Page 84 of A November to Remember

“Does she draw?” Kitty leaned closer, and when Mr Darcy nodded, Lydia demanded to know whether she painted flowers, portraits, or those dismal ruins which ladies were always expected to admire.

“She has lately been drawing trees. There is an oak at Pemberley which has received more attention than I have.”

“Perhaps it sits still better,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile.

“I had understood that sitting still was among my more conspicuous accomplishments.”

The answer was so immediate that she laughed openly, and Lydia looked from one to the other with a curiosity which Elizabeth hoped would not mature into an observation. Fortunately, the subject of Georgiana offered more immediate attractions.

“You must bring her to Longbourn.” Kitty bounced on her toes. “We could walk to Meryton, and she could meet the Lucases.”

“La, Mr Darcy!” Lydia stopped in the path and clasped her hands. “You are brilliant. You are quite the most brilliant man I have ever met, and I have met Viscount Keathley. Kitty is right; you must bring your sister to Longbourn. I shall teach her everything.”

“That”—Mr Darcy halted in the path—“is precisely what I am afraid of.”

Lydia shrieked with delight and Kitty shrieked because Lydia had.

A flash of russet fur caught Kitty’s eye by the edge of the tree line. “Look, Lydia! A red squirrel! And it has a nut! Do you think it stole it from the kitchens?”

“Oh! I want to investigate!”

They darted after the creature, their brightly coloured pelisses flashing through the bare trees like exotic birds. They vanished, their giggles fading into the air.

Mr Darcy watched them go, then turned back to Elizabeth. “I trust the squirrel is innocent. Your sisters appear difficult to convince once they have formed a suspicion.”

“It would be wiser to surrender the walnut.” She gazed up at him, no longer attempting to conceal her smile. “You continue to be full of surprises, Mr Darcy. I am impressed.”

“I am pleased to have impressed you, but I must not take credit for my sister’s accomplishments. She has worked very hard for them, while I have contributed little beyond purchasing the instrument and applauding at the right moments.”

“It was your own accomplishments I meant. My sisters are not always easy companions for a gentleman who prefers quiet.”

He considered that as they resumed their stroll. “They are young. Georgiana is young too, although she expresses it differently. I should hardly wish a stranger to judge her whole character by one incident.”

“Even so.” Elizabeth guided them down the clearer centre of the path. “You were kind to them. They are not accustomed to gentlemen of your station engaging with them so readily.”

“I enjoyed speaking of my sister. They supplied a willing audience.”

“They supplied an interrogation.”

“I have survived worse. My aunt once required an account of every chair I had purchased for a room she had never entered.”

Elizabeth laughed, but the sound softened as he looked at her. His expression had changed, the amusement giving way to a gravity she recognised without finding it quite so forbidding as she once had. He continued for a few more paces before speaking, and she felt the slight movement of his arm as he drew breath. He stopped, and she halted beside him, her hand still resting on his arm. He faced her fully, the biting wind whipping a lock of hair across his forehead.

“I have been meaning to say something to you.” Mr Darcy kept his voice low, his eyes locked onto hers. “For quite some time.”

Elizabeth waited patiently.

“I must apologise for the assembly in Meryton. For the word I used.”

Elizabeth felt a rush of heat to her cheeks remembering the anger that had consumed her at his dismissal.

“I regretted the comment the very moment it left my mouth.” Mr Darcy moved a fraction of an inch closer. “It was rude, it was untrue, and I deserved every ounce of your ire at Lucas Lodge. I was uncomfortable in a crowded room of strangers, and I behaved with unforgivable arrogance. I apologise, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth searched his face.

“Perhaps my anger was greater than the comment warranted, and I allowed it to dictate my opinion of you.”

“I disagree.” Mr Darcy covered her gloved hand with his own, the heat of his palm permeating the leather. “You judged me exactly as I presented myself. You held a mirror up to my poor behaviour, and I cannot fault you for the reflection.”