A Summer to Remember (In Want of a Wife #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Elizabeth, what do you think of this fabric? Feel its lightness! Imagine how many heads you would turn if you were dressed in this deep blue.” With an enthusiastic flourish, Lady Henrietta Acaster held a swatch of silk aloft.

Setting aside her drawing book, Elizabeth regarded her effusive aunt with amusement.

Lady Acaster was Mr Bennet’s step-sister and, as a woman of independent wealth and status, was rather too accustomed to having her own way.

With a teasing smile, Elizabeth observed, “As I have no desire to attract any notice, I suppose I should lie and say that I do not like it.”

“And why should the niece of the estimable Lady Acaster not wish to cause a sensation?”

“You may enjoy being the centre of everyone’s attention, but I do not.”

Lady Acaster bestowed her most withering look upon Elizabeth. “What a trial it is, to be the prettiest woman in all of Mayfair and attract every gentleman you encounter.”

Elizabeth blushed. “That is your opinion. It is not mine.”

“Are you quite certain there is no handsome face that makes your heart flutter? Your mother writes to me often, scolding me that I am yet to find you a good match. Is there really no one who might suit you?”

And yet she hardly ever communicates with me, thought Elizabeth dully.

Eager to change the subject, she replied, “I wish I could oblige. However, I cannot help but wonder whether the gentlemen of Mayfair are more interested in your wealth than they are in me. Alas, my mother’s wishes must remain unfulfilled. ”

“A shame! Perhaps we shall cast our net wider than London.” A mischievous glint sparkled in Lady Acaster’s eyes.

“You are scheming,” Elizabeth noted with apprehension. “What do you mean by that remark?”

Her aunt set aside the fabric. “As you know, I have had an offer for some of my father’s farmland in Derbyshire.

I had no plans to sell it, but this unexpected proposition sets out such favourable terms that I would be a fool to dismiss it out of hand.

My intention is to travel to Derbyshire and speak with this prospective buyer in person. I wish to get the measure of him.”

“Where shall we stay?” Elizabeth knew that her aunt would never condescend to reside in anything less than a significant estate. “I thought your land in Derbyshire only contained working farms.”

“I have written to Lord Matlock, requesting his assistance. A widower, he is the brother of my close friend Lady Anne, God rest her soul. His estate is Haddon Court, one of the largest in Derbyshire, not far from Pemberley, where I recall you spent one summer.”

Pemberley. Elizabeth’s heart clenched, Lady Acaster’s remark transporting her to a different time.

She was fifteen, awkward, skinny, and, aside from the Bennets’ elderly governess, utterly alone.

Lady Anne Darcy had died some eight years before, leaving behind a young daughter in desperate need of a playfellow.

Thanks to her aunt’s acquaintance with the Darcy family, Elizabeth’s name had been suggested as a suitable companion, and Mrs Bennet had gladly seized upon the opportunity to be rid of her most spirited daughter.

Arrangements were made, and Elizabeth, homesick and heartsore, had journeyed to Derbyshire one hot and listless summer to befriend little Miss Darcy.

How she survived the separation from her own sisters, Elizabeth did not know.

Every night for a month she wept against her pillow until there were no more tears left to cry.

To Miss Darcy, Elizabeth became a faithful friend, but the girl was five years her junior and excruciatingly shy.

Miss Darcy’s father, a serious gentleman of excellent character, suffered from periods of ill-health and was often abed.

There was a younger Mr Darcy, a proud and indifferent man of twenty-two, who took great pains to remind Elizabeth of the correct way to behave, as though she were a corrupting influence upon his younger sister.

If he was not casting a critical eye over her, then he often shut himself away in his study, preoccupied with helping his ailing father with the business on the estate.

The Darcy household was nothing like her real family.

No laughter rang through Pemberley, no music except diligent practice at the pianoforte, scarcely any conversation apart from that which was necessary and of intellectual merit.

She was not treated unkindly, but it was as though she were a ghost, living a half-existence in a life that did not belong to her.

Loneliness had pressed down upon her, an echoing weight crushing her body until the arrival of Miss Darcy’s garrulous cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam.

A handsome youth of nineteen, he had the gift of making anyone feel at ease.

Mr Fitzwilliam had listened to her when no one else had; he had lifted her spirits when all she wanted to do was weep.

And he came to my side when I needed it the most.

Lady Acaster cut through Elizabeth’s thoughts. “I await Lord Matlock’s reply. What a fine adventure we shall have! The rugged hills of Derbyshire will suit you very well, I think.”

Memories of that summer flooded through Elizabeth; her time at Pemberley was one that afforded only bittersweet remembrances.

Perhaps Haddon Court would be different.

Attempting a smile, she endeavoured to sound eager, desperately wishing that she shared her aunt’s enthusiasm. “I am at your disposal.”