Chapter 19
Darcy watched Elizabeth’s eyes widen as they approached and entered Montagu House.
She had been eager when he and Georgiana had called on her and Mrs Ryde to explain the scheme, Mrs Ryde saying, “You and Bramwell could not have hit upon another idea that would suit her better. My brother and I have spoken of arranging a visit later this month, but you young people will find it more diverting without us old folk about.”
Predictably, Elizabeth had laughed. “You know I am always glad to spend time with you.”
“Before you go on, Lizzy,” Mrs Ryde had interjected, “I am happy to see you amuse yourself with your friends. You need not worry you are abandoning me.” To Darcy and Georgiana, she had added, “She has suggested just that, if you can believe it. Silly girl. For while I did beg her to come to London for my benefit, it was also so that I would have the pleasure of seeing her experience what London has to offer and to introduce her to more people. She will join you.”
With such a mark of Elizabeth’s goodness—her fervour to ensure Mrs Ryde was not feeling neglected—and the matron’s approval and affection for her, how could Darcy not be in love with her?
Today, at the museum, Elizabeth’s enthusiasm continued.
To the many reasons he cared for her, he added her inquisitive nature, which he believed was like his own.
It would make her an excellent mother, which would be more important to their future children than how much of a fortune she brought to their marriage.
Her mother’s people might be from trade, but her father was a gentleman, which made all the difference.
And she has a connexion to Mrs Ryde and Lord Halsley.
She is also a good friend of my cousin, and Aunt and Uncle Darcy both like her.
These were all reasons he believed his family would not object, whatever their initial shock.
“Where would we all like to go first?” Bramwell asked. The question might have been general, but he only looked at Rebecca.
“I am sure I am happy to view whichever of the exhibits everyone else wishes to see,” she said, her manner no longer as hesitant as it had been even at the Tower, although it was not entirely warm.
Fitzwilliam deferred to the ladies—which included Marian Strachan but not Georgiana, who was occupied with her studies—as did he.
Miss Strachan said, “I suspect Elizabeth knows more about the museum than I do, so I shall let her answer.”
“I would object to being teased, but since I dearly love to tease others, I suppose I must accept my share of it in return,” Elizabeth said.
“I would like to go to the gallery to see the antiquities, and perhaps part of the upper floors, although I am not sure if I shall like to see creatures preserved in spirits. And who could not want to visit the library?”
“In short, you wish to explore every corner of the museum, no matter the cost in sore feet?” Bramwell said.
She laughed merrily. “Exactly!”
They began in the gallery, taking a tour of the cultural artefacts English people had collected from around the world, from terra cottas and sculptures, to coins and more.
As had happened on other occasions, they largely divided into three couples, although they were never far apart.
Standing beside Elizabeth, Darcy observed as she examined a display of items from Ancient Rome.
“As interesting as it is to see everything,” she said, gesturing about the room, “I do wonder if it is right to have removed the items from where they were found. I appreciate that we have the opportunity to study, yet…”
“Does it belong here? Did the men who collected it act properly?” he said. It was an active debate, and he had heard valid points from both sides.
She nodded.
“I do not believe it is an easy question to answer. Few such matters are, not when they affect the lives of other people. Are the artefacts safer here, where they might be protected? Do they belong to us or to the ancestors of the people who created them hundreds of years ago? I do not know. If it were even possible to return them to where they came from, it might not be practical.”
She had turned to him as he spoke, her eyes—beautiful as ever but with a tinge of sadness in them—on his. “My heart says they are not ours, but I would regret never seeing them, and I agree with you.”
Speaking with some haste, he said, “When we were in Ireland, you commented on farmers and their welfare. I did not mean to sound as though I disagreed with you, that I…” It had been the day they had met.
She had said she thought it unfair that farmers were often not left with enough to feed themselves and their families, and he had acted as though her opinion was ill-informed.
No doubt, it had given her a poor impression of him.
“Oh, I had almost forgot that.” She averted her gaze, her cheeks growing darker.
“Another time, we might discuss it—or how museums gain their goods—if you would like,” he suggested, fearing he, too, was blushing.
She smiled and turned to the display again, examining it for a moment longer before they moved on.
Elizabeth wondered what had made Mr Darcy mention their short exchange in Dublin.
As soon as he did, she recalled the moment.
Lord Bramwell had asked her what she thought of the Irish, and Mr Darcy’s response to her remark had confirmed to her that he was arrogant.
How she had disliked him! But that is what I must now forget!
They had become friends, and she was glad.
Very glad. Although, she would rather not feel like she was constantly blushing in his presence.
What he must think! The truth was, he affected her, more so when he gave her all his attention, just as he had at the Tower and was again today.
Mrs Ryde had hinted that his manner towards her was noteworthy, but Elizabeth had insisted it was nothing, that they were being thrown together often because of Lord Bramwell’s pursuit of Rebecca.
She had said more, with the goal of dismissing even the vaguest suggestion that Mr Darcy might feel more than friendship for her.
Yet another truth she kept hidden was that she suspected he did feel more than friendship.
It was in the way he looked at her with the expression in his eyes subtly softening, and a certain added smoothness to his voice when he addressed her.
It always left her heart racing until she thought she might swoon like a silly girl in a romance novel.
They were viewing the exhibits of minerals and shells when he surprised her by asking where in Hertfordshire Longbourn was.
“A friend of mine, Charles Bingley, recently let an estate called Netherfield. I received a letter from him this morning, and in it, he mentioned that his nearest neighbours are called Bennet, and that one of the daughters of the house is passing the autumn in town.”
As soon as he said Netherfield, she had started to grin. “What an astonishing coincidence! Your friend, you say? He is living next to Longbourn, my home. Soon after I came to town, my elder sister, Jane, wrote to inform me the estate had been let.”
Jane’s most recent letter had led her to understand they saw the gentleman often and that she did not object.
She had written that she wished Elizabeth was there to meet Mr Bingley, who she claimed was everything a young gentleman should be, while also reassuring her that she was pleased Elizabeth was able to keep Mrs Ryde company.
Elizabeth anticipated her mother was hopeful that a husband for one of her daughters had come at last. If she was not having such a splendid time in town—in part due to the gentleman at her side—she would wish to be at Longbourn to help temper her mother’s enthusiasm lest it drive Mr Bingley away.
Mr Darcy chuckled. “From what I can discern, Bingley is quite taken by your sister. He refers to her as Miss Bennet, so I assume he means the eldest. I recall you have several others.”
She nodded. “Three younger sisters. My poor parents, especially since the estate is entailed.” She laughed again.
“I know from Jane’s letters that she thinks rather highly of our new neighbour.
Does Mr Bingley like the neighbourhood? It is small, I admit, but everyone is friendly, and Meryton—the market town closest to both estates—is charming. Netherfield is lovely.”
“Bingley is not the most conscientious correspondent,” Mr Darcy admitted. “But I believe he is pleased with his situation. He has invited to me to visit.”
“Will you?”
He gave her a long look before saying, “For now, I am happily fixed in town. But who is to say that an excuse to go will not arise?”
“Since you two are chatting rather than studying whatever sort of rock this is, shall we move on?” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, causing her to start. She had not noticed him approaching. “Miss Strachan expressed an interest in seeing the modern art.”
It was a while later before she and Mr Darcy were able to speak again. Their visit to the museum was almost at an end. She was returning home with Rebecca, where Mrs Ryde and Lord Halsley would join her. They were to have dinner with Rebecca and her parents that evening.
“Before we go our separate ways, I wanted to ask you about my sister’s birthday,” Mr Darcy said.
“It is in a fortnight, and she wishes to have a ladies’ luncheon.
My aunt Darcy has agreed to help her make the arrangements.
Georgiana and I both hope you will attend.
A few of her friends from school will be invited.
Rebecca will be there, of course, and I encouraged my sister to include you and Miss Strachan.
I do not mean I encouraged her, precisely.
I did not need to convince her.” He sighed, and she nearly giggled at his evident awkwardness.
“I believe it would do her good to spend time with ladies who are just a little older than herself, ones she can view as role models for how to act in society.”
Elizabeth understood the compliment in his words. Miss Darcy had been much friendlier—although still quiet and reserved—when she and Mr Darcy had called to discuss today’s outing. It made it easy for her to agree. “I would be delighted to attend. It was kind of you both to think of me.”