Chapter Eight The Matlock Inspection #2
He looked rigid, but his eyes were fixed on the girl's face as if she were the only source of light in the room. And the girl wasn't fawning. She wasn't flirting. She was whispering something to him that made the corner of his stern mouth tuck inward in a suppressed smile.
Interesting, the Countess thought. Very interesting.
"And the other niece?" she asked Mrs Gardiner. "Miss Elizabeth?"
"Lizzy is... spirited," Mrs Gardiner chose the word carefully. "She values wit and honesty above all else."
"Honesty," her ladyship mused. "Fitzwilliam needs honesty. He gets very little of it. Everyone is either afraid of him or wants his money."
"Lizzy is afraid of no one," Mrs Gardiner said. "And she has no interest in money that comes with strings attached."
The Countess looked at Mrs Gardiner with new respect. "I see. Well, Mrs Gardiner, it seems we have much to discuss."
She shifted her position slightly, bringing the other side of the box into view. She watched Georgiana.
Her niece was usually a shadow in these settings—hiding behind her fan, terrified of saying the wrong thing.
But tonight, Georgiana was leaning forward, her face animated.
She was whispering to Miss Elizabeth, pointing at the orchestra pit.
Miss Elizabeth leaned in, listening intently.
She didn't dismiss the girl. She didn't talk over her.
She nodded, whispered back, and Georgiana giggled.
It was a sound she hadn't heard from her in months.
Then, the Countess looked at Darcy. He wasn't watching the stage.
He wasn't watching the crowd. He was watching Elizabeth talk to his sister.
The expression on his face was so raw, so filled with longing and relief, that she felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest. He looked like a man who had been holding his breath for years and had finally found oxygen.
Darcy looked up, sensing her eyes on him.
He caught his aunt's gaze. For a second, nephew and aunt locked eyes across the crowded box.
Darcy didn't look away. He didn't flinch.
He looked at her with a steady, defiant pleading.
Do not ruin this, his eyes said. I have found her. Do not take this from me.
She softened. She might be a snob, she might be intimidating on purpose, but she loved her family fiercely. She wanted them strong. She wanted them happy. She gave him the smallest, almost imperceptible nod.
Darcy's shoulders dropped an inch. He turned back to Miss Elizabeth, who was now explaining something to Georgiana with animated hand gestures that threatened to knock over the lemonade.
"You are staring again, Mr Darcy," Elizabeth's voice drifted over, low and teasing.
"I am merely observing," Darcy replied.
"Observing what?"
"That my sister has said more to you in ten minutes than she has said to me all night."
"That is because I am discussing the scandalous nature of the flautist's wig," she noted. "You would likely discuss the structural integrity of the balcony."
"The balcony is important. If it falls, we all perish."
"And if the wig falls, we all die of laughter. I prefer my demise to be amusing."
The Countess hid a smile behind her fan. Yes. This one would do nicely. She would eat Lady Catherine alive, and it would be a spectacle worth paying to see.
The bells rang, signalling the end of the interval, and warning the patrons to return to their seats.
"Blast," the Earl muttered. "We haven't even discussed the tobacco tariffs."
"We must return to our own box, my dear," the Countess said, tapping his arm. "The second act is about to begin, and you know how the Duchess of Richmond glares if one enters late."
"The Duchess of Richmond is a harpy," the Earl grumbled, but he straightened up. He turned to Mr Gardiner. "Gardiner, this has been illuminating. Truly."
"The pleasure was mine, my Lord," Mr Gardiner bowed.
The Earl looked at the group. He took on his son, who was looking at Jane as if she were the sun and he was a planet caught in her orbit. Then he glanced at Darcy, who was standing beside Elizabeth like a sentinel.
"Well," the Earl huffed. "Can't leave it at this. Too much to discuss."
His wife caught the meaning at once, and stepped forward, commanding the room with a rustle of velvet.
"Indeed," she said. Her voice was clear, authoritative, and broke no argument. "It seems foolish to interrupt such spirited conversations."
She turned her gaze on Mrs Gardiner, then encompassed the Bennets.
"We are holding a dinner on Christmas Eve," she announced. "At Matlock House. It will be a small affair. Family only."
She paused, letting the words Family only hang in the air like a decree.
"We should be delighted if you would all join us," she continued, looking directly at Miss Elizabeth. "Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and the Misses Bennet. And Georgiana and Fitzwilliam, of course, assuming they can tear themselves away from their own preparations."
Robert looked as if he had just been handed the keys to the kingdom. "Mother, that is a splendid idea."
"I know," she said coolly. "I have them occasionally."
"We..." Mrs Gardiner looked at her husband, then at her nieces. She saw the hope on Jane's face and the stunned surprise on Elizabeth's. "We would be honoured, Lady Matlock."
"Excellent. Seven o'clock. Do not be late. The Earl gets cranky if the soup is cold."
With a final, regal nod, she swept out of the box.
The Earl lingered for a second. He pointed a finger at Robert. "Bring the boy," he said, gesturing to Darcy. "And don't be late."
He winked at Mr Gardiner. "We'll finish that brandy discussion then."
And he was gone.
Silence descended on the box. The music from the pit began to swell. Robert let out a long, ragged exhale and collapsed into his chair. "Good God. I think I need a drink. She invited you. She invited you to the family dinner."
"Is that significant?" Miss Bennet asked.
"Significant?" Robert laughed, a giddy, hysterical sound. "My dear Miss Bennet, my mother hasn't invited anyone outside the peerage to Christmas Eve dinner since 1792. And I believe that was a mistake involving a mere vicar."
Darcy turned to Miss Elizabeth. He looked shell-shocked.
"Christmas Eve," he murmured.
"It seems," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face, "that your family is full of surprises, Mr Darcy."
"You have no idea," he whispered. "You have absolutely no idea."
As the curtain rose on the second act, Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the darkness, and realized that this was it. He had been given a chance at happiness, and it was up to him to make the most of it.