Page 89 of What Change Entails
Elizabeth rotated the book slowly in her hands while rain tapped against the western windows. “I borrowed this after dinner and read a few pages.”
“You dislike stopping midway through a story.”
She appeared surprised. “You remember that?”
“You informed Miss Bingley of it at Netherfield while refusing sleep.”
A laugh escaped her. “I had forgotten that conversation.”
Darcy had not.
He remembered far too much where Elizabeth Bennet was concerned.
She rose after another moment and wandered toward the nearest shelves, trailing one finger lightly along the spines. Firelight moved warmly across the dark green of her gown.
“I believe,” she said while scanning titles, “that this room alone might persuade many women to marry.”
“The library rather than the owner?”
“The library asks less conversation.”
Darcy watched her pause before one shelf and tilt her head to read a title more clearly.
The sight unsettled him more than it ought to have done. How had he once believed himself superior to this woman? The memory embarrassed him increasingly each day.
Elizabeth cast a look over her shoulder then and caught him looking.
Darcy should have redirected his attention. He did not.
Uncertainty crossed her expression before easing into something warmer. She went back toward the shelf.
“I think,” she said after a moment, “that Pemberley has done you a service.”
Darcy frowned faintly. “In what respect?”
“You belong here.”
He did not answer.
Rain tapped softly against the windows behind them.
Elizabeth drew out one volume, opened it absently, then closed it again without reading. “At Rosings,” she continued more slowly, “everything around you appeared… rigid. You were perpetually prepared for irritation.”
“I likely was.”
“And here…” She stopped.
Darcy waited.
Elizabeth chuckled under her breath. “Now I sound insulting.”
“You have survived worse offenses.”
“That is generous.”
“No. Merely factual.”
She leaned one shoulder lightly against the shelves and studied him with directness. “You are different here.”
