But her family. Darcy gazed at his boots. Her lack of fortune and connections. Miss Elizabeth was a dream from another life. One where he did not have so many responsibilities or carry the burden his parents’ expectations.
“Nothing,” he said.
Elizabeth had been unable to sleep well after her discussion with her father, and after several hours, gave up trying. She changed into a walking dress and slipped downstairs. The house was quiet. Even Papa would be unlikely to rise before noon.
Mrs. Hill nodded at her as she entered the breakfast room.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hill,” Elizabeth said, attempting to sound cheerful.
Mrs. Hill returned the greeting.
“How is your daughter?” Elizabeth asked. “Has there been any word?”
Unlike many housekeepers, Mrs. Hill had been married, then widowed, before she entered service.
“I had word not an hour ago that her labors have begun, Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs. Hill informed her, the lines around her eyes giving away her anxiety.
Elizabeth gasped happily and clasped her hands together. “Then what are you still doing here?”
Mrs. Hill glanced around nervously. “I should not like to be missed when Mrs. Bennet rises.”
“Oh, no one else will rise for hours yet,” Elizabeth said. “We did not leave Netherfield until nearly four o’clock. And you know Papa gave you leave to attend Annabelle. Please do not wait on us. I shall tell Papa where you have gone, and Mama that Iinsisted you go.” She was willing to bear Mama’s complaints about her high-handedness for such a cause.
“Bless your good heart,” Mrs. Hill said, unshed tears welling in her eyes. The housekeeper straightened, ran her hands along her skirt, and hurried out.
Elizabeth strolled out to the hall, where she tied on her bonnet and slipped on her pelisse before stepping out of doors. The cold morning air on her face revived her, and she headed towards the little wilderness on one side of the gardens. All she needed was a brief respite to think through everything that had happened—it was difficult to reconcile her impression of Mr. Darcy as a proud, haughty sort of man with the beleaguered, even vulnerable man she had conversed with . . . was it only this morning?
Honorable too, she admitted. Mr. Darcy had been angry when she mentioned Mr. Wickham, but he had not given way to his emotions. He had answered her questions—well, most of them. And in the library, he had not called on her to save him. Had she remained silent, she was sure he never would have. Finally, he had ensured she was removed from the situation as soon as he was able. He might have insulted her first by calling her “tolerable” and refusing to ask for her hand at the assembly, but she had more than repaid him for that slight by twice rejecting what she now suspected had been genuine invitations to dance. And her behavior last night! She could hardly bear to recall it.
Elizabeth cast her thoughts back to the first time she had met Mr. Darcy. Mama’s exhortations about poor Mr. Collins’s demise being Jane’s good fortune had been loud and lengthy. Papa had more than once tried to explain that they must first complete an exhaustive search for blood relations to replace Mr. Collins, and that Jane was not in line to inherit, even were no Bennet men to be located. Unfortunately, Papa had not accompanied them to the assembly that night, and Mama would not be gainsaid. Instead, she had happily crowed to all her friends that Jane’s first-born son would be the heir of Longbourn. Certainly, her mother’s vulgar glee must be one reason Mr. Darcy viewed them all with such contempt.
There—I have done it again. Elizabeth stood still and took a deep breath. She had been wrong about Mr. Darcy many times over—and here was another example. If Mama’s uninformed insistence had mortified her, she could not blame him for being shocked by such behavior. She huffed, frustrated with her own blindness, and decided that she had a great deal to think about—which required a rather longer walk than a stroll near the house.
By the time Elizabeth stopped analyzing all her previous interactions with Mr. Darcy and decided he might not have been watching her with disdain all these weeks, she was nearly at Netherfield’s boundary. She could see the great house from the top of the next rise if she wished—but she did not. Elizabeth had not meant to walk so far. Vowing not to allow herself to become so distracted in future, she turned back towards home.
She took a few steps but stopped to sneeze. She removed her handkerchief to dab at her nose. Truly, it would serve her right if she caught a cold. As she folded her handkerchief and tucked it away, there was a clomping of hooves on her right.
Two men on horseback emerged from a wider side path. They were dressed as gentlemen, and as she did not recognize them, she suspected they were friends of the Bingleys and had attended the ball. The men appeared startled by her presence but made no effort to remove themselves, and Elizabeth’s sense of foreboding increased. They were between her and the path back to Longbourn. Foolish, she chided herself. Foolish, foolish girl. Mrs. Hill would be gone all day. Why had she told no one else that she was leaving the house?
“Can you believe our luck, my friend?”
The man who had spoken had very light hair and pale blue eyes. She glanced at the other man who also had light hair, though his was more like the color of honey. His eyes were darker, too, a less remarkable brown.
The first man spoke again. “We were just on our way to your home to call on your father, Miss Elizabeth.”
He was lying. It could not be more than eight o’clock. No one paid calls at this hour. And how did he know her name?
The second man said nothing, but he swung a leg over his horse and dismounted. There was a small thump as his boots met the ground. Why? They were not acquainted. Elizabeth bent her knees slightly, preparing to flee into the woods where the horses would have a difficult time following. These men would be faster and stronger. She would have to be more cunning.
“I am afraid we have not been introduced, sirs. Why do you not call on my father later in the day?” she asked, taking a slow step back. “I am sure he should be pleased to receive you, although it is not quite the done thing to visit immediately following a ball.”
“Yes,” said the blue-eyed man, watching her from atop his mount.
Elizabeth shivered as though a pail of cold water had been poured down her back. It took a great deal to frighten her, but she would have to be very dim indeed not to be frightened now. These men had no intention of making a polite call at Longbourn.
He spoke slowly as the other man approached her. “I admit we thought we should have to come another day to Longbourn, but we will be departing the area shortly.” He paused. Her attention remained on the man approaching. “We heard you were a great walker, but we did not expect to find you so far from home and so early, too. We are very pleasantly surprised.”
Elizabeth tensed and sprang away just as the darker man reached for her. She dashed into the woods she had played in as a child and heard cursing behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that only one man was following and heard the other galloping away.