She rolled her eyes. “Poor you. Here, there, Pemberley—so much real estate to keep track of.”
Darcy handed her a soupspoon. “It’s simply exhausting, I tell you.” His solemn tone was betrayed by a small smile.
“Acres and acres. And the luxury of so many bedrooms.” She sighed dramatically. “Jane and I always shared.”
“Well, it’s a bit excessive. There’s mine, and two guestrooms, and another used occasionally by my housekeeper. She used to stay here and take care of Coco when I was traveling.”
Elizabeth’s eyes rose from her soup to his face. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, I’m so sorry about Coco. We never talked about it at Pemberley. Will you tell me what happened?”
She actually wanted to know more about Coco’s beginnings than her end—and about Georgiana—but this wasn’t the time. A few weeks ago, curled up in bed late one night, she realized she’d never even heard Darcy say his sister’s name. Now, when they were on the verge of something amazing and wonderful and new, was not the time to probe his deepest pain. There would be time for questions and gently handled conversations later. This was too special to taint with sadness. But from the shadow that crossed Darcy’s face, she had.Dammit.
He sipped his water before answering her in a controlled, quiet voice. “She was very old. Fifteen. She’d had a tumor removed last fall and appeared fine, but her heart gave out.”
Elizabeth ran her thumb over his knuckles. “She was a beautiful dog. You were wonderfully sweet with her. I’m glad I got to meet her at Netherfield.” She looked up at him, her mind mulling over something. “Your cats…?”
He swallowed a bite of sandwich and looked at her, bemused. “Ah, Yogi and Carmen? You met them?” His eyes drifted over to the nearby chair where Carmen slept.
“Uh-huh. They’re cuties. And a little bit familiar. I think I met at least one of them at Netherfield with Coco. Right?” Elizabeth swallowed a spoonful of soup and gazed at Darcy. He was focused on his sandwich again, poor starving man. He looked up briefly and nodded.
“They’re littermates. I brought them both back. They shouldn’t be separated.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she said warmly. “How kind of you. That’s amazingly, perfectly right.”
Her eyes stung, and she didn’t know what else to say. She looked down at her plate and silently finished her sandwich. This dear lovely man—who, after a bad beginning and a senseless misunderstanding, had never been anything but kind and artlessly, sometimes stupidly, awkward around her—had brought home that black kitten from Netherfield. And its sibling. Oh, he was too good. And he seemed unable to make any more small talk.
Elizabeth sighed when she finished her last spoonful of Mrs. Reynolds’s delicious minestrone. She peeked over at Darcy. He looked miserable.What’s wrong?She stopped herself from asking. She’d seen him look this way in the past when he was unsure of himself or of her.
She’d have to help him for once.
After wiping a few crumbs onto her plate, she sat back among the cushions. “This day has turned out to be pretty wonderful—amazing food in a beautiful home with charming company. Thank you.”
Darcy looked at her and smiled. He stood up and moved the tray out of the way to a larger side table, then leaned over and gave the cat an affectionate pat. “Hey Carmen,” he said softly.
“You named them for an opera and a baseball player?” Elizabeth asked wryly as she watched the tender scene. She’d missed this, missed him, this man she’d caught glimpses of while at Pemberley.
He turned to her and smiled. “Opera? Never. Just baseball. Yogi and Carmen Berra. Surrogate great-grandparents for a lot of children.” He stood and gestured toward the sofa. “Do you mind? After last night, the window seat’s a bit of a strain on my back.”
“Oh no,” Elizabeth cried. “I’m sorry.” She stood up and moved toward the sofa. He waited for her to get comfortable.
“So—are the cushions firm?”
She looked up and found his handsome face biting back a grin, his eyes alight with mirth. “Ahem.” Elizabeth patted the cushion beside her. “Quite firm to the touch. Of course, itisa Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth reached out and pulled him down next to her. “You are a fast learner, Mr. Darcy.” She pulled up her knees and leaned toward him. She had so many thoughts and questions, but he kept dropping something about himself that was so dear, followed by something that was worrisome or teasing, that she could hardly respond. She took a deep breath and met his gaze, dark and questioning.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“I’m fantastic,” she said earnestly, wiggling her toes. “Just filling in all your blanks. There are a few fundamental things about you I need to know.”
She saw him looking at her toes and biting back a smile.Oops.She had her feet on his furniture. “Oh, sorry. I’m endlessly uncouth.” She shifted, moving them to the floor.
“No, no. It’s fine. Put those back up here.” He grinned, reaching for her feet. “That’s a fine shade of pink on those toes. And that ring?”
“Ahem, you. Behave.” She gave him a mock-serious look. “Now then, what’s your favorite color?”
“Orange,” he said solemnly. She smacked his arm. “All right, I favor blue. Cobalt, as on a runway’s landing lights or the cover ofThe Great Gatsby.” He smiled, pleased to have surprised her. “And you?
“I like periwinkle blue and dark red, but not together.” Elizabeth saw his eyes light up, and she took a breath. “Favorite food?”
