She sighed deeply and gazed across the main street of Meryton. People bustled about, intent on their own business for the most part, but a fair number cast glances toward the Bennet sisters, some even going so far as to openly point.
Lizzy felt the irritation rising again. Jane must have sensed her returning tension because she placed one hand calmly onto Lizzy’s arm and, with a gentle nudge, led them toward the butcher’s shop.
“They only stare and whisper because our engagements are the most excitement seen hereabouts for weeks. What else would they gossip about? Mr. Epworth’s prize hog? I did hear he was a stupendous specimen that brought a hefty sum at the auction in Hertford, the largest ever, so the story goes, but I doubt if even that compares.”
“Jane,” Lizzy giggled, “you do improve my spirits! But as usual you are being kind and painting a pretty picture when you should not. True, your betrothal to Mr. Bingley, of its own accord, would generate bounteous chatter. Every word would extol the virtues of the match, with the only argument being whether it is Miss Bennet or Mr. Bingley who is most fortunate to have won the hand of such a perfect mate. I, conversely, am subjected to pity for falling prey to a disagreeable and domineering man who must have hidden, nefarious designs that will be revealed in a heinous manner after the wedding, at which point I will be tossed shamelessly aside. Or I am condemned for abandoning all my morals to ensnare, by any improper or dissolute means at my disposal, the richest man to ever set foot in Hertfordshire.”
“You do have quite an imagination, Lizzy. If ever you are bored during the cold winters of Derbyshire, I suggest lending your hand at writing a novel or two.”
“Laugh if you wish, but you heard Mrs. Rusch talking to Miss Castell and Maria Lucas last night.”
“All Mrs. Rusch said was that Mr. Darcy appeared clearly besotted and was unable to remove his eyes from you for more than minutes at a time for conversation. She thought it was sweet and romantic.”
“She made it sound as if he were lost in an enchantment,” Lizzy countered grumpily.
“Did you not tell me Mr. Darcy said you had bewitched him? Love is a sort of enchantment, do you not think so?”
“Not the kind that comes from potions stirred in black cauldrons or woven while dancing unclothed under a full moon.”
“Your imagination running amok once again, and another plot for a potential book.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Ask Caroline Bingley, and I wager she would assert I did one of the two. Or both.”
They reached the corner of the butcher’s shop, where they were conscripted by Mrs. Bennet to ensure the two geese ordered for dinner that night were being prepared for delivery. Lizzy stopped, Jane obediently waiting at her side while she inhaled several times to quiet her frustration. Suddenly she felt a burning behind her eyelids, realizing with a mild start that it was the prickling of tears!
“Dear Lizzy…”
Jane’s soothing, sympathetic voice only made it worse. Lizzy turned away from the road, busying herself by pretending to search inside her reticule. “Blast it all! Oh, Jane,” she sobbed, “I know you are correct about Mrs. Rusch. And Lottie meant nothing vicious by her comments either. I am…I just hate the constant expressions of shock that accompany news of my engagement to Mr. Darcy. Perhaps I exaggerated a moment ago, but you know not by much. Few believe I accepted his proposal out of love and not because of his wealth. Those who credit affection to my decision and acknowledge Mr. Darcy’s affection for me do so grudgingly. I have lost count of the insinuating comments. Even the well wishes for our future happiness are spoken with an edge of disbelief or desperation, as if none can imagine it possible in the slightest for me to be happy with Mr. Darcy.”
“Lizzy, are you beginning to doubt your future with Mr. Darcy?”
Jane’s hesitantly whispered question doused the flames of Lizzy’s emotions swifter than a bucket of icy water to the face. She gasped, the idea so utterly unfathomable that for a moment she was too stunned to speak.
“No,” she stated with conviction. Her eyes were steadfast and clear of tears as she met Jane’s. “Not for the tiniest second. If anything, these past days have strengthened my assurance of our life together. The more time I spend with William, the more I love him and am sure that we are superbly compatible. Do you not see, Jane? This is precisely what is so, so…annoying! It is not for myself that the gossip and demeaning attitude pains…Well, perhaps to a degree as these are people who know me, so they should trust and be happy for me. No, I hurt and grow angry for Mr. Darcy’s sake.”
“That I do not believe you should fret over, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy seems quite impervious to what anyone says. Frankly, I doubt he notices, or cares if he does. His attention and concerns are directed solely toward you, dear sister.”
Lizzy blushed, her smile automatic. “I cannot deny what you say, Jane, and daily count my blessings for having such a man. What I also see, and perhaps you do not, is how he strives to please me by ingratiating himself. Dinner at a different house each of the past four nights with an endless parade of people he barely knows, the bulk of whom span the spectrum between persistent rudeness to obsequious fawning. He has endured personal questions, not-so-cleverly veiled insinuations, and displays of ill manners and vulgarity, such as our Aunt Phillips’s at Mr. Meldon’s on Tuesday”—they both shuddered at the memory—“and has done so with forbearance and politeness that honestly astonishes me. At every turn he has made a concerted effort to be pleasant and conversational.”
“Be patient, Lizzy. It has only been five days. Mr. Darcy’s sincere affection for you, fine manners, pleasant conversation, and willingness to interact with Meryton’s citizens will be noticed. In fact, they already are. He was invited personally to join Mr. Bingley at the Reading Room this afternoon, was he not? You know how ridiculous the men are about admitting strangers into their private club. They had yet to invite Mr. Bingley, and honestly I doubt they would have for another month if not for…Mr. Darcy!”
“You may have a point, Jane, but—”
“No. I mean, there is Mr. Darcy, standing by the pastry shop.”
Lizzy twirled around, her hat flying off in the process and snatched by Jane when only inches from hitting the ground. Lizzy hardly noticed. “Where did he come from? And what is he doing?”
“Examining something in his hands, but I cannot see what from this angle. His pocket watch, perhaps?”
“He and Mr. Bingley are not expected at the club until one o’clock, and it is not yet ten.”
“Mr. Darcy is obsessed with punctuality,” Jane teased. “Although it is more likely that he had other business in the village,” she added when Lizzy flashed a sidelong glower.
As they spoke, a woman with two children rounded the corner, making for the pastry shop door. Mr. Darcy hastily slipped the object into a pocket, patting it securely even as he bowed and tipped his hat.
“See how freely he engages Mrs. Larimer and how cheerfully she responds to him, Lizzy? He even speaks to the children, and they appear contented.”
“Jane, go on to Mr. Trask’s for mama, and give my regards to the Janssens. I will meet you by the fountain at noon.”
Lizzy was off the curb and heading into the street, the instructions tossed over her shoulder. After pausing for a passing coach, dodging other pedestrians, and circumventing a cluster of men repairing a broken railing in front of the mercantile, Lizzy had lost sight of Mr. Darcy. A frantic sweep had her spotting him turning onto Poole Street, one block further down from Main. Unerringly, Lizzy diverted into a small alleyway traveling the same direction. Another turn down the alley between the bank and the mail office, a catercorner dive through the public garden, and a jag past the flower vendor brought Lizzy onto Poole Street just in time to see Mr. Darcy walk into the bookseller’s shop.
Now that makes sense, she thought, smiling. Determined to surprise him, she approached the shop the long way around, rather than passing where he might glance out the window and see her. Her
heart raced and butterflies danced in her belly as she imagined his unexpected delight to see her. Or maybe it was mostly her delight at the chance encounter well before the scheduled dinner at Netherfield that evening. Giddily excited, she was so engrossed envisioning sneaking up behind him inside the store, that she was taken aback when the door opened just as she placed her hand on the knob.
Lizzy emitted a faint yelp at the same moment Darcy released a surprised, “Pardon me, madam…Elizabeth!” He jerked to a halt, an inch away from bashing into her, and blinked his eyes in amazement. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, Mr. Darcy, remember?” She giggled at his expression. “My intention was to surprise you, just not in the doorway. Although, on second thought, startling you while standing in an aisle between tall, unstable bookcases may not have been a wise action after all. You are quite jumpy.”
“Elizabeth, I…am surprised, yes. I thought you and your sisters were calling upon the Parkholmes today.”
“We were. That is, we did, however belatedly discovered that Inez, the youngest Miss Parkholme, is ill, so did not stay long.”
“Nothing serious, I pray? She appeared hale enough at Lucas Lodge two nights ago.”
“You remember Inez?”
“Indeed. Pleasant girl. She recited the poems with amazing diction and feeling. Why are you looking at me with raised brows? Have I said something wrong?”
“Sorry. No, of course not. I just did not realize you noticed her reading.”
“I am comprehensive in my awareness, Elizabeth, or at least I try to be, particularly as it pertains to you and your homeland. I did not, however, notice that you were on the streets of Meryton—or following me. How long were you following me?”
His tone was neutral, but she sensed a hint of anxiety, and he unconsciously touched his left pocket. This is where he had slipped the item he had been inspecting earlier, and Lizzy suddenly wondered if it might be a gift for her. Unwilling to spoil his plans, especially in light of the tight set of his jaw and flicking fingertips, a known nervous gesture, she smiled sunnily and avoided glancing toward the visible lump in his pocket.
“We saw you opening the door for Mrs. Larimer and her children. A true gentleman you are, sir, and whatever you said caused little Marigold Larimer to blush. Do I now have competition from another young lady who has succumbed to your charms?”
“If she were but a dozen years older, you may, indeed. Alas, as sweet and adorable as Miss Larimer is, she cannot steal the tiniest fragment of my heart away from you.”
“Pretty words, Mr. Darcy. I shall accept them as insurance that I am safe.”
“You are safe, trust me. All teasing aside, there is not a woman in the world who could compete with you.”
“That is good news, William, because if any woman did try to compete for my place in your heart, a fight would be in order. I may be tiny, but I am a country girl, so it could get ugly.”
“Your place is as secure as gold in a vault, my Elizabeth. A fight will never be warranted.”
Darcy had not moved from his position straddling the threshold, and Lizzy had not backed away either, meaning their bodies remained incredibly close. This alone amply magnified the flushing and tingles that played havoc on Lizzy’s composure. Complicating her control further was the intensity of his declarations, the way his resonant voice dropped into a caressing purr, and the glimmer of wildness detected within darkening eyes. Frequently over the past five days, she had noted similar physical evidences of his zealous yearning for her. Then, each time, while she reeled from the emotional surge ignited by his fiery demeanor, it was as if the blaze was instantly snuffed.
The same happened this time.
Between one racing heartbeat and the next, between two blinks of her eyes, he was again the calmly restrained man familiar to her. Present was the soft smile and tender gaze only for her, but gone were the traces of something deeper, leaving her, as it always did, to wonder if she had imagined the rest.
In one smooth motion, he withdrew a pace and extended his arm, every ounce the urbane gentleman. Aside from the fact that he drew her slightly closer to his side than typical, they could have been nothing more than new acquaintances on a casual stroll.
“Our meeting is fortuitous, no matter how unexpected,” he began, leading away from the bookseller’s doorway. “I came to pick up a few items I needed, including this book”—he held up the wrapped rectangle in his hand—“and thought I would pass the time until meeting Bingley by drinking coffee at the inn. Instead, I would much rather fulfill a desire of mine, that being to have you escort me through Meryton. If you have the time, that is?”
“I will always make the time to be with you, William. Happily so. Why else would I dash crazily after you?” She met his warm eyes briefly and then lowered her head to hide the instant blush. “I shall do my best to conduct an encompassing tour of Meryton, although it is fairly easy to discover what is here without a formal guide.”
“My hope was for a personal guide. I desire to see the village through your eyes, as it were. I wish to hear of your adventures on these streets, as I have enjoyed while on our walks near Longbourn. Then, perhaps we can share refreshments together, with your sisters too, of course. I presume you were not here alone?”
“Only Jane is with me. She is completing our errands and will meet me by the fountain at noon.”
“You deserted her so you could stalk me?”
Lizzy laughed at his feigned tone of shock. “Jane understands. She would have done the same if it were Mr. Bingley we saw—after I forced her too, that is.” Darcy chuckled and nodded. “And stalking is not entirely accurate, since I did loudly frighten a stray cat when I moved the mailbags he was sleeping behind in order to pass through the narrow alley by the postal office. And in my haste and worry over losing sight of you, I nearly plowed into one of Mrs. Jacques’s flower baskets, which she was verbally upset about. So, any attempt to be stealthy was a dismal failure, my only success being that you were strangely unaware of your surroundings. Fortunate for me but quite odd, Mr. Darcy. The vision of coffee and reading this book must have been tremendously engaging!”
“Normally you might have a point, coffee and reading being two of my favorite things in life. In this case, it was you, ironically enough, who served as my distraction.”
“I feel as if I should apologize!”
“There will never be a need for you to apologize for distracting me, Elizabeth. I quite enjoy it, if you must know. Ah, yes, this will work well, I believe.”
His last sentence penetrated Lizzy’s happy haze, belatedly realizing, as he walked them under the arched stone gateway, that he had steered them into the public garden. “Did you decide to start here because you suspected I had adventures in the park?”
“No, although now that you mention it, and as I am learning more of your youthful exploits, I would wager you had a few.”
“Not an abundance, unless you count the numerous times I escaped while Mama was distracted. Inevitably I came here to play. Oh yes! There was the “elm tree fiasco,” as Mama termed it,” she laughed in sudden memory. “I was eight at the time. Donnie and Benji Rochester, who are now both respected surgeons in villages nearby, were twelve then, and asked me to climb that tree”—she indicated a tall elm—“to rescue a stranded cat.”
“Quite unchivalrous of them. Were they afraid of the tree or the cat?”
“Neither, I am sure. In fact, their argument was sound. You are much lighter and smaller than us, they said, which was true as they were burly boys. They also pointed out that the cat would probably respond better to me.” Lizzy shrugged. “Whether that was as much the enticement as merely seeing if I would do it, I cannot be sure, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt.”
Lizzy sat on the wooden bench Darcy motioned to, tucked in a shady corner away from the street, surrounded by shoulder-height hedges and spaced shrubs, affording a measure of privacy in an otherwise public place. A few pedestrians
roamed through the verdant pathways, and a dozen children laughed as they played on the lawn area in the middle of the square garden park. The people provided a sense of being chaperoned without being closely watched.
“So what happened? Did you save the cat?”
“Not exactly. I climbed the tree easily enough and reached the branch where poor puss trembled and stared with his wide, yellow eyes. I could not reach him, so I spoke softly, purred and meowed in what I thought a brilliant imitation of a cat, and even offered him pieces of my apple. The Rochester twins shouted encouragement and instructions, none of which seemed to be working. I was nearly in tears, sure that the animal was going to die if I could not save him, when all of a sudden, the ungrateful beast hissed and leapt, claws extended, straight at my face! If I had not been so startled and jerked aside, he would have left a deep scratch on my cheek. As it was, he gouged my neck, then bounded down the branches and to the ground quicker than lightning and as graceful as, well, a cat! He left me clinging for dear life. You see, you are laughing, same as those horrid Rochesters.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot help it! Had no one ever told you that a cat will never remain stuck in a tree, or anywhere for that matter?”
“I do know that now, thank you very much.”
“Were you wounded severely?”
“I was too angry at the time to feel any pain. And a good thing since my prevailing thought was to chase that stupid cat and wring his neck. I scrambled down that tree almost as fast as he had, but not as gracefully, to be sure. My dress was torn in a half-dozen places, my knees scraped, and I lost one of my favorite hair ribbons. Mama was absolutely horrified. Oh, and I punched Donnie Rochester in the nose for laughing the hardest.”
“The other Rochester escaped your wrath?”
“Only because he tended to the cat scratch. Used his own handkerchief, which I thought rather nice of him since it was then ruined with my blood. I suppose his future profession was within him because he smeared the scratch with the sap from an aloe plant. See, I still have a small scar here.”