Before Luncheon #2
“You sat beside me for almost an hour without speaking because you knew I did not wish to talk.” Georgiana reached for another of the papers. “Papa wrote about it the following morning.”
“He did?”
She unfolded the page carefully.
“He wrote that his son appeared determined to grow into an exceedingly good man, despite every attempt society might make to prevent it. He added that you had spent the greater part of the evening attempting to comfort your sister with stolen biscuits and appeared to consider this an entirely reasonable approach to human unhappiness.”
Richard lowered his head, smiling.
Georgiana looked at Darcy over the paper. “Then he wrote that Mama would have been very proud of you.”
She folded the page along its old crease and placed it before him.
“You have always looked after me, Fitzwilliam. Even when you were eleven.”
Richard took up the Manchester letter again and laid it beside Dr Warren’s.
“These papers cannot remain only at Rosings,” he said.
“Nor ought Edward to hear of them second-hand,” Lady Catherine said.
“As soon as copies are made, one of my men will take them to London and place them into Edward’s hands.”
“Is that necessary?” Georgiana asked.
“Yes.”
“Even now?”
“Particularly now.”
“You believe there is more here than we presently understand,” Lady Catherine said.
“I believe there is enough here that I should very much like Edward to be the cleverest man in the room tomorrow evening.”
* * *
Elizabeth had surrendered the greater part of the gravel path to Anthony’s map.
The eastern border ran along the low garden wall. The western border had been moved twice to accommodate a flower bed and once because Lewis had sat upon it. Bucephalus occupied the centre and appeared to govern the whole with considerable authority.
Nurse remained beneath a nearby tree with her sewing, though her attention moved regularly between the boys and the distant house.
Anthony pressed the end of his stick into the gravel. “This is where the dragon lives.”
Lewis crouched beside him and placed a flower inside the circle. “Flower,” he announced.
Anthony considered the addition, then continued drawing.
Elizabeth sat upon the low wall. “Where am I?”
Anthony studied the map carefully before pointing to a place near its centre.
“You are here.”
“That seems rather important.”
“It is.”
“Why?”
He considered this, as though surprised she should need to ask. “Because everybody likes it when you are here.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Do they?”
“Yes.” He frowned at the map. “Except when you are walking with Fitzwilliam.”
Lewis abandoned his flowers long enough to throw both arms around her leg.
“Yes,” he announced happily.
“Lewis agrees,” Anthony said.
She bent to kiss the top of his head. “I am very relieved to hear it.”
Anthony considered the map once more. “You cannot be beside the dragon.”
“Why not?”
“Because Fitzwilliam would object.”
“Would he?”
“Yes. He objects to all dangerous things.”
“Does he?”
“Particularly if they are near people he likes.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Where ought I to be, then?”
Anthony considered the question very seriously indeed.
“Between Grandmama and Fitzwilliam.”
Lewis required only a moment to reach the same conclusion. “Yes.”
“I am delighted to know my proper place has been determined with such certainty.”
“It is a very good place,” Anthony assured her kindly.
Nurse laughed without looking up from her sewing. “Master Anthony has become exceedingly fond of putting everyone where they belong, Miss Bennet.”
“I have observed as much.”
“He is generally correct,” Nurse added.
Anthony accepted this and went back to the map.
“Where is Fitzwilliam?” he asked after several moments.
“Inside.”
“Is he unhappy?”
“Why do you ask?”
Anthony shrugged one shoulder. “He looks unhappy when he goes inside with Grandmama.”
“I do not believe he is unhappy this morning.”
“Good.” Anthony returned his attention to the map. “Will he come back?”
“Of course.”
Apparently satisfied, Anthony resumed his work while Lewis continued improving the dragon’s territory with flowers.
Elizabeth rested her hands in her lap and looked towards the house.
It was partly hidden by the trees from this section of the garden, though she could see the upper windows beyond the branches.
The spring sunshine had begun to warm the path, and somewhere in the distance a gardener was trimming the edge of a lawn.
It had been a very happy morning. Elizabeth was still looking towards the house when Anthony got to his feet.
“There is someone coming.”
“Then I hope he has been invited,” Elizabeth replied lightly, turning towards the drive.
“No. There.”
He was pointing away from the drive altogether, at the narrow path running beside the south wood.
Nurse had already set down her sewing and risen.
A gentleman was walking up it at an unhurried pace, still too distant for Elizabeth to distinguish his features, though there was something familiar in the ease of his stride.
Elizabeth rose from the wall. He stopped briefly at the edge of the lawn and looked across the gardens. Towards them. Then he continued forwards.
“Do we know him?” Anthony asked.
Elizabeth did not answer immediately. The distance between them was closing now, and the familiarity she had noticed in his bearing became impossible to dismiss.
Her smile disappeared.
George Wickham was supposed to be in the north.