This day could be the most important one in his life thus far, and he had been doing reasonably well in not dwelling on it.
But he could not help but dwell on her.
She had been surprised and embarrassed to see him the day he had arrived, and he could hardly blame her. A gentleman ought not, as a rule, to appear before the woman whose good opinion he had once forfeited in the same condition as a man dragged through the streets by an ill-tempered cart horse.
Miss Elizabeth had been startled—but she had not seemed displeased.
This was not, he reminded himself sternly, evidence of anything. A lady might refrain from appearing horrified for any number of reasons, good breeding and a lively sense of the ridiculous among them. Miss Elizabeth possessed both and would no doubt have found him an object of some amusement. There was no cause for vanity in having failed to disgust her.
And yet, she had not looked away—at least, not at once.
He had replayed that moment with a perseverance that, applied to any matter of estate business, would have done himcredit. She had even smiled slightly, unexpectedly, in a manner that had made him feel, for one treacherous instant, hopeful.
It was absurd, but his mind had been gnawing at that memory like a dog with a stolen boot.
The idea had slipped past his guard. Now there it sat in his head, as plain as a line he had written down, and there was no being rid of it.
Make her think better of me.
A modest ambition, certainly. Nothing in it of arrogance, nothing of presumption—nothing of a man who had already been refused by a woman and was now arranging rugs, lemonade, fishing poles, guests, and an entire neighbourhood of gentry in the faint hope that she might conclude he was not wholly intolerable.
Darcy sighed. He would have to set his feelings aside as he would have set aside any other piece of business that required his attention at the wrong hour. He would be a proper host and perhaps because of that, Miss Elizabeth’s view of him might improve. He could not think beyond that now.
He picked up the steward’s letter and read the sentence for the fifth time.
This time he understood what it said.
Bingley was cheerful at breakfast, evidently anticipating the day with an uncomplicated pleasure. For Bingley, every social occasion was a fresh chance for delight.
He knew from Mr. Gardiner’s luck, he said, that the lower bend of the Derwent had been giving up trout of an extraordinary size.
“Are you certain you cannot slip away after luncheon for an hour with the rods?”
“I had thought,” Darcy said, “to remain with our guests.”
“Yes, of course, of course. Very right. Only a notion.” Bingley applied himself to his ham with good cheer. “Caroline tells me your sister is to play.”
“We will be out of doors, Bingley. No, my sister has not agreed to play.”
“Oh.” Bingley considered this. “Caroline gave me to understand that she had.”
“Then Miss Bingley was misinformed.”
Bingley’s expression was one Darcy had seldom seen upon his face. It was not irritation exactly, but rather that mingled with the understanding of a man who loved his sister and yet was not blind to her faults.
“Yes,” Bingley said. “Let us call it that.”
Mrs. Hurst arrived next, in advance of her sister, fanning herself before she had crossed the threshold. “Already intolerable,” she said, sinking into her chair. “If we are not beneath the oaks, I shall expire upon the lawn, and Caroline may have my garnets.”
She had clearly not been outside or even near an open window, for it was in truth a cool day for summer. Much of the summer had been wet, which had delayed the harvest for many. Darcy was not going to spend time worrying about the harvest today, though, any more than he would concern himself with Mrs. Hurst’s ridiculous complaints.
Mr. Hurst followed, grunted something that might have been “good morning,” and took up his cutlery.
Miss Bingley came down last, in green silk, entirely unsuitable for a day by the river. “My dear Mr. Darcy.” She offered him the smile she had perfected over years of offering it. “Howperfectly delightful the lawn looks. I have just been watching your servants at work from the terrace.”
Darcy spent most of breakfast contributing the minimum that civility required and no more, while Miss Bingley made enquiries.
“Do we expect the Gardiners early?” Miss Bingley asked.