Chapter 15 #2
“And you consider my explanation a retreat.”
That stopped her.
His tone had not risen, but the sentence held enough force to make Sarah lift her head.
Elizabeth let out a breath. “Perhaps we have both suffered from poor phrasing.”
“Perhaps.”
She had offered him an escape, but he accepted only half of it.
Darcy turned toward the bend, then paused. “You should have the gate secured before evening.”
“I shall tell Thomas.”
“Will he see it done?”
“He will, once he is told the sheep have reached the lane.”
“That fact should command attention.”
“It tends to.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Elizabeth saw it and disliked the small satisfaction it gave her.
They walked together as far as the bend. The horse watched Sarah but did not shy when Darcy approached. He untied the reins and ran one hand along the animal’s neck.
“It looks like he has recovered,” Elizabeth said.
“He will remember the dog longer than the sheep.”
“Sarah will resent the distinction.”
Darcy looked down at her. “She appears capable of surviving neglect.”
“She remembers it.”
“Then I shall apologize when we are better acquainted.”
Sarah sat beside Elizabeth, watching him.
“You may begin now,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy smiled at the dog. “Miss Sarah, I regret having mistaken your intentions.”
Elizabeth laughed before she could prevent it.
The horse shifted at the sound. Darcy steadied it with one hand, though his eyes remained on her.
Something had changed. Not much, and not enough to overturn her opinion of him, but enough to complicate it.
Then he mounted, the ease irritating her. No adjustment, no search for balance, or need to gather himself once seated.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”
He rode away at a walk, Sarah watching until he passed from sight.
Elizabeth remained where she was. Darcy had helped without hesitation, followed her directions, and handled the sheep with sense. Even his objection was not what she had first believed. He had not said the work was beneath her, but that she should not be required to do it.
The difference deserved recognition, though she resented it.
Sarah trotted ahead and inspected the rope. Elizabeth tightened the knot, though it was not loose.
“Musts you look so knowing?”
The dog sat.
“He thinks Longbourn is not well managed.”
Sarah’s ears rose.
“He may be right about the gate. That does not give him leave to judge the rest.”
Sarah looked toward the lane where Darcy had disappeared.
Elizabeth turned toward the house.
The lower field lay bright under a pale sky. The sheep had returned to grazing, their escape forgotten. Sarah walked along the fence, checking the boundary with the seriousness of one entrusted with the estate.
At Longbourn, the back door stood open. Hill crossed the passage carrying folded linen and stopped when Elizabeth entered.
“Miss Lizzy, your skirt is wet.”
“Only at the hem. The sheep found the lower gate.”
Hill closed her eyes.
“They are back,” Elizabeth said. “The gate needs its latch.”
“I gave it to Thomas yesterday.”
“Then Thomas has forgotten it.”
“He forgets anything that he cannot eat.”
Sarah slipped past them toward the kitchen.
Hill looked down the passage after her. “Did you manage them alone?”
“Mr. Darcy helped.”
The folded linen shifted in Hill’s arms.
“Mr. Darcy?”
“He happened to be riding through the lane.”
“And got down?”
“Yes.”
Hill’s expression became unreadable in the manner of a servant who intended to repeat every detail while claiming no interest in any of them.
“He held the gate,” Elizabeth added, hoping the plainness of the fact might prevent embroidery.
Hill nodded. “I see.”
“You do not.”
“No, miss.”
Elizabeth went upstairs before the encounter could reach the kitchen in a form she no longer recognized.
Jane was in her room, a stocking in her lap. She raised her eyes when Elizabeth walked in.
“You have been gone longer than I expected.”
“The sheep reached the lane.”
“Again?”
“Thomas never fitted the latch.”
Jane set aside the stocking. “Were they difficult?”
“No. Sarah brought them back.”
Elizabeth removed her bonnet and placed it on the bed. “Mr. Darcy assisted.”
Jane’s surprise was quieter than Hill’s. “That was kind.”
“It was useful.”
“Useful things may also be kind.”
“He could not ride through six sheep.”
“He might have waited.”
Elizabeth unfastened her gloves. One finger had caught on the rope, leaving a rough line across the leather.
“He dismounted before his horse injured itself. Afterward, he helped return the flock and held the gate while I tied it.”
Jane smiled.
“Do not.”
“I have said nothing.”
“You are thinking it.”
“That Mr. Darcy behaved well?”
Elizabeth laid the gloves beside her bonnet. “He was useful.”
“I am not sure being useful counts against him.”
“It does not count in his favor when his horse is standing among the sheep.”
Jane picked up the stocking but did not return to it. “He might have ridden on once the horse settled.”
Elizabeth crossed to the washstand and poured water into the basin. “He did not.”
“And you thanked him?”
“Yes.”
Jane waited.