Page 216 of What Change Entails
Elizabeth turned.
A rider had entered the lane at the base of the mount. The horse was dark, flecked with dust and foam from hard travel. The gentleman dismounted before the path rose too steeply and handed the reins to a boy from one of the nearby cottages who had apparently appeared from nowhere at the sight of a coin.
Even before he turned fully, Elizabeth knew him.
Her hand slid from the tree.
Mr. Darcy began climbing toward her.
He wore a riding coat marked by travel, his boots dusty, his hat in one hand. He did not hurry in any undignified manner. Indeed, he was still Mr. Darcy. There was urgency in every stride, in the set of his shoulders, in the way his gaze found her and did not leave.
Elizabeth could not move.
When he reached the top, he stopped several paces away, breathing harder than usual from the climb and perhaps from more than that.
“Miss Bennet.”
The formality struck them both.
His mouth relaxed as he regarded her.
“Elizabeth.”
Her name in his voice undid the week in an instant.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, then shook her head because that would not do. Not after a letter like hers. Not after Pemberley. “Fitzwilliam.”
His whole face changed. The breeze moved between them, lifting the edge of her ribbon and stirring the grass at their feet.
“You came,” she said.
“I received your letter.”
“I hoped you would.”
“I left within the hour.”
Her lips parted. “Within the hour?”
“Yes.”
“But it has been—”
“Longer than I wished. I rode first. Bingley, Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, and the carriage followed. They experienced similar delays, I am afraid. I reached Netherfield ahead of them, but the house required opening, and Bingley—” He stopped, took off his hat, and looked down at it as if the object had become unexpectedly complicated. “Bingley wished to call upon your sister properly. I would not leave him unsupported.”
“Jane?”
“He has not yet seen her. He intends to come tomorrow, if your family will receive him.”
Elizabeth’s hands pressed together.
“Jane does not know.”
“No. But Bingley knows what he must say.”
“And Georgiana?”
“At Netherfield.”
