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Charlotte said, “Have you any plans for today, my dear Eliza? If not, I should be delighted to have you accompany me to the village while I carry out my morning errands.”

The aggrieved vicar set his coffee cup down with an abrupt thump. “Mrs. Collins,” he interrupted, “have you failed to recall that Cousin Elizabeth is expected at Rosings this morning?”

“In point of fact, sir, I am not quite certain I wish to accept your noble patroness’s invitation,” Elizabeth interjected.

Completely taken aback, Mr. Collins declared, “It is a great honor that her ladyship has extended to you, and one you would be wise to heed. Lady Catherine likes you, and she has afforded such an unparalleled kindness to you and likewise to this very house.” His voice taking on a measure of authority laced with condescension, Collins continued, “I know you like to fancy yourself immune to the advantages of such a compliment, but in this case I shall not abide your impertinence.”

Elizabeth was somewhat taken aback by his severe tone. It seemed the gentleman had not quite accustomed himself to being spurned when he offered his hand in marriage to her. Surely by now he could have no cause to regret his eventual choice in a bride. Charlotte was an excellent wife—perfectly unassuming and, as best Elizabeth could surmise, ever cognizant of the advantages of keeping herself in Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s good graces.

Although Elizabeth did not wish to gratify her cousin or Lady Catherine’s demand in this, faced with the prospect of listening to that ridiculous man go on and on preaching on the subject it was far easier simply to go along with the scheme. If nothing else, she would do so for her friend Charlotte. As the Collinses’ houseguest, she was obliged to accept Lady Catherine’s invitation if for no other reason than the preservation of household harmony.

With that purpose in mind, she set out for her walk across the park. A few minutes with the early morning sun beaming down on her face was all it took to sweep away the discomfort she had endured in Mr. Collins’s company. Having surmised her ladyship lived to be of service to others, Elizabeth could not repress the wry smile that crept across her face. She felt a modicum of gratitude that Lady Catherine had offered her such a convenient means of escape from her toady cousin—one that would keep her beyond the reach of his absurdity for hours if she could arrange it. Having recalled from the evening before that her ladyship had made plans to call on several friends and acquaintances in a neighboring village, Elizabeth’s spirits rose a little higher. Perhaps I shall escape the benevolent aristocrat as well if I am quick about it.

After an energetic early morning horseback ride with his cousin, Darcy walked into his apartment with a little less spring in his step than when he had left. That morning’s excursion had been particularly strenuous. The hot bath that awaited his return was precisely what was called for to soothe his aching muscles, as well as quiet his busy mind of the troubling thoughts that simply would not go away; thoughts of the beguiling country miss who had robbed him of his equanimity for the past twelve hours or so.

Listening to his valet uncharacteristically ramble on also turned out to be a welcome distraction. When the bath waters began to cool, Darcy climbed out of the tub, dried himself off, put on his rich velvet robe, and drifted over to the window to admire the view.

What he saw proved worthy of his admiration. There she was walking up the path to the manor house—Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His body’s telling response in seeing her further bolstered a nagging suspicion that if he were not careful, he would be in grave danger from that young woman.

So much for my hastily spoken words that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not handsome enough to tempt me. He had cited her impertinence as further proof of this, but he had to admit to finding that particular flaw in her character to be rather intriguing.

With what brashness did she respond to his aunt’s barrage of questions, suggestions, and innuendos the evening before, and in such a manner that even Lady Catherine herself could not take complete umbrage. In truth, this Elizabeth Bennet was unlike any other young woman of his acquaintance.

I recall her saying that she is not yet one and twenty, Darcy silently pondered as he remained frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from Elizabeth as she neared the house. What is more, she is the second eldest of five daughters—all of them single. He remembered Miss Bennet’s telling reaction to Lady Catherine’s frank assessment of the Bennet daughters’ dismal marital prospects. However harshly expressed, the dire prognosis was unfortunately very true. Darcy did not envy that family’s plight one bit.

Of course, he had his own future marital situation with which to contend. At eight and twenty, he had been most fastidious in regulating himself around members of the opposite sex. One never knew if the hordes of young women who showered him with deference and officious attention with such ardent alacrity did so out of sincerity or if their motives were merely mercenary.

He laughed a little. “One thing is certain; I shall garner no such civility from Miss Bennet.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy spun around and observed his valet brushing one of his favorite jackets. Waving off the question, he moved away from the window. “Let us make haste, Waters. I suspect this is going to be a long day.”

A half hour or so later, Darcy found himself standing just outside the door of the east library, undecided whether to enter the room. Old habits it seemed. Every year, Darcy visited his aunt and cousin at Rosings during the spring—more so out of family loyalty than any particular inclination to be there. Lady Catherine expected the courtesy, and it was the least he could do for his late mother’s only sister and her closest friend were he to believe his aunt’s accounts.

His aunt had misspoken when she offered Miss Bennet the use of that particular room, citing that she would be in nobody’s way. For years, he had considered the east library his private sanctuary when he wanted time away from Lady Catherine and his cousins, Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam. In fairness to his aunt, however, she could have no way of knowing he habitually stole away to that part of the house for long stretches of time, for he had practically sworn the servants to secrecy.

Taking note of the sounds emanating from the poorly tuned pianoforte and echoing throughout the hall, Darcy released an exasperated breath. If Lady Catherine is going to insist upon having Miss Bennet practice, the least she might do is have the instrument tuned. He made a mental note to instruct the butler to take care of that task as soon as could be. Darcy instantly thought to question himself on what he was about. He shrugged. It is the proper thing to do.

As for the other question of why he was lingering outside the door of his favorite part of Rosings—his longtime source of solace during those times when he needed it most—his answer was rather more difficult to ascertain.

Dare I allow the presence of the beguiling young woman from Hertfordshire to rob me of this too?

CHAPTER 3

FOND OF WALKING

Bright and early the next day, Elizabeth eagerly set off to Rosings to practice for an hour or two. She had been fortunate to have come and gone the day before without attracting anyone’s notice. If she were lucky, such would also be the case again. The Hunsford party was invited to dine at Rosings again that evening, much to Mr. Collins’s delight. No doubt, Lady Catherine would call upon her to exhibit after dinner. She looked forward to silencing her condescending critic. The certainty that she would once again be in Mr. Darcy’s company was not something she looked forward to; however, the colonel’s amiability would surely outweigh the haughty younger man’s unpleasantness.

Elizabeth had not practiced very long before the library door swung open and in walked a servant bearing a tea tray. Moments later, while the servant was setting out the tea things, Mr. Darcy strolled into the room. It had not dawned on Elizabeth until that instance, but now she was utterly convinced that she had espied the gentleman lurking in the hallway outside the library the day before. At the time she had thought it was too odd to be true and had persuaded herself that she had merely imagined seeing him.

What on Earth is that gentleman about? Elizabeth wondered as she leafed through the music sheets before her for another piece to perform.

She pretended to take no notice when Mr. Darcy thanked and subsequently dismissed the servant. Now it was just the two of them. Alone. Elizabeth immediately commenced playing, attempting to dispel the awkwardness of their situation.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat; still Elizabeth did not look up from her task. “Will you take tea with me, Miss Bennet?”

She could no longer pretend he was not in the room. Smiling, she said, “Thank you for your kind offer, sir. I am afraid I must decline.”