“Just testing that the bridge is sound.”
“Excellent,” Richard said. “Pemberley is saved from catastrophe.” He shifted the rod to his other hand.
“One prefers to be certain.”
“One does. Particularly when one has exhausted every other possible object of anxiety.” He took out his watch. “Including, I gather, the arrival of a certain carriage, which is due at any moment.”
Darcy glanced up at the house.
“Yes,” said his cousin, already turning. “I thought that information might prove useful.”
He required no further prompting, but he did not rush. The master of Pemberley did not run across his own lawn. He did, however, make good use of his long stride.
They passed Georgiana on their way.
“Will you mind meeting the carriages without me, Brother?” she asked. “I wish to see that everything is ready.”
She was nervous.
“Of course,” he told her, and relieved, she moved towards all the activity.
“I should stay with Georgiana,” Richard said. “But before I do, know that I told Miss Bingley you particularly desire Mrs. Atherton’s good opinion.”
Darcy cast a glance at his cousin. “Why have you told her that?”
“Because then her attention will remain with Mrs. Athertonwho, because she is safely married, will not be attending to you. The pair of them were at school together, I believe, and so it will not seem unusual for Miss Bingley to wish to speak with her. I wager she will be firmly attached to Mrs. Atherton within an hour of her arrival, and, as you know, once she has an audience, Mrs. Atherton does not easily relinquish it.”
“Richard.”
“Yes?”
Darcy met his cousin’s eye. “Thank you.”
“Not at all.”
A moment later, they heard wheels on the gravel. Darcy stared at the carriage with the feeling that he was about to enter a battle.
Richard glanced at him and smiled mischievously. “Ill, then.”
Darcy did not answer. Instead, he went to meet Miss Elizabeth.
CHAPTER 4
Mr. Darcy was waiting near the steps when the carriage drew up.
The morning had settled into one of those bright, cool August days that seem made for walking out of doors. A fresh breeze stirred, and the limestone walks shone very white in the sun. Somewhere overhead a wood pigeon issued a melancholy complaint. Elizabeth heard it as she heard everything since the carriage had turned in at the gates—through an agreeable, slightly stunned fog of being invited back to a place where one had not even expected to be welcomed.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner,” he said, before turning to Elizabeth and smiling. She might be imagining things, but his voice sounded a little lower when he said, “Miss Bennet.”
Even a week ago, Elizabeth would not have believed such a thing possible. There was nothing forced in his attentions. Mr. Darcy spoke to her uncle of the road from Lambton, hoped her aunt had not found the unseasonably cool air too sharp in theopen carriage, and expressed his happiness in seeing them again at Pemberley.
“My sister is already upon the lawn,” Mr. Darcy said, “and my cousin with her. They have been impatient for your arrival. Bingley and Mr. Hurst have gone on towards the river, with some notion of discovering whether the fish mean to make themselves agreeable.”
“Then we are not the latest of the party,” said Elizabeth. She knew they were not, but it was something to say.
“No,” said he, and his eyes came to hers for the first time since her descent from the carriage. “You are precisely when you ought to be.”
It was only a polite answer. Yet the manner of it made Elizabeth adjust her glove when there was nothing amiss with it.