Page 66 of Cousin Conundrum

He would be certain, wouldn’t he? He would do nothing more than give a command, after all. Netherfield Park’s staff were the ones who must make Mr. Darcy’s orders into reality.

“And I can always fetch a blanket,” Kitty said behind them.

Elizabeth nearly started. Mr. Darcy swallowed her attention to the point that she’d all but forgotten her sisters followed them. How did the man manage to dominate her senses so thoroughly?

Kitty and Jane trailing, Mr. Darcy continued down the hall with her, Elizabeth’s arm still twined with his. She would not admit it aloud, but his steady support made the walk possible. When they exited onto the large back terrace and he guided her to a chaise, she sank down in relief. Her entire body trembled.

The sun proved every bit as warm as she’d hoped, but an autumnal breeze ghosted over her exposed arms and tousled her curls. A shiver ran through her, much to her annoyance. Normally, she would revel in a light breeze.

“I will collect your shawl and a blanket,” Kitty said. “And your bonnet.” She turned to Jane. “Would you care for yours as well?”

Jane’s smile looked as shaky as Elizabeth’s frame, but her soft voice was even as she replied, “Yes. Thank you.”

Her expression cheerful enough that Elizabeth suspected the look to be false, Kitty nodded and retraced their path across the terrace.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she exclaimed as the door opened.

“No, I beg yours, Miss Kitty,” Mr. Bingley’s voice said.

Jane went still, at one with the statuary that decorated the garden.

A moment later, Mr. Bingley appeared. He gave a vague nod to where Mr. Darcy still stood beside Elizabeth, his gaze focused on Jane as he crossed to her. “Miss Bennet. I have hoped to have a word with you. Will you walk with me?” He gestured to the expanse of green before them.

Jane stared at him with wide, shimmering eyes.

Elizabeth looked away from the pain radiating between them, swallowing.

“Please?” Mr. Bingley whispered, the sound barely reaching Elizabeth.

She looked up to see Jane give a jerky nod, then accept the arm he proffered. They strode down the wide steps and into the garden, within sight of the terrace, but not within hearing. Elizabeth turned her attention to her fingers so as not to intrude. She blinked, trying to disperse the tears building in her eyes.

“Would you like me to bring you anything else, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked in an oddly gentle tone.

She raised her gaze to find he watched Jane and Mr. Bingley.

Dark, troubled eyes dropped to meet hers and he added, “Perhaps a book? It is my understanding you are a great reader.”

His understanding? He’d sought knowledge of her? Or merely overheard others? Why must the man stand there appearing so thoughtful when she knew he meant nothing by his kindness?

And why must he offer her a book, now, of all times?

Despair welled through her. Jane couldn’t marry Mr. Bingley, who she’d come to care for so quickly and thoroughly, in such a perfect, magical courtship. And that was Elizabeth’s fault for leaving Jane to fend off Archers on her own. Now, not only were Jane and Mr. Bingley both miserable, Elizabeth’s head ached and the world spun and she could not read.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks.

Mr. Darcy dropped down from his great height to be eyelevel, crouching beside her chaise. “Whatever is the matter?” He reached for her, as if he might smooth away her tears, then pulled his hand back. “Does your sister care so deeply for Bingley?”

“She does.” Elizabeth dashed her tears away. “She loves him, and I believe he feels the same, and if I had remained with her, perhaps I could have foiled Miss Catherine’s plan.”

“From what I have heard, it was a rather elaborate trick. Enough so that Miss Bingley has gone to speak with the local attorney, Mr. Phillips.”

“Truly?” A fraction of strain eased in her chest. “If there is a way to free Mr. Bingley from this, Uncle Phillips will know.”

“He is your uncle?”

She nodded. “He married my mother’s sister and took over my grandfather’s practice.” Another band of misery tightened in her chest, for she could not help but note how Mr. Darcy frowned as he ingested that.

“You see then?” He reached out to her again, as if he could not help doing so. Seeming to note the treachery of his hand, he yanked it back. “There is hope. Now, what of that book?”