Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the morning, Elizabeth was surprised to find that she was not alone in her bed.
As she opened her eyes, she felt wet kisses being pressed to her cheeks while a tiny hand wound its way into her hair.
She opened her eyes to see her son’s small face inches from hers.
“Mama!” he cried out happily on seeing she was awake.
She smiled, feeling a surge of pleasure and relief in beholding him.
It had been a particular sort of torture to be separated from young Henry for such a long time.
It was a mother’s instinct to protect her child from danger, and to be forced apart, knowing he was in danger and she could do nothing for him, had been horrific.
Nearly every night of their separation, she had dreamt he had been hurt and killed while she watched helplessly.
Almost as awful was the understanding of how much she had missed not seeing him as he grew, but she persuaded herself time and again that it was for his safety, and she could not possibly protect him as well as trained soldiers could.
Each day that she awoke and knew she had only to go down the hall to his nursery to see him hale and whole was relief anew.
She had not yet grown accustomed to the luxury of seeing him whenever she wished.
She counted it a blessing now, even though she had slept only a few hours and felt as though her body was too heavy to move and her eyes were filled with sand.
“Good morning, my darling angel.” She sleepily put her arm around him and pulled him tight.
He snuggled in close, playing with a bit of her hair that he had wound about his hand.
For a few minutes, she relished holding him, revelling in the feel of his round little body pressed against her, his warm breath on her neck.
Soon, however, he began to squirm, and she knew that she would be called upon to play blocks or soldiers or whatever small game captivated him that day.
With a shake of her head, she roused herself.
Although her knocker was not yet up, callers would besiege her, beginning with Lady Matlock.
If she wished for any time to play with her son, this was it.
Two hours later, her time with Henry in the nursery having passed in a wink, she was indeed in her drawing room with Lady Matlock discussing the prior evening. The countess assured Elizabeth of her certain social success and distinction, and Elizabeth thanked her for an enjoyable evening.
Very delicately, the subject dearer to Lady Matlock’s heart was raised.
“Concerning the matter of your marriage, my dear…” She smiled hopefully. “My nephew Darcy is a very handsome man.”
“Very handsome, indeed,” Elizabeth agreed without enthusiasm.
“You heard, I suppose, of his estate in Derbyshire? It is quite grand.”
“Ten thousand a year. Yes, I know. It was often mentioned in Hertfordshire, as you might imagine.” The two ladies shared an awkward chuckle.
“He practically raised his sister.”
“She was very sweet.”
Lady Matlock paused, studying Elizabeth for a moment. “I think the two of you—”
“Absolutely not,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Do not waste another thought on it.”
Lady Matlock regarded her with dismay. “But why?”
“Forgive me, but your nephew is—” Elizabeth stopped herself. “Mr Darcy and I are not friends. Let us leave it at that.”
“Did something happen last night?”
“No, Mr Darcy was gentlemanly enough last night.”
“Did something occur in Hertfordshire that has coloured your opinion of him?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “It hardly signifies. He made his opinion of me and my character known in the autumn, so any overture he makes towards friendship now can only be seen for what it is—false, and based solely on my name and station. It is one thing to enter an arranged match with a man who I can at least hope has some affection for me, but it is quite another to marry one who I know disdains me and settles with me only for fortune.”
Lady Matlock frowned, her disappointment plain. “I do not understand.”
“You said yourself that he had not mentioned meeting me in Hertfordshire. Would it surprise you to know that, not only did I meet him, but I also resided at Netherfield with their party for nearly a week? It was the most uncomfortable, awkward week of my entire life, made bearable only by the fact that I knew my dear sister, who had fallen ill, needed my assistance—assistance she would not have received from either of those sisters of Mr Bingley.”
Lady Matlock nodded. “Those two would not spare a glass of water to one dying of thirst on their doorstep. But what did Darcy do?”
Elizabeth sighed. “He insulted me at an assembly, he accused me of having a liaison with a footman—Jervis, by the by—and we argued constantly. He lurked about, following me into halls and eavesdropping on my conversations as though he expected to catch me in some mischief. It was clear he thought little of my character; and that, I cannot abide. Regardless of what title or fortune you might put upon me or take away from me, I am a lady.”
“He is not always easy in a society unknown to him, perhaps—”
“It is one thing to be uneasy,” Elizabeth retorted, “and another to be rude, disagreeable, and haughty. He recommended himself to no one, least of all me. Forgive me, madam. You have been nothing but good and kind to me, far more than was ever required, and I feel your solicitude keenly. However, this match cannot be made. I am resolved to have no part with that odious man.”
Lady Matlock released her breath in a huff of disappointment. “If that is how you feel, I would not try to persuade you otherwise.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth gave her a slight smile. “Let us speak on other things then, shall we?”
While Lady Matlock called on Lady Courtenay, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lord Saye presented themselves at the Darcy town home, eager to discuss the night prior.
Darcy received them as he broke his fast, overcome by an unusual feeling: utter happiness and eager anticipation.
He could scarcely eat, as chewing required him to stop grinning, a near-impossible task.
Fitzwilliam sat down beside him as Saye poured himself a cup of coffee. Darcy said nothing at first, valiantly attempting to make his way through a muffin.
“Well?”
Darcy took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, and then allowed his grin to overtake him again. “Well, what?”
“Come now! You know what. I could see in Hertfordshire you were taken with the lady, and it has required all I had to remain silent!”
“I must ask what it was that made you be silent after all. Not that the surprise was unpleasant, but I have fancied myself heartbroken all these months.”
“Heartbroken!” Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. “It was a decree, in case you had missed that. All of Hertfordshire was silent, not only me.”
“Fortunately for you”—Darcy managed to swallow another bit of his breakfast—“I am too happy to care.”
“’Tis like a novel,” Saye commented. “A fairy tale where you fall in love with one you cannot marry, only to find by miraculous and unlikely circumstance that you can. I am astonished you did not offer for her on the spot.”
“I shall not waste another minute,” Darcy informed him. “We shall be betrothed yet today if she will have me.”
“My mother has gone to call on her this morning. Evidently, it is all nearly settled. Lady Courtenay, like yourself, has requested my mother’s help in arranging her marriage.”
Darcy felt a warm flush of pleasure come over him, excitement mingled with anticipatory delight. “Did she know that last night?”
“No,” Fitzwilliam interjected quickly. “My mother asked her as we travelled to the opera house whether the pair of you had met in Hertfordshire, and she said you had. My mother was amazed you had not mentioned it.”
“With your parents urging me to marry, I could hardly tell them that I had fallen in love with an unsuitable miss from the country.”
“How fortunate that the unsuitable has become suitable,”
The gentlemen laughed and talked as Darcy finished his meal. The men had just risen with the intention to walk to Lady Courtenay’s home when Lady Matlock was announced.
Her sons greeted her with surprise, having planned to collect her at Towton Hall, but she waved off their exclamations impatiently. “Darcy,” she scolded, “what have you done, foolish boy?”
As soon as Lady Matlock had departed Towton Hall, Mr and Miss Bingley were announced.
Elizabeth was mildly amused by the hour; at Netherfield, it had seemed that none of them rose before noon.
Yet, here they were at nearly the earliest possible hour for calls.
Miss Bingley was resplendent in feathers, jewels, and a very fine gown; the lady obviously wished to impress.
Jane joined her sister in the drawing room and immediately fell into a deep blush, casting her eyes down. She and Mr Bingley were drawn together in a quiet little conversation almost instantly, leaving Elizabeth with Miss Bingley.
She looked at Miss Bingley’s face, which, unlike in Hertfordshire, had the expression of greatest pleasure upon it when looking on her brother and Jane.
This is how it is. Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy are no worse than anyone else.
Would Lady Matlock receive Miss Elizabeth Bennet?
Would the opera house fill to see a Miss Bennet appear?
Elizabeth forced a gracious smile onto her face, reasoning that she did not have to like Miss Bingley even though she had to be cordial to her. Jane was falling in love with Mr Bingley, and thus Miss Bingley would become family of sorts.
“Lady Courtenay, your home is exquisite. How lovely it must be to have such a fine situation! It must have grieved you considerably to leave it all behind while you were in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I am more grieved to be apart from my family and friends in Hertfordshire. My husband’s home is lovely, but I spent little time here.”