Chapter Twelve #2
This was madness. She repeated it firmly to herself as she opened her eyes.
Gentlemen like Darcy did not kiss country gentlewomen of little consequence.
Whatever strange impulse had overtaken them both could never be repeated.
She was perfectly certain that he regretted it every bit as much as she did.
With an exasperated sigh she swung her legs over the side of the bed. There would be no more sleep. She pushed her feet into her slippers and had just tied the sash of her dressing gown when there came a hesitant knock upon the door.
"Oh Lord," she muttered beneath her breath.
She had a sudden vision of the whole ladies' team descending upon her bedchamber for another strategic conference before breakfast. She could already feel the beginning of a megrim settling behind her eyes. "Come."
The door opened slowly. Miss Harrington stood upon the threshold in her nightdress, her fair hair hanging loose about her shoulders.
Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, and she looked so utterly unlike the carefully composed young lady Elizabeth had become accustomed to that she scarcely recognised her.
"Miss Elizabeth," she whispered.
Elizabeth's surprise gave way immediately to concern. "Miss Harrington?"
The younger woman took two uncertain steps into the room before stopping altogether. "I am so very sorry."
The words dissolved into fresh sobs. Elizabeth crossed the room at once and gently took her by the arm. "My dear Miss Harrington, pray sit down."
She guided her to the chair beside the fire and poured a glass of water while Amelia struggled to master herself. "I have ruined everything," she said at last. "Lady Hortensia trusted us all, and I... I have behaved so shamefully."
"You behaved foolishly," Elizabeth said gently. "But there is no lasting harm done."
Amelia shook her head. "My mama will never forgive me."
Elizabeth sat opposite her and regarded her thoughtfully. "Tell me why you did it."
For several moments Amelia said nothing. Then, very quietly, she said, "My mama told me I must find a husband before the Season was over. She said Lady Hortensia's house party was my best opportunity. That there would never again be so many eligible gentlemen gathered together in one place."
A fresh tear escaped despite Amelia's efforts to prevent it. "She said I must distinguish myself. But everyone was so occupied with the Challenge. Every conversation seemed to be about points or strategy, and all the gentlemen cared about was winning."
Elizabeth began to understand. "So you thought that if the first day's Challenge ended early..."
Amelia nodded miserably. "There would be a little more time for everyone to socialise. I thought perhaps people would stop thinking about the competition and begin noticing one another instead."
"I am trying, Miss Elizabeth. I truly am."
"I spoke to Mr Darcy, but he looked at me as though he wished himself anywhere else."
Elizabeth could not help thinking that poor Amelia had chosen the least encouraging gentleman in England.
"I spoke to Mr Ashcombe as well."
"And?"
Amelia coloured. "I accidentally overheard him telling Mr Hadley that my gown was 'a crime against fashion'.
" She swallowed hard. "He said..." Her voice broke and she pressed a hand to her mouth, but a sob escaped despite her efforts to suppress it.
After a moment she forced herself to continue.
"'Miss Harrington appears to have mistaken herself for a Maypole. '"
For one dreadful moment Elizabeth did not know whether to laugh or be furious. "How exceedingly ill-bred."
"I know the gown is rather elaborate," Amelia said miserably. "Mama chose it herself."
Elizabeth reached across and took the girl's hand. "My dear Miss Harrington," she said gently, "is there a single gentleman in this house whom you actually like?"
Amelia hesitated. "Yes… well, a little… Mr Henry Blackwood."
Elizabeth smiled. "One of the Blackwood brothers?"
Amelia nodded. "The one with the small scar on his right cheek. He made me laugh yesterday." She looked down at her hands. "And during the chess match he told me my hair looked very pretty."
"Those are excellent beginnings."
"Mama would not think so. Before we came to Chaffley Hall she made me what she called an approved list. They were the only gentlemen she considered worthy of my encouragement."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
"Mr Darcy was first. Mr Ashcombe was second. Colonel Fitzwilliam was third." She gave a little shrug. "But everyone can see Colonel Fitzwilliam has eyes only for Miss Bennet, and after what I overheard yesterday, I think Mr Ashcombe is far too cruel to be worth the trouble."
"And Mr Henry Blackwood?"
Amelia's smile faded.
"Mama says he is the youngest of the brothers and will inherit nothing. She says his income will always be very modest."
Elizabeth regarded her thoughtfully. "Tell me, Miss Harrington... are you of age?"
Amelia looked surprised. "I am four-and-twenty." She gave a small, unhappy laugh. "That is why Mama despairs of me."
"Then, with the greatest respect to your mama, you are perfectly old enough to decide which gentlemen deserve your attention."
Amelia searched her face as though trying to discover whether she truly meant it.
"Do you really think there is no harm in preferring Mr Henry?"
"I think there is every advantage in getting to know a respectable gentleman who makes you laugh over one who merely possesses a larger estate. And I think your mama has done you another disservice besides. She has dressed you for her own ambitions rather than your own comfort."
Amelia looked down at her fussy nightdress with a rueful expression. "I have never liked all the trimming very much, but Mama says simplicity only suits ladies who have beauty enough to carry it."
"Then she is mistaken," said Elizabeth. "Jane has an excellent eye for such things, and between us I think we could adapt one of your gowns to look rather more like Miss Harrington than Mrs Harrington."
Amelia laughed properly for the first time since entering the room. "Do you truly mean it?"
"Entirely. We shall steal half an hour before dinner, if we can contrive it."
Amelia rose then, looking lighter than she had only a few minutes before.
She paused at the door, her hand upon the frame, and turned back with a smile that was still uncertain but no longer miserable.
"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I do not think anybody has ever advised me to do what would make me happy before. "
After Amelia had gone, Elizabeth remained where she was for a while, listening to the quiet house.
Somewhere below came the first sounds of the servants beginning their day, while beyond the open window the gardens were already alive with birdsong.
The morning sun lay warm across the lawns, making it difficult to believe that only hours before she had stood there beneath the moon with Darcy.
She dressed slowly, fastening her gown with clumsy fingers. Advising Miss Harrington had been remarkably easy. It had cost nothing to tell another young lady to think for herself rather than allow someone else to dictate the course of her happiness.
But what if one's own heart proved impossible to understand? Elizabeth paused, one hand resting upon the dressing table. She had always imagined following one's heart to be a very simple business. She was no longer quite so certain.