Chapter Sixteen #2
The suggestion landed like a stone dropped into still water.
His “good news,” rather than dampening his aunt’s righteous fury, would be as effective as pouring oil on an open flame.
He could already picture the colour rising in her cheeks, the particular set of her jaw that preceded her most withering pronouncements.
“I do not think–” he began.
“That much is plain,” Lady Matlock said. “Georgiana, you will tell me. At least your word I can rely upon.”
The remark stung like a slap to cold skin.
He had always considered his integrity beyond reproach.
And yet, he and his cousins had deceived their aunt.
For the greater good, he maintained. It had been for the greater good, had it not?
Had they miscalculated? But the deed was done, sealed as firmly as a letter already posted.
There was no undoing it, and whatever followed, welcome or otherwise, would have to be borne.
“I am courting a young lady,” he said, offering nothing further. He had no wish to add fresh fuel to the fire.
“Courting,” his aunt repeated, drawing the word out as though examining it for flaws. “And am I permitted to know her name, or shall I simply wait to read of the elopement in the papers?”
“She is someone I understand you hold in considerable esteem. There will be no elopement.”
“Has she a name?”
“Lady Elizabeth Bennet.”
For the second time that afternoon, Lady Matlock sank back in her chair, though this time the lines of her face rearranged themselves entirely, the severity dissolving into something almost girlish with pleasure.
“I am surprised by this news. I had thought of introducing you to her and her sister, but dared not breathe a word of it, knowing your feelings on the subject of matchmaking.”
“Did I not tell you, that William wrote about a Miss Elizabeth Bennet while staying at Mr. Bingley’s estate this past autumn?” Georgiana asked, leaning forward slightly.
“When did I write about Elizabeth?” Darcy turned to his sister, genuinely surprised. He could not recall committing his private thoughts of Elizabeth to paper.
“You described how she walked three miles through the mud to nurse her sister at Netherfield,” Georgiana said, her eyes bright.
“Then came the drawing-room discussions. I laughed until I wept at your account of Miss Bingley’s catalogue of feminine accomplishments and how Miss Elizabeth picked it apart so graciously that Miss Bingley found herself arguing against her own position without the faintest notion she had done so.
I decided then that I should like her very much. ”
Darcy smiled at the memory, the firelight catching Elizabeth’s eyes as she looked up from her book, wholly unbothered by Miss Bingley’s performance.
He should have known then that his heart was already lost. The instant she had raised arched a playful brow in his direction, shortly after he had insulted her appearance at the Meryton Assembly, he was undone.
He was grateful she had forestalled his proposal at Hunsford.
Had he blundered on, they might have parted bitterly, for his poorly thought-out proposal had been filled with the particular cruelty of a man who believed his condescension a compliment, and his dismissal of her close connections to trade something she would learn to accept.
“Darcy,” his aunt interrupted his thoughts. “I would like to invite Lady Elizabeth and her family to dine this week.”
“The earl and countess are in Bedfordshire, with no intent to return until October. Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth are staying with their aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.” He paused. “I believe they depart for their father’s estate the second week of June.”
“Good to know. I shall write Madeline at once.” His aunt gave him a teasing look. “If you conduct yourself with even a fraction more sense than you have shown this past year, I may even extend the invitation to you.”
He laughed, a real laugh, the kind that loosened something in his chest. She had forgiven him.
Elizabeth, Jane and Aunt Madeline had finished shopping for new gloves when they decided to enjoy some refreshments at a nearby tea shop. Upon arriving at the busy establishment, they came across Mrs. Hurst and a lady whom Elizabeth recognised from Lady Meadowbrook’s ball.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hurst, and… I believe you are Miss Grantley,” Elizabeth said, inclining her head with inherent grace towards the young woman.
Before Mrs. Hurst could return the greeting, Miss Grantley executed a poised curtsey while saying, “Good afternoon, Lady Jane, Lady Elizabeth, Mrs. Gardiner.”
Mrs. Hurst’s jaw dropped slightly at the same time her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Have you both married?” she asked, her tone of voice half question, half gasp.
“We have not, Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth said with a soft laugh. “Please, will you join us for tea so that I can explain further?”