Page 3 of A Different Impression

“Hmmm, unwanted attention,” Elizabeth laughed. “What a problem to have, sir.”

“You have no idea,” he said drily. Then, more quietly, almost as if speaking to himself, he muttered, “Surely you heard the whispers when my friend and I arrived this evening. Most women see only what marriage to me might offer—Pemberley, the income, the consequence. Few care to look beyond that to the man himself. It seems many are more eager to become Mistress of Pemberley than to know me.”

He paused, brow furrowing as he glanced at her, as if only then realising he had said more than intended.

“I am simply... tired of being pursued,” he confessed, a little more loudly.

She looked at him, catching his eye. For a long moment she held his gaze, and he wondered whether she had seen the melancholy he could not quite conceal before the dance carried them apart.

When they came back together, she offered a whispered apology, “I am sorry the Meryton gossips began to speculate about you and your friend the moment you entered. Unfortunately, my mother and the other ladies here will speculate and talk about any single man who enters the neighbourhood, as we seem to have a shortage of available gentlemen in our town. Therefore, as soon as you appeared tonight, several mothers sought to claim you for their unmarried daughters; my own mother being among the worst of them.”

“That is not unique to a country town,” he replied, seeking to reassure her. “The mothers of the ton are equally adept at gossip and matchmaking; in fact, many are rather proficient at it.”

“Still, it must be difficult to be judged by one’s wealth,” she asserted, adding more softly, “…or the lack of it.”

Elizabeth appeared thoughtful as the figures carried them apart once more.

“This topic is much too deep for a dance, sir,” she said when they came back together. “How do you find Netherfield Park? It has been some years since I was last there, but I remember it being a lovely home, although the library was sadly neglected. Will your friend remedy that?”

“Netherfield is a fine estate, and Bingley has already promised to improve the library’s collection, even if he cannot alter the room itself,” Darcy replied. “He asked me to accompany him because he wishes to learn more about managing an estate. My father trained me from the time I was a boy, and I have managed my own for more than five years. Bingley hopes eventually to purchase an estate, and Netherfield provides an excellent opportunity for him to gain experience.”

“How good of you to help,” she mused, then added, “I am sorry that you lost your father at such a young age.”

“Wha…” he faltered. “How could you possibly know that I have lost my father?”

“You said you inherited five years ago and spoke of him teaching you in the past tense,” she stated clearly. Then more softly, she added, “and your eyes when you spoke of him were sad, as though you miss him greatly.”

He looked at her sharply for a moment, uncertain how to proceed, and then softened his gaze when he recognised the sympathy in her eyes. Most ladies would have heard only what gossip had already told them: that he was single, wealthy, and well connected. Few would have thought to offer sympathy for any loss, much less one that had occurred five years before. Once more, that inexplicable sense of familiarity touched him and was gone.

He considered this as they made their way silently through the dance.

When they returned back to each other, she spoke to him quietly. “I am sorry to have reminded you of your sorrows. Do you have other family?” she asked.

“A younger sister,” he nearly bit out, his mind still in turmoil whenever he thought about his sister. “My mother is also gone; she died when Georgiana was four.”

“How old is she now?”

“Just fifteen,” he replied. “I am more than ten years older than she.”

“Then I am truly sorry for you both,” she murmured. “As much as my mother often vexes and embarrasses me, I cannot fathom losing either her or my father. And to bear the weight of caring for a much younger sibling—” She shook her head gently. “My sisters and I are close in age, and even so, I would feel overwhelmed by such responsibility. You had not only your sister to consider, but the estate and its tenants as well. It must have been an immense burden, especially all at once.”

“I share her guardianship with my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” he said hesitantly. “But neither of us feels entirely confident in guiding a young girl just coming of age.”

Darcy remained quietly astonished that this woman spoke of his estate not in terms of wealth or grandeur, but as a weighty responsibility. It was a perspective he rarely encountered—and one he deeply appreciated.

“I imagine that would be a challenge, sir,” she remarked. “Having no brothers, I can only imagine how difficult it would be to guide someone if I had no notion of what they were experiencing.”

The dance separated them once again. When the figures brought them back together, Darcy abruptly changed the subject.

“Tell me of your family, Miss Elizabeth. You have four sisters, I believe, although I have met only the eldest.”

“I am the second of five daughters,” she said, lifting a brow in mild amusement. “Our family estate is Longbourn, located on the western border of Netherfield Park. As you say, you have already met Jane. After me come Mary, Catherine, and Lydia.”

A faint sigh escaped her. “According to my mother, we are all in desperate need of husbands, so she insisted that every one of us be brought out. Lydia is scarcely fifteen and far too young, but Mama would not hear of delaying her debut—and Papa prefers the path of least resistance.”

Her final words carried a mix of embarrassment and quiet frustration.

“Why do you all need husbands as quickly as possible?” he enquired, a look of surprise in his eyes.