“Joke? Oh, I don’t think Mr. Darcy minded too much. And he made the grade. He had on his team colors.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Well, of course he did. Darcy is no fool.He always follows the rules. In fact,” she said, her eyes resting on Elizabeth’s weathered leather jacket, “he usually sets the standards by which others live.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does.” Elizabeth sipped her wine.I’m sure he does.
The arrival of The Great Man himself ended further discussion of all things orange and unpleasant. Darcy was dismissively apologetic for his lateness and, Elizabeth noted, unchanged in appearance from their earlier encounter: still dressed head to toe in black, still grim-faced, and still annoyed at any show of friendliness. He was cool, even to the effusive greetings laid upon him by his great defender, Caroline.
Elizabeth said hello and introduced him to Brian. After a polite inquiry or two and a little effort made toward small talk with Jane, Darcy disappeared behind his menu. After that, he appeared disinterested in anything but Charles’s jokes, whatever was on his phone screen, and the plate of mushroom agnolotti placed in front of him. Elizabeth took off to the restroom to rid her mind of him—and to blot out the oil from the garlic bread Brian had dropped in her lap.
Darcy is insufferable.What a frightening couple he and Carroty Caroline would make. Or had made? Elizabeth watched them as she strolled back to the table. While Jane and Charles had bent their heads together all night, tasting each other’s dinners and talking quietly, Caroline and Darcy were the exact opposite. She leaned toward him; he leaned away. He waved off her offering of drippy green salad and studiously averted his eyes from hers. If there had ever been something between them, it was over. And Darcy was best friends with her brother?Awkward. Elizabeth slipped back into her seat and took a sip of wine, giggling as she drank. Hmm,hisleather jacket wasn’t distressed. It was rich and buttery soft. Elizabeth tried to imagine how many baby cows had sacrificed their hides for that fine piece of fashionable outerwear.Poor babies.
While Elizabeth worried for young farm animals, Darcy was admiring her figure. A former athlete, he supposed. That would help explain her aggression.Pity. All that anger and wit in one woman, and her boyfriend is a meek lab rat who drops food on her?The couple’s imbalance made no sense to him. He sipped the surprisingly good wine and watched the interactions around the table. Hurst was his usual garrulous self. Louisa seemed to have determined Jane was suitable company, butCaroline—ever quick to seal her first impressions—was operating at full power. Elizabeth was giggling into her wine glass. Interesting—no one else was laughing or even paying heed. Her hair was thick and wavy, he noticed, quite a contrast to Caroline and Louisa. The twins would make a perfect set at one of those Meryton football games. He smiled.Have to see if Charles noticed that too.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar ringtone, one that rarely brought good news. He jumped up from the table and left the room, unaware of the flashing green eyes glaring at his back.
CHAPTER TWO
Jane rarely asked a favor, so it was difficult to refuse her on the following Wednesday when she begged Elizabeth to join her at Netherfield, Charles’s country house in Connecticut. “I barely know his sisters, and they’re coming on Sunday. Please come for the weekend and be my backup. You can bring Brian.”
Elizabeth hemmed and hawed. Brian was now her ex-boyfriend, and she hadn’t told Jane that bit of news. When he drove her home from Marciano’s on Friday night, she told him she needed a break. She had hoped to let him down gently, but after checking whether the garlic bread incident had anything to do with her decision, he’d agreed so quickly to the break up that she was left feeling annoyed. What was his problem, anyway? What washerproblem, come to think of it? Why had she never felt a real spark with a nice man like Brian? Comfortable was nice, but a little sizzle would be better. A lot better.
Jane’s weekend offer promised comfort, not to mention a cozy bed, beautiful countryside, and walking paths. And the leaves were starting to change color. So Elizabeth agreed and caught the early train on Saturday morning. She was surprised not to find Jane or Charles waiting for her at the station among the lineup of black BMWs, Mercedes, Range Rovers, and Lexus SUVs.
After spying the taxi stand, she walked toward it down the row of gleaming cars, staring at her phone screen. Her battery was dying, andshe hoped it had enough power to find the address she’d tapped into it earlier.
“Miss Bennet? Elizabeth Bennet!”
A clipped English voice broke her concentration, and she stumbled.No way.She turned around slowly and met the eyes of Mr. Noir, er, Darcy. She couldn’t remember his first name other than it was long and rather antiquated.Ferdinand?
“Elizabeth? I’m here to pick you up.” He stood there smoldering at her in his expensive Saturday wear: jeans and a thick, black turtleneck sweater. “Do you have any other bags?” he asked, gesturing at her weekender.
“Um, no.” She shook her head and walked toward him. I can’t believe they sent him. I can’t believe he was willing.“Why areyouhere? What happened to Jane and Charles?”
He took her bag and tossed it into the trunk of a black BMW. “Well, they’re likely still having their coffee at the house. I was driving up this morning, and Charles called and asked if I could pick you up.” He paused and watched her staring at his car. “It doesn’t bite.”
“Do you?” Elizabeth quickly retorted.
His eyes widened. “Not since I was three or four. Or so I’m told.” He opened her car door. “The house is only about fifteen minutes away.”
The first few minutes passed by quietly save for the soft tones of Django Reinhardt’s jazz guitar playing on the impressive stereo system. Elizabeth glanced over at her driver. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“You’re welcome. I figured I owe you. I never thanked you for your sock subterfuge.” He glanced at her and then back at the curving road. “Actually, I’ve never owned an article of orange clothing.”
“Not even a pumpkin costume? Oh yeah, Brits don’t do Halloween. Sorry.”
“Why did you do it? Say that I was wearing orange?”
Elizabeth examined him as he concentrated on navigating around some construction signs. He hadn’t shaved, but his hair was freshly cut and his fingernails looked manicured. He was a pretty picture of wealth and elegance as he steered the luxury car. “Wait, are you telling me those socks didn’t have any orange on them? Hmm, it was a narrow stripe. Might have been the elastic. An honest mistake.”
Darcy slowed to a stop at a red light and turned to look at her, a bemused expression on his face.
She shrugged. “Okay, it didn’t seem fair to out you with everybody watching. What would you know about wearing team colors? Or care, anyway, about a college’s traditions?”
He nodded and, noting the green light, shifted gears and accelerated. “Fair enough. Thank you.”
They made slow time behind a pickup truck filled with boxes. “You’re not going to pass this guy? The road is clear.”
“There’s a curve up ahead, and really, we’ll only save a minute or two if I pass.”
