Chapter 31
Elizabeth slept soundly. How could she not when Lord Matlock and Fitzwilliam were at one end of the hall, the colonel and Nick on the other, and Jaffa sat on a chair just outside her and Alexandra’s door? Elizabeth was surrounded by protectors, and she finally felt safe.
The only cloud on her otherwise perfect morning was the knowledge of her imminent departure.
She would rather stay with Fitzwilliam and Nicholas—her curiosity demanded satisfaction—but her father would wish for her to return to Longbourn.
What would she tell him? What would Fitzwilliam tell him?
Knowing what she did about Fitzwilliam, the way he took everything so seriously, responsible to a fault, she feared he would assume more blame than he deserved for the events of the past week.
Her father lived such a comfortable life…. How would he react? What would he say?
Elizabeth did not know how to make light of the situation, but she trusted she would think of how best to phrase what must be said to achieve the desired outcome along the journey. She had days to think.
True to her word, the innkeeper’s wife had found two gowns for Elizabeth and Alexandra to wear.
They were a simple design—one plain blue muslin, one a printed pink.
Not nearly enough frills and lace to suit Alexandra, but Elizabeth selected the plain blue for herself in the hope that the floral print would appease Alexandra.
She would get along famously with Mama and Lydia.
A smile creeped up Elizabeth’s lips as she thought of that trio, feeling wicked at the pleasant realization that, for once, her mother and sister would not be the most scandalous in a room whilst in Alexandra’s company.
Tying the layers into place, dismayed at the stiff, scratchy muslin, Elizabeth went downstairs in search of some nourishment.
The taproom was full to the brim with the Fancy’s crew, many of whom nodded respectfully, mouths crammed with food, at Elizabeth. Boone rose to his feet, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him. “The gents are behind ye in the private parlor, Miss.”
“Thank you, Boone.” She felt like she should wave and say something posh like “carry on” so that the men would resume eating. They were a motley lot, and it struck Elizabeth as strange that she should feel as comfortable as she did in a taproom filled with rough sailors.
She walked past the curtain separating Lord Matlock’s private parlor from the others, and stopped short when she saw Fitzwilliam sitting beside his brother at the table.
A maid poured coffee into their cups, and Elizabeth watched with increasing interest as both brothers poured the same amount of cream, measured one spoonful of sugar into their cups, and stirred clockwise precisely three times before they harmoniously shook the spoon and balanced it along the edge at the top of their plates.
Both were completely unaware of their synchronous behavior.
She joined them, taking the place Lord Matlock motioned for her beside him and the colonel at the table. He nodded at the empty chair on her other side when Alexandra walked into the parlor shortly afterward.
Alexandra was not wearing the gown, as Elizabeth had hoped she would.
Lord Matlock’s cheerful countenance briefly flickered with disapproval, but he replaced it with a smile, saying, “I am pleased we may partake of one more meal together before we must part ways. Richard and I shall continue to Devonshire with Nick. Darcy shall remain with you to receive Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner.” He checked his pocket watch.
“I expect them shortly. Then he shall return with you to London where his sister waits, and you, Miss Alexandra, may stay as a guest at Matlock House. My wife and daughters shall take good care of you.”
Alexandra stiffened. “I’ll stay with Nick.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. She was no more pleased than Alexandra, and she particularly hated being the reason Fitzwilliam would not stay with his brother.
Lord Matlock lowered his chin, meeting Alexandra’s stare boldly.
“You shall travel with Miss Elizabeth. Once we find the answers we seek, we shall join you in town. Unless you decide to accompany Miss Elizabeth to Hertfordshire, upon which we shall meet you there. That choice shall be yours to make, but this one is not. You go to London.” His voice brooked no argument, but that did not discourage Alexandra.
“I ride as good as Nick. I don’t need a carriage.”
“You would be the only lady in our party.”
“I don’t need no special treatment. I can sleep by the fire just like any man. I won’t be no trouble to ye.”
Lord Matlock’s gaze bore into her. “I doubt that, young lady.”
Nick and the colonel laughed. Fitzwilliam clenched his jaw.
Anger flushed in Alexandra’s cheeks, and her eyes darted to the knife on the butter dish.
Elizabeth rested her hand gently over Alexandra’s. “Perhaps your arguments will be more effective if you test them out in your own mind before attempting to use them to persuade an equally strong-minded man.”
Alexandra’s hand clenched into a fist, but she dropped her gaze away from the knife. “Nothin’ I say’ll change his mind.”
“Throwing a butter knife at him will not help your cause either.”
Alexandra grimaced. “I wasn’t gonna hurt him. Just get his attention, like.”
“And by getting his attention, you mean to intimidate him to change his mind?”
“Probably won’t work, will it? I’d end up worse off than before.”
Elizabeth smiled at her. “You catch on quickly.”
“But I still don’t have what I want.” Alexandra scowled.
“Sometimes a bit of patience is all that is required. Your betrothed shall soon join you in London. In the meantime, I am certain my father, aunt, and uncle would be happy to meet you. Not to mention their children! They would love nothing more than to hear some of your stories … the tamer ones, mind. We could even arrange for you to have a few dresses made.”
“Why do the gents get to wear leather and silk, and us ladies are stuck with scratchy cloth?”
So, she had tried the gown then.
“I don’t know how ye’re wearin’ it, Elizabeth. It’s awful. Ye couldn’t pay me to put that against me skin. And there’s the matter of the skirt. How do ye mount a horse or climb a hill? I swear I’d have to hold the skirts up to me knees to do anything at all. And me knives! Where would I hide ‘em?”
Elizabeth imagined a trip to the modiste with Alexandra and tried not to giggle.
It was then, while her smile was wide, that her father and uncle Gardiner walked into the parlor.
Elizabeth jumped up from the table, leaving the chair toppling behind her, and into her father’s arms. “Papa! You are here! I am so glad you have come!”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair, his breath shaky. He dabbed at his eyes when Elizabeth welcomed her uncle with a hearty embrace. Papa patted her arm, as though making certain she was not some apparition.
“What a relief to see you safe and well. You are well, Lizzy? That was a rough lot we passed in the taproom,” he said, gesturing behind him.
She pressed his hand against her cheek. “I have never been better, Papa.”
Lord Matlock invited them to the table, ordering more refreshments to be brought in and introducing Alexandra to them.
Alexandra was quick to reassure Papa. “That’s me crew out there, mostly. They’d each one of ‘em protect yer daughter with their life if I asked ‘em to.”
Father raised his eyebrows. “That has been the company you have kept these past six days?”
While Alexandra puffed up with pride at what she understood to be a compliment, Elizabeth saw the horror in her father’s expression. She had hoped he would be more amused than upset.
Colonel Fitzwilliam intervened. “How was your journey? You traveled at a brisk clip and must be fatigued.”
“At least we did not have to keep up with your breakneck pace, young man.” Uncle Gardiner sat in an empty chair opposite Alexandra.
The conversation around the table stayed on superficial matters—their journey, the state of the roads, the weather along the way.
But when Papa pushed his plate away, Fitzwilliam asked if he might have a word with him and her uncle Gardiner.
Elizabeth held her breath, knowing that she would be the subject of their conversation and regretting how unprepared she felt for it. When they sat at the other side of the parlor, she was relieved that she could at least observe them.
Fitzwilliam explained. Uncle listened quietly.
Her father interjected with questions. The longer they talked, the deeper became Papa’s frown.
When he started rubbing his chin, Elizabeth thought she would go mad with concern.
She leaned closer to Alexandra. “This is not going well. My father is agitated, and Fitzwilliam looks penitent. It is just as I feared.”
“Why should Darcy look guilty?”
Did she really not know? Elizabeth glared at Alexandra. “He is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He feels responsible for my welfare, and he will take the blame for my kidnapping.”
“But that was me idea.”
“My father apparently does not see it that way.”
“Ye mean he might not give his consent for ye to marry the man who loves ye to distraction?”
“I do not think that is the subject of their discussion right now, but yes, that is exactly what it could mean.” Elizabeth clenched her hands together to keep from wrapping them around Alexandra’s shoulders and shaking some sensitivity into her.
Alexandra shrugged. “I’ll ask Boone to marry ye. Or there’s this place called Gretna Green…”
Elizabeth’s blood stirred. “I have sisters to think of. They would suffer from my defiance, and I would lose my father’s trust and friendship.”
“Ye thought of all that just now?” Alexandra snapped her fingers. “As fast as that?”
“Yes.”
“How? How d’ye do it?” Her jaw fell open.
Elizabeth sighed. It was impossible for her to stay angry at Alexandra when she looked at her with such boldfaced admiration. “It gets easier with practice.”
“It’d be easier still if ye only had yerself to think of.”
“True, but I could never ignore the interests of the people I love.”
Alexandra twisted her mouth and wrinkled her nose. “Ye make me see how selfish I am.”
What could Elizabeth say to that? She remained silent and tried to read her father’s lips from across the room.
After several minutes of distinguishing only a few words out of their hushed whispers, Alexandra startled Elizabeth when she spoke again.
“I’ll make Nick love me as deeply as yer Darcy loves ye, and I’ll be hanged if I allow him to take the blame when we all know I’m the one yer pa ought to be cross with. ”
Before Elizabeth could prevent it, Alexandra marched over to them, rudely interrupting their conversation when she stepped between them.
Elizabeth looked to Nick, and then at Lord Matlock, but neither of them seemed to know what to do any more than she did.
Alexandra would either be a helpful ally leading them to a brilliant victory or a perilous adversary inducing a disastrous defeat. Elizabeth moved closer to either witness her success or intervene if she failed.