Page 27 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

As the man approached, Elizabeth saw he was a few years older than Charles and far more handsome. He was several inches taller and had thick, dark hair and dark eyes that appeared stormy as he grew nearer. Then she realized what Charles had called him.

“Darcy? Georgiana’s brother?” she blurted without thought.

“The same. Lizzy, meet Mr. Darcy. Darcy⁠—”

“How dare you speak so informally of my sister! Who told you about her? And why do you not wear black to respect your father? You may not be out, but you are old enough for that.”

Elizabeth was shocked by his tone. He obviously thought she was a Bingley, but what right had he to chastise one of Charles’s sisters?

“Darce, what has you in such high dudgeon?” Charles asked.

Elizabeth did not remain to discover the source of this man’s mood, sweeping past him and out of the room without a word.

“She is not one of my sisters but their friend, so she is not in mourning,” she heard Charles say.

“Forgive me,” Mr. Darcy said hesitantly. “But why did she speak of my sister in such a way?”

“Perhaps I told Caro about her and she mentioned her…”

Elizabeth heard no more; she had returned to Caroline and told her she was leaving before the men had concluded their conversation.

When she was due to return to the Hursts’ home two days later, Elizabeth’s anger had not fully dissipated. She had no desire to see Mr. Darcy again; if she did, she may forget her youth and say something she shouldn’t. How dare he presume—No, she would control her temper. But even if she felt she must speak, she was not so very young. She would be sixteen in less than three months, and Jane had come out at that age. As she had told Aunt Gardiner several months before, she was not interested in being courted yet, but she was also uninterested in being considered a child. Especially by such a handsome man. She refused to acknowledge the thought. He had been too disagreeable to be handsome.

As she could not yet wear her hair up, she asked Dinah to put it in a braid. She knew why women wore their hair up. Caroline had said it was an intimacy for a man to see a woman’s hair down, and she had spoken of the type of novels that were the only books Uncle Bennet had not given her to read. Caroline had once praised Elizabeth’s thick, dark curls when she and Mrs. Hurst giggled over the men in those novels. Elizabeth had never cared if Charles saw her hair because he was like a brother to her, and she knew she should not care if Mr. Darcy saw it, either, as he would not think anything of it. Still, she would not give him the opportunity.

Darcy paced his bedchamber at Darcy House. He was ashamed of himself. He knew he needed to apologize to the girl he had met two days prior, but he could not seek her out. He had mistaken her for someone else, berated her for not mourning properly, called her a child—she was a child but apparently near enough a woman that she had likely been offended—and, worst of all, he had accused her of disrespecting his sister.

When he had returned home that evening, he had asked Georgiana if she had ever heard of a Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Georgie could not stop talking about the older girl’s perfections. She was the kindest girl she had ever met, could play the pianoforte as well as she could, had given her the book of histories Georgiana had been carrying around with her for five months, and to top it all off, she had spent the entire day comforting her while he had been racing to reach her after their father died.

This was the girl he had yelled at. Why had he not made the connection? Georgie talked often of “Lizzy.” Why had he not realized this “Lizzy” was his sister’s savior? He groaned. How could he possibly make amends now?

He departed his Berkeley Square townhouse and walked to the edge of the park at Davies Street, where he was meeting Bingley at half past one. Darcy did not want to encounter anyone else he knew today. They were both in mourning for their fathers, and he was not feeling sociable. That was his primary excuse for his boorish behavior toward Miss Elizabeth.

He was devastated by his father’s loss, overwhelmed by the heavy responsibilities he now faced. The morning of his unprecedented rudeness, he had met with his uncle, who had suggested he was not prepared to be his sister’s guardian. He should have gone straight home, but instead he had accepted Bingley’s invitation to meet his new brother-in-law. He had not expected to see any young girls not yet out. But it had not been Miss Elizabeth’s fault. He was to blame for all of it.

“How was your appointment, Bingley?” he asked as they fell into step together for the short distance to Hurst’s home. A sharp wind picked up, so he pulled his greatcoat tighter, and they walked more quickly.

“Good, good. Merely another meeting with my father’s—with my solicitor.”

They walked in silence for some minutes until Darcy had to speak.

“Please accept my apologies again for being so rude to your guest on Monday,” he said.

Bingley chuckled. “I was surprised, but I imagine you were under duress.”

“Indeed, but that was no excuse. Will she…that is, does Miss Bennet visit your sister often?”

“Yes. We met her earlier this year, in May, and they became fast friends, but my sister has relied on her quite heavily since Louisa’s marriage and even more since our father died. Lizzy arranged to have some of her lessons take place at the Hursts’ so Caroline could be included. She is a first-rate girl.” Bingley sighed.

Darcy quirked his eyebrows. “You sound as though you have a romantic interest in her.”

“In Lizzy?” Bingley laughed nervously. “She is a pretty girl, and she is only three years younger than I am…”

“Is she sixteen?”

“Not yet. Not until the end of February,” Bingley said, sighing again. “No. I am not interested in her in that way. She is an admirable girl, but I cannot keep up with her.”

“What does that mean?”