Page 9 of A Promise Made

“Well, you did specify theories, as in more than one.”

Putting his hands up in concession, Darcy said, “I did. Tell me another of these astonishing theories, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Well, once again, I consider this one very hard to credit, but I did consider that some rich gentleman might feel so oppressed by the weight of his fortune that, in weariness from sitting in the many rooms of his mansion and being served by an army of servants, he desired relief among the minor gentry.”

This time, Darcy allowed himself to smile. “I do not suffer from ennui,” he explained, “but I do claim a bit of oppression from my responsibilities. However, my relations and upper servants assure me that I will get used to being the master and having my time and energy pulled in many directions at once. It has only been four months since I inherited, after all.”

Miss Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly and, when she opened them again, she looked contrite, an expression he thought never to see on her face. She laid one hand on his arm and said, “I am very sorry. You walk about looking so…confident and unemotional…and I had not been told that you are new to being a master and still in the early stages of grief.”

“Thank you. I must say, Miss Elizabeth, your mind must be a fearsome thing. I look forward to hearing about more theories.”

“Do you?” She laughed, and it was a delightful sound.

She is quite a delightful young lady. Very, very young—not quite a child, but in some ways childlike.

* * *

Mr Bennet loved his second daughter with a ferocity that seemed lacking in his love for his other daughters. It was not just that he especially enjoyed her and that he was often proud of her wit; at times the ferocity of his regard meant that he was especially disappointed in her, and he was occasionally angry at her.

He was hard-pressed to feel as strongly about Kitty. Or Mary. Or any of the others.

He had often said, “Lizzy is a treasure.”

Once in a while, his wife said knowingly, “Lizzy seems special to you because you treat her like a son.” But now that he had a son-like figure in his life, he seemed to feel more disappointment and even irritation towards Lizzy than he had ever experienced before.

Ah, well. It was only natural. A man wishes to have a son, after all….

Chapter Eight

Lizzy’s obstinate mind had come up with a very daring possible motive for Mr Darcy to come to Netherfield and Longbourn. She looked forward to testing him, prodding him, and watching him with this new theory guiding her observations. And, of course, eventually telling him.

She laughed in advance, knowing that this theory was perhaps even more mad than the others.

What if he was some sort of French operative?

In a word, a spy?

If there was some sort of underground network connecting operatives in London with others located in Norfolk or Lincolnshire, a spy located in Hertfordshire might be an important part of the chain.

What would an actual spy be doing with his days? She decided that a good spy would have some very legitimate work. That would mean that the tenant meetings, work on fences and drainage systems, and efforts to teach farmers about crop rotation—all of that was certainly real.

But what would a spy for the French do at night? Or in the early morning and in the late afternoon, after leaving Longbourn?

Receive and send coded messages? Perhaps secret messages hidden in the hollows of trees or crevices of walls?

Surely any secret messages would be written in French….

And here was an idea worthy of a novel: perhaps the handsome gentleman would have nighttime meetings with a beautiful woman who was also a spy—but born and raised in France.

It would be truly awful if Mr Darcy was a French operative, because Napoleon was a tyrant who apparently wished to conquer all of Europe—England, in particular. But a tiny part of Lizzy was thrilled with the concept of Mr Darcy sneaking away from Netherfield for secret trysts with a beautiful counterpart from across the sea.

It would be horrible, but also exciting.

What would be especially exciting for her would be following him on his early-morning rides. And she would have to ride, herself; there was no way she could keep up on foot if he was on his chestnut mount. Which suggested a new project: to improve her riding skills.

Her choice from the Longbourn stables was a mare named Lady. Lizzy practiced saddling Lady by herself, asking Jimmy to check her work. She knew that Jimmy was her father’s most reliable and least gossipy stablehand.

Once saddled, Lizzy led the gentle mare out to the mounting blocks and climbed up into the saddle without any help. If she ever had to do all of it, from saddling to mounting, entirely by herself, she wanted to be sure she knew how.