Chapter Seventeen
Mary was displeased, but reluctantly accepted that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth should escort her openly to the front of the house. “We have been shut up in this room for some time,” Mr. Darcy explained. “If we all walk out together, there will be less talk.”
And so, they had strolled out into the hall and down the stairs with Mary muttering “Bold as brass,” and Mr. Darcy trying not to smile.
Elizabeth watched it all with wonder. Mr. Darcy in an ebullient mood.
It made her soften towards him to see that even when he was happy, he rarely expressed it.
One had to observe the slight lift of the corners of his mouth, the flash of light in his eyes that did not linger.
It was rather disconcerting; it was also rather appealing.
It made that final drawing very special.
His smiles were so rare and yet he had been smiling for her.
When they reached the top of the stairway, Mr. Darcy spoke with a footman, who made
a quick reply and hurried away towards the servant’s stairs. Elizabeth waited.
“A maid to walk back with Miss Mary,” he explained. “I am told one of the scullery maids has a sister at Longbourn and would not mind a visit.”
“The Taylors,” Mary whispered.
Elizabeth said nothing but reached out to briefly clasp his hand.
When he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it, the sensation of his warm breath on her skin sent a pleasant shiver down her back.
The most difficult part of this courtship, she thought, may be trying to keep my wits about me.
They traversed the stairs without encountering the women of the house.
They were, however, met by both Mr. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley once they had reached the first floor, where they exchanged greetings.
Elizabeth noted that Mr. Bingley’s normally amiable expression transformed into a scowl when he nodded at Mr. Darcy.
She was unsure why Mr. Darcy was in Mr. Bingley’s bad books but was gratified to know Jane’s suitor had them.
She did not trust any person who pretended that they were never angry; she could certainly not trust any person who never became angry.
Such a person could not be one of conviction.
Not even Jane, the best person she knew, was always happy or pleased.
Though Jane’s expressions of upset, disappointment, or anger were tempered, they did exist, and were clear to those who knew her.
Despite their steady correspondence and one London visit, Elizabeth realized, without her time at Longbourn she would not have been able to read Jane well at all.
Aunt Olivia had been right to send her to Hertfordshire.
Intending to leave the men to it, Elizabeth followed Mary across the floor. Ignoring his friend, Mr. Darcy accompanied them to the front entrance, where he bowed.
“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Mary,” he said kindly, then turned to Elizabeth. “Shall I see you at breakfast?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded. “I must tend to Jane first, but yes.” She stepped outside. The day was still cold, but she did not mind it.
“Mary,” she said as they strolled down the outside stairs, “I thank you for coming. How would I ever have been able to converse so privately with Mr. Darcy without you?” Mary harrumphed, and Elizabeth blushed lightly.
“I might have been an old woman before I managed it,” she confessed.
They reached the drive and she gave Mary a fierce embrace.
When Elizabeth released her sister, Mary stepped back and offered a mild reproach.
“I might have been an old woman if I waited for the two of you to finish talking.” She blew a strand of hair from her cheek.
“That must have been the longest proposal ever, and all you allowed him in the end was a courtship. Poor man.”
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, suddenly shy, “it is a very important decision. Mr. Darcy knows his mind, but I have spent much of the past weeks unsure of his regard.” Recall that when he kisses your hand, she told herself sternly.
Mary’s gaze drifted. “And you could not allow yourself to truly examine your own feelings until you were certain of his?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth affirmed. “That is a good way of stating it, Mary, I thank you.”
“You thank me?” Mary asked, her smile mischievous. “Oh, that will not do at all.” She took Elizabeth’s hand. “I would like a new pair of half-boots from London, good ones, new thread at Mrs. Colson’s for my needlework, and a new book,” she said.
“Done,” Elizabeth said, perhaps too quickly.
“That is, of course, for my excellent services today,” Mary continued, her eyes twinkling. “Future chaperoning will require rather a steeper payment.” She bit her lower lip and then said, “I would like a guitar.”
“A guitar?” Elizabeth asked, thinking she had misheard. She had seen them in paintings, but never heard one played. “Perhaps Jane will chaperone in your stead,” she teased. “She is certainly less expensive.”
Mary snorted. “Jane will be too busy staring into Mr. Bingley’s eyes to chaperone you and Mr. Darcy.
And before you suggest it, Kitty will be chaperoning them.
They are far less likely to… well.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really think Papa would send Kitty to do this office once I tell him about your conversation?” She rolled her eyes. “Chocolate cream indeed.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned hot. “You did hear us.”
“Every word,” Mary proclaimed smugly. She sniffed.
“In exchange for chaperoning and not telling Papa about the picture Mr. Darcy kept trying to hide, I want a Spanish guitar. I enjoy the pianoforte, but I shall never truly excel at it, and I am not interested in the harp. I would like an instrument no one else plays.”
“Mary,” Elizabeth began, but stopped. Was Mary worried about comparisons? Her heart ached a little for her sister.
“Oh, stop that,” Mary insisted, stamping one foot on the ground.
“You are so irritating sometimes, Lizzy, honestly! I can see things without unnecessary sentiment.” She tucked her stubbornly errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“I am not after your pity.” Her eyes sparkled, and her chin lifted. “I am after novelty.”
Elizabeth put a hand to her forehead and laughed. A Spanish guitar. I have no idea where to find one. I shall have to consult Uncle Gardiner. “I believe you are a better negotiator than you let on, Mary.”
“Perhaps it is a family trait. When will you let Mr. Darcy know exactly how skilled you are in that particular art?” Mary asked.
“When he comes to ask Papa for the courtship, I think,” Elizabeth replied with a shake of her head. Mary never failed to surprise her. “With you back at Longbourn, there will be no chance for another private conversation while I remain here.”
Mary nodded approvingly. “Well, he cannot think you penniless now, but would that I could be in the room when he discovers you harassing poor Mr. Yeager over your pineapples.” She lifted her eyebrows.
“Oh, and by the by, Lizzy, I should say, ‘at last!’” She turned her face to the sky and tossed her hands in the air. “Let there be light!”
“I beg your pardon, miss?” Elizabeth asked with mock offense that could not hide a laugh. Mary could be rather theatrical when she wished.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Mary giggled, relaxing her pose, “you and Mr. Darcy. A child could see it. Jane and I were only wondering how long it would take you both to admit it.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, Mary. Truly, I could not make him out at all.”
“I knew from Oakham Mount,” Mary said. “When I came around the corner of the final rise, he was staring at you. . .” She tipped her head to one side.
“As though he had been struck by lightning. Oh, Lizzy,” she said with a wistful sigh, “I am a practical woman. I do not think of myself as a romantic at all, but between you and Jane I think I may yet be converted.”
Young Sally Taylor arrived, only a little out of breath. After a quick smile for the girl, Mary twirled, her skirt ruffling out behind her, and struck out for the trail back to Longbourn. She raised one hand in farewell but did not look back.
Bingley put a hand on Darcy’s arm as he escorted Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary through the front hall. “Come speak with me,” he said.
“In a moment, Bingley,” Darcy replied, and moved to catch up. When he had seen the women to the door, he thanked Miss Mary solemnly, offered them both a bow, and took his leave.
When Darcy entered the study, Bingley was standing behind his desk, appearing every bit the master of a grand estate.
“You realize,” Darcy said, addressing his friend, “that I taught you that stance? You cannot intimidate me, Bingley.” Not ever, but especially not today.
Richard was already waiting, leaning back in a leather chair with his legs stretched out before him. He laced his hands behind his head and looked up at Darcy. “Well?” he asked. “Made your apology, did you?”
“I did,” Darcy said, revealing nothing else.
“And?” Bingley prompted him.
“And what, Bingley?” Darcy asked, all innocence.
“Did she forgive you? How did you leave things with her?” Bingley placed his palms on the desk and leaned forward. “And why was Miss Mary here?”
“Miss Mary,” Darcy said slowly, “was here to sit with Miss Bennet while Miss Elizabeth went riding. Stunning mount, Fitzwilliam, you were quite right. Excellent stock.”
“Miss Elizabeth came in from riding nearly two hours ago,” Richard told the ceiling. “What can you possibly have been doing all this time?”
Darcy snorted. “Taking an extraordinarily cold bath and drinking copious amounts of coffee, as you well know. I do thank you for the powders—my headache is entirely gone.” He selected a chair and lowered himself into it, crossing one leg over the other, and fell silent.