Page 6 of A Promise Made

“Do you read novels, Mr Darcy?” she asked.

He looked slightly dismayed but almost instantly covered the expression with a politely neutral mien as he dismounted and closed the distance between the two of them. “I have read a few,” he replied.

Lizzy could see no resemblance between her father and Mr Darcy as to face shape, jawline, nose….

“Oh! You have blue eyes,” she blurted.

Mr Darcy looked taken aback, and he did not attempt to cover this expression.

Laughing at herself, Lizzy said, “My apologies for pointing out to you something you surely already know. I was just surprised. Your eyes are so dark, I suppose I expected them to be brown.”

He cocked his head slightly to the right and seemed to consider her words. He smiled a bit as he said, “I suppose that blue eyes are not obvious to strangers and acquaintances when they are dark. My mother’s eyes were light blue—some called them cerulean—and my father’s eyes were dark blue like mine.”

“I am very interested in family resemblance and inheritance,” Lizzy said. “For example, my mother has grey-blue eyes, and my father has dark brown eyes, and I am sort of a mixture with medium-coloured eyes, neither as light as my mother’s nor as dark as my father’s.”

“Your eyes are very unusual,” Mr Darcy said. He blushed, and Lizzy felt like laughing at him for being so easily embarrassed.

“I suppose you are mortified to have accidentally insulted my eyes. Do not worry, Mr Darcy, I know very well that they are strange.”

Now he looked entirely baffled. “Their colour is unusual, but also beautiful. I believe the word strange does not seem correct in this case, because it has a negative connotation.” His cheeks became even more red.

“Well, thank you, I suppose.” Lizzy laughed again. Her mother often lamented that she and Mary missed out on having blue eyes like their three sisters. But she did not mind that Mr Darcy attempted to convert his insult into a compliment.

“Inheritance is certainly an interesting topic for farmers,” Mr Darcy said, “even for gentlemen farmers such as your father and myself. I do not suppose you have read much about breeding livestock, but it is not as straightforward as we often hope.”

Lizzy grinned. “I know my way around Robert Bakewell’s work. And I made my father acquire The Complete Grazier.”

“Oh-ho, I stand corrected,” Mr Darcy replied. He added, “I am impressed; most young ladies would not have any interest in these topics.”

“I find a lot of things interesting.” Lizzy felt good to have been commended by the young man who had earned admiration from her father. However, her goal for the conversation had been satisfied. She could see no resemblance at all between this man and her father.

However…having just briefly touched on animal breeding, Lizzy remembered that resemblance could skip a generation.

Perhaps she should find that painting of her paternal grandparents in the attic and study it. They had died when she was very young. Their portrait had been moved from the entry hall to her father’s study, because her mother complained that the painted eyes seemed to judge her; later, the painting had been relegated to the attic when every bit of wall space in the study was covered with bookshelves.

Just as she was about to wish Mr Darcy a good day, he said, “You asked about novels, Miss Elizabeth, and I neglected to ask you if you read them.”

“I do. But I read everything I can get my hands on. I go to Meryton’s circulating library quite often.”

“I prefer histories and books about natural philosophy,” Mr Darcy said. “As to literature, I am more partial to poetry than novels, but I must admit that I have enjoyed those novels I have read.”

“I too prefer poetry to novels, and I enjoy reading plays, too. I am sometimes in the mood for philosophy, other times natural philosophy, and recently it was a novel that I could not bear to put down, even to get some sleep.”

“You read so many things, I can see that you qualify as a reading enthusiast.”

“I am, and I gather that you are as well, sir. I am very glad we are in accord about reading, especially since we must always be divided on the matter of strange eyes.”

Mr Darcy blushed yet again, just as Lizzy had intended. She smiled cheekily, curtseyed, and said, “I must go to breakfast,” as she headed back to Longbourn.

* * *

After breakfast, Lizzy’s mother sent Jane off to the still room and required Lizzy to practice the pianoforte. There was a bit of drama when a crashing sound erupted in the parlour, followed by several shrill cries, and Lizzy gladly abandoned her scales to see what had occurred.

A vase lay on the floor, shattered into scores of small pieces, and the flowers that had been in the vase were in Lydia’s hand. “I did not do it!” Lydia said.

“I suppose Tommy did it?” Kitty asked. Her tone was as sceptical as Lizzy felt about Lydia’s disclaiming the accidental breakage.

Their mother whisked into the room and heard Kitty’s words. “Do not tease Lydia. She has not blamed anything on or said anything about Tommy for a long time.”