Now she appeared alarmed.
“Of course, I will abide by my promise not to mention anything to Mr. Collins,” he added hastily. “But remaining here makes me…complicit.”
“I thank you for your silence on this matter,” Elizabeth said soberly. “The well-being of many people is at stake. I am sorry my actions have disturbed you. That was never my intention.”
No. I am certain of that. She has taken these actions without thinking of my reaction at all—which itself is disturbing. She had not known he would return to her life, but somehow he had believed he loomed larger in her imagination than apparently he did.
“Of course. I will send word if I learn anything of your sister.” He gave her a slight bow. “Please accept my wishes for your continued good health.” He spun around, pointing his feet toward Netherfield, and willed himself into a quick march. He would not glance back at her, even as he wondered if he would ever see her again.
***
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy walk away with an odd sense of loss. I should be pleased, she admonished herself. He is too close to uncovering all my secrets. His words were vague, so she did not know how much of the scheme he had guessed, but it was obviously enough to damn Elizabeth in his eyes.
His disapproval disturbed her more than she would have anticipated. When had his opinion acquired such importance? It was silly; she owed him nothing. Saving Longbourn was everything.
And there was paltry evidence that he cared about Longbourn. Indeed, by the stream, he had spoken very affectingly of his guilt and sense of responsibility. And he had purchased a lovely dress for Elizabeth. But these isolated examples scarcely amounted to much.
Elizabeth might admit privately to herself that she experienced tender feelings for the man, but it did not necessarily follow that he felt anything for her beyond physical attraction. If such was the case, she was definitely well shut of him.
After all, despite his earnest words, Mr. Darcy had done little for the Bennets, and now he was abandoning them at the first sign of difficulty. His principles preceded any of her family’s needs. Or perhaps he had changed his mind, and he was using Elizabeth’s questionable activities as an excuse to escape an uncomfortable obligation.
Well, it scarcely mattered. She did not need his approval of her activities; after all, most people would not approve. If they were commonly known, all of Meryton society would turn against her. She had accepted that risk. Why should Mr. Darcy’s estimation, in particular, disturb her?
Resolutely, Elizabeth pushed him from her mind and set her feet on the path for home.
***
Darcy’s croquet ball went wide of the hoop at the last minute, putting him behind his cousin Richard. “Damn—” Darcy managed to stifle the oath before Georgiana, on the other side of the lawn, heard.
Richard’s head shot up, and he glared at his cousin. “My apologies,” Darcy said, averting his face so Richard would not notice the flush of shame at his unworthy words.
It was the warmest day so far that spring, and Georgiana had been enthusiastic about a friendly game of croquet. Aware that he had not been good company of late, Darcy had acquiesced. Now he wondered if he should have remained in his study rather than inflicting his foul mood on others.
“No,” Richard said in a low voice. “No, you are not excused. That was your third oath this hour.”
Darcy shot a glance at his sister, but she was studiously planning her next move and remained oblivious to their conversation. “I am not playing well today,” he said to his cousin with an unrepentant shrug.
Richard regarded him steadily. “Your language has naught to do with the game.”
“What do you mean?” Darcy growled.
“You are barely heeding the game at all. You might as well be playing tennis.” Darcy scowled at him, but his cousin was unperturbed. “You carried this unease with you from Longbourn.” Richard’s expression softened. “Will you not tell me the cause?”
Darcy straightened his spine. “Nothing is amiss.”
Richard snorted.
Georgiana was crossing the lawn with a quizzical expression. Wonderful. Now they had drawn his sister’s attention. “Why does William scowl at you?” she asked their cousin.
“When do I not scowl at Richard?” Darcy joked.
“I have been asking Will what has him in such a foul mood recently,” their cousin replied.
Georgiana tilted her head to the side in an attitude of polite curiosity. “Oh, have we ceased pretending it does not exist? That is a relief.”
Damnation. I believed I was better at hiding my frustration. Darcy relieved some aggravation by whacking a clump of weeds with his mallet.
“You have been so difficult this week,” she continued.