Page 45 of What Change Entails

Elizabeth looked away too late.

Mr. Darcy had seen her observing him. He did not appear offended. That was one of the difficulties. He had not once appeared offended since they had met upon the grounds. Not even when Lydia introduced herself to Miss Darcy as the victim of equestrian assault. Not when Mr. Gardiner, after recovering from alarm, had asked several practical questions about the house, the path, and the nearest bench. He had remained polite even when Mrs. Gardiner’s concern for Miss Darcy’s ankle had nearly resulted in that young lady being ordered indoors before anyone had exchanged ten sentences.

He had been attentive, restrained, and painfully civil.

That unnerved her more than she wished to admit. Once, his politeness had carried impatience beneath it. Now he spoke with the caution of a man determined not to offend. He walked beside her without crowding her, adjusting his pace whenever the path narrowed or widened again. His words came with thought before them. If she hesitated, he did not force the conversation forward. Every now and then, when Lydia exclaimed about something or Georgiana answered with unexpected animation, his attention moved toward his sister, and the reserved line of his face eased.

Elizabeth had never seen him look so young.

That observation irritated her. Or perhaps it perturbed her. She refused to examine the distinction while he stood within arm’s reach.

Ahead, Lydia leaned close to Miss Darcy and whispered something that made the latter lift one hand to hide a laugh. Miss Darcy’s riding habit was still marked with dust from her hasty dismount, and Lydia had grass stains caught on her gown. They acted improper, delighted, and utterly unrepentant.

Mr. Darcy’s attention rested on them for a moment. “I do not believe I have ever seen my sister so easy with a new acquaintance.”

Elizabeth faced the stream. “Lydia can make herself acquainted with anyone in less time than it takes most people to decide whether they wish to have the honor.”

His mouth moved, but he mastered the smile before it could become too visible. “A useful gift, in some circumstances.”

“In some,” Elizabeth agreed. “In others, a terror.”

“Does she often befriend those who nearly run her down?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Not often. But Lydia has always preferred a dramatic beginning.”

This time he did smile, not broadly and lacking the nonchalance of Mr. Bingley, but enough to alter his face. Elizabeth found herself studying the house before he caught her staring.

Miss Darcy looked over her shoulder, perhaps to ensure her brother remained near. Lydia tugged at her arm and pointed toward the stream.

“Miss Darcy says the bridge is near,” Lydia called. “Lizzy, you must come admire it, so that you may say something sensible and ruin it for me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I should hate to disappoint you.”

Mr. Gardiner, who walked a little behind with his wife, chuckled. “Lydia, if your sister ruins bridges by sense, we must have her inspect all the unsound ones in England.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose at him but remained beside Miss Darcy.

Mrs. Gardiner drew nearer to Elizabeth as the path widened. “Your uncle and I are nearly persuaded to accept Miss Darcy’s invitation.”

Elizabeth’s fingers fiddled with the edge of her shawl. “Are you?”

“It is not a small thing, to remove ourselves from Lambton and take possession of another person’s hospitality.”

“Absolutely not,” Elizabeth responded, averting her eyes from Mr. Darcy.

He stepped aside slightly so Mrs. Gardiner might walk more comfortably beside her niece. “I hope you will not consider it an imposition. Pemberley has more empty rooms than any family can justify, and my sister has already shown more pleasure in Miss Lydia’s company than in a month of expected guests.”

Mrs. Gardiner studied him with the frank kindness that had always made Elizabeth both love and fear her perception. “You are very generous, Mr. Darcy.”

“Not generous.” He paused, as though dissatisfied with the answer before it had finished leaving him. “It would give us pleasure.”

That was worse.

Elizabeth studied the gravel path. Pleasure. He had said it plainly, without ornament or demand. At Hunsford, he had spoken as a man pressed beyond endurance by unwelcome feeling. Here, at Pemberley, he offered hospitality as if he expected refusal and would accept it. The difference should have relieved her. Every small kindness disarmed her further.

Mr. Gardiner came forward, brushing a leaf from his sleeve. “Then we shall speak with Mrs. Reynolds and make a proper decision before we trouble your servants.”

“My housekeeper will not be troubled,” Darcy replied. “Mrs. Reynolds has governed Pemberley longer than I have.”