Chapter Two #3
William shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
He knew exactly who Lady Anne Beaumont, neé Darcy was; he had heard of her when he visited Pemberley seven summers ago, on the occasion when he had so hastily taken his alias from the powerful impression Pemberley had made on him.
He knew he must inevitably meet with that lady during the course of his stay in London, and he was rather dreading some accusation of claiming an association with the family that did not exist.
Miss Elizabeth blushed very prettily, seeming to hesitate before adding, “I must confess that I felt no little curiosity about my cousin’s friend who bears that same name.”
“It is an odd circumstance, to be sure,” William said; this much was true, for he could not like the notion of lying outright to the beautiful creature he already wished to know better.
“I should sooner call it fortuitous,” she replied.
She stared at him with a smile that slowly spread across her face as she took in the sight of him, and William actually felt himself blushing.
He knew he was a fine-looking fellow – he had been told as much, as usually with the caveat that his reticent manners rather materialized his outward appeal.
But he was determined not to disappoint the charming young lady at his side, and he rallied himself to press on in conversation.
“I hope you shall have every reason to call your stay in London that, and more besides. Are you often in town, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I told you Lady Catherine is an indulgent mother, but we have not enjoyed this particular indulgence in many years – not since before Jane and I were old enough to be considered out in society. Ah! But I have been warned against revealing my ignorance of such worldly matters.” Miss Elizabeth dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned a little closer, as if confiding a great secret.
“Mamma fears our lack of experience in society may lead us to some folly; but my cousin Rebecca quite depends on that.”
Lady Rebecca must have heard her name mentioned, for she turned round with a sharp look. “What are you talking of with Mr. Darcy, Lizzy?”
“Only of the many diversions I expect to delight me in London. Every sort of folly and fantastical adventure, to be sure.”
“You will meet with folly enough in every drawing room of every great house in Mayfair,” Lady Rebecca drawled. “The adventure must be of your own making, but I am quite at your service.”
“As am I,” William found himself saying. “I can well recall the tremendous sense of promise I felt when London was new to me; in such a state of mind, anything might be made to feel like an adventure.”
He feared he sounded entirely foolish, but Miss Elizabeth’s eyes lit with glee.
“Yes, exactly! Every trip to the great museums and galleries of the city, exploring the bookshops of Bond Street and dancing all night at balls – what must be mundane to those fortunate enough to reside in London shall hold such wonderful novelty for Jane and me.”
“You sound as though you envy your cousins who reside here in town.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “Oh, no – not at all. I should think it a great pity if London did not hold such a captivating sense of wonder and possibility. Of some delights, you know, a little goes a long way.”
“I could not agree more,” he said. It would not do to divulge the novelty of his own trips to town, amusing himself under the guise of Will Darcy, dining at expensive hotels, attending the theatre and the opera every night, and running up considerable bills at his tailor.
But he comprehended her perfectly; London, in small doses, held just the right amount of allure for him to bear his time at Wildewood and all the responsibilities of managing his estate and looking after his ward.
Miss Elizabeth smiled brightly, giving a little bounce of enthusiasm.
“Oh, do tell me you vastly prefer residing in the country. Surrey is near enough to Kent that it must be just as picturesque. I could idle away my days in the countryside forever, taking long walks and savoring every sound and smell and sight of the pastoral world around me.” She brought a hand to her lips and gave a breathy giggle.
“Tell me at least that I do not sound entirely provincial.”
“If you do, then I am sure I shall, as well. I have been just as fortunate as you, Miss Elizabeth.” He said her name slowly and with the same fascination with which she had pronounced his own, and he felt his cheeks heat with mortification.
And yet, he rather enjoyed how easy it was to speak with her, as if he might say anything and be met with approbation.
“I was also adopted in my youth; surely the dowager countess must have mentioned it.”
“She did,” Miss Elizabeth said with a look of curiosity. “I have never met anyone else who shares my unusual origins.”
“Nor I.” William frowned at his accidental falsehood; his ward had lost both her parents, and Lady Grey had not been pleased at the prospect of raising another woman’s child when she became Mrs. Cardew.
Kitty Cardew had been raised chiefly by a series of governesses until William had taken possession of Wildewood after completing his studies.
But having a young, female ward was not the sort of thing one blurted out to charming young ladies over supper. William gave Miss Elizabeth a tight smile, and she furrowed her brow in concern. “I hope you have been as fortunate in your guardian, as well.”
“Sir Thomas Grey was an old bachelor when he took me in, but he was a kind and generous man who taught me a great deal in the brief time we had together. I have many fond memories of him. He married when I was five or six, and his wife was… well, I suppose I might call her a solitary creature. She had no children of her own, though she was fond of hounds and house cats. She spent a great deal of time reading, and she did impart that particular enjoyment upon me.”