Page 70 of Undone

Darcy inclined his head in greeting. It was only then, when Elizabeth at last raised her eyes to meet his, that she became aware how greatly she had missed the sight of him.

He appeared thinner than before; the journey and whatever business had detained him having left their mark upon him. Yet, there was something quieter in his countenance than when they had last parted, as though a burden long carried had at last begun, however slightly, to ease.

"I hope I find you well,” he said with a smile.

"Very well, sir. Thank you." Her voice sounded steadier than she had expected. "I had not imagined you would honour Longbourn with a visit again."

"Nor had I imagined it myself until this morning." A faint smile touched his mouth before disappearing almost at once. "The decision was made rather suddenly."

His glance moved toward the gentleman by the fire.

"May I present my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

Elizabeth curtseyed to the Colonel. Darcy had spoken of his cousin often enough that she felt she knew something of the gentleman already, though she gave no indication of it. Such familiarity would require an explanation she had no wish to offer before she had first spoken with Mr. Darcy.

"Colonel."

"Miss Elizabeth." The Colonel bowed with an ease that seemed perfectly natural to him. His expression carried an openness she found immediately engaging, though there was also something quietly observant in the manner with which he regarded first her, and then Darcy, before returning his attention to her oncemore. "I am exceedingly pleased to make your acquaintance at last."

Elizabeth looked at him with mild surprise.

"At last, sir?"

He smiled, his gaze flicking briefly to Darcy before returning to Elizabeth, as though a great many things had become clear in the space of a heartbeat.

"A careless expression, perhaps. My cousin has spoken so frequently of Hertfordshire these past weeks that I almost feel I have visited it already."

For the briefest instant Darcy closed his eyes, as though resigning himself to something long expected, while the Colonel's smile broadened in unmistakable satisfaction.

Elizabeth could not entirely suppress one of her own.

Mrs. Bennet, whose attentions had hitherto been devoted almost exclusively to persuading Mr. Bingley that he had taken far too little hot tea, suddenly remembered the existence of Colonel Fitzwilliam and began that they stay for breakfast. Seeing the conversation about to disappear beneath her mother's hospitality, Elizabeth scarcely knew whether to be relieved or disappointed when Mr. Darcy turned to her and spoke with studied clarity.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, "I wonder whether you might do me the honour of showing me your father's gardens, whatever the season has chosen to leave of them."

Elizabeth started at the pointedness of the request. It was still early in the morning, and with her parents and sisters gathered about them, she had imagined Mr. Darcy would preserve their pretence a little longer.

She turned instinctively towards her father, half expecting some objection. Instead, Mr. Bennet merely regarded her, thefaintest hint of amusement touching his features before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Relief, mingled with no small measure of astonishment, warmed her.

"Certainly, sir," Elizabeth replied, meeting Mr. Darcy's eyes once more. "Though I fear you will find my father's gardens a very humble rival to those at Netherfield."

Twenty-Eight

Longbourn

14th December, 1811

Elizabeth

They had scarcely passed beyond the drawing-room windows before Elizabeth became conscious that neither of them had shown the smallest interest in the gardens. The first snow lay thinly over the dormant beds, gathering along the low hedges and whitening the bare branches above them, while the gravel yielded damply beneath their steps. Darcy remarked once that the tulip garden must be very beautiful in spring, and Elizabeth agreed, though by then he had already begun his account and she could spare little attention for anything else.

She listened in astonishment as he related the events of the past month in as much detail as he could. Her expression altered so often that she soon abandoned every effort to conceal it, looking at him first in disbelief, then alarm, and more than once with an indignation which needed no words. That Mrs. Vane had laboured so many years against him, drawing servants, acquaintance, and men of Wickham’s disposition into her designs, seemed almost beyond comprehension.

Darcy spoke without embellishment, though the steadiness of his manner could not disguise what the account cost him. When he described the cottage near Ashbourne, Mrs. Younge and Wickham’s part in drawing Mrs. Vane there, and the moment Colonel Forster’s men entered, Elizabeth found herself walkingmore slowly until at last they came to a stop beside the dormant rose beds.

“It was not until Colonel Forster led her to the carriage,” Darcy concluded, “and I watched them drive away that I understood it was truly finished.”