7. Chapter Seven #2
She did not read anything. She recognized figures, estate names, and notes regarding repairs near Kympton before moving decisively toward the shelves.
The library was different in morning light. Less romantic perhaps. More lived in. Dust motes drifted lazily near the upper shelves where sunlight reached them. One ladder stood crooked because someone had neglected to push it back. A riding crop rested beside the hearth.
Elizabeth removed a volume almost at random and settled near the window.
She read perhaps three pages.
Then voices carried faintly from outside.
Lydia’s first, unmistakably dramatic. “I tell you I did not throw it at the duck intentionally!”
Georgiana answered through laughter too breathless for Elizabeth to distinguish the words.
Elizabeth rose and crossed to the window.
Below, Lydia stood near the pond, fed by the stream they walked yesterday, with skirts gathered in one hand and Horace circling excitedly around her feet. Georgiana sat upon a low stone wall watching while Lydia attempted another stone toss with tremendous concentration.
The stone skipped once before dropping directly into the water.
Lydia appeared offended by the pond itself.
Georgiana gave way to unrestrained amusement now, every trace of reserve abandoned.Elizabeth braced one hand against the window frame.
She had imagined Miss Darcy very differently. Elegant. Silent. Accomplished in all the intimidating ways Caroline Bingley had once suggested.
Instead, Georgiana dissolved into helpless mirth because Lydia Bennet could not throw a stone with any degree of accuracy and had very nearly struck her own bonnet ribbon instead of the pond.
The sound of footsteps behind her sent Elizabeth turning too quickly.
Darcy paused near the doorway. “Forgive me. I did not know the room occupied.”
When did he return? “It is merely me.”
He held several papers beneath one arm and was faintly windblown from outdoors. A streak of mud darkened one boot near the heel.
Elizabeth’s attention betrayed her by falling to it.
Darcy followed her gaze downward. “One of the fields near the lower road remains impassable after rain. Some of my sheep were stranded.”
“You have been walking through mud before luncheon?” The tease in her voice was obvious, or so she hoped.
“Unfortunately.”
The answer carried dry resignation.
Elizabeth smiled before caution intervened. “Did you manage to finish your business? I hope the sheep appreciated your diligence.”
“They remain ungrateful.”
He crossed toward the desk then stopped, apparently uncertain whether to continue working there while she occupied the room.
His hesitation unnerved her in a manner confidence never had.
“You need not leave on my account,” he said. “I had no intention of sending you away.”
“Very civil.”
Darcy’s answering smile was genuine and warm. “I practice diligently now.”
She lowered her gaze at her book too quickly to answer.
Darcy set the papers beside the map and frowned at several figures before making corrections with swift efficiency. Quiet settled between them; his pen scratched. Outside, Lydia shouted triumphantly that she had finally managed “three whole skips.”
Darcy moved at the sound from the window. “My sister appears altered.”
“She appears delighted.”
“She has spoken more in a day than she commonly does in a fortnight among strangers.”
Elizabeth closed the book in her lap. “Lydia has that effect upon people. She overwhelms them into participation.”
His lips transformed into a smile. “An alarming talent.”
“She means well.”
“I know.”
The simplicity of the answer startled her.
Darcy sorted another page, then addressed a servant who had appeared at the door carrying correspondence. The man apologized for interrupting. Darcy thanked him, scanned one letter rapidly, and asked whether Mrs. Reynolds had yet arranged the parlor fires for the Bingleys’ arrival.
“Mrs. Reynolds ordered everything prepared this morning, sir.”
“Good.”
“And Cook wished to know whether Miss Bingley still dislikes nutmeg in cream sauces.”
Elizabeth directed her attention elsewhere before amusement became visible.
“I confess I had forgotten,” he said. “Please tell Cook she may omit it from one dish rather than altering the entire dinner.”
“Yes, sir.”
The servant departed.
Elizabeth gave a sudden burst of amusement she could not suppress.
Darcy accepted this with an air of weary resignation. “You perceive now that life in Derbyshire demands constant vigilance.”
“The preservation of cream sauces at dinner?”
“An undertaking of consequence.” His grave delivery betrayed him entirely.
“You endure it heroically.”
“I do what duty requires.”
The answer, combined with the expression he attempted to maintain, sent her into renewed amusement. Darcy exhaled through his nose and directed his attention toward the ceiling with theatrical patience, which improved matters not at all.
Outside, Horace barked furiously.
Lydia’s voice followed: “Traitor! That was my ribbon again.”
Darcy moved toward the window beside her before either was fully aware of it. Below, Lydia pursued the dog through the grass while Georgiana called contradictory advice that neither dog nor girl obeyed.
“They behave like the best of friends already,” Elizabeth murmured.
Darcy rested one hand against the frame. “I did not expect it.”
“Neither did I.”
Elizabeth became abruptly aware of how little space existed between them. Elizabeth shifted back from the window. Darcy stepped aside simultaneously. They both apologized. Then both stopped. A laugh threatened again and complicated everything further.
Elizabeth moved toward some other shelves because they were safer than Mr. Darcy standing close enough for her to catch the scent of cold air and leather lingering upon his coat.
“I ought to return to my aunt,” she said.
“If you wish.”
The answer should not have disappointed her.
She selected the first plausible volume within reach merely to occupy her hands. “May I borrow this?”