Chapter 6
That day, Elizabeth found herself wandering the grounds of Pemberley with the Bingley party.
To say she was nervous about being reunited with them was an understatement—what if Mr. Bingley hadn't wanted to see her again?
What if he did not ever wish to go back to Netherfield and see Jane again?
What if Elizabeth truly misjudged his character all that time in Hertfordshire—what if he was never in love with Jane after all?
But when she did see him again, he had greeted her with such joy and enthusiasm.
He had also asked her so slyly (or so he thought, anyway) about Jane, that Elizabeth had no choice but to conclude that Mr. Bingley was still just as he ever was: in love with her sister.
She made a suggestion for him to reopen Netherfield, and he informed her their party would be venturing down for the autumn after they left Pemberley, leaving Elizabeth feeling ecstatic for her sister's sake.
Now that all that was resolved, however, Elizabeth was left to face her own feelings: the feelings she had burgeoning for one quiet, stern Mr. Darcy.
Darcy paid her almost unceasing attention, but it wasn't the same type of pointed attention that Mr. Bingley always gave Jane.
No, this was different—first, he introduced her to his younger sister, a sweet but admittedly very shy girl, and he observed them closely as she took the girl's arm and walked with her about the garden this morning.
She glanced up and saw he had a subtle smiling expression as he watched them, similar to the one of his portrait—and yes, Elizabeth made a point to see the gallery today.
Her aunt was more than happy to go back through, and Mrs. Reynolds was certainly pleased to take Elizabeth on the tour she missed the day before.
Elizabeth probably gazed at his portrait for longer than appropriate, but if either of her companions noticed, they said nothing (though in fact, she might have seen Mrs. Reynolds exchange a look with her aunt—but Elizabeth told herself she was imagining things).
When they rejoined the party, Miss Bingley slunk her arm through Elizabeth's without asking and soon forced her into a "turn about the room"—something the lady often did, regardless of Elizabeth's feelings on the matter, but Elizabeth took it in stride, of course—and she said to her, "What do you think of so grand a home as Pemberley? "
"I think it is very palatial, quite astonishing," Elizabeth answered, wondering what Miss Bingley's point would soon be. "And I take it this is not your first visit to Pemberley, Miss Bingley?"
She knew this was the right thing to say, because then the lady went on and on about it, allowing Elizabeth a moment away, with her eyes at least, to search the room for Darcy.
Ah, there he soon was—he and the men had just returned from trout fishing, and as soon as he entered, his eyes were upon her again, just as they had been that morning when she first arrived.
Elizabeth swallowed, trying to tame her unconscious habit of blushing whenever the man looked at her so, but alas, she likely couldn't—soon Miss Bingley released her to go and accost the man while Elizabeth stayed behind, observing from her place on the settee which she now sat.
She hid a laugh as Miss Bingley simpered and tried to get Darcy's attention, but he spoke to her very little before turning his eyes upon Elizabeth and heading her way.
Miss Bingley watched in confusion before Mr. Gardiner took her up in conversation, forcing her to turn away.
Elizabeth was crimson—that a man so distinguished as Darcy would practically turn away an elegant lady in favor of her was of no little significance.
"Mr. Darcy," she said as he came near. He nodded.
"Miss Bennet, how are you enjoying the morning? Mrs. Reynolds told me you enjoyed a tour of the gallery earlier."
Elizabeth felt heat course through her body. She wondered if Mrs. Reynolds told him how she gazed at his portrait, but she didn't have to wonder long—
"She said you observed one portrait very closely," he added, that slight subtle smile returning briefly. She did what she knew best—she laughed.
"Indeed," she said, laughing at herself a bit, "And I had thought Mrs. Reynolds could be trusted not to embarrass me in front of her master."
He chuckled and then gestured to the seat beside her. "May I?"
She smiled and nodded. "Please, do sit."
He sat down, his sudden closeness making her heart race, her pulse increase.
She could smell his scent, a woodsy, masculine kind, something that she soon realized she loved.
She wanted to lean closer to him and inhale it, but she somehow held herself in restraint.
Even sitting, he still seemed to tower over her, his height a tall, domineering one, but one she found she liked very much.
"I am sorry if it embarrasses you," he said, his low, masculine voice stirring her from her romantic reverie, "but I must admit, I am pleased you are so astute an observer of my portrait. Did you like it?"
She swallowed under his piercing gaze, her face heating. But she always rose to a challenge, even one such as this, so she did not shy away as she answered, "Indeed, I found its subject to be quite handsome. It was done a few years ago, was it not?"
He didn't look away when she called him handsome; he merely continued gazing at her, locking her down with his piercing stare, making a shiver run down her spine with its intensity.
"Indeed," he finally said, his voice lower and softer still, "about five or so years ago. I was arguably younger and perhaps more handsome then..."
He trailed off, still looking at her, with an expression she could not read. But she found herself laughing a little nervously and answering, "Oh, I would say the opposite—you have only become more handsome as you've aged."
Elizabeth couldn't take back the words now, and she was nervous at how he might take it. Was she being much too forward?
His eyes never left hers. "It gladdens me to hear you think so, Miss Bennet."
Her heart warmed, her cheeks flushed. She began absentmindedly clutching at her skirt in her lap, and she tore her eyes away from his, unable to remain under his penetrative gaze. She cleared her throat, but was luckily saved from speaking because Darcy spoke once more.
"I find you, too, to be a very handsome woman," he murmured softly, almost inaudibly, "Possibly the most handsome woman of my entire acquaintance."
These words hit her hard, penetrating her body and swirling around inside her before settling deep in her gut—she could not help but feel his full meaning.
There was no mistaking it: Darcy was interested in her.
He might even be, dare she think it, in love with her!
She tried to shake such a thought from her mind, but knew it was an effort in vain. She knew, secretly, deep down, that she was falling in love with him, too.
Falling in love, with a man she had only just met!
How ridiculous—but Elizabeth could not shake it away, no matter how hard she tried.
"Why, Mr. Darcy, I know not what to say," she finally answered, bringing her eyes back to his. Now he looked somewhat...nervous. She smiled at him, hoping to reassure him. She almost reached her hand out and placed it over his—but that wasn't proper.
"Will you and your family be in Derbyshire for longer?" he asked finally, in a more normal sounding voice than earlier, "Because I do believe Georgiana would like to see you more."
"Just Georgiana?" Elizabeth asked, the words and its accompanying smile slipping out before she thought better of it. She almost spoke and walked it back, but Darcy answered before she could.
"You understand me, then, don't you?" he asked with that same slight smile he wore earlier. His cheeks were tinged a slight pinkish hue, as well. His expression warmed her to her bones—Elizabeth suddenly found herself feeling quite hot.
"I believe I do," she answered with honesty, daring to look at him, despite the heat flushing through her body. She inadvertently waved a hand toward her face, trying to fan herself. Darcy's expression suddenly became one of concern.
"Are you well?" he asked. She nodded.
"Just feeling a bit warm, is all."
"Then let us take a turn through the gallery again," he said, standing and offering his arm. "It is always much cooler in that part of the house."
"Oh, we possibly couldn't. I'm sure I could just step outside—"
"It is certainly warmer outside than in here," he objected, steering them to the door, "Nay, let us walk through the gallery."
He glanced around, and so did Elizabeth. Nobody but Miss Bingley seemed to mind them leaving, but she did see Miss Darcy watching curiously, too.
"Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley, would you like to accompany us to the gallery?” she asked loudly, “I am feeling a bit warm here, and Mr. Darcy says the gallery is cooler."
They complied, and Elizabeth felt some relief—she wasn't sure she could trust herself to act with complete propriety if she were to be alone with him.