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Bella closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, Mina. You shall have your wretched brushes."

"Good," said Mina, taking a large bite of cake. "Because I have gone off the idea of painting Mr Briar as Perseus. I think I shall paint him as Hades instead."

Despite everything, Kate began to laugh, and before long Bella was laughing too. Even Mina joined in, her earlier shock seemingly forgotten.

For a little while, sitting with her sisters as they drank their tea, Kate felt almost herself again. Bella had made it all sound manageable, as though a little distance would put everything to rights. Perhaps she was correct. Perhaps Kate had only to keep away from Mr Briar until she could think clearly again.

But when she remembered the feeling of his arms around her and the way he had held her close, she was not at all certain she wished to forget it.

Chapter Twelve

Nathaniel very much did not want to attend Darcy's family dinner that evening, but he could see no way around it. Due to long, tiring days, at the barrow site, he had spent more evenings than was polite eating off a tray in his room. This evening, Mrs Darcy had particularly requested his company and it would be the height of rudeness to refuse. Could they know? Was this to be less a family dinner than an inquisition regarding his attentions? Surely Miss Darcy would not have told them what had occurred between them. But Miss Mina? He raked his hands through his hair. He would be surprised if everyone in the blasted house did not know, from the scullery maid upwards. And how was he meant to answer any questions when he had no notion of how he felt himself?

Holding her in his arms and kissing her had felt so right. It had been like coming home. A sense of comfort and utter belonging that he had not realised he had needed until he had experienced it. Even now, he felt the absence of her as a dull thrum, like a toothache throughout his entire body.

Damn it all. He was in no position to make her any promises. In just a few weeks he would likely be heading off to the wilds of Scotland, and after that, as the weather cooled, Egypt. He could not drag a gently bred woman around the world after him. She could hardly take morning calls in a tent in the desert. And even if that wasn’t bad enough, he would not bring a lovely, kind, affectionate woman into the icy bosom of his miserable family. Any small amount of confidence she had would wilt under their icy glares. The truth was that he simply was not in a position to take a wife and would perhaps never be. However much his heart screamed at him to dash it all and do whatever it took to make her his, he must be sensible. He must apologise to her for what had occurred and take pains to ensure there was no repeat of what had happened on the dig today. If her family did know, he would have to make whatever grovelling apologies were necessary and make his escape in the morning, barrow be damned.

Herriot cleared his throat and he realised he had become lost in a loop of his own miserable thoughts. “I believe it is time to join the family in the drawing room, sir,” he said gravely.

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Nathaniel, rising from his seat and pulling at his cuffs. “I am on my way.”

In the drawing room, he was not immediately accosted by an angry Mr Darcy and dragged into his study, so he presumed that he, at least, knew nothing of what occurred. Mrs Darcy was pleasant and talkative but had a glint in her eye that he did not want to think upon too deeply. Miss Catherine Darcy was at the opposite end of the room in conference with her sisters and from the icy daggers Mrs Harwood shot him, the sisters were certainly aware of his less than gentlemanly behaviour.

He made polite and airy conversation with Mr and Mrs Darcy, speaking of all they had uncovered at the dig and trying to affect a gregarious, friendly manner. It was an attitude that had seen him sail through any number of country house parties. But the mask sat heavily and uncomfortably on him today and he was so conscious of Miss Darcy standing somewhere behind his left shoulder that he had to actively work to keep his head from turning in her direction.

By the time they went into dinner, he was exhausted and a megrim had started to make itself known at the back of his skull. Mrs Darcy took her husband's arm with an affectionate squeeze and Mrs Harwood followed after with her husband. That left only Miss Darcy and Miss Mina. And there was nothing to do but offer to escort them through. “May I, ladies?” he said with what he hoped was a pleasantly bland smile.

Miss Darcy did not meet his eye and placed the lightest possible touch on his arm, holding herself stiffly apart from him. Miss Mina, on the other hand, grasped him tightly, with a painful claw-like grip, and hissed to him, “Do not even consider trying any funny business, sir.”

All he could do was nod mutely and lead them to their seats. He wondered if it would be preferable to throw himself to the floor and feign a brief apoplexy rather than sit through what was to come. He did not. And, of course, he was placed across from her, with her other sisters arranged on either side of him as if on guard duty.

She looked beautiful, dressed in sapphire silk and with a simple gold pendant shaped like a crescent moon. Her face was pale and she kept her eyes on the tablecloth. He wanted to look away but found he could not. She did not look angry or embarrassed, she looked sad. Blast everything, he had done that. He had made her sad, and part of him wanted to spring from his seat and throw himself on his knees before her, promising to do everything in his power to make it right. He felt a painful pressure on his foot and quickly muffled a shout as he realised Miss Mina was continuing her campaign of violence. She shot him a severe glance and he looked away from Miss Darcy to realise Mr Darcy was looking at him sternly. His observation of Darcy’s middle daughter had been noted and her father was not at all pleased with what he had seen.

“As I said, Briar, do you have hopes of accessing the potential burial chamber tomorrow? It appears your mind is elsewhere.” He ground out the last sentence in a way that made Nathaniel sit straighter in his seat.

“I cannot be sure, sir. If we have good weather we may get near it tomorrow. But if not, certainly the day after.”

"Hmmm," said Darcy, seemingly having lost interest in the answer and returned to his soup.

Mrs Darcy continued in a lighter tone. "And you, Kate? Are you anxious to see inside? I cannot imagine what treasures it may contain."

Kate looked up in surprise, her eyes wide. "Of course, Mama, but... but I shall not attend the dig for the next few days. I am afraid it has been the most exhausting work, and I am sure that Mr Briar can get on well enough without me."

She looked at him then, some fire returning to those lovely dark eyes, and he felt his heart give a painful thump.

Harwood, seeming to sense the disharmony in their small party, continued on the theme in a jovial tone. "Maybe we should have a grand opening ceremony, like when they opened Robert the Bruce's tomb at Dunfermline Abbey. I dare say you can rustle up a few dignitaries, Darcy."

Mr Darcy only muttered darkly into his soup.

From there, the meal proceeded with a forced brightness that never quite penetrated the awkwardness of the room. Mr and Mrs Harwood, along with Mrs Darcy, kept up a steady stream of light conversation, but Catherine Darcy uttered hardly a word. He felt wretched, both guilty and pained that he could not pursue the connection. It would be best to wrap up his business here as soon as possible and get far, far away from Derbyshire. It could not signify that every particle of him wanted to stay wherever she was. His presence was only making a bad situation—a situation of his own making no less—worse.

When the ladies left the gentlemen to their port, he began to feel concerned for his bodily safety. Mr Darcy stood and began to pace the room, his hands clamped behind his back. Even the cheerful Harwood looked perturbed by his father-in-law's black mood.

Darcy stopped and turned towards him suddenly. Although well into middle age, he was still a large, well-built man, and Nathaniel would rather not incur his wrath.

"Mr Briar," the older man began stiffly. "When I came upon you the other day, standing rather too close to my daughter, I overlooked it due to the excitement of discovering the barrow. When you gave me your word as a gentleman that you would behave as a gentleman ought, I took it. Now my daughter will barely look at you and has said she will no longer attend the dig, and I find you staring at her to the exclusion of all conversation around you. What has happened, and why does my daughter look as if..."

"Darcy," Mr Harwood tried to interject.