Page 14 of One Good Sonnet

He suffered through the second with Miss Bingley. Her remarks were limited to disparaging the country, the residents, the lack of refinement…Darcy merely made noises and did not engage. The dances with Mrs. Hurst were scarcely better. She appeared uninterested in the activity swirling around her.

One more set came between the third and the supper set, and Darcy danced with Miss Gertrude Long, a lady presented to him by Mrs. Bennet. Darcy thought it kind of the matron to do so—she could have thrust her own daughters in his direction. Miss Long was not as lively as Miss Elizabeth, but her conversation was less caustic than Miss Bingley’s and Mrs. Hurst’s.

At last, he claimed Miss Elizabeth’s hand for the set. Better still, he would have her company through supper.

“Miss Elizabeth.” He extended his hand as the musicians signaled the couples to take their places.

“Mr. Darcy.” She placed her hand in his, and he led her to the floor. It was a slower dance, which meant conversation would be markedly easier than some of the other sets.

They began, and Darcy led her down the line.

“You made no mention of knowing my family when we met, sir.”

Ah, so that was how it was. She wished to know the exact nature of his acquaintance with her sister.

“I had no notion you were connected to Miss Bennet,” Darcy replied. “It has been many years since I had the pleasure of seeing your sister, and I am afraid some details she shared with me were muddled over time.” If Miss Bennet had not shared information with her sister, Darcy would not betray her trust.

“Many years? Where did you meet? When?”

Miss Elizabeth would not be giving up easily, then. “Miss Elizabeth, has your sister not given you these details? Do you wish to ascertain if she has been entirely honest with you?”

Miss Elizabeth flushed. “She was…not forthcoming with the information.”

“And you would have me betray her trust?” Darcy replied playfully, hoping his dance partner would not be too irritated.

“I suppose I can see your point. Let us speak of other things, then. Mr. Bingley says your estate is called Pemberley. Tell me, are there many walking paths?”

“There are.” Relief at the change of topic loosened Darcy’s tongue. “We have formal gardens and places that were left as nature intended. My forebears favored a more natural look—land unencumbered by man’s awkward tastes.”

“That is my preference also. The colder weather keeps me closer to home, unfortunately, but that cannot be helped.” The steps took Miss Elizabeth away then. When they joined hands again, she had another question ready.

“Tell me about your favorite part of your estate.”

“Inside or outside?” he asked.

“Let us start with inside.”

“By far it is the library. I am a great reader, and it has been the work of many generations. There are two levels to the room. One can access the upper level from the family wing. The lower level is not part of the public rooms. There are ladders on both levels that slide along the shelves. There is a large fireplace on one wall that warms the whole room. I positioned several chairs and sofas around the space. When I am not working in my study, I prefer to be there.”

“You describe it well. My father’s library is small in comparison, but he has managed to double-stack the books. Thankfully, the shelves can bear the weight.” She paused. “Now, what about outdoors? You were on a horse when we met. May I guess the stables to be your delight?”

“You are correct, Miss Elizabeth. I intended to name the stables. There are many memories there—my father teaching me to ride, me teaching my younger sister to do the same. Once, I was required to muck out the stalls when I ‘accidentally’ dropped my lessons into the ewer in the schoolroom.”

Miss Elizabeth laughed delightedly. “You were rebellious, then, as a child.”

“Only when I was required to write a report on subjects of no interest. Do you ride, Miss Elizabeth?”

She made a face. “Not at all. We have but one horse suitable for ladies, and she is old and slow. I can get to where I wish to go faster on foot than riding Nellie.”

“Then you do not dislike the activity—you merely have not been given the opportunity to enjoy it.”

“You have summarized the situation accurately. I confess to fear of being thrown. What if I were to break a leg and end up confined to bed for an interminable time?” She wrinkled her nose. “I am not a good patient. Jane can tell you—she is the only one with patience to nurse me through illness.”

“Should you ever have the opportunity to learn, I assure you it would be freeing. You might start with a docile mare and work toward a more active horse.”

“You forget, Mr. Darcy,” she cautioned, “that my father’s income is limited. With five daughters, you can imagine that a horse for riding is not considered a necessary expense.”

“Perhaps someday, then.” Perhaps someday I might have the honor of teaching you.