Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Lord Granfield returned to Millwood Cottage within a se’nnight of his departure. He was spared the immediate necessity of giving any account of his journey, for—to Elizabeth’s astonishment—he was not alone, but followed closely by his sister.
Elizabeth had scarcely risen before she recognised her and crossed the room at once. “Aunt Rosalind!” she exclaimed, all composure momentarily forgotten at the sight of her great-aunt.
The embrace that followed was warm and entirely unreserved, propriety yielding—as it sometimes might—to long absence and genuine affection. It had been several years since the two ladies had met in person, their intimacy sustained by frequent and uncommonly lengthy correspondence.
“My dear Elizabeth,” Aunt Rosalind said, drawing back only to examine her great-niece’s face with evident approval.
“I declare I have seldom seen a young lady look so entirely content. Engagement—and your intended—must agree with you exceedingly well. I would not have missed being with you at such a time for the world.”
“You are the greatest comfort to me already,” Elizabeth replied, smiling. “I had only just written to beg your assistance.”
“So your letter and I have crossed upon the road,” Aunt Rosalind returned lightly. “Edmund hinted that I was needed upon urgent business in Hertfordshire, and I suspected it might have something to do with your wedding. But now, introduce me to your companions, my dear.”
Elizabeth turned, recovering her composure. “Miss Darcy, may I present my aunt, Lady Rosalind James—Lady Rosalind, Miss Georgiana Darcy—and Mrs Annesley, her companion.”
Georgiana, who had observed the reunion with gentle pleasure, stepped forward and curtsied. Aunt Rosalind received her with marked kindness.
“I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy,” she said warmly. “My great-niece has written of your companionship in these last weeks and, naturally, has also included much about your brother. I am glad at last to meet those who will soon be so closely connected with her.”
A faint blush rose in Georgiana’s cheeks, yet she answered with gentle steadiness. “You are very kind, ma’am. I am most happy in our connexion, and my brother’s happiness is very dear to me.”
Aunt Rosalind’s expression softened. “I can readily believe it.”
Georgiana inclined her head with a quiet smile. “While they are not yet married, I already esteem Elizabeth as a sister. I greatly enjoy her company.”
“Then I am pleased to have the opportunity to join you,” Aunt Rosalind replied, her tone both cordial and appraising. “I suspect we shall find ourselves much engaged in one another’s company between now and the wedding—if my brother has permitted the happy couple to fix a date.”
Lord Granfield cleared his throat with faint resignation.
“The date, I am told, will arrive rather sooner than I might have preferred,” he said drily, “which is precisely why I prevailed upon my sister to accompany me. Someone must ensure that matters are conducted with proper care, and I am certainly not equal to answering questions concerning lace and flowers.”
Aunt Rosalind cast him a look of mild amusement. “Edmund, you have always possessed excellent judgement. For the present, however, you may safely leave such concerns to the ladies, and allow us to determine what truly requires attention.”
Having thus been dismissed, and appearing content to have secured reinforcement, Lord Granfield withdrew, leaving the ladies to their conversation.
Elizabeth smiled; as the door closed behind her grandfather, Aunt Rosalind’s words about fixing a date lingered in her mind.
And therein lay the difficulty.
If her aunt had come to guide her in the practicalities of a wedding, she must first determine what it was she herself desired.
The question was not the gown she should wear, nor the guests to be invited, nor even the fixing of the date—at least not in its essence. It was something far more intimate: where did Elizabeth consider home?
It would be simple enough for them to marry at the church in Meryton. It was the parish she knew best, having spent most of her life there, and she possessed many friends in the neighbourhood. The arrangement could be managed with ease and without display.
But was that suitable for such an occasion? Ought not at least some members of the ton be invited?
Her uncertainty was heightened by the fact that, even though Netherfield was hers by right, it was presently let.
She had not resided there in many years—not since shortly after her parents’ deaths.
Indeed, the nights she had spent beneath its roof when Jane had been ill were the longest she had remained there in more than a decade.
It seemed unlikely that it would ever truly become her home.
The greater part of her childhood had been passed at Longbourn; but that house had not felt wholly hers of late, particularly since she had removed to Millwood Cottage under her grandfather’s protection.
By necessity, her married life would be divided between London and the principal estates of Granfield Park and Pemberley. They might visit Netherfield from time to time, but most of their life would be spent elsewhere.
If that were so, what purpose was Netherfield to serve?
Another notion formed—quiet at first, then increasingly insistent. They would visit only rarely. Might there not be a better future for the estate?
The thought concerned its disposition; she must first consult William before allowing herself to pursue it seriously. Even so, once entertained, it would not easily be dismissed.
With an effort, she set the matter aside and returned to the present concern.
“Yes, Aunt Rosalind, let us discuss the date of my nuptials. I pray you have some suggestions for me and might be able to solve at least one of my difficulties.”
Darcy and Richard rode towards Millwood Cottage later that afternoon, the winter light already beginning its slow decline.
The earl had sent word of his return and expressed a wish to see them both, and they had not delayed in complying.
Darcy’s haste, however, was not solely in obedience to the summons; he was eager to see Elizabeth.
“You are ever punctual, Darcy, but you seem particularly eager to reach Millwood this afternoon,” Richard observed, urging his horse to keep pace.
“The earl requested our presence,” Darcy replied evenly.
“Indeed,” Richard returned, with studied innocence. “I cannot conceive of any other inducement that would prompt such haste.”
Darcy declined to dignify the remark with a reply.
Georgiana and Mrs Annesley had remained with Elizabeth during Lord Granfield’s absence, but still Darcy had judged it prudent not to call too frequently at Millwood Cottage—or to extend his visits to the length he might have preferred—while her guardian was away.
He would afford no one even the faintest pretext for censure.
The restraint, however proper, had rendered the past days decidedly less agreeable.
It was not that they had been wholly deprived of one another’s company.
Darcy and Richard, as guests of the Hursts, were seldom without some opportunity of seeing the ladies.
The Hursts’ residence at Netherfield occasioned several engagements, including one or two dinners at which the ladies of Millwood Cottage were present.
Jane and Mary Bennet frequently joined the party from Longbourn, and Elizabeth and Georgiana were often prevailed upon to spend part of the afternoon at Netherfield in return.
These meetings, conducted amidst the animation of a full household and the observant civility of their hosts, differed materially from the ease he had once enjoyed at Millwood.
Before their engagement, they had conversed for hours with little interruption, their conduct remarked upon by only a select few.
Georgiana had openly advocated for the match, while Richard—after his arrival—had been largely indifferent.
The earl had not always viewed the attachment with enthusiasm, yet he had seldom interfered.
Such liberty was no longer theirs—not since their engagement and the gentlemen’s removal to Netherfield.
Mrs Annesley, in particular, observed the couple with attentive vigilance whenever they were in company, her watchfulness heightened in the earl’s absence.
Darcy could hardly fault her prudence, however much he might occasionally wish that her sense of duty were exercised with marginally less zeal where his own conduct was concerned.
“I cannot determine,” Richard remarked one afternoon, after a particularly supervised visit, “whether Mrs Annesley’s chief concern is your sister or you, in recent days.”
“She is employed for Georgiana’s benefit,” Darcy replied.
“Undoubtedly,” Richard agreed. “It is merely unfortunate that her duties appear to extend so conscientiously to the gentleman who provides her salary.”
Darcy cast him a look of restrained impatience. “She performs her role of chaperone with diligence.”
“Exemplary diligence,” Richard corrected. “You must take care, Darcy. Few men can claim to finance their own surveillance.”
Darcy suppressed a sigh. “If the arrangement preserves my sister’s reputation, I shall endure the inconvenience.”
He paused, then added more quietly, “Though I confess I should not object to a moment in which her vigilance were directed elsewhere.”
Richard’s brow lifted. “Indeed?”
Darcy adjusted his gloves with unnecessary precision. “A gentleman may reasonably wish to speak to his intended without feeling himself under inspection.”
“Merely speak?” Richard questioned blandly.
Darcy offered no reply.
He had, at least, been occupied during the time he could not be with his intended. Several estate matters required his attention, and a number of letters had demanded a timely response. Among them was one from his aunt, Lady Catherine.
That one was, in its way, a most extraordinary letter.