Page 96 of The Governess of My Heart
Lord Ashton seemed oblivious to their discomfort.
“I hope you are not missing Ashton Park very much, Miss Smith.”
“Not much, sir,” Elizabeth replied.
“We should be back soon, in a couple of weeks, as planned,” he said, looking at his wife.
Lady Isabella did not reply, and Elizabeth could not read her mind.
“We have decided to accompany you on your return. Again, it is our pleasure to spend Christmas at Ashton Park,” Lady Isabella’s father said to his son-in-law.
“That is wonderful indeed.”
“Papa! When did you decide to come with us?” Lady Isabella asked in shock.
“Why, my dear? Lord Ashton has been pressing us with this invitation since the day you set foot here. Your mother was undecided about the prospect, but last night, she agreed. You don’t seem happy?” he asked with a hint of irritation.
“No, I am. I am glad you could accompany us,” she said without emotion.
“I am certain we can be of some assistance to you,” her mother said sternly to her daughter.
Elizabeth silently witnessed their exchange, unable to understand what bothered Lady Isabella.
In two weeks, we will leave. What is in store for me at Ashton Park?
***
Darcy stood at the bookstore in the small village of Meryton.He tried to be away from Netherfield as much as possible to escape Miss Bingley, and Mr. Bingley was in a foul mood after the recent dinner party with the Bennet family.
The bookstore reminded him of his encounter with Elizabeth, and he smiled at the memory of her outburst.
He still could not believe the way he had behaved with her that day, and he knew he could never do that to any other woman. After his mother’s death, he had become rigid and hardly expressed his emotions.
His cousin Richard often pointed that out to him.
After meeting Elizabeth, he had felt a strange sense of liberation. He felt emotions that he had never felt before. She angered him, made him smile, and, most of all, pointed out his flaws as no one had ever done before.
His thoughts were interrupted when the shopkeeper asked him whether he was ready with his choice.
“I am. I will take these.”
“Oh! Poetry, good choice indeed,” the shopkeeper said. “We do not get many customers wanting to buy poetry these days.’
“Oh! Miss Lizzy used to. She was the one…” The shopkeeper’s wife stopped abruptly, seeing her husband’s stern look.
He was a close friend of Mr. Bennet, and he did not want the story of his daughter’s disappearance to reach the ears of the wealthy gentleman from town.
Darcy was immediately piqued by what the woman said. The name he heard reminded him of Elizabeth.
Sometimes, he wondered if there was anything that could not remind him of her. He was engulfed by thoughts of her every moment of the day, and honestly, he did not want them to end, and he had begun to live with her that way. Darcy thought it was the only happiness left in his life. He replayed every conversation with her, every passing look, and every moment he had held her hand.
He had gotten used to the pain, the pain of knowing that she would never be his.
Darcy collected the books and left for Netherfield, and Mr. Bingley waited for him.
“Where were you, Darcy?” he asked.
“I was at the village. Why? Is something the matter?”
