head for, Darcy?” she asked.

He hesitated before replying. “Just thinking about this weekend at Matlock. It will be rather crowded.”

“Do you wish we had joined them?” she enquired.

“No,” he said. “I was looking forward to a little peace and quiet.”

Her expression shifted ever so slightly, and Darcy wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

“I did not mean that I don’t enjoy the hustle and bustle of a full house,” he quickly clarified, “but sometimes, it is nice to have a bit of quiet.”

“I thought you were about to say you were tired of us,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Never,” he said fervently. “I could never tire of you.” Darcy looked at her intently, hoping to convey that what he truly meant was her—Elizabeth alone. He could never tire of Elizabeth. She was the one who made him laugh and smile, the one whose presence seemed to brighten even the darkest corners of his life.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. “And what will you do with your free time?”

“I should tend to the ledger. I should visit the tenants,” he replied. “I should catch up on my correspondence.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Those are a great many things you ‘should’ do. What about the things you want to do?”

He chuckled softly. “There are indeed many things I want. I want to sit and read. I want to ride. I want to play chess.”

Her smile widened. “Such humble wishes. Can you not make them true? You are master of Pemberley, after all.”

“And you its mistress,” he said without thinking. Her smile faltered for a moment, and though it returned, it seemed a little less bright.

“I suppose I am. For the time being,” she murmured.

Darcy wasn’t sure if she intended the words to cut, but they did. He stepped back slightly, catching his breath.

“You can be mistress of Pemberley for as long as you wish it. As I’ve told you,” he said carefully.

“And I am grateful,” she replied, though her tone suggested otherwise. “But must we speak of this now?”

“Of course not,” Darcy said quickly, chastising himself for pressing her. “Would you perhaps enjoy indulging one of my wants with me? Such as taking a ride? It is quite a lovely day.”

Her face softened into a genuine smile. “I would. I shall change into my riding habit.”

“Very well,” he said with a nod. “I’ll let the grooms know.”

Half an hour later, Darcy and Elizabeth rode side-by-side along the rolling Derbyshire countryside. The crisp autumn air carried a faint scent of damp earth and evergreens, and the rhythmic sound of their horses’ hooves filled the comfortable silence between them. Darcy glanced sideways at Elizabeth, wondering what thoughts occupied her mind. Since their earlier conversation, she had given him no clear indication of her feelings about his more personal admissions. She had not withdrawn from him, which gave him some measure of relief, but neither had she seemed inclined to move closer. It was a puzzle. For now, though, he resolved to be patient. Perhaps it was best to let her come to him in her own time.

Oh, how he wished he could ask advice from someone. But with Bingley away, there was no one he could confide in. Richard was occupied with his own affairs, which would no doubt involve some kind of confrontation with their formidable aunt, Lady Catherine. Darcy sighed inwardly and tightened his grip on the reins. No, this matter was his alone to resolve.