Page 2 of To Win Her Affections

“She does,” agreed Darcy, though he said nothing of the exact means by which she had gained that understanding. “Miss Bennet and her party are to join us for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Then we shall ensure that they experience the warmest welcome Pemberley can offer,” assured Mrs. Reynolds.

As she retreated from the room, Darcy was certain Mrs. Reynolds had some suspicions about his interest in Miss Bennet, but as an experienced servant, she knew better than to inquire. For several long moments, Darcy pondered the situation, wondering how he should structure his campaign to prove himself to Miss Bennet. Then, his agitation getting the best of him, he rose and strode from the room. Before long, he was astride a horse, the summer air rushing past him as he urged the animal toward Lambton.

WHEN ELIZABETH TOLD her relations she wished to walk in Lambton before dinner, she expected teasing.

“Of course you wish to see the town,” said her aunt with fondness unfeigned. “I would have wondered whether you were ill had you not expressed such a desire.”

“You walk your father’s property with impunity, my dear,” added Uncle Gardiner, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Do you suppose your unerring sense of direction will survive the streets of Lambton, or should I expect to dispatch a search party to retrieve you?”

“How dare you insult my abilities, Uncle!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Do you not know that I am the preeminent walker in all Hertfordshire?”

“Ah, but we are not in Hertfordshire, my dear.”

“I shall not inconvenience you,” said Elizabeth, affecting haughtiness. “You may expect my return before dinner.”

“Then off with you, Lizzy,” said her aunt. “After our walk about Pemberley, I must say that your intention surprises me, but I suppose it should not.”

“No, it should not,” agreed Elizabeth. “I can neither walk so far nor range so freely as I do on my father’s estate. This is merely a trifle.”

“Very well. When you return, I should like more of an account of your acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. It seems there is more than you have told us.”

At present, Elizabeth had very little interest in discussing Mr. Darcy, not because her old antipathy for the gentleman had returned, but because she was confused. The man who had met them with such civility was not the man she remembered from Hertfordshire or even Kent. Her thoughts and feelings were a jumble; she needed privacy and uninterrupted time to consider him, though she knew that was unlikely.

“Perhaps,” was all Elizabeth said when she excused herself and left the inn. The lingering memory of her aunt’s expressive look remained with her, carrying the faintest hint of a demand, and Elizabeth knew Mrs. Gardiner would not be satisfied until she had heard all.

Lambton was as charming as her aunt had always claimed. It was a town nestled amid rolling hills, its streets winding and cobblestoned. At the top of a prominent hill stood a church that Elizabeth admired from a distance, knowing she did not have enough time to investigate. After she had walked for perhaps half an hour, she turned her steps back to the inn, regretting the necessity.

Her relations might not have been surprised by her intention to walk, but Elizabeth was decidedly surprised by the sight of Mr. Darcy astride a tall horse less than an hour after they had left him at Pemberley. When he caught sight of her, his expression brightened, displaying his pleasure at seeing her, though his features did not quite assume a smile. The gentleman dismounted from his horse and swept into a bow, prompting a responding curtsey from Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet,” said he.

Then he stopped. Mr. Darcy said nothing more. In fact, he appeared almost surprised that he was standing before her. Though hilarity welled in Elizabeth’s breast, she said nothing, waiting for him to speak. The gentleman seemed to recall that conversation required speech, and at last his tongue loosened.

“As I recall, you are an excellent walker.”

“Yes, though I suppose I should not compliment myself so openly!” replied Elizabeth. “You have seen me walking enough in Kent to understand my preferences, and then there was that infamous morning I walked three miles to Netherfield to attend to Jane.”

Mr. Darcy’s responding grin made him appear almost boyish. He turned away, tying his horse to a nearby post, patting its head when it nickered, then returned his attention to Elizabeth. Then he became reticent again, apparently lost in thought. Suspecting the silence might become awkward this time, Elizabeth spoke to alleviate the discomfort.

“I must thank you again for allowing us to tour Pemberley. I have found Derbyshire quite delightful.”

“You approve of Derbyshire?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“I do,” replied Elizabeth. “It differs from Hertfordshire—wilder and untamed. As those words might describe my character equally well, it must be no surprise that I like Derbyshire very well indeed.”

“Wild? Untamed?” demanded the gentleman, his lips trembling with mirth. “That is not an accurate description at all.”

“Then how would you describe me?” asked Elizabeth, curious about what he would say.

“Vivacious, perhaps?” suggested Mr. Darcy. “Lively or spirited.”

“I am not a horse, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, dryly.

“No one could mistake you for a horse, Miss Bennet,” said the gentleman, the irony in his voice amusing her despite herself.

“Either way,” said Elizabeth, pushing this silly conversation aside, “you may be assured that I approve of your county. There—now it is settled. Derbyshire is the best of all counties. I have proven my aunt’s assertions.”