Page 9 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
Darcy attempted to recall when he had said such a thing, and soon he had it. Netherfield, when her mother and two youngest sisters had come to call. Miss Lydia had begged Bingley for a ball, and he had turned to the window in disgust. But Miss Lydia had been so young. He really had been a prig, and he could not put it all down to worry about Georgiana. He did not know what to say.
Elizabeth was still speaking. “I would posit that boredom is ungentlemanly, for an educated man ought to have the intellectual resources to findsomething to occupy him.”
Darcy felt a flare of something come to life. He had presumed she was chastising him. Was she, perhaps, teasing him?
“I have often found that books provide excellent company when one is surrounded by tedious acquaintances, Mr. Darcy. Or perhaps you should take up a different sort of pursuit? Embroidery might be a sufficient challenge. I find it quite diverting.”
He choked back a laugh. “I shall consider it, Miss Bennet,” he said, for she was Miss Bennet now, “Have you any patterns of a horse or a hunt that I might have to practise on?”
“I shall see what I can find, Mr. Darcy,” she replied. “Perhaps my father could be of assistance.”
Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but one of Longbourn’s footmen approached. “Mr. Darcy, sir, your carriage is outside.”
Elizabeth’s face fell.
Had it been an hour already? Anders would wait. He began to tell the footman as much, but Miss Bennet touched her temple again.
“Are you leaving us so soon, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired, her voice cooler than only a moment ago.
“Yes, I am for Derbyshire, Miss Bennet, but . . .”
“Well then,” she said briskly, “safe travels, sir.”
“Thank you,” he said as she dipped a curtsy and floated away.
Darcy sighed and turned to the servant. “Tell him I shall be out straight away.”
Chapter Five
“Iamsorry,sir,but I cannot think continuing advisable.” Anders stood from where he had been examining one of the horses who had come up lame not five miles away from Netherfield. “The knee is sound, but the fetlock joint is tender.”
Darcy stood next to his carriage in the middle of the road, his arms crossed over his chest against the cold and the disappointment. He had been so close to a clean escape.
Anders must have mistaken his dismay for irritation. “She was well this morning. It is possible she was injured at that last turning.” The coach had hit a hidden gash in the road as it came around a bend. Not something one expected here where it was relatively wide and flat.
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. They were only halfway between Meryton and the Great North Road. There was nothing for it. They would have to go back.
“You do not suppose there would be room at the inn?” he asked Anders, but he already knew the answer. Even if there was a room for him in amongst the London families who had arrived to visit their country relatives for St. Nicholas Day and the coming festivities, there was unlikely to be room for Anders or the footmen who accompanied him. And even if therewereroom for them all, there would be talk about why he had not stayed with his friend despite Bingley having been married just today. No, he would have to return to Netherfield—on the Bingleys’ wedding night. Bingley placing him in a room as far away from the master’s chambers as possible seemed positively prescient given the current situation.
“Very well,” he told Anders gruffly. He swung back up into the carriage. Anders made the necessary adjustments, tied the injured horse to the back, and slowly drove them back the way they had come.
Elizabeth dragged herself up the stairs. The breakfast had continued merrily on for another two hours after Mr. Darcy’s early departure, but now the last guests were gone, as was the newly married couple.
He had removed so abruptly! They had at last been on the precipice of a normal conversation. She had even teased him a bit, and he had not appeared to dislike it. But he had left—hadplannedto leave—directly from Longbourn, and after only a short appearance. She wondered if there was something at home that required his immediate presence or if he just had not wanted to remain here.
She feared she knew the answer.
Slowly, Elizabeth opened the door to her chamber and stepped inside, wanting nothing more than to bury herself beneath her warm quilt and sleep for a time.
“Lizzy,” Kitty said brightly, from where she and Mary were perched on the bed. “It is strange, is it not? Jane not being here, that is. She had been gone before on visits, but her room is empty now. And Lydia’s too.”
“I am not ashamed to say that I like Longbourn better without Lydia,” Mary said primly. “She was so very loud and always seemed to take up all the space in a room.”
“I cannot say you are wrong,” Kitty interjected, “but I miss her all the same.”
“It is the way of things,” Elizabeth said gently. “One day, both of you will leave Longbourn for your own homes as well.”
Mary shook her head, but Kitty smiled.
