Chapter Four #2
“Indeed, it was. I planned for my wife to deliver a basket of goods to you, as a welcoming gesture, but it appears she passed the task on to Lizzy. And you…” he grinned. “You mistook her for a maid. And judging by your expression, you’re beginning to appreciate the magnitude of your error.”
Darcy’s pulse thudded. He had lectured an earl’s daughter about proper deportment. He had given her jam as if she were a poor servant in need of charity. The mortification was beyond anything he had ever experienced. How he wished the floor might open and swallow him up.
“Come,” Hartford said, still grinning. “Let me make proper introductions before you expire from embarrassment.”
With leaden feet, Darcy followed Lord Hartford to where three ladies stood in conversation.
The tallest, a vision of gentle beauty with golden hair and kind blue eyes, must be Lady Jane.
Beside her stood a quieter, more serious-looking young woman who could only be Lady Mary.
And there, regarding his approach with unmistakable amusement, was Lady Elizabeth.
“Jane, Elizabeth, Mary—allow me to present Mr Darcy, our new steward. I believe Elizabeth has already made his acquaintance, though perhaps not under the most auspicious circumstances.”
Lady Jane curtsied gracefully. “Mr Darcy, welcome to Hertfordshire. I do hope you’re finding everything to your satisfaction.”
Lady Mary offered a polite nod. “Sir.”
But it was Lady Elizabeth who commanded his attention, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief as she executed a perfect curtsy. “Mr Darcy. How delightful to see you again. I trust you’re finding the jam to your liking?”
The reference to his mortifying peace offering made Darcy’s face burn. “Lady Elizabeth, I must beg your pardon. I had no idea—that is, I failed to recognise—”
“That I was anything more than a humble servant in need of instruction on proper deportment?” Her tone was light, but there was steel beneath the silk. “How could you have known? After all, my muddy hem was terribly revealing of my low station.”
“I cannot apologise enough for my inexcusable behaviour.”
“Oh, but you were quite right about the mud,” she continued, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Most unbecoming for a lady’s maid. Or was it a kitchen servant you took me for? I confess I was never quite certain which role you assigned me.”
Lord Hartford and Lady Jane exchanged amused glances whilst Lady Mary watched the proceedings with detached interest. Darcy wished the floor would open and swallow him whole.
“I am mortified beyond expression,” he managed. “If there is any way I might make amends, please do tell me.”
“Actually, there is.” Lady Elizabeth’s smile turned positively wicked. “We are dreadfully short of gentlemen tonight. There are a number of ladies who need partners for dancing. Would you avail yourself to them? Miss Lucas is in need, I can see. As is Miss King.”
Darcy’s mortification had reached such heights that rational thought abandoned him entirely. “I… that is… I’m afraid I don’t dance well,” he stammered. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He fled towards the doors leading to the garden, leaving behind a tableau of shocked faces and Lady Elizabeth’s musical laughter ringing in his ears.
The cool night air struck his burning cheeks as he stepped outside, but it did little to calm his racing heart. How could he have been so blind? So presumptuous? Lady Elizabeth Bennet—daughter of an earl, a lady of refinement and education—and he had treated her like an errant servant girl.
“Darcy? Whatever’s the matter?”
He turned to find Bingley approaching, his face creased with concern.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Bingley continued. “Was someone unkind to you in there? I know some of the local families can be rather particular about social distinctions.”
Darcy ran a hand through his hair, destroying what remained of his careful grooming. “I have committed the most appalling social blunder imaginable.”
“Surely it cannot be that bad.”
“I mistook Lord Hartford’s daughter for a maid and proceeded to lecture her on proper manners,” Darcy confessed in a rush. “Then, feeling magnanimous, I gave her a jar of jam as compensation for my stern treatment. A jar of jam, Bingley! As if she were in need of charity!”
Bingley’s face went through several expressions before settling on barely suppressed mirth. “Good Lord. Which daughter?”
“Lady Elizabeth.”
“Ah.” Bingley’s composure cracked entirely, and he dissolved into hearty laughter. “Oh, my dear fellow, you couldn’t have chosen a worse target for such treatment. Lady Elizabeth has the sharpest wit in three counties. She’ll dine out on this story for months.”
“This is not amusing,” Darcy protested, though Bingley’s laughter was proving somewhat infectious despite his mortification.
“On the contrary, it’s hilarious. Though I can see why you’re distressed.” Bingley composed himself with visible effort. “Still, Lord Hartford is a good man. He won’t hold an honest mistake against you, particularly when it provides such entertainment for his family.”
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the lights from the assembly room spill across the garden. Other couples had ventured outside for air, their conversations creating a pleasant murmur in the darkness.
“Speaking of Lord Hartford,” Darcy said, grateful for the change of subject, “he mentioned you’re considering purchasing Longbourn?”
“I am indeed. Though I confess I have some questions about the property that I’d like to discuss with someone knowledgeable.
Percival was going to instruct me, but as you know, he is only available in a limited capacity.
” Bingley’s expression grew more serious.
“I gather Hartford is somewhat anxious about my intentions?”
“He may be concerned about the uncertainty,” Darcy replied diplomatically.
“Entirely understandable. Perhaps you might join me for tea tomorrow? I could use your expertise on several estate matters, and it would demonstrate to Hartford that I’m approaching this decision seriously.”
“I should be happy to assist,” Darcy agreed, pleased to find some way to be useful after the evening’s disasters.
“Excellent. Shall we say three o’clock?”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Lady Jane appeared on the terrace, accompanied by Charlotte Lucas, both seeking relief from the warmth of the crowded assembly room.
“Lady Jane,” Bingley said. “How lovely to see you again.”
Lady Jane’s answering smile was gentle but unmistakably pleased. “Mr Bingley. Are you enjoying the assembly?”
“Immensely, though I confess the evening air is rather refreshing after the heat indoors.”
As Bingley and Lady Jane fell into easy conversation, Darcy studied their interaction with new eyes.
The mutual attraction was obvious, and he could see why Lord Hartford was torn.
Bingley was clearly smitten, his whole demeanour brightening in Lady Jane’s presence.
And whilst Lady Jane’s reserved nature made it difficult to gauge the depth of her feelings, there was no mistaking the soft pleasure in her expression when she looked at him.
Perhaps if Bingley could be persuaded to make a firm commitment to purchasing Longbourn, Hartford might indeed be able to convince his wife that five thousand a year could compensate for the lack of a title.
A movement near the doorway caught his attention, and Darcy’s heart stuttered as Lady Elizabeth stepped onto the terrace. She had exchanged her earlier amusement for a more contemplative expression, though her eyes still held traces of mirth when they met his.
Their gazes locked across the garden, and despite his overwhelming embarrassment, Darcy noted how the moonlight enhanced her natural beauty. Her dark hair shimmered, and her eyes held depths he had been too foolish to notice during their previous encounters.
She moved towards the balustrade, her silk skirts rustling softly, and Darcy felt an unexpected urge to approach her, to attempt some more adequate apology for his behaviour.
But courage failed him, and he remained frozen in place, content merely to observe her graceful figure silhouetted against the night sky.
Whatever Lady Elizabeth Bennet thought of him now, he suspected it would take considerable effort to redeem himself in her eyes. The question was whether a mere steward would ever be granted such an opportunity.