Monday.The word was nothing. A day fixed by innkeepers, roads, trunks, letters, and all the dull machinery by which people were moved from one place to another. Yet her heart sank a little.
Aunt Gardiner’s tone remained light. “Then we must be wise in our choices.”
Mr. Darcy looked from her to the hills, and then, only briefly, to Elizabeth. “Yes indeed.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam called to him then, demanding judgment on whether cold chicken could properly be called restorative, and Mr. Darcy was drawn away. Aunt Gardiner turned and admired the prospect with an innocence so complete that Elizabeth distrusted it at once.
“You are very quiet, Aunt.”
“I am enjoying Derbyshire.”
For several minutes Elizabeth sat with her aunt and permitted herself to enjoy Derbyshire too.
The day seemed determined to reward the effort. The air was mild, neither hot nor cold; the leaves above them moved occasionally in a light breeze, and every movement sent spots of sun shifting over the cloths, the plates, the hems of gowns. From the water came the low, steady sound of its passage.
A footman offered each of them peaches from a basket, and Elizabeth accepted one.
“This one has been bruised in the campaign,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, turning it in his hands as he approached.
“Then it suits the company,” said Elizabeth.
His eyes lit up. “Excellent. We shall all claim to have been tested and found delicious.”
“Speak for yourself, Colonel.”
“I generally do.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “You are ridiculous.”
“My dear Darcy, I do not make things ridiculous. I merely reveal them to be so.”
“That is what every ridiculous man believes.”
Elizabeth could not help it—she laughed. Mr. Darcy’s answering smile came more readily this time.
It should not have thrilled her as much as it did. The day stood bright and unhurried around them, yet it was passing too quickly, and she wished to slow it down.
Aunt Gardiner, with a tact Elizabeth both admired and resented, turned to admire a stand of trees beyond the lawn. “If we were to be very wise in our choices, Mr. Darcy, which walk would you recommend before we leave?”
“The rise above the river,” he said after a moment. “It is steep but not long, and the view at the top repays the trouble.”
“Then we must consider it.”
“I should be happy to show it to you before you leave,” Mr. Darcy said, perhaps a bit too quickly. His eyes remained on Elizabeth’s a moment too long. “The rest of the company might enjoy it as well,” he added, with more care.
Elizabeth looked away first. “I am sure the rest of the company would be grateful.”
“Then we must not deprive them of such a pleasure,” said Aunt Gardiner, with a look of perfect innocence.
CHAPTER 9
Darcy had meant to be atop the rise by now.
It was his own park, and the leading of a party through it was a host’s office and a pleasure he did not commonly delegate. He had made a promise to Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Elizabeth that they could see the prospect from the top before they left Derbyshire. He had thought he might even steal a moment to stand beside Miss Elizabeth and point out several landmarks for her.
But there had been a word wanted at the stables, and rather than keep the whole company standing about on the grass, he had given the walkers into Richard’s charge and bid them go on, meaning to overtake them as soon as he was able.
He had reached the stables and resolved the problem when the light changed.