B00CO8L910 EBOK

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  “Are you interested in estate management, Miss Bennet?”

  There was that wry humor in his voice again. She arched her brows. “I have never studied it, Mr. Darcy. Is that what these books cover?”

  His reply was a half step too slow as he held desperately to the last vestiges of his self-control. He watched her thin, delicate fingers spread across the binding of his estate books.

  “Yes, I find those books essential to the smooth running of my estates,” he finally said evasively.

  Elizabeth nodded. His pleasant manners were making it difficult to remember how she disliked the man. And then there was the mesmerizing way his throat moved when he talked. Usually covered by his shirt and cravat, his neck was altogether distracting. Collecting herself, she looked down at the tome in her hands and thought, Well, estate management ought to be boring enough to clear these insufferable thoughts.

  Mr. Darcy held his breath. He knew that, in the next moment, she would realize her mistake. He watched her gently open the cover of the book and look at the first page. She seemed frozen, staring blankly.

  Pemberley House, Derbyshire, Estate Accounts, 1811. The words shouted out at her from the page, crashing violently through her mind. No, no, no! Slowly, her eyes stirred from the shouting page to discover a miniature of Georgiana on the desk, next to an ink and pen stand. Her head shook in disbelief as she came to terms with where she was. Not his library — his study! She snatched her hand back from the book as if it were on fire. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who was sitting expressionless across from her. At his desk, she thought, his chair! She flung herself out of the chair and backed away. Her mouth opened, and her hand moved numbly to cover it.

  Mr. Darcy sensed the time for him to take action was upon him; he could see her face contort in mortification. He moved cautiously to her.

  “Do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet. You could not have known. For myself, it was a delightful misdirection on your part, one in which I was the benefactor.”

  Elizabeth finally found her voice. “Mr. Darcy, believe me, I would not have ventured into your private study had I known . . . I thought it was the library!”

  He reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm as he led her across the room. “Shhh. I know you would not have, Miss Bennet, but I cannot find it in me to wish it otherwise.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she murmured, still red with embarrassment and grateful he was not upset with her breach of his privacy.

  “Shall I repay you for this pleasing interlude that you have bestowed upon me and guide you to the real library, Miss Bennet? I assure you, with my navigation you shall not get lost again.”

  She laughed with little humor but determined to redeem the remnants of her dignity. She needed her wit to dispel the thickness of the moment and distract her from the thinness of his shirtsleeve beneath her fingers. She did so by saying archly, “I should certainly hope so Mr. Darcy, or else we would be a sorry pair, indeed, to get lost in your house.”

  His eyes darkened, and she had to look away. I should like to get lost with you in this house, Elizabeth. “Sorry, indeed. Right this way, madam.”

  He walked her to a door at the opposite end of his study that opened directly to the library and ushered her in. He watched delightedly as her eyes grew big with childlike wonder as she scanned the cavernous space of his library. The room was easily three times the size of his study and filled with books on all four walls.

  He leaned against the door frame, appreciating the sparkle in her eyes, a light he had not seen in several days, as she slowly turned in a circle taking in the scene. He looked at the walls around them, humbled that she should take such joy in something so commonplace to him. Wait until I take you to Pemberley, Elizabeth. He smiled at the scene she made and likened the silence of the moment to music when added to the enchanting smile spreading across her features.

  He stepped forward when she stopped turning and walked further into the room. He watched as she neared a rug on the floor; its raised edge always caught people unawares. I really should replace it, he thought absently as he prepared to warn her. Before he uttered a word, she turned and walked the perimeter of the room, grazing the books with her fingers as she went.

  Her voice wafted back to him, breaking the spell. “Mr. Darcy, this is the most beautiful room I have ever seen!” she said, laughing. Transfixed, his smile grew wider as she almost skipped down the remainder of the room, her hands still on the books beside her. When she got to the end of the room, she spun in a circle and laughed quietly.

  Too beautiful. It pained him that the moment could not last forever. “Thank you, Miss Bennet, though I admit I almost wish you remained under the assumption that my study was the library.”

  Elizabeth stopped and looked at him quizzically. “Why ever for, sir — to keep such a secret as this?” She motioned to the walls around her.

  He swallowed, unsure whether he should be so bold. “Because then you would forever be in my study with me rather than in here” — When you come to live here — “whenever you visit Darcy House.”

  Elizabeth stood stock-still. When shall I ever come back to Darcy House? she thought in bewilderment. She was taken aback by his forward pronouncement, and she could not make out his meaning — that he should presume she would return to this house! He does not like me. I do not like him. The proverbial sentiment began to sound stale in her mind, so she brushed it away, not wanting to think why.

  In an attempt to dispel the sudden awkwardness, she teased, “Ahh, but sir, I am afraid that would not do, especially if you are in the habit of dressing so casually in your study.”

  Mr. Darcy’s brows furrowed as he looked down at himself and realized for the first time since discovering Elizabeth in his study that he was in just his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. His head shot up, his eyes wide with shock to see her smirking face. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I had forgotten . . . what with the surprise of your presence in my study . . . Please excuse me.”

  He turned abruptly and returned to his study. She privately enjoyed witnessing the usually controlled and elegant Mr. Darcy in complete disarray when he recognized his blunder. She walked slowly into the center of the room and looked about again. She had truly never seen a more magnificent room in all her life. She thought, To be mistress of such a home, to have access to all these treasures! She stopped in her tracks. Where did that come from? Unfortunately for her composure, at that moment the master of the house returned, once again impeccably dressed with his tailcoat and cravat reassembled.

  ’Tis a pity; I think I preferred the other look. Elizabeth blushed scarlet and slapped her hand across her mouth as she realized too late from the surprised yet amused look on his face that she had voiced her thought aloud.

  Mr. Darcy bowed to her. “I shall endeavor to remember that, Miss Bennet.”

  Mortified for the second time in a half hour’s expanse, Elizabeth hastened towards the exit, wishing she did not have to walk past him to leave. “Excuse me, but I think I must be goin — Oomph!”

  Darcy grinned. Elizabeth was in his arms, having tripped on the rug. I shall never replace that rug, he vowed.

  Elizabeth’s eyes squeezed shut, praying for a moment that it was all a terrible dream. Sandalwood and lemon, she thought. He smells like sandalwood and lemon. Ohhh, it is not a dream. She cringed as she attempted to step out of his embrace.

  When she began to pull away from him, she found, much to her increasing embarrassment, that the chain of her garnet cross necklace was caught on one of the buttons of his tailcoat. With growing exasperation and need for escape, she tugged fiercely at the offending jewelry, the process made more graceless by the shortness of the chain.

  “Miss Bennet, if you please. I rather like this jacket. Allow me.” He chuckled when she obliged him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. He took his time as he unclasped the chain around her neck, relishing the feel of her soft skin. “There, you are free.”

  Elizabeth backed
away immediately and sat heavily in the nearest chair, her mind reeling from the disastrous morning! First, I stumble upon Mr. Darcy’s study and then attach myself bodily to his person. A more horrifying morning she could not imagine.

  While Mr. Darcy worked to release her necklace chain from the button on his coat, he spied through his lashes a stunned Elizabeth. He worried suddenly for her mental strength after the past few days, combined with the extreme embarrassment he knew she must feel.

  Her shoulders began to shake, and he thought she was sobbing. Oh no! Anything but your tears, my love! When he kneeled beside her, he heard a noise from her mouth and then another. He watched in amazement as she fell into hysterics, holding her arms across her middle with tears streaming down her face.

  In her amusement, she turned to him, dazzling him with her unaffected beauty. “What a disaster today has been! I should have taken your suggestion from yesterday and never left my chambers!”

  He was laughing now, too, as he joined her on the seat. Together they shared a few moments in companionable mirth. When their laughter stilled, Mr. Darcy handed Elizabeth his handkerchief to dry the tears.

  She took it with a smile. “I am collecting quite a pile of these, Mr. Darcy.”

  He laughed once again. “There are plenty more should you have need of them.”

  Elizabeth knew at that moment that he was not just speaking of handkerchiefs but of his willingness to provide any comfort she might need. He leaned towards her and deftly secured the clasp on her necklace around her neck. She blushed and whispered a quiet “thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he whispered back.

  It really was unfortunate, she thought, that he was capable of behaving so despicably with regard to Jane and Mr. Wickham as she began to comprehend that he was exactly the man who in disposition and talents would most suit her. She sobered, remembering his past offenses. However, she could not forget his kindness and thus spoke sincerely. “Thank you for allowing us to stay here and for accompanying us home tomorrow. It is far more than you need do.”

  “Again, my pleasure, Eliz— Miss Bennet.”

  Wishing his misdeeds were untrue, she said, “And thank you for the laugh. I think I needed it more than anything else.”

  “I cannot take credit for that, Miss Bennet. You provided all the folly.”

  “Indeed, it seems I did.”

  They sat companionably in silence before she stood and smoothed her skirts. “I believe I shall return to my rooms now, Mr. Darcy. It seems venturing out this morning has been rife with unparalleled dangers to my dignity. Before it is completely destroyed, I fear it is best I retire.”

  “Though I am sorry to hear about the demise of your dignity, I cannot repent the pleasures I experienced at its expense. Good day, Miss Bennet. It has been a pleasure.” He took her hand and kissed it.

  “Good day, Mr. Darcy.” Making an obvious effort to step over the edge of the rug, she walked out of the room, leaving a smiling, contented master of the house.

  Chapter 4

  Mr. Darcy stood in front of the chair Elizabeth had occupied just a few hours before. A smile pulled at the edges of his mouth as he remembered the delightful picture she presented sitting there. Her small frame looked engulfed in the large, leather chair, and yet it seemed also to fit her just right. He lowered himself into the chair. It was cool, the heat from her body long gone. He looked at his estate books in the center of the desk where she left them, the book on top still open. Closing the book, he traced the outline of the binding just as her fingers had.

  Shaking his head, he laughed at himself for behaving the besotted fool.

  A knock at the door interrupted Darcy’s pleasant ruminations, and he hoped that perhaps she had returned. Standing eagerly, he bid the visitor enter.

  The door opened to his butler who stepped to the side to reveal another gentleman. “Mr. Bingley to see you, sir.”

  Mr. Darcy tried to hide his disappointment but was not quick enough before his friend caught his falling countenance. “I say, Darcy, thank you for the warm welcome,” he said with good humor.

  “You will excuse me, Bingley. I had not expected you. You are, of course, welcome.”

  ”Yes I can see that!” Bingley laughed. “It seems you were anticipating someone vastly more appealing.”

  Mr. Darcy shifted uncomfortably before offering his guest a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Bingley?”

  Bingley took the seat across from him, causing Darcy to smile at the memory of having occupied that seat himself earlier. He quickly pushed the thought away.

  “Have you forgotten? We had plans today to go to White’s.”

  “Of course!” He had forgotten. Before leaving for Kent, he had arranged to go to his club with Bingley the day after his return. That was today. “I suppose I did forget.”

  “That is not like you,” Bingley observed. “How was Kent?”

  Darcy was grateful for the change of topic and answered without forethought. “It was pleasant enough. My aunt was, as always, a bit tiresome. Her new parson — you remember we met in Hertfordshire — is lately married to one of our acquaintances from that neighborhood.”

  Darcy, having thought he was simply relaying news of no consequence, realized his mistake when he saw his friend’s countenance fall. The two of them sat in an uncomfortable silence. Bingley had not been quite himself since leaving Netherfield. Until that moment, Darcy had refused to believe that Bingley might still feel the loss of a certain lady there. It occurred to him that perhaps he had done a great disservice to his friend.

  Bingley swallowed his rush of emotion at the mention of Hertfordshire. It was a topic that Darcy had studiously avoided and had not brought up in some months. His last words finally registered in Bingley’s mind: ‘lately married . . . our acquaintance . . . Hertfordshire.’ Bingley looked up at his friend with anxious eyes.

  “Is that so?” asked his friend with a barely discernible shake to his voice. “And this acquaintance from Hertfordshire would be . . . ?”

  Darcy heard the controlled panic and quickly spoke to relieve his friend. “Yes, I believe you will remember her as Miss Charlotte Lucas.”

  Bingley drew in a deep breath, collapsing into his chair. Recovering himself, he affected an air of languor he did not feel.

  “I am glad to hear it. And did you find her well?”

  Guilt crept into Darcy’s heart as he saw the transformation in his friend at the reference to Hertfordshire and the clarification on the maiden identity of Mrs. Collins. He imagined what he might feel had he come to the parsonage and found Elizabeth married to the man. Suddenly, he felt sick at the mere thought of Elizabeth with such an odious man — any man! He felt all the weight of his presumptuous dealings. He needed to think in peace without the miserable countenance of his friend before him.

  “I did find her well.” He stood, indicating the end of their visit. “Bingley, I am sorry to have forgotten our engagement, but I am afraid I must beg off. I have some matters to attend.” He knew it was boorish of him to cancel their plans, but Darcy could not bear the guilt as he looked at him. What might be done to make amends?

  If his friend noticed his poor manners, he made no indication and simply rose from the chair blankly. As Darcy accompanied Bingley to the door, Colonel Fitzwilliam walked in. Darcy groaned to himself as he had forgotten that his cousin had stayed the night. He prayed he would not mention the current presence of Miss Bennet or Miss Lucas.

  “Darcy! Oh, hullo, Bingley. I left early this morning to visit my mother and so have not seen Miss Bennet or Miss Lucas. How do they fare this morning?”

  Darcy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Damn you, Fitzwilliam! He opened his eyes and glanced at Bingley who looked at him oddly before becoming red in the face.

  “Uhh . . . yes, Miss Lucas I believe has not left her chambers but . . . ” Darcy stammered and cleared his throat as he awkwardly continued, “Miss Bennet was down earlier to select a book
from the library and looked much improved.”

  Bingley spoke through clenched teeth. “Miss Bennet is here?”

  The colonel spoke before Darcy could. “Yes, she and Miss Maria Lucas were in Kent. We accompanied them to town. Sad business, the whole lot,” he said, shaking his head.

  Bingley turned to his friend. “Is that so?”

  Darcy had never seen Bingley livid before. He quickly asserted, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Lucas arrived with us last night and will be leaving tomorrow for Longbourn. I am to accompany them again . . . ” His voice drifted off.

  “I see.”

  Darcy groaned as he turned to his cousin and asked, “Richard, would you please excuse us? I find I have some business with Bingley.”

  The colonel, assessing the brewing tempers and determining he wanted no part of what was about to transpire, acquiesced.

  As soon as the door closed, Bingley rounded on his friend, seething. “Pardon my impertinence, Darcy, but were you going to tell me that Miss Bennet was a guest in your home?”

  Darcy ran his hands through his hair. “Bingley, will you not have a seat? I can explain.”

  “I thank you, no! What have you to explain, friend?” he spat. “I can see you wished to keep her visit a secret. I suppose you thought I ought not to see her; perhaps seeing her would make me think of Jane, right? Blast and damn you, Darcy! I think I can manage seeing the sister!”

  Darcy declared, “It is not what you think,” although he knew it was exactly as Bingley thought. The small falsehood tasted bitter in his mouth and reminded him of the other deception: he had hidden Miss Jane Bennet’s presence in town from Bingley the past few months. He hated deceit of any kind. Have I always been so conceited? He groaned at his own hypocrisy.

  Bingley laughed sardonically. “You think I am so weak as to need further protection? I have resigned myself to the fact that she does not love me. You can at least give me the honor of trusting me with her relations.”

  Darcy lost all composure then and bellowed, “For God’s sake, Bingley! She is here because her sister died! She received the news in Kent, and I transported her here yesterday. She was barely well enough to leave her room this morning — so stricken with grief.” He regretted his brashness immediately as Bingley stuttered incoherently and stumbled backwards onto the sofa. His face went white and he murmured, “Her sister died . . . ”