Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

M iss Elizabeth Bennet was crouching, patting a clearly enthralled Budge. She looked up at Darcy, a wide smile on her face, and laughed. Her eyes danced, and it was impossible to deny that it made her especially lovely. For a second, he forgot to breathe.

“Did you call your dog Budge?”

He dismounted, using the moment he had his back to her in a largely vain attempt to regain his composure. “I did.” He spoke the words slowly, then rolled his eyes and continued, “He began his life with a much more dignified name, but he was—still is—lazy and would fall to the ground acting exhausted wherever he was. My sister, who was only ten or eleven at the time, would always urge him to budge. She said she liked the way the word sounded, which was her excuse for saying it so maddeningly often. The silly thing—the dog, not Georgiana—would not move no matter how much we prodded him. Eventually, he would only respond to Budge or Bud. ”

Her lips twitched, telling him she was finding it difficult not to laugh; he could not blame her. “What sort of dog is he? I do not have a perfect understanding of breeds, but I do not believe I have ever seen a similar one.”

Budge was neither large nor small, and he was almost entirely white, with fur that always appeared in need of grooming. But he had his own appeal, with big dark eyes and a mouth that made him look like he was smiling no matter the circumstances.

If Miss Elizabeth wanted to speak of his dog for the next hour, Darcy would oblige her. That she was willingly asking him questions, looking at him with friendliness, was a victory he had longed for—more than he had realised until this instant. “His parentage…is uncertain. One of the groundskeepers at my estate found him when he was a young pup. Georgiana loved him at once, and so we kept him.”

“But he is your dog, not your sister’s? I assume as much given he is here and she is not.”

He sent a silent prayer to the universe that he had not become as red as a ripe strawberry. “He appears to prefer me.” He quickly went on, not wanting to admit that Budge showed signs of illness whenever Darcy went away without him. “You have an affinity for animals, I see.”

She turned her gaze to Budge, who was lying down, his eyes half closed, and continued to stroke him. “I have always quite liked them.”

“Do you have any pets of your own?”

“Not any longer. We used to have a cat, properly my mother’s, but she was free with her affection and often demanded attention from my sisters and me. Not unlike how this fine fellow is.” Budge gave a soft bark. “She died last winter. I suppose my mother will get another cat eventually, but it is too soon.”

“I am sorry,” he said with genuine feeling. “I know how much sorrow the loss of a beloved pet can cause.”

She said nothing at first and kept her eyes on Budge. Darcy watched her, a sense of peace gathering around him, whether it was from the beautiful place or the beautiful lady with him, he could not say. Or perhaps it is just because she is kind to my dog and has not yet fled my company. She had even sounded amiable when she addressed him .

Standing, she said, “I ought to continue my walk.” Budge rolled over until he was half on her feet, causing her to chuckle and Darcy to silently promise him a treat for finding a way to delay her departure.

“I would like to apologise to you.”

Miss Elizabeth regarded him, her brow arching gently. “Am I to take your words as the apology?” Her tone was not angry or mocking, which was an improvement on their recent exchanges.

He shook his head. “I understand that for you to believe I am truly contrite and fully accept that I was mistaken at the assembly, I must do more than that. I must know you enough that I can truly feel and assert that I do not believe what I said of you that night. That is what you told me.” She nodded slowly. “I do not know how to go about it, but I would like to earn your forgiveness. ”

“This is quite an alteration from our last conversation,” she said. “How do you explain it?”

He was certain if he touched his cheeks, his fingers would burn. “Perhaps I am not used to people telling me their honest opinion of my comportment. Since more than one person has informed me that I have not acted as I should, I would be a fool to overlook it, and once I admitted they were correct, what sort of person would I be if I did not seek to remedy the consequences of my actions?”

“Are you referring to my father? I know about him calling on you. I did not ask or expect him to.”

“It never occurred to me that he was there because you—Though, I suppose you had every reason to be upset and to want a public apology.” He paused, holding up a palm facing her. “I am beginning to babble. It was not just your father, to answer your question.”

“I doubt you are capable of babbling, Mr Darcy.” She smiled, her eyes bright with amusement, and he felt something inside him shift, acknowledging that it was not the first time he had experienced the sensation of late. He did not know what it meant, and this was hardly the time to sort it out.

He said, “I feel like I am, because I do not know what to say to you. Indeed, I am simply glad and grateful that you are speaking to me at all. Bingley. It was Bingley who also told me he thought I could be…more amiable. I do not know whether you are aware that his mother was from Hertfordshire.”

“Jane mentioned it lately. Near St Albans, if I recall correctly. That is where you have been these last few days, is it not?”

He nodded. “I ought to have known he would have told your sister. They do enjoy each other’s company.” He chuckled lightly and awkwardly. “Bingley finds it easy to make friends. I do not.”

Miss Elizabeth coughed, and he had the impression it was to hide a laugh.

“None of his mother’s family lives there now, so Bingley did not care where in Hertfordshire he found an estate, but being here is important to him. It was something his father had planned to do. I refer to residing in the county, at least for a year or two, but he never did. His own people—and his business, while he still owned it—are in Yorkshire, and I suppose it was difficult to leave.” Darcy shrugged; with both of his parents dead, he understood the desire to do whatever was necessary to remember and honour them. In his case, he still saw both his father’s and mother’s relations regularly; the Bingleys knew only those of their father. Darcy also had Pemberley and the many memories of happy times they had spent there.

“I value Bingley’s friendship, and I understand I…did not present myself well at the assembly. I must apologise to you,” he said again, “but first I must know you. Only then would I be able to tell everyone who is aware of my remarks that I was mistaken, that my words then do not reflect how I view you. When we were at Lane Park, I was shocked that Mr Edward Best—who was not in attendance that night—knew of it, to say nothing of his willingness to speak of it to you.” He could not keep th e anger from his voice. The impudence of the young man, the sheer thoughtlessness to refer to an event that might have, probably had, injured her was astonishing.

Miss Elizabeth gave a light laugh. “Since he fancies himself half in love with me, we must consider ourselves fortunate he did not challenge you to a duel. Though I have reason to hope he now believes he never had tender feelings for me and will leave me alone.”

He gaped at her and was on the point of asking whether she was serious when she again chuckled. “I am joking. I…do. Maybe more than I should. I tease and take pleasure in ridiculing the silly things we all do or say upon occasion.”

“I suppose you have laughed at me?”

She tilted her head to one side and gave him a pointed look that asked whether he genuinely wanted her to answer.

He did not and instead cleared his throat and said, “This is my dilemma. If I am to earn your forgiveness and that of the good people of the neighbourhood, I must first become more familiar with you. However, your father has forbidden you to be near me, and because of that, I cannot know you better.” He lifted his hands in a gesture that asked what he was supposed to do under these circumstances.

“I understand your predicament. I told my father he was taking the entire affair too seriously, but I have not seen him like this since I was a young girl. He has said nothing to indicate he has become less adamant that I avoid you.”

Darcy averted his gaze and did his best to suppress a sigh. He had hoped Mr Bennet was beginning to think better of him, between the meeting they had both attended, his connexion to Frederick Darcy, and his behaviour at Lucas Lodge. His disappointment must have shown, and compassionate young lady that she was, she sought to alleviate it.

“I suppose we might happen to see each other upon occasion,” she said. “We met by chance this morning, for instance. There might be opportunities when we are at the same evening party, times when my father is not present or is distracted enough not to notice. Oh, but others would, and word would get back to him. I shall think on it further. What I mean to say is, perhaps we can find a way to speak a little. Enough that you can apologise in a manner that satisfies him.”

Satisfies him ? Was she suggesting it was Mr Bennet who had decreed what would make a genuine apology? Darcy had believed it was Miss Elizabeth who would decide whether he had done enough. He set aside the question of whom he must please in order to take advantage of the time she was currently willing to give him. Thus, he said, “I have begun the task of using whatever means are at my disposal and have discovered several things about you since we met in October—or did not meet, if you prefer. Today I learnt you are kind to animals—which I greatly admire—you are fond of walking, you play and sing charmingly?—”

She laughed. “There is no need to flatter me, sir.”

“I do not understand.”

“I am sure you have heard far more skilful performers. I never practise as much as I should. ”

“Whatever mistakes you might make while playing the pianoforte, I assure you, they are adequately compensated for by…the way you approach music. I do not know how to describe it, but I was serious.” The words that came to mind—the joy and almost fearlessness with which she sang, the feeling she somehow imbued in the notes—seemed too intimate to express. Leaving aside the issue, he continued. “In my quest, I have eavesdropped on your conversations with others upon occasion. In this undignified manner”—she laughed, as he had expected she would—“I found out that you like to read. May I ask what sorts of books you prefer?”

“As a young lady, am I permitted to say anything other than novels and poetry? Would it damage your opinion of me if I admit I enjoy reading about scientific discoveries?”

“Not at all. I encourage my sister to read whatever interests her. She is particularly fond of history.”

Miss Elizabeth asked about Georgiana—how old she was, where she resided, and the like—saying, “I have a strong interest in sisters. Whatever their flaws, I dearly love mine, and I believe everyone ought to have at least one, if they can manage it.”

They spent several minutes speaking of Georgiana, then she surprised him by saying, “Thank you for what you said about my family the other night. At Lucas Lodge. You must wonder why the Bests were so quick to disparage us.”

Of course he was curious, but it was none of his business. “I did happen to notice their behaviour towards you was remarkably different from what it was when we all met at Lane Park.”

“The reason is simple enough, and I shall tell you since they involved you in it. I asked my father to tell the Bests that I shall never have…a particular interest in Edward.” As though not wanting to discuss it further, she quickly added, “I had no notion my father and your cousin were friends. That is…shocking.”

“It is proof that Darcys and Bennets can be friends,” he said, earning him a smile. “I wrote to him and recently received a reply. I hope to discuss it with Mr Bennet.” Before she remembered she was not supposed to be speaking to him, he enquired, “Apart from walking, reading, and music, how else do you like to pass your time? Do you draw?”

She gave a hearty laugh, causing Budge to briefly wake from his nap. He gave a soft bark and looked up at her. Once she had patted his head and told him all was well, the dog again buried his nose in his paws and began to snore. Earlier, Darcy would have been embarrassed; at present, because Miss Elizabeth gave no hint of thinking less of Budge—or him for having such an animal—he was not.

“I cannot so much as draw a circle without assistance,” she explained.

It was Darcy’s turn to laugh and smile. “I am no better, though my sister is. I would still like to know what diversions you enjoy. Say, if you are confined to the house because of bad weather, what do you do?”

“You are attempting to get to know me.” It was a statement not a question, yet he confirmed it. “With four sisters—to say nothing of my parents—there is always someone to speak to or do something with, such as play a game. I have recently begun learning duets on the pianoforte with Mary, and my father has asked me to help Kitty—Catherine, that is, though I suppose that is obvious—and Lydia practise their currently rather lacking French skills.” She blushed, but he was not sure why unless it was because she had said more than she had intended to. For his part, he did not mind at all.

“And now, I really ought to go.” She patted Budge and murmured a few words to the dog before giving Darcy a long, contemplative look and saying, “Good day, Mr Darcy.”

As he had done before, Darcy watched her walk away. It had been the most congenial conversation they had ever had, and he fervently hoped it would not be the last—and not only so that he might apologise properly.

She is…uncommon, though why she strikes me as such, I cannot say. Whatever it was, he knew he liked her. He liked her very much indeed.