Character and Countenance (Timeless Love: Darcy and Lizzy variations)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Summer 1789 Elm Grove, Cheshire Thomas Bennet

“ R eally, Mavery, I do not see what all the fuss is about. I can spend the summer at Longbourn just as easily as Elm Grove.” Mr. Thomas Bennet tugged at his cravat. Had he been at home, he would have loosened it by now, destroying the careful work of his valet.

“At Longbourn you would be alone.” Viscount James Mavery argued forcefully. “It has been a year since your father passed away. I understand your desire to mourn him; Harold Bennet was a good man. But a twelve-month has gone and you are in need of a change of scenery. My home is pleasant during the hot summer months. I promise you will have all the solitude you need should you find my company too taxing.”

Thomas sighed. “I miss him,” he muttered. “I was not ready to inherit. Father was supposed to live for twenty more years. Have you any idea how hunted I have been? Almost as soon as I entered half mourning, the ladies of Meryton and the surrounding environs sought my attention. It is my estate they want, not me. I cannot abide mercenary ladies.”

Mavery nodded. “I completely understand your frustration. Ladies have chased me since I was but a lad of fifteen. Though I have avoided the parson’s trap thus far, my mother insists that it is time for me to seek a wife.” He pitched his voice higher to imitate his mother. “‘You are six-and-twenty now, James. Find a bride and secure our line!’”

Thomas snorted. “If Lady Elmwood ever heard you do that, she would box your ears!” The two gentlemen laughed, and the subject turned to other things.

“It is unfortunate that you could not be in town for the season,” Mavery said at length. “Olivia’s come out was a resounding success. I believe she had three proposals before my family left town for Chesire.”

“Did she accept any of them?” Thomas had never met his friend’s younger sister. Indeed, he had never been to Elm Grove either. He and Mavery met at Cambridge seven years prior, and their mutual love of books had ensured their friendship. Together, they had toured the continent in the lap of luxury thanks to the largesse of Lord and Lady Elmwood. Upon their return, Thomas returned to Longbourn to assist his father, and Mavery had gone north to Chesire. Though separated by some distance, they remained in touch through letters and the occasional meeting in town.

And then Thomas’s father had died unexpectedly a year ago. Mavery came to the funeral and offered his unfailing support during his friend’s time of grief. The invitation to visit Elm Grove came by way of a reply to a letter from Thomas filled with expressions of vexation and distaste for the ladies who sought to gain his favor.

“No, Olivia did not accept any offer of marriage.” Mavery chuckled. “What was it she called them? Irritating and irrational fops with nothing but cotton between their ears, I believe she said.”

“Were the offers truly so terrible?” Thomas asked curiously.

His friend nodded. “Each gentleman swanned in, expecting her to fall all over him with gratitude for their offer. Let me see.” He paused, his expression thoughtful. “The first was Viscount Norton, the son of the earl of Tipton. He is a good man, but he openly confessed to proposing because of his mother’s urging. My sister did not wish for that sort of union and sent him away. The other two were brothers, sons of a baronet from Kent. The pair spent the entire season competing for my sister’s favor. They even showed up to propose together.”

“Norton is an intelligent man,” Thomas mused. “I wonder at your sister calling him irritating and irrational.”

“That insult I believe she used to reference the second two gentlemen. I believe she used duty bound and stricken with propriety to describe Norton.” Mavery chuckled again. “An apt descriptor. Norton has diligently seen to responsibilities, behaving with the utmost decorum in every situation.”

“It makes him seem rather stiff, if you want my opinion.” Thomas chuckled and shook his head. “I believe his father wishes him to make a match of at least equal consequence. I suppose they are grateful that there are several daughters of earls in the country.”

Mavery grinned. “I understand that Lady Catherine still seeks a husband,” he said, looking diverted.

“Bramsley’s sister? Is she still unwed?” Thomas Bennet had only met Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam once, and that was enough. The lady was handsome and tall, though not beautiful in the fashionable sense. It was, however, her sharp tongue and imperious attitude that had dissuaded Thomas from trying to know her better. Besides, as she was the daughter of an earl, he was beneath her notice.

“Indeed. Bramsley writes their father has given her an ultimatum. Choose a husband before the end of the year or he will arrange a match for her.” Mavery shuddered. “I have already informed my parents that I refuse to be coerced into matrimony. Hopefully, the earl of Matlock does not approach them to broker an arrangement.”

The carriage slowed and turned onto a tree-lined gravel drive. English Elms stood sentinel on both sides, their boughs mingling together thirty feet in the air, shading the journey.

Thomas turned and looked out the carriage window, waiting for a break in the trees. After ten minutes, the drive opened up and the occupants could see the manor house.

“It is lovely,” Thomas said in admiration.

The building, made of brick, had an intricate pattern-work in black stone mingled in with red. It featured many windows, none of which were bricked up. Vining roses climbed on one side, red blooms standing out against the green of the leaves.

As the carriage came to a stop before a covered portico, Thomas’s gaze fell on three figures waiting for their arrival. He recognized Lord and Lady Elmwood, but the third was unfamiliar to him. Presumably she was Lady Olivia, Mavery’s only sister.

The conveyance stopped, and the door opened. The viscount climbed out first and Thomas followed. Feet firmly on the ground, he had his first proper look at Lady Olivia. He barely stopped his mouth from falling open in shock.

Lovely was not an apt enough description for the lady. She had dark, curly hair and was of middling height. Her light and pleasing figure attracted him, but it was her eyes that drew him in and ensnared his soul. They sparkled with good humor and were very fine. And though she stood demurely next to her parents, Thomas could see that she vibrated with excitement and was very nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet. Impatience must have won out, for she launched herself into her brother’s arms, exclaiming her pleasure at his presence.

“It is very good to see you, too, poppet!” Mavery kissed his sister’s cheek before he released her. Lady Olivia looped her arm through his and turned toward Thomas.

“Mother, Father, you know my friend. My dear sister, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. Bennet, my sister.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Thomas said to Olivia. He turned to the earl and countess. “I thank you for the invitation to your home.”

“It has been some time since we met,” Lady Elmwood said kindly. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

He acknowledged her kind words, his gaze straying to Lady Olivia again. She watched him curiously, and when she noted his stare, she raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Let us go inside,” Lady Elmwood directed. “Tea is ready. James, you may show Mr. Bennet to his rooms after that.”

“Please, call me Bennet. Or Thomas, if you would like.”

His host and hostess agreed, and they went into the house. Thomas handed off his hat and gloves to the waiting butler and followed the Maverys into a handsomely appointed parlor down the hall.

During tea, the conversation swirled as the earl and countess peppered their son with questions. The conversation included Thomas, but after he answered their inquiries, his natural reticence caused him to become silent.

“My brother speaks very highly of you.”

He glanced up. Lady Olivia stood next to his chair, a plate filled with pastries and scones in her hand. She extended it to him and he took it automatically.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Thank you, Lady Olivia,” he said. “I think very highly of your brother as well.”

She took the chair next to him. “James has very few genuine friends,” she continued. “You are the only one he writes to regularly.”

Thomas did not know what to say. He regarded Lady Olivia steadily, not sure how to respond. Did she wish to convey something? Clearing his throat nervously, he glanced away. “Mavery has been a faithful friend,” he finally murmured awkwardly. Distractedly, he picked up a tart and took a bite. A mixture of sweet and sour lemon blended perfectly together, dancing on his tongue.

Thomas glanced back at Lady Olivia. She smiled and her fine eyes lit up. He could not describe the color precisely. They were dark, with hints of gold and green speckled throughout. Hidden in the depths was something more, something he could not quite put a finger on.

Her perfectly shaped cupid bow lips turned up in a small smile, and she stood. Turning to her parents, she excused herself, claiming a wish to walk in the gardens for a time.

Thomas watched her glide from the room, his heart racing as he admired her graceful, effortless manner. When she was out of sight, he turned and noted Mavery watching him with a knowing look on his face.

His friend joined him, waggling his eyebrows.

“What?” Thomas asked defensively.

“You have my blessing, old chap,” Mavery replied. “I could not ask for anyone better for my most beloved sister.”

Thomas grinned wryly. “She is your only sister,” he jested halfheartedly, even as his gaze went to the doorway where she had vanished moments before. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Would your parents disapprove?”

“Not at all.” Mavery chuckled. “My mother is the third daughter of a second son. Theirs is a love match. They want nothing less than that for their children.”

Nodding, Thomas slowly grinned. “Then I suppose I had best thank you yet again for inviting me to Elm Grove.”

“To think you did not want to come.” Mavery slapped his knees and stood. “Come, now, let me show you to your chambers. Mother put you in the family wing.”

Thomas had never courted a lady before and did not know how to go about doing so. He was a guest in her home, besides. How did one woo a worthy woman right under the noses of her parents and her older brother?

Lady Olivia, it seemed, had just as much interest in Thomas as he had in her. She sought him out after his morning rides, drawing him into the gardens for a walk. There, they soon moved from trivial pleasantries to more engaging conversations. Lady Olivia, he learned, was as voracious for the written word as her brother. Her education had been unconventional and broad. Their discussions were lively discourses, and they debated the finer points of the philosophers with great vigor.

Mavery and his parents watched it all with great interest and no interference. Thomas marveled at their willingness to allow a gentleman of modest means to court Lady Olivia. She could marry far better than a country squire, but that did not seem to matter to anyone at Elm Grove.

The summer passed in a whirlwind of picnics, parties, and assemblies. Thomas asked Lady Olivia to dance at every function. At the end of August, the Maverys threw a ball, inviting all their nearest neighbors. Elm Grove was located very near the Derbyshire border; thus, invitations were extended to guests from both counties.

The morning before the ball, Mavery and Thomas rode out together. They crested a hill and reined in their mounts. As they looked out over the fields below them, Mavery turned and addressed Thomas.

“You do intend to propose to my sister before you return to Longbourn, do you not?” he asked.

Thomas cleared his throat nervously. “Yes,” he replied. “I mean to ask Olivia for her hand tonight.”

“Good!” Mavery grinned. “I would say a courtship of three months is ample time to decide if you two suit.”

“We do. Suit, that is.” Thomas sighed. “I have never met a lady who so perfectly suits me. It is as if we are two halves of a whole—”

“Save your lover’s speech for my sister, I beg you!” Mavery cried. “Come on, I shall race you back to the house.” He kicked his mount into motion and Thomas hastened to follow.

Baths were ready for the gentlemen when they arrived, and Thomas gratefully washed the stench of horse from his body. There was still some time before the ball, but guests had already started arriving. Those who came from some distance were to spend the night, for the distance to travel home was too great to depart directly after the ball.

From his window, he saw Bramsley arrive with his wife, parents, and elder sister. The earl and Countess of Matlock dwelt at their estate in Derbyshire during the summers. The Darcys of Pemberley traveled with them, for Lady Anne Fitzwilliam had married Mr. George Darcy of Pemberley six years ago. Thomas knew from Mavery that they had a child, a five-year-old boy.

“No doubt it nettled Lady Catherine excessively that her younger sister married after only one season in town,” he said to himself. The selfsame lady exited the carriage with her nose so far in the air it was a wonder she did not trip on her long skirts.

Others came and soon it was time for Thomas to join his host and hostess in the large parlor room that connected to the ballroom. Mavery greeted him enthusiastically as he entered, drawing him away to speak with Bramsley. Deep in conversation, he almost missed Lady Olivia’s entrance.

She looked resplendent. Becomingly styled dark locks framed her face and a few curls kissed her neck. Her emerald green gown fit her perfectly, highlighting her best features. She had lace at her neckline and sleeves, and the delicate gold embroidery that decorated her bodice also graced the hemline of the gown. White satin, elbow-length, and gloves encased her arms, and she held a delicate fan in one hand. Pearls and emeralds decorated her neck and ears, and emerald studded pins were in her hair.

“What say you, Bennet?” Bramsley asked.

“Hmm?” he replied distractedly.

“I believe our friend’s attention is more agreeably engaged,” Mavery jested.

Bramsley’s gaze followed Mavery’s, and he grinned. “It is about time that one of you joined me in my misery,” he jested. “Congratulations, Bennet.”

“Say nothing to deter him,” Mavery chastised. “I do not want to give him any excuse to run away before he becomes my brother.”

They laughed. Thomas barely attended to their banter, for his attention stayed fixed on Olivia as she moved about the crowded room. Without excusing himself, he moved away from his friends, traveling in a direction where he might converge with his lady love.

“Lady Olivia,” he greeted her when he reached her side.

“Good evening, Mr. Bennet,” she said politely. Her twinkling eyes betrayed her good humor, and he smiled, happy that she looked pleased to see him.

“I wondered if I might claim your first set,” he said. “And your supper set.”

Olivia’s smile widened. “They are yours,” she replied. “I would not grant them to any other.”

Thomas could not contain his joy. Two sets at a private ball were tantamount to a declaration, and she did not seem at all opposed to that. “Thank you.” He scooped up her hand and kissed it, causing a delightful blush to spread across her cheeks.

He stayed by her side until the ball opened. Her arm looped through his, she led him from one group of people to another, greeting them and engaging the guests in effortless conversation. Her gift to put others at ease was a blessing to Thomas, who had always struggled to catch the tone of the discussions going on around him, especially when he did not know the speakers well.

At length, the first set was called, and he took his place across from his beloved on the dance floor. His gaze never left Olivia’s face as they moved through the steps of the dance, and when the set concluded, he led her off the floor and toward the terrace doors, which were opened to let in the cool night breeze.

Positioned at the stone railing that overlooked the gardens, Thomas and Olivia stood silently. Lanterns twinkled along the path, keeping the area well illuminated. Her arm still looped through his, she leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

“I am very happy, Thomas,” she murmured.

He started at the use of his Christian name. It filled him with warmth, and he felt emboldened. As he turned to face her, Olivia’s head came up off his shoulder. He gazed down, taking in her intelligent, sparkling eyes and lovely visage.

“Olivia,” he began. He cleared his throat and chewed on the inside of his cheek. I need to stop that nervous habit, he chastised himself. “Olivia,” he said again. “Dearest, loveliest Olivia. I am not an eloquent man. At least, I do not believe myself to be. I know not what to say, other than I love you dearly. I would like nothing more than to offer you my heart, my hand, and a share of all my worldly possessions. Will you marry me?”

His beloved smiled, and joy radiated from her countenance. “Yes,” she replied. “I love you, too. I have never met a man who challenged me, who matched my intelligence and interests. More than that, you are genuine and kind in every respect, not puffed up or pompous. I would be honored to marry you.”

Hesitantly—for he feared offending her—he brought his hand to her cheek, cupping it gently. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly. She returned his affection, his love. Nothing could be more perfect.

Thomas and Olivia searched for Lord Elmwood, requesting a moment of his time to tell him their news. Though she was only just nineteen, having had her birthday the week before, Olivia’s father granted his blessing and permission for them to wed, pleasure evident on his countenance. They announced the betrothal at supper, and the happy couple spent the rest of the ball receiving well-wishes from the other guests.

One interaction stood out. The earl and countess of Matlock’s enthusiastic well-wishes sharply contrasted with the sour looks Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam bestowed upon them. Thomas and Olivia learned that she, too, was engaged and would be married to Sir Lewis de Bourgh later that autumn.

Olivia expressed her pleasure on Lady Catherine’s behalf so kindly that the older lady’s stern visage softened, and she smiled a genuine smile. Thomas thought that her happier countenance rendered her rather more handsome, though not nearly as lovely as his soon-to-be wife.

Mavery joined Bennet in matrimony less than six months later, marrying Lady Maria Millet. Both couples were blissfully happy.