“I believe he means to speak to Mr. Collins about the estate, but otherwise it is a pleasure trip.” At Mr. Darcy’s confused look, and indeed, who could blame him, for speaking with Mr. Collins could never be termed a pleasure trip by any sensible person, she explained. “My father has taken a house in Margate for the summer. He and my mother and sisters will stop here for me, after collecting my eldest sister in London.”

He nodded. “How is Miss Bennet enjoying London?”

“She likes it well enough. She has made many new acquaintances there.”

“It is a busy season in town,” he said.

They walked on in silence until they reached the parsonage gate.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She curtseyed. He bowed and wished her good day, then left.

Elizabeth entered the parlor where Charlotte sat near the window, sewing something white and lacy.

“Was that Mr. Darcy walking with you?”

“Yes, he escorted me from the main house.” She sighed and dropped into a chair.

“What did you talk about?” Charlotte asked.

“Nothing, it would seem. I told him we were going to Margate after leaving here and that Jane was in London. That was all. Hardly a riveting conversation,” she replied with a bored expression.

“We can’t all be as bright and sparkling as you, Eliza,” Charlotte teased.

“I would settle for tolerably interesting at this point,” Elizabeth retorted.

Both women laughed and the topic changed to other things.

~

The next day, Mr. Darcy once again met Elizabeth when she left the house. He walked her home, they spoke a mere five sentences between them, and he left her at the parsonage gate. She thought fate was terribly perverse to have him around just when she would be leaving Rosings and not the amiable Colonel Fitzwilliam, but thought no more of it. He was absent the remainder of the week.

The following Monday, it happened again. He even ran into her twice on her morning walks and joined her. He was always civil and acted somewhat happy to see her, even though she knew he was only being polite. She dearly wished he would simply greet her and move on, but it was not to be.

The parsonage was invited to Rosings for tea and cards on Wednesday and Friday for dinner. She enjoyed her conversations with Colonel Fitzwilliam very much. He was similar to herself; at ease in company, good at discourse, and quick to laugh. Mr. Darcy sat near them and tried to join the conversation occasionally, but he often commented on a topic just after they had moved on to a new one, and after a few attempts, he sat close but remained silent except for the odd sound of agreement.