Chapter Twenty-Five
Elizabeth sat in her room at Rosings, reading over the letter she’d composed for her father.
It was difficult to write the part that focused on the argument about why she should give him most of the funds left to her by Mr. Collins.
Even the lines asking for permission to marry Mr. Darcy could barely hold her concentration.
Not when memories of Mr. Darcy’s kiss filled her mind.
She pressed trembling fingertips to her lips, recalling the feel of his mouth on hers and the rightness of his arms holding her. She let out a long, languid sigh.
He’d asked. He’d finally asked. She’d begun to think he wouldn’t.
That all the attention he appeared to lavish on her had some other impetus.
The desire for her to help bring Miss Darcy out of her shell, for example.
She’d even, briefly, considered that Mr. Darcy might be interested in Mary and so employed Elizabeth to get closer to her, but had quickly decided he simply attempted to be kind to Mary when they interacted.
And now, at last, he’d mustered a proposal.
After enduring it, Elizabeth could see why issuing one had taken him so long.
Impassioned speeches were quite obviously not Mr. Darcy’s strength.
She grinned, suppressing the urge to giggle.
If she were that terrible at something, she’d avoid doing it as well.
But he’d managed it, and she’d accepted, and a future for them spread out before her, filled with happiness and wonder. Elizabeth felt so giddy, she might be floating.
She looked down at the letter and realized she’d again let her mind wander rather than reading it over carefully. Not that errors mattered. It contained what she wished to say. She folded the page, addressed it, and went to give it to Rosings’ butler.
After handing over the letter Elizabeth asked, “Has my sister Mary returned yet?”
“I believe Miss Mary is in the west wing at the moment, Miss.”
“In the west wing? Not in any particular room?”
“She’s walking the halls, Miss, to break in her new boots.”
“Thank you.” Excited to tell Mary about Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth headed to the western portion of Lady Catherine’s vast home, wondering where Mary had come by new boots.
She’d thought Mary and Miss de Bourgh were to inspect the Murphys’ work while on their drive, something they did nearly every morning.
True to Simms’ word, she found Mary tromping down a long corridor. Elizabeth lengthened her stride to catch up but didn’t reach Mary before she got to the end and turned. Sighting Elizabeth, Mary hurried back down the hall.
“New boots?” Elizabeth observed when they met near the middle.
She glanced left and right, taking in the many doorways, any of which could hold a listening servant.
As she and Mr. Darcy had agreed not to announce their engagement until the formality of her father’s approval was met, Elizabeth didn’t think the hallway a good place to broach the topic with Mary.
Mary looked down at her feet. “Yes. I’m breaking them in.”
“I didn’t realize you needed boots. I could have lent you mine.”
“Your feet are too narrow, and I did need some. I didn’t realize I’d be doing so much walking.”
“So that’s where you were off to this morning, then, rather than to inspect the Murphys’ work?” Elizabeth watched closely as she asked. Mary tended to blush at even a vague reference to Gavin Murphy.
Still looking down at her boots, Mary said, “Miss de Bourgh drove me to her cobbler several days ago. Today we simply picked them up. She paid for them, although I do have enough money that I could have.”
“That was very good of her.”
“She said they’re part of the wardrobe her mother promised.” Finally, Mary looked up again, no blush in evidence. “She drives her low phaeton very well.”
“You’re becoming good friends.”
“Yes, we are. It’s in part because we spend so much time together each day, at our drawing lessons. You could draw with us.” Mary gestured for Elizabeth to join her and started up the corridor, her new boots making little sound on the thick rug.
Elizabeth kept pace with her sister, but replied, “I’m afraid drawing lessons would be wasted on me. I don’t have any talent for it.”
“I thought that about me, but the lessons aren’t difficult. Especially here.”
“The local master is better than the one you had in London?”
Mary shrugged. “He’s more skilled as a teacher, but not as skilled an artist. Lady Catherine offered to bring the drawing master from London, but the one here is just as good for us. We’re beginners.”
They reached the end of the hall and Elizabeth asked, “Shall we take another lap?”
Mary shook her head. “I’ve been at it for some time. I don’t want to get blisters.” She darted her gaze about, then pointed at a door halfway down the hall. “We could go in the library.”
Taking in the tension pinching Mary’s features, Elizabeth nodded. “I never refuse a library.”
Mary smiled and led the way. Once inside, she didn’t halt, but went diagonally across the narrow room to the back corner.
Elizabeth, who’d thoroughly explored the library over their days at Rosings, knew the far corner held books on botany, a subject of no particular interest to either of them.
Deeming it a good corner for sharing confidences, however, she followed.
When they reached the corner, Mary turned to her, full of nervous excitement. “There’s something I must confess.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Oh? Something about…Gavin Murphy?”
Mary’s cheeks turned pink. “Yes. Is it that obvious? Anne said she didn’t think anyone had noticed.”
“I am your sister,” Elizabeth noted. “And you’ve been blushing over him since back in Goldfinch Cottage, when we showed him around, talking about shelving. I didn’t have any delusions it was the shelving that made you blush.”
“Yes, well, he and I have come to know each other and, well, we want to be married.”
“That’s wonderful.” Elizabeth hugged Mary close, very happy her sister had found someone to love, too. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Lizzy. That means a lot. I know he’s a tradesman, but I really love him, and he loves me, and I’m so worried everyone will disapprove.”
“I don’t disapprove,” Elizabeth said staunchly, the import of Mary’s choice beginning to sink in. Hesitantly, Elizabeth asked, “John Lucas didn’t offer for you, then? Or Paul?”
Mary pressed her lips into a firm line. “One of them did.”
“Which one?” Elizabeth asked, surprised Mary had never made mention of it.
“It doesn’t matter. I said no. I don’t love either of them. I love Gavin.” She went red. “That is, Mr. Gavin Murphy.”
“I agree. It doesn’t matter, so long as you’re happy.” Elizabeth couldn’t suppress a smile. “But I have to know. Please? Was it Paul?”
Mary shook her head. “Paul decided he didn’t care for me enough to be married to me if I didn’t end up inheriting a fifth of Papa’s fortune.”
“So it was John?”
“Yes, and he was even nice about it, but I think he was relieved when I said no. He asked because he felt my potential future inheritance from Papa made me a good option. Not because of any feelings for me.”
“Still, it’s flattering.”
“Not when you consider that he could have asked any of us except Jane and Kitty.” Mary pulled a face. “He probably felt you and Lydia were too good for him.”
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, the name a sharp reprimand. “He asked you because he knew you best and felt comfortable around you. I’m certain he could see that you are sensible and kind, and that he enjoyed your playing and conversing with you.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter. Gavin loves me.” Mary twined her hands together. “I really am glad at least you approve, Lizzy. I love him.”
Mary must love him, to turn down John Lucas and the stability he offered as heir to Lucas Lodge.
And was love not the most important ingredient in happiness?
“You must know Papa can’t give you much money.
Not now, at least. Maybe not ever, if he rebuilds.
” Elizabeth was glad she hadn’t known of Mary’s plans before writing the letter.
Confusion over Mary’s future if their father rebuilt, and therefore didn’t split the property five ways when he died, would have further complicated Elizabeth’s decision to extend the offer of Mr. Collins’ money.
And yet Mr. Bennet had promised Captain Carter one-fifth of his estate.
“I don’t care if Papa can’t give us money. I love Gavin, and he thinks he can support a wife, but he’s worried I won’t live like I’m used to living. It’s true, I won’t. But if I’m with him, that won’t matter.”
“If you love Mr. Murphy and realize your life won’t be what it was like before the fire, I definitely approve, and you have my good wishes.”
Mary hugged her again. “Thank you.”
A realization hit Elizabeth. “Is that why you gave up playing in favor of learning to draw?”
Mary nodded. “Gavin’s pictures are clear, but I think he could sell to people with more money if he had prettier drawings to show them.” Mary giggled. “Lady Catherine didn’t like the drawing I did of her. She said I did a better job of drawing the furniture around her than her.”
“Did you spend more time drawing the furniture than her?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. I only did a quick sketch of her and concentrated on the furniture. I haven’t learned enough to help Gavin yet, but I’m trying.
I want to learn everything I need to know.
I’ve cooked some meals for the Murphys in the cottage they’re staying in while they do Lady Catherine’s work.
I’m not very good at it yet and I think they eat what I make mostly to be kind, but I’m getting better. ”
Elizabeth gaped at her. “You’ve been spending time alone in a cottage with four men?”
Shaking her head, Mary said, “Miss de Bourgh arranged for a maid to go with me and gives her money not to mention the excursions to anyone.”