Page 14 of Cousin Conundrum

That earned him a narrow-eyed look from the forward-facing seat. “Well, you know what I mean, I daresay,” Bingley muttered.

“Be assured that I do.”

“Yes, well—” Bingley broke off, his eyes going wide as he stared out the carriage window. “What have we here?”

Riding backward, Darcy hadn’t the faintest notion of what they ‘had here.’ Nor would he crane his neck out the window to make the discovery, not being a bumpkin.

Seeming to possess no such reservations, Bingley shifted as they passed a gaggle of young ladies walking along the verge, his head in the window and his hat blocking most of Darcy’s view. As his friend finally sat back, Darcy caught sight of one of the women looking over her shoulder. Bright eyes, set in an oval face framed by dark curls, met his gaze. So arresting was she, Darcy struggled against mimicking Bingley’s earlier behavior in order to keep her in sight as they rolled onward. Her gaze seemed tied to his, all but pulling his head around and to the window to stare out. With a deep breath, he marshaled the decorum to resist, pressing his shoulders firmly into the upholstery.

Never had he found a woman so alluring, and he had but glimpsed her.

As reason returned, he realized that not only had he glimpsed her, he’d seen enough to know she could never be his. Based on their location, a corner of Hertfordshire where he knew no one, meaning no one was worth knowing, and on her unfashionable attire, she could never fulfill his promise to his mother. Blinking, he strove to push her beguiling visage from his mind.

“You should have looked, Darcy. The view was quite stunning.”

Yes. It was.

Once Darcy felt his words would come out with his usual lack of interest, he observed, “Oh? Did you take in something you liked? A fine expanse of green or a particularly grotesque gargoyle?” Hopefully, not the beguiling brunette who caught Darcy’s eye. Though he obviously could not have her, the thought of Bingley pursuing her rankled.

Bingley grinned. “A more promising group of young ladies I have never beheld. Did you see the taller miss in blue? Lovely creature. Absolute perfection.”

Relief filled Darcy. The young woman who’d looked back at them could be described as neither tall nor wearing blue.

Not that it truly mattered. What was he doing, allowing such interest in a woman he’d hardly glimpsed? One about which he knew nothing except that she could not possibly reside in the only worthy estate in the area, as Bingley intended to do so.

Clearing his throat, Darcy observed, “I imagine that is settled, then.”

“Settled?” Bingley parroted.

“At university, you selected your courses based on which professors had the most attractive daughters. That year you summered in Brighton, you rented that ridiculously small cottage because you were smitten with the niece of the gentleman next door, who you did not stop to find out was engaged to be wed at the end of the summer. The year you visited Bath, you selected which cottage to take based on sighting a pretty pair of eyes peeking out of the house next door, only to discover they belonged to one of the maids.”

“I will have you know I nearly proposed to that maid.”

“You never once spoke to her.”

“Only because I knew that if I did, I would ask for her hand on the spot. Magnificent creature, that maid.”

“You did not speak to her because your sisters forbade it, if I recall correctly.” As well they ought.

Bingley shrugged. “Well, that was a group of gentlemen’s daughters if ever I saw one, and you cannot blame me if I wish to know all there is to know about that exceptional miss I spotted.”

“So you will lease Netherfield Park,” Darcy concluded.

“Fine estate.”

Darcy nodded, taking that as a yes. “Then let us hope your mystery miss is indeed a gentleman’s daughter and unwed. For your sake and that of peace with your sisters.”

“My sisters.” Bingley slumped back in his seat. “Be thankful you have only the one, and that she’s young enough she is obliged to obey you.”

Darcy did not care to discuss Bingley’s sisters, but he also did not wish to dwell on the woman he’d glimpsed, and he knew his place as a friend. They had the entire journey back to London to undertake and must speak of something. Dutifully, he prompted, “Your sisters are exasperating you, then?”

“Louisa is not so unendurable. She is simply put out with Hurst. Says he does not spend enough time with her. That he goes out at all hours. Comes home reeking of perfume. Sorts of failings I daresay many a wife complains over.” Bingley shrugged, easily casting Mrs. Hurst’s troubles aside.

Aware it was his place, at least in this matter, to offer an ear, not an opinion, Darcy did not voice that, from what he’d seen, he agreed with Mrs. Hurst. Her husband did keep odd hours, often missing social obligations. When he was present, if at all possible, he would linger off to the side, using the pretense of reading to nap, as if his odd hours exhausted him.

Darcy would never treat the woman he loved in such a manner, and he hoped to love his wife. He had the wealth and standing to wed where he chose, after all, so why not choose a woman for whom he cared? He simply needed to find someone lovely, intelligent, competent, compelling, and with a dowry as large as Rosings so he might go about falling in love with her.

He suppressed a sigh.