Elizabeth went straight to her room where she thoroughly berated herself for talking to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy of all people! She had grown accustomed to his presence and his quiet questions on all their walks. She had forgotten herself and let her worry for her father overtake her good sense. She had asked him to keep a confidence of hers! He was not even a friend! How could she have done such a thing? She burned with embarrassment—she had just spilled her heart to a man with little compassion and even less respect for those beneath him, as he most certainly viewed her to be.

If he walked with her again tomorrow, she would apologize for overstepping and speaking of things she should not have and hope that would put an end to it. Her family would arrive in two days’ time and shortly after that, they would be on their way to Margate and her first glimpse of the sea. She could survive a few more days in Mr. Darcy’s company, but she must be careful not to be alone with him. After she apologized, that is.

Chapter 8

The following day was rainy and muddy and Elizabeth stayed in the parsonage, much to Mr. Darcy’s disappointment and his valet’s displeasure when he cleaned his employer’s boots.

Friday, Mr. Darcy spent the morning riding over the estate with his aunt’s steward and was so late getting back that Elizabeth had come and gone from her regular music practice. He sighed and was disappointed, but told himself there was still tomorrow. Her family was arriving, so he planned to meet her in the grove on her morning walk if he could, or perhaps her family would arrive late in the day and she would come to practice her music at her usual time.

He had spent the morning thinking of her as he rode across the Kent countryside. He was decided. He would offer for her. He really had no other choice, as he had come to love her so dearly he was sure he would go mad without her. He had surprised himself when, several days ago, his cousin Fitzwilliam had commented on how well Miss Bennet had looked at dinner. Something in Fitzwilliam’s expression, in the way he waggled his eyebrows and smiled at Miss Bennet when they rejoined the ladies, had set Darcy on edge. He was jealous! He, Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy, was jealous of his verbose cousin and the many smiles he cajoled from his beloved.