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The couple’s return put an end to Elizabeth’s musings. Lord Holland stood next to his friend. “Well, Darcy, it seems that we are obliged to attend a picnic tomorrow.”

A bemused expression crossed Mr. Darcy’s face. “A picnic?”

Lord Holland smiled fondly at the young woman attached to his arm. “The lady insists.”

“Well, you did promise me that you would have a picnic at Avondale, did you not. I prognosticate that tomorrow will be such a fine day. I am sure Mr. Darcy will find the occasion diverting. You must be sure to invite Miss Elizabeth.”

The viscount gazed at Elizabeth. “What say you to a picnic, Miss Bennet?”

Glad for the opportunity to spend time with people her own age, Elizabeth was inclined to accept immediately. However, these people were strangers. Some measure of prudence was warranted. “As I only just met you, your lordship, may I presume to ask who else will be in attendance?”

Lucy said, “Why, solely the four of us. Lord Holland will not take no for an answer, will you, my lord?”

The viscount said nothing, which was all the encouragement Miss Lancaster needed. “There, you see. The four of us shall have a picnic at Avondale tomorrow. What a lovely time it shall be!”

Elizabeth could hardly wait to commit the events of the day to paper when she returned to Barrington Hall that evening after having dined at Avondale along with her aunt and several other prominent guests in celebration of Mr. Darcy’s victory. As the winning bay was a thoroughbred he had recently acquired from Lord Holland’s father and the winning purse was upwards of one hundred pounds, it was indeed a cause for celebration for the House of Avondale as well.

Her mind filled with the perplexing gentleman, Elizabeth took her place at her writing desk and began.

The tall, distinguished gentleman I met in the village a few days prior is Mr. Darcy. It turns out he is not a peer after all, but he might as well be. By Lady Vanessa’s account, he descends from a long line of aristocrats. I have even learned he has ten thousand pounds a year, and he is the young master of one of the finest estates in Derbyshire. Though it matters not in the least to me, the gentleman is single. Just think what Mama would say! What I say is that he is haughty and condescending, and he likely thinks very highly of himself. The only reason I bother to write about him at all is because I had the ‘pleasure’ of spending such a great stretch of time in his company today. Never have I felt myself to be so closely observed than I did when with him. He is a man of sense and education, and were I to be completely honest, I would have to confess that his Adonis-like features render him exceedingly agreeable to look at. I suppose he has the capacity to be charming should he wish it, but I shall reserve judgement for now. I shall see how he behaves tomorrow.

I also had the pleasure of meeting Lady Vanessa’s nephew, today—Lord Andrew Holland. Oh, what a handsome man he is with his tall person, his dark eyes, and his perfect, dark hair. I am rather certain I was not the only member of our party who regarded him so, for I also had the privilege of meeting a Miss Lucy Lancaster. What a charming creature she is. I think we shall get along swimmingly.

CHAPTER 4

FOR HAVING SUFFERED

The foursome never did have a picnic that next day. Prior to the planned outing, Lord Holland treated his guests to an exhibition of his horsemanship prowess. Darcy, Elizabeth, and Lucy watched his lordship execute the row of hurdles with the adroitness of a seasoned jockey. One by one, he accomplished each feat without incident, and then it happened. His horse failed to clear the last hurdle on the course. Lord Holland went flying through the air. Horrified by what they saw, the spectators, which included members of his staff, raced to the field.

Elizabeth gasped at the horrific sight. The viscount lay stretched out on the ground, motionless, his head swimming in a crimson pool of blood. Shouting orders to a servant to summon the physician, Darcy and the attending groom acted quickly to remove the viscount to the manor house.

The entire household was in turmoil over the fate of the future earl. Lady Vanessa had been summoned to attend Lady Clarissa. Consoling the panic-stricken mother proved difficult. Her wailing flooded the halls. After spending several hours with the viscount, the physician, whose bloodstained clothing bore evidence of Lord Holland’s suffering, descended the stairs with the prognosis. Lord Holland had lost a significant amount of blood and remained unconscious. His words set off a cascade of disheartening refrains: we must wait and see and pray for the best.

We must wait and see and pray for the best. Those ten little words struck Elizabeth like a bolt of lightning. There had been only one other time in her life that she heard those words, and that had proved to be the most heartrending day of her life. We must wait and see and pray for the best.

Elizabeth drifted towards the window, her heart heavy with grief and her eyes leaden with unshed tears. It was too much. The pain she believed she had taught herself to endure with quiet grace and dignity threatened to flood her entire being. Unwilling to allow anyone to bear witness to the depths of her despair, she raced from the room.

Darcy had watched in wonder as Elizabeth paced the floor the entire time that the physician was with his friend. As disquieted as he had been by the physician’s prognosis, Elizabeth’s reaction struck him as particularly troubling. Given her brief acquaintance with his lordship, how can she possibly be so distressed by any of this? Surely she had been traumatised by the sight of the viscount lying on the ground, his head swimming in blood. Who was to say how long a gently bred young woman would carry such an image around with her. However, even Miss Lancaster, whom Darcy knew to be quite taken with Lord Holland, did not wear her anguish as openly as did Miss Elizabeth. No—something greater is at the root of her discomfort.

When Elizabeth bolted from the room, Darcy was not long in following her. He walked fast to catch up with her. Once she became aware of his presence, she halted her frantic pace and allowed him to accompany her. He longed to reach for her, to take her in his arms, and to comfort her. He clasped his hands behind his back to stop himself.

“Thou doth not see,” Mr. Darcy said, his voice tender and soothing. “Neither intruder, nor foe, nor stranger unknown. Thou shalt not fear—for thou are not alone.”

Elizabeth gazed up at his face. “I am not familiar with that particular stanza, sir.”

“It is personal, from me to you.”

Elizabeth studied his eyes and saw in them something she had never seen before—compassion.

“Lord Holland is young and vibrant; he shall recover.”

“I know you are correct, sir.”

“I cannot help but feel you are disturbed by concerns of a different matter. It might help to talk about what is truly at the root of your worries.”

“I recall the last time I was with someone whose prognosis was the same as Lord Holland’s physician described. She never recovered.”

“She?”