Chapter 2
Elizabeth had never seen a man so tall, so dark, so handsome.
Nor so disheveled, either—he must have arrived after a long ride upon a horse, if his sweaty brow and dampened clothes were any suggestion.
The man had an athletic build, strong arms and thick, muscular thighs which clung to his pantaloons; to be sure, he was a horse master, clearly a gentleman who knew how to ride, and ride well.
She wondered who he might be, as the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds had mentioned the master of Pemberley wouldn't be returning until tomorrow. Elizabeth had declined a tour of the gallery, where the kindly Mrs. Reynolds very much wanted to show them a portrait, but Elizabeth had other plans.
"Aunt, uncle, you go—I must walk through the gardens. I can meet you outside when you're finished walking through the gallery here."
She wasn't interested in looking at portraits of masters of the estate nor any of his family, but by the way her aunt and uncle were staring at this man before her in quiet disbelief, she wondered if his portrait had been on the walls of the gallery which she had opted out of touring.
Elizabeth swallowed as she watched her aunt and uncle exchange a bewildered look, before immediately apologizing to the man—
"Forgive us, sir—you must be Mr. Darcy—"
"Mrs. Reynolds just showed us your portrait, sir. Forgive us for intruding upon your privacy—"
Mr. Gardiner began to move his niece and wife away hurriedly, but then the man—Mr. Darcy apparently—held up a hand to stay them.
"Please, do not feel you have intruded," he said in a quiet but commanding voice, one that made Elizabeth realize he was not a man to be questioned. He glanced back and forth between her and her family, before finally clearing his throat and continuing.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, "Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley. Who would I have the pleasure of making my acquaintance today?"
His eyes were only on her aunt and uncle for a moment before they flickered back over to Elizabeth, steeling her under his intense, penetrative gaze, making her heart turn over and her pulse increase. Her breathing hitched, and she was sure her face had colored deeply, as well.
"I am Mr. Gardiner, and this is my wife. We are of London. This is my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn Estate, Hertfordshire."
Darcy's eyes never left hers for a moment, and she held his gaze, even if it did make her want to look away. She felt the simultaneous, swirling emotions of boldness and demureness, defiance and submissiveness. This man was having such a magnetic influence on her—why?
Mr. Darcy was kind to her aunt and uncle, and he walked with them as they ascended back up the steps to the large estate.
He spoke to Mr. Gardiner about trout fishing in the river, and Elizabeth heard with satisfaction that her uncle agreed to come on the morrow.
Then, to her astonishment, she heard Mr. Darcy invite them all for dinner that evening!
"Oh, sir, you are too kind, why, how lovely," her aunt began to say, but Elizabeth grabbed her hand and interrupted her.
"Aunt, uncle, we shan't overstay our welcome. I propose we begin to depart. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Darcy."
And before anyone could say anything, she took off toward the carriages. She couldn't remain in this man's mystifying presence any longer—
She had to get away, and get away quickly.