Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth
“You are positively glowing, Lizzy.”
Jane’s observation drew Elizabeth from her thoughts as they descended the main staircase together. The morning’s conversation with Fitzwilliam lingered in her mind, pleasant and impossible to ignore.
“Am I?” She touched her cheek, half-expecting to find it heated.
Jane’s own mouth curved with amusement. “You have been smiling to yourself for the past quarter hour. I take it your morning was agreeable?”
Agreeable seemed insufficient to describe the tentative intimacy that had developed over discussions of drainage systems and crop rotation.
Fitzwilliam had praised her intelligence without qualification or condescension.
He had called her insights valuable and looked at her in a way that showed that her thoughts mattered as much as her appearance—perhaps more.
It was so unlike the gentleman at Lucas Lodge who had treated her mind as a defect requiring correction.
The memory rose unbidden, his patronising explanation that ladies ought to concern themselves with more appropriate topics and his suggestion that her cleverness was unfortunate rather than admirable.
Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, had said he admired that same quality greatly. He had spoken of benefiting from it throughout their marriage instead of seeing it as a burden.
The difference between those two conversations felt monumental. And the latter made her feel very good indeed.
“Very agreeable,” Elizabeth managed, aware that elaboration would reveal more than she wished examined even by Jane’s kind scrutiny. “My husband spoke to me regarding his Irish estate. He was accommodating in his explanations.”
Accommodating was another insufficient word. He had been patient, certainly. But more than that, he had spoken to her as he might speak to his steward or land agent, with the assumption that she could comprehend and contribute meaningfully to the discussion.
And when she suggested alternatives he had not considered, he had not bristled or become dismissive because the ideas came from a woman with no formal training in estate management.
Instead, he had considered them seriously and acknowledged their merit with the sort of intellectual honesty she had rarely encountered.
Jane nodded in approval. “I am glad. You deserve such consideration.”
They reached the drawing room to discover the entire family already assembled, a minor miracle given Mrs Bennet’s usual inability to gather everyone efficiently.
Even more remarkably, Mr Bennet occupied the chair nearest the fire, looking distinctly pleased with himself rather than resigned to enforced sociability.
“There you are!” Mrs Bennet’s voice carried triumph. “I was just telling everyone how I managed to extract your father from Lord Matlock’s library. It required considerable persuasion, I assure you.”
“Considerable nagging, you mean.” But Mr Bennet’s tone held fondness rather than complaint.
“I must say, the library proved difficult to abandon. Lord Matlock possesses a remarkable collection of medieval manuscripts. We spent two hours this morning debating textual authenticity in early illuminated gospels.”
“How fascinating that must have been for you both,” Mary responded.
Mr Bennet nodded. “It was extraordinarily stimulating. His Lordship possesses both extensive knowledge and the wit to deploy it engagingly. I begin to understand why you chose to marry into this family, Lizzy. Anyone who maintains such a library deserves respect.”
“I am gratified my choice meets your bibliographic standards, Papa.”
Lydia giggled from her position in a corner, where she and Kitty had been examining fashion plates. “Oh, Lizzy married for the library. That’s quite a tale to tell!”
“I married for considerably more complex reasons than access to books,” Elizabeth replied. “However, I will admit the library presents a notable advantage.”
Mrs Bennet waved her hand dismissively. “Libraries, manuscripts, medieval gospels…honestly, the two of you would discuss dusty pages all day given the opportunity. There are far more important matters to address.” She straightened in her chair, assuming the expression that inevitably preceded pronouncements of great maternal significance.
“Specifically, the question of our departure.”
“We discussed this already, dearest.” Mr Bennet said. “We agreed to depart in two days.”
Mrs Bennet’s chin lifted. “You agreed, whereas I merely failed to continue objecting at sufficient volume. We have only been here three days, that is scarcely enough time. So, I have reconsidered, and I believe we ought to remain at least another week.”
“We have already imposed upon the Matlocks’ hospitality long enough. Remaining longer risks overstaying our welcome considerably.”
“Overstaying? They are family now, not strangers we met at an assembly! Lizzy is married to Mr Darcy, which makes us connections to the Earl of Matlock himself. Surely family may extend their visits without causing offence.”
“We became family less than a week ago,” Mr Bennet observed dryly. “Prior to that, we were indeed strangers. The transition from stranger to relation does not automatically confer unlimited visiting privileges.”
“How terribly old-fashioned you are! As though family connections operate by such rigid rules.” Mrs Bennet turned to her daughters for support. “Girls, surely you agree that another week or two at Matlock would be delightful?”
The response divided precisely as Elizabeth had anticipated.
“I should prefer to return home,” Jane murmured. “My garden requires attention. I left several plants in delicate condition, and I worry they may not survive continued neglect. And there is mending to complete before winter truly sets in.”
“And I wish to resume my music lessons,” Mary added. “Papa paid the new teacher a considerable sum. Missing additional weeks seems wasteful of both money and opportunity.”
“But there is still so much to explore here!” Lydia protested. “We have barely seen half the estate grounds, and Lady Matlock mentioned a folly with the most remarkable views. In addition, we haven’t visited the village just yet!”
“Precisely!” Mrs Bennet seized upon this support with evident satisfaction. “The girls require proper opportunity to experience everything Matlock offers. Rushing them away after mere days seems almost cruel. If you will not agree to another week, then at least until the weekened.”
“I hardly think returning them to their own comfortable home constitutes cruelty. And if you must know, I long for Longbourn. For my own study, my own chair and my own books arranged according to my own peculiar system. I have lived in Hertfordshire for most of my life. The pull of home grows stronger daily.”
“You and your study!” Mrs Bennet’s exasperation crackled through the words. “Honestly, one would think you were chained to that dreary room. There are perfectly adequate studies here—”
“Adequate, yes. But not mine.” Mr Bennet adjusted his spectacles with finality. “I am grateful for the Matlocks’ extraordinary hospitality. But gratitude does not require eternal residence.”
“A week is hardly eternal!”
Elizabeth observed this familiar marital sparring with detached amusement. Her parents had perfected such exchanges over decades of marriage. The push and pull, advance and retreat, neither truly expecting to convince the other but both enjoying the theatre of disagreement.
Mrs Bennet turned her attention towards her second daughter. “Lizzy, you have been remarkably silent. Surely you wish for your family to remain longer?”
All eyes fixed upon her as Elizabeth considered her response.
Truthfully, she held no strong preference for either direction.
Her family having longer acquaintance with their new relations held appeal.
But she had begun to crave the relative privacy that her family’s departure might provide, the chance to know Fitzwilliam without constant observation from their families.
“I remain neutral in this debate. I can perceive merits to both courses.”
Her mother’s mouth opened, no doubt to press harder, when Kitty suddenly bounced forward with irrepressible excitement.
“Oh! I forgot to mention Colonel Fitzwilliam has invited Lydia and me to watch a horse race in the village tomorrow afternoon! He says it is quite the spectacle, with considerable local rivalry and tremendous excitement. The viscount and Miss Darcy will attend as well. May we go, Mama?”
Mrs Bennet’s entire bearing shifted to purposeful organisation.
“You shall certainly attend. And I shall accompany you. One cannot be too careful about proper supervision. Kitty, you must wear your blue muslin as it flatters your complexion. Lydia, the sprigged gown, I think. We must ensure you both appear to advantage before the Colonel and the Viscount.”
“They are family now, Mama,” Lydia said with an impish grin. “Surely we need not dress to impress family?”
“Family or not, one always appears to advantage. Now, we must consider arrangements. Will there be refreshments? What time does the race commence?”
Her mother launched into detailed logistical planning, with Kitty and Lydia contributing enthusiastic if contradictory suggestions.
Mary had retrieved her needlework, stitching with focused concentration.
The room hummed with separate preoccupations, the comfortable chaos of a family gathered without particular purpose beyond proximity.
Elizabeth’s mind remained stubbornly fixed on a gentleman who was somewhere in this sprawling house.
The drawing room’s conversation continued swirling around her, but the need to speak to Fitzwilliam, to continue what they had begun, grew with each passing moment until remaining seated felt physically impossible.
She rose, excusing herself with a murmured comment about needing air. Jane nodded understanding, but the others barely registered her departure, too absorbed in their respective concerns.
The corridor outside the drawing room offered blessed quiet. She was going to find her husband, the man whose praise made her feel valued in ways she had not fully recognised she craved. Whose company she now deliberately sought.
When had that shift occurred? She could not pinpoint the precise instant when tolerance transformed into interest. Perhaps it had been gradual, accumulating through small gestures and unexpected kindnesses.
His defence of her before Lady Catherine, the way he had carried her sleeping form and countless tiny moments that collectively created the foundation for something more substantial.
Either way, she wanted to be around him. She moved through the corridors, her mind made up at last.