One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy by Diana J Oaks Page A

it a point of contention in such a way. A direct assault on his pride, she reasoned, would only harden the man against improvement should he ever realize the fault in himself. In any case, she would not give him the satisfaction of returning his stare tonight, for that would only serve to feed his pride and vanity. Elizabeth kept her eyes cast downward, determined to keep her own counsel and not give Mr. Darcy a second thought.
    Mr. Darcy was taken aback by the abrupt end to the conversation just as it was reaching what was, for him, an emotional fever pitch. He had seen in her dark eyes that she had not spoken all. They had danced with the spark of something he could not name, yet it was every bit as tangible as the words she had spoken. She had turned his words back on him, exactly as he had heard her do to others, although he was left unsatisfied by the exchange. She said not to give her a second thought, he mused. That was wise counsel indeed, for any thought of her at all was leading him to dangerous ground, and yet he could not take his eyes off her as she demurely stitched on her embroidery, completely oblivious to the flame she had ignited in Mr. Darcy.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Fourteen
     
    Farewell to Netherfield
     
    E lizabeth slept with peace that night, content in the knowledge that Jane was recovering well, that Bingley clearly loved her sister, and that the return to Longbourn was upon them. She awoke with felicity equal to that with which she slept and dressed and packed her own things quickly. Consciousness did not come so swiftly to Jane, however, and Elizabeth found herself ready to depart all alone.
    It was no matter, Elizabeth sighed, for Jane needed the rest, and they could not go until the carriage arrived anyway. Elizabeth penned the dispatch to Longbourn, requesting it be sent around as quickly as possible. She gave the note to Mrs. Nicholls, who saw to its delivery.
    Elizabeth, relishing the opportunity for one last solitary walk around Netherfield Park before breakfast,   was soon upon a pathway leading away from the house. The trail, she quickly discovered, put her on a meandering route toward the stables. From a distance, Elizabeth could see the grooms already at their work, although the sun had just come up. The orchards beyond the stables were nearly bare of foliage but looked interesting, and Elizabeth pushed forward with the intention of exploring. Just beyond the stables, as she passed dog kennels, her footsteps triggered the baying of the hunting dogs, and her thoughts turned to her canine friend, Apollo. A detour through the kennels to bid farewell to the hound seemed like a fine idea, for she had developed a fondness for the beautiful animal.
    Picking up her dress and petticoat, she navigated a muddy patch between her and the outbuilding. As soon as she passed through the gate, she found herself before five handsome dogs sharing the same enclosure. They were jumping, baying, and raising a ruckus that was certain to catch attention from the stables if it continued, so she hushed them, surprised to find that they settled quickly on her command. When she called to Apollo, he approached her with the same friendliness that he had shown before, and she crouched to pet him as he squirmed with delight at her attention.
    “Good morning, my sweet Apollo!” Elizabeth crooned in his ear. “You are looking as fine today as ever.” She kissed his nose again, several times, petting him vigorously. “My, but you possess such a handsome coat!” She stroked his back, static electricity from the crisp morning sparking as her fingers passed along his silky fur. “I envy it most wretchedly, but as Mary would remind me, we are not to covet, and here I find myself, jealous of a dog.” She laughed, her hands cradling the dog's ears as she rocked his head playfully, and then scratched his neck affectionately, seeking to find the spots that most pleased him.
    “Apollo appears to inspire envy all around