Chapter 1
One
“Elizabeth!” Darcy cried.
His startled use of her Christian name evoked several gasps—one of which escaped his love’s beautiful lips.
He bowed to Miss Elizabeth, feeling thankful that manners could kick in so automatically after being in limbo for so long, even as he hurried to correct his error.
“Excuse me—Miss Elizabeth Bennet! How wonderful it is to see you here…” Darcy paused for an instant, wondering where he was.
He flicked his eyes around and was shocked with the familiarity of the location—he was standing in the bakery of Lambton, the market town nearest to Pemberley—but also the strangeness of the location—as master of the largest estate in the area, and one of the largest landowners in all of Derbyshire, it was surely unusual for him to be running errands.
The moment over, he hurried to complete his sentence: “…in Lambton!”
Darcy felt so warm, having just been reunited with his body, and he deliberately tried to make certain that this warmth was on clear display in his voice and eyes.
A moment after he finished speaking, he thought to smile.
Darcy wanted to make certain that he was not acting like the arrogant man who had lived before that lengthy period of out-of-body existence, and he certainly wanted to ensure he was acting more friendly than the dour simulacrum he had watched for all those days, months, years.
His effort at warmth was rewarded by a shift in Elizabeth’s expression. She had looked as shocked as he was, at first, but upon his words, she maintained the wide eyes and lifted eyebrows of the very surprised, but her mouth curved in a small smile as she said, “Mr Darcy!”
The next thing he had to know was when he had found himself resurrected, or at least reanimated.
How many years had it been since those fateful two days in Hunsford—the day he had made his horrifically worded proposal of marriage to Elizabeth, and had been rightfully and soundly rejected, and the next day, when he had pressed a letter into her hand—?
It could not have been decades since then.
Elizabeth did not look any older. Her skin was not only still firm and unlined, it radiated youth and vigour.
From what he could tell from the curls peeping out of her bonnet, her hair was as dark and shiny, with those same gold-copper-bronze highlights, as it was the day he had proposed.
Her eyes were as glowing and sparkling, and her body—oh, God, her body was as luscious as ever.
He tentatively asked, “How long has it been since…?”
He did not know how to complete that sentence, so he just allowed it to hang in the air.
When she began to answer with the words, “Thirty-two,” he felt staggered. Thirty-two years, and she still looked twenty years old?
Perhaps in the face of his obvious surprise, she blushed. He had rarely seen Elizabeth blush, and he now realised that it made her beauty, somehow, exponentially more alluring.
Without missing a beat, she finished her answer to the question of how long it had been…since…. And, it turned out, it was not thirty-two years, but instead thirty-two days!
Only a day or two longer than a month??? How was that even possible?
Still blushing, Elizabeth smiled more widely, and she lifted one eyebrow. This expression nearly always presaged a tease, and Darcy adored her teasing, and that particular smile, and that specific eyebrow-lift. She added, “Plus four hours.”
He had pressed that letter into her hands at around seven in the morning, and it was now nearing noon, he estimated by the angle of the rays of sunlight entering the shop windows.
He noted the exactitude of her original answer—she had not said “a month” or “around a month,” which would have been quite an ordinary answer to the query of how long it had been since two people had seen one another.
Instead, she knew the exact number of days.
That seemed to indicate…that the proposal, and perhaps the letter, had really impacted her. Maybe, even, that she cared…?
Of course, he realised that her addition of the number of hours was her attempt to handle with humour the possible awkwardness of her being so specific. How often he had seen her smooth over awkward moments and use humour to deal with ill-founded criticism?
He spoke honestly, “It seems like only yesterday, and it also seems like years ago.”
At that point, Elizabeth was courteously asked by Mr Morton, the shop owner, what she wished to purchase. She hesitated, and Darcy suggested, “The Bath buns are excellent. They are my sister’s favourite. And oatcakes are a Derbyshire specialty.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured. She smiled brightly to Mr Morton and said, “Three oatcakes and three Bath buns, please.”
Darcy gestured, and Mr Morton nodded with understanding that her order was to be added to the Pemberley account. He turned towards Darcy and asked, “And your usual, I imagine?”
Darcy nodded and smiled, happily remembering that he had a usual order—he came regularly to buy treats for his sister. So much for the master never running errands!
Mr Morton looked startled, but pleased, and his own polite smile grew wider.
Darcy wondered if the shop owner was responding to the rarity of a pleasant expression on his face.
He felt, not only reborn, but made new, and he was determined to have learnt from that time in limbo, when he had watched with disapproval his ridiculously silent and unsmiling manners.
Mr Morton returned with two small bags for Elizabeth and a box for Darcy. He knew that the box contained a dozen Bath buns; Georgiana delighted in having enough buns to eat two and to still have enough to share with her favourites of the household servants.
Thank yous were uttered, good days were exchanged, and Mr Morton’s respectful attitude seemed to develop an almost reverent edge. Darcy nodded to show his own respect as he turned towards the door.
Darcy took a single step but then hesitated, waiting for Elizabeth to move.
Even though Mr Morton had turned to the next customer, she was still squarely in the centre of the counter.
Darcy noted her confused expression and saw that she was clutching some coins.
He lowered his head so he could whisper, “Allow me. A small token of my apologies for all my misspoken words and mistaken attitudes.”
She managed to look even more disconcerted, but she allowed him to gently guide her out the door. He said, “I imagine you are not in Lambton alone…?”
“No, I am travelling with my uncle and aunt.” She gestured towards a handsome, fashionable looking couple standing six feet away. The man was holding a lady’s half-boot, turning it in his hands. Elizabeth explained, “My aunt had a footwear emergency.”
“Might I ask to be introduced to your relations?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but then she straightened her shoulders and whispered, “These are the relatives who are in trade. The ones who live near Cheapside, as Miss Bingley pointed out.”
Darcy smiled and said, “I would be so pleased to meet them. And perhaps I might be of assistance. My carriage—” he hesitated, knowing it would be somewhere, but needing to glance away from Elizabeth to make certain of its location—“is just over there, and I can take your aunt and uncle to the cobbler or the shoemaker, whichever they prefer.”
“I thank you!” Elizabeth gave him one of her brilliant smiles, and Darcy was flooded with emotions. He had seen such a smile on her face before, but he was certain that he had not, himself, ever been the recipient of such an honour.
He offered his arm, even though they were only taking a few steps. She said, “Aunt Maddie and Uncle Edward, I am pleased to introduce you to Mr Darcy. Mr Darcy, Mr and Mrs Edward Gardiner.”
Elizabeth’s aunt turned towards them with a look of absolute astonishment, which she swiftly covered with a very proper and pleasant smile and nod. “I am honoured to meet you, sir,” she said.
Her husband’s eyes twinkled in an Elizabeth-like way, and he smiled and nodded, saying, “I have heard about the great Darcy family from my wife, and I am pleased and honoured, as well.”
Darcy was delighted to recognise Elizabeth’s aunt. “Excuse me, madam, but I believe you are the former Miss Madeleine Johnson? The daughter of Lambton’s now-retired vicar?”
“I am indeed. I am astonished that you recognised me. I left Lambton when I was but seventeen.”
Darcy bowed and said, “It is wonderful to become reacquainted with Lambton’s favourite May Queen.
” He turned and bowed to Mr Gardiner. “I am also delighted to meet the man who swept our May Queen away to London. I feel quite certain that I know of you, too, sir. Are you not the much-lauded purveyor of silks and linens, of Chinaware and furniture, from Gardiner’s Emporium? ”
Mr Gardiner laughed and said, “Upon my word, you seem to know all, sir!”
Elizabeth was wide eyed at this exchange, and her hand on his arm had gone from lightly resting on it to clutching it, likely unknowingly. He turned to her and said, “I cannot believe that I knew your aunt before you did!”
She grinned and lifted her eyebrow once again, saying, “Well, sir, you do have the advantage of being quite a bit older than me.”
There was something about her voice, her posture as she spoke, her every expression and gesture, that made every statement, every question, and especially every tease infinitely charming.
He turned back to the Gardiners and offered the services of his carriage.
“As you likely know, madam,” Darcy said, nodding to Mrs Gardiner in acknowledgement of her acquaintance with the town, “the cobbler and the shoemaker are located on opposite sides of the town. We can take you to either or both, perhaps as you nibble on your treats.”
The Gardiners thanked him heartily and accepted a ride to the cobbler. “We may as well see if it can be fixed,” Elizabeth’s aunt said.