Chapter Twelve
Mr Bingley’s plan for the day improved considerably in his own estimation within the first quarter hour of its execution.
"I am very glad we did not confine ourselves to the shore," he said, leaning forward in the carriage.
"There is a great deal to be learned from the land here.
Quite different from the northern counties in some respects, though not without its similarities, which I think is a most instructive combination.
Do you observe, Miss Bennet, the fall of the field there? "
Jane, who would have observed anything he chose to describe, followed his gaze with interest. "It is very gentle," she said. "And yet quite deliberate, I think. It must be of great advantage in wet weather, when the ground would otherwise retain too much water."
"Exactly so," said Bingley, delighted.
Darcy, opposite, said only, "It is a ditch."
Elizabeth turned her face toward the window to conceal her smile. "What is your opinion, Miss Darcy?"
Georgiana coloured slightly and answered it to her lap. "I do not know about such things."
The carriage did not proceed much farther before Bingley called for it to stop altogether. A farmer stood at the edge of a field bordered by low stone and imperfect fencing, and Bingley was out almost before the horses had settled, greeting him with a warmth that suggested prior acquaintance.
Jane followed, more measured but no less willing, and was immediately drawn into the explanation that followed.
Elizabeth remained where she was for a moment, then slipped down more quietly and walked a little way along the wall, glad to be removed from a discussion that appeared likely to extend itself indefinitely.
"You have abandoned us."
She turned. "I have preserved myself."
Darcy came to stand beside her, his tone mild but not entirely without amusement.
"Bingley would be disappointed."
"He is very well supplied with encouragement. He will not miss mine."
"That is true."
Behind them, Bingley’s voice rose again, bright and certain, and Jane’s softer replies followed it with patient regularity.
"You do not admire the ditch?" Darcy asked.
"I admired it sufficiently from a distance," she said. "I see no reason to be instructed in them at close quarters."
"A practical decision."
"I thought so."
A shout cut across the field.
"The Gate!"
Elizabeth turned in time to see several sheep pressing with determination through a gate Bingley had swung open in his exuberance.
What followed was immediate confusion. Bingley attempted to intercept them with enthusiasm and no clear plan. The farmer called directions that were not obeyed. Jane tried to assist and found herself gently but firmly outpaced by a creature with greater conviction than herself.
"Oh—no, perhaps if I—no, that is not helping—"
Darcy exhaled and stepped forward. "Stay here," he said.
Elizabeth did not.
The ground was uneven and she had scarcely taken three steps into the field before her footing gave way. She caught herself once, then failed to do so again.
Darcy’s hand closed around her arm before she could fall.
"I am perfectly—"
She was not. The ground shifted under her again and she pitched forward, her hand catching at his coat. His grip tightened at once, steadier now, one hand firm at her waist as he drew her upright., although not quickly enough to prevent the splatter of mud decorating her gown.
They moved back instinctively, out of the path of the animals, finding partial shelter behind a low outbuilding that stood just beyond the wall.
"You should have remained back," he said.
"You should not give instructions you expect to be followed," she returned.
"That is becoming clear."
"You are holding me," she said.
"Yes."
There was no attempt to withdraw it.
"Are you going to stop?"
"No."
The sounds of the field continued around them—voices, movement, the calls of recalcitrant animals—but they seemed removed from it somehow.
"This is a very poor moment," she said.
"I am aware."
"Anyone might see."
"I think it unlikely they are looking here."
"That is not the point."
She drew a breath that did nothing to steady her.
"Indifferent acquaintances," she whispered
"Never," he replied
Elizabeth shook her head and said, "You are very determined."
"Only where it signifies."
"That is not reassuring."
"I do not mean it to be."
He said her name then, quietly. She did not answer, and did not need to.
The kiss was immediate and without hesitation.
Whatever restraint had governed them before did not survive it.
He drew her closer with a certainty that admitted no misinterpretation, and she answered him in kind, her hand rising to his neck, holding him there as she crushed her lips to his with a boldness that shocked her.
She felt the shift in him when she moved, the answering pressure of his hand at her back, closer still, as though distance itself had become intolerable. He made a low sound in her throat as his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she felt lost to him entirely.
"Mr Darcy—"
"My Elizabeth…"
He did not release her. A few steps carried them backwards, scarcely conscious of direction, until Elizabeth became aware of the rough stone wall of the shed at her back.
She felt the hard planes of his chest against her and pulled him even closer to her, the urge to erase any distance between them impossible to ignore.
He began to nibble at her neck and she gasped at the ridiculous pleasure of it.
The moment broke with Bingley’s voice. "Got them!"
Elizabeth pulled back, breath unsteady. "That," she said, "was badly timed, sir."
"Yes," he said, breathlessly. "It was."
She glanced past him. The sheep were contained once more. Bingley stood with a grin of victory and his hair standing in disarray.
"We must go back."
"We must."
They stepped out together.
Mrs Bennet saw them first. "Lizzy! My dear, what has happened to you?"
"I slipped." "In a field? Well, that is not unexpected I suppose. You really must be more careful."
Darcy inclined his head. "I did not prevent it as well as I might have wished."
Mrs Bennet looked between them with renewed attention.
"Perhaps not," she said with a meaningful look.