Darcy smiled. “Unfortunately, everyone who is anyone will have their eyes on the box. So we are on display, as it were.” He sank onto the chair next to her and reached for her hand. “But you have been magnificent, Elizabeth. In less than two weeks, you have captivated society, and quite won over my father and uncle.”
“She is wonderful, isn’t she?” Gardiner said proudly. “She is able to fit in anywhere, with anyone.”
Darcy nodded. But he’d noted the strain she was under. Little lines of tiredness between her brows. He leaned closer to her.
“Two more days, and I will escort you to Longbourn for your sister’s wedding. I know Longbourn will be in disarray, but you will be able to walk out each day, I hope.”
Elizabeth smiled a little secret smile just for him. “I have been wondering if I might happen to come across a gentleman who is staying with his friend — also out for the day.”
Darcy’s lips twitched. “If you have a chaperone with you, that gentleman might be able to do more than greet you in passing!”
The first act passed, Darcy barely taking in the play, he was so busy watching Elizabeth enjoying herself. It was part of her that he loved, her ability to enjoy each moment, whatever she was doing — and he was learning to do that, too.
As the curtain came down on the stage, he glanced at Elizabeth. She looked a little anxious. “William, can anyone we don’t know call upon us here? There might be no way to escape unwanted attentions.”
He shook his head. “I do not believe so. There is a servant waiting outside to bring us whatever we ask for, and I believe they do not permit anyone to enter before first asking us.” He glanced at Gardiner mischievously. “In any event, the duke and duchess will be coming here very shortly. I think it may frighten away the merely curious.”
“Goodness me!” Mrs. Gardiner sounded quite faint, and he turned in concern. But Elizabeth was there first.
“Come, Aunt Gardiner. I’ve already told you all about them, haven’t I? The duchess is kindness itself, and treats me as if I am a niece of hers. So you cannot find her frightening.” She embraced her. “I’m proud of you, Aunt, and I want you to like them.”
She’d used the right words, and Darcy watched as her aunt sat straighter.
A moment later, the curtain drew back, and the duke and duchess entered the box. All were aware of the part they were playing, and the duchess kissed Elizabeth affectionately, while the duke bowed over her hand. When they turned, Darcy could introduce the Gardiners.
Darcy watched as they put Mrs. Gardiner at ease at once. Standing at the back with Gardiner, he was able to have a whispered conversation.
“I think the ladies are amazing. But for me, I would wish myself back as William Stoke.”
Gardiner shook his head. “I’m sure you do not really. And this time is nothing like you will ever have to live again. Soon, you’ll be wed, and able to go to Pemberley for peace and quiet.”
Darcy smiled. “I relish the thought. Elizabeth and the words peace and quiet are not usually the same thing, but I think she longs for us to have some time alone together.”
Gardiner’s eyes rested thoughtfully on him. “You have seen it too, I think.”
“Yes.” Darcy nodded. “Kind as the duchess is, she doesn’t always see past Elizabeth’s guard. But neither do her family, I think — except her eldest sister. But she is concerned with her wedding at the moment.”
Gardiner nodded. “It will be good to go there on Monday, and have several days before the wedding.” He grimaced wryly. “It will be more peaceful for you at Netherfield, I think. Longbourn will be very noisy.”
“I’m sorry to have to agree with you, sir. But Netherfield will not necessarily be comfortable. Miss Bingley is still in residence.”
At that moment, the curtain drew back and the Matlocks entered, followed by Richard and Georgiana. Darcy stifled a sigh, and went to support Elizabeth.
70
Elizabeth sat on the bench under the tree at the summit of Oakham Mount. She leaned back, and closed her eyes. The crisp, cold air meant she could not stay long, but the respite was welcome.
A smile chased away her some of her weariness; she quite expected William to find her here soon, and she relished the thought. Cows lowed in the distance, and she thought of the contrast between her life here, and the time she’d had in London.
Longbourn was home, of course it was, but her mother’s disapprobation had meant she’d not felt at home very often. Gracechurch Street felt rather like home, too, although she always knew it wasn’t. But Darcy House, and the Durdar and Matlock Houses, too. Well, they were grand, opulent places to visit. How would she ever be able to feel at home there?
Was this how William had felt? Did he still feel that way? She tried to imagine how it must have been, to go straight to Darcy House from the tiny chamber at the inn. No, her own worries were as naught, compared to what he’d had to endure.
“Elizabeth!” William’s voice sounded concerned. “Are you anxious about something?”
Elizabeth sat up suddenly. “Good morning, William. I think perhaps I was nearly asleep.”
His gaze slid over towards the Longbourn maid, who was staring at the sky as she sat on the log at the far end of the clearing, and Elizabeth watched as he sat carefully down as near to her as he dared.
She smiled at him. “Did you leave Mr. Bingley at Longbourn?”
He nodded cheerfully. “I’m certain he will look to buy property much further north quite soon.”
Elizabeth clapped her hands. “We must make sure it is close to Pemberley, William! It will be lovely to have Jane living close by.”
“Indeed, but I cannot permit you to distract me, Elizabeth. What thoughts were they, to make you look so discomposed?” His hand took hers, and even through her gloves, warmth spread up her arm from his touch.
“It was nothing, really.” She shrugged a little, and when he drew breath, she shook her head. “I know you want to know, so I will tell you.” She considered her words for a moment.
“I was hearing the cows lowing in the fields, and thinking that Longbourn was home, but often when Mama was disapproving, it didn’t always feel like it. And, at Aunt Gardiner’s house, it almost felt like home, but I knew it wasn’t.”
She smiled at him. “Now, looking at Darcy House, it’s far too grand to ever think it might feel like home.” She let her finger trace over the back of his gloved hand.
“Elizabeth …”
She shook her head, and touched her finger to his lips. “But I was thinking how much worse it must be for you. After all, you have only the memory of different haylofts, and the chamber at the inn. Your whole life, William.” She stared at him. “So I am silly for feeling sorry for myself.”
He sounded hoarse. “I could never think you silly, Elizabeth. Never. Your thoughts and feelings are as important as mine.” That little crooked smile appeared again. How she loved it.
“I confess the same sentiments have filled my thoughts too, of late.” He moved very slightly closer along the bench. “But ever since we started working together at your uncle’s warehouse, I have been certain that I will only feel at home where you are there with me.”
Elizabeth looked away, hardly able to bear the passion heating his voice. Jane’s wedding first, and the bustle of another two weeks before their own, in London, surrounded by the cream of society. But she must reassure him. “I believe I think the same way, William — but first we have our marriage to overcome.”
He groaned. “I was never so tempted to suggest a trip to Scotland with you.”
Her head jerked round. “I think we were of one mind.” She sighed ruefully. “However, I must remember the duchess thinks our best interests are in accord with her wishes — and once she’d written to Mama, offering to provide her daughter with the finest society wedding — why, then we had no choice.”
A hint of laughter invaded his voice. “We had to acquiesce. It has been worth it for the opportunity t
o have you in London, available for me to call on — bring Georgiana to get to become real friends with you — and a place where my father and uncle would be able to call and accept you.” He smiled tightly. “There is no question of any regret in their minds now, and that’s worth a great deal, dearest.”
She nodded. “A wedding is just one day. It is the lifetime with the man I love which I am determined we will decide between ourselves.” She got up and walked to the edge of the clearing and looked out over the valley. “And it has been helpful for me, too. I was unsure whether I could actually manage a large house, but now I am happier about it.”
She turned and bumped into him, not realising he’d followed her. “Oh!” She stepped back. “I’ll still make mistakes, though, but I know you’ll understand.”
He grasped her elbow to support her. “Of course I’ll understand.” He laughed. “I’ll be making many mistakes of my own, too.” He frowned. “There seems so much to learn.”
Two days later, Elizabeth stood in the small church at Meryton, behind her sister; barely able to keep her eyes away from the tall lean figure standing beside Mr. Bingley. William seemed to be having some difficulty of the same sort, frequently she felt his gaze burning into her, causing heat to bring a flush to her face.
She stood as straight and as still as she could. This was Jane’s day, and she already felt she’d spoiled everything because Mama could barely keep her mind on this wedding, talking constantly of the high society one to come.
Elizabeth pulled her mind to the present. The early sun was beginning to peep over the trees and light the stained glass before them as she listened to the sonorous, if quavery, voice of old Mr. Stephenson, who’d been in the parish since before she was born.
She steeled herself and stared straight ahead as William’s gaze fixed upon her, and she knew he was thinking through the vows as the couple before them spoke the ancient words.
Elizabeth knew her lips tightened as Jane promised to love, honour and obey, and sensed William’s amusement, too. But she knew his response and how she would counter it, and had triumphantly listened to Mr. Bingley’s vow to love and cherish her sister.
The ceremony was over, and William was beside her, offering his arm so they could follow the new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley down the aisle and out to the crisp, autumnal day. He bent his head to her. “I will need to know what you were thinking of, Elizabeth.” His murmur was full of laughter, and she stifled a giggle.
She lifted her chin. “I am gathering my arsenal between the word obey and the word cherish for our first argument.”
His snort of laughter nearly cost her control. “What makes you think we will ever argue, Elizabeth?”
She glanced at him. “Let’s discuss that later.” She turned to him. “I want to make this all Jane’s day, and stop Mama crowing about ours and how much bigger it will be.”
He frowned. “I agree, but I confess I do not know how we will do that.” His gaze sharpened. “You have something already planned.”
She laughed, and tossed her head. “Perhaps.” A slight pressure on his arm. “Let’s go and wish the happy couple joy.”
71
The next day, Darcy sat opposite Elizabeth in his coach. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sat beside them, Darcy having suggested they travel together to obviate the need for Elizabeth to bring a maid or for Darcy to ride alongside. He gazed at her, wishing the next two weeks would soon pass. He wasn’t sure he could wait much longer to make her his. Being permitted a little more freedom as an engaged couple had made things harder for him, not easier.
“So, Lizzy.” Her uncle looked quizzically at her. “What did you do or say to your mother to ensure she did not manage to spoil Jane’s marriage with your own, much better match?”
“I had been wondering that myself, sir.” Darcy laughed as he saw her blush and look down.
“I, too.” Mrs. Gardiner took Elizabeth’s hand. Fortunate lady! “Come, tell us.”
Elizabeth shrugged helplessly. “I confess, I had not thought it would work so well.” She looked round at them all. “I told her before — several times — Jane was important to her, and she mustn’t detract from the wedding, or she might not be invited to Netherfield once Jane was settled there. And I’m afraid I was quite fierce, and told her that if she was crowing about the London wedding, I’d think she might spoil that too, and I wouldn’t permit her to attend it.”
“Lizzy!” Mrs. Gardiner sounded as if she didn’t know whether to be scandalised or laugh. Darcy didn’t know quite what to think, himself.
“But you wouldn’t prevent her attending, Elizabeth?”
“No, of course not.” Elizabeth smiled. “Perhaps I sounded convincing, though.”
They arrived at Durdar House to leave Elizabeth there, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were content to enter the house with them, having been introduced at the theatre a week ago.
The duchess appeared from the drawing room. “Elizabeth! I’m happy to see you return. You must tell me all about your sister’s day.” She turned to Mrs. Gardiner. “Are you able to join us for tea? I’m sure it will please Elizabeth.”
The duke cleared his throat from the doorway of his library. “Perhaps the gentlemen would prefer to join me for something rather more palatable than tea.”
“That’s all settled, then.” The duchess swept the ladies away, and William watched Elizabeth until the door closed behind them.
“Come along.” The duke had a certain look in his eye, and Darcy forced his mind away from what Elizabeth and the ladies might be talking about.
He soon found the duke was interested in his life before he discovered who he was, and Gardiner soon opened up with a fine malt in his hand.
“So, what gave you the idea of the all-British supply to the army?” The duke must have been listening carefully when they’d talked before, and Darcy was surprised. He’d thought the aristocracy despised business.
Mr. Gardiner had obviously thought the same. He glanced at Darcy for help.
They’d been discussing the business for some twenty minutes when the duke straightened up. “Do you not think it would be better to source wool from England and Wales, rather than Scotland? After all, the Union is barely a century old and there is still much ill-feeling.”
Darcy nodded. “Scottish sheep are hardier and produce a better fleece than the English farms. Welsh fleece is also good, but there are difficulties in the logistics of bringing them to the mills in the north.”
“You’ve been doing extra contracts with Welsh farms though,” Gardiner reminded him.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed. “I was trying to find a good place close to the English-Welsh border where the weaving can be done before the fabric is sent to London. Perhaps near Birmingham. I am also studying the possibility of increasing the sheep on the peaks around Pemberley.” He sighed. “But, of course, my father wishes me to leave it all behind me and just take the income.”
“That would be unfortunate,” the duke mused, staring into his glass. “I believe your knowledge and experience would be wasted if you did that.”
Darcy and Gardiner stared at him in astonishment, and the duke smiled roguishly. “I’m not saying you ought to work in the business as you did, but …” he thought carefully before turning to Gardiner.
“You may find men to do the work that Darcy did, Mr. Gardiner, but is there anyone who has the same breadth of imagination?”
Gardiner shook his head. “So far there are three new men barely able to keep up with what William did, but there is no one able to plan and manage the business in the same way he did.”
“Now, sir.” Darcy raised his eyebrows. “You are forgetting Elizabeth.”
He turned to the duke. “It was Elizabeth who had the idea of setting up an adjacent leather supplies business, and also using tin from the Cornwall mines for the mugs and spoons.”
The duke roared with laughter. “She hasn’t told us that!” But he sobered quickly. “You will both be wasted if you do not pay cl
oser attention to the development of the businesses than might otherwise be expected.” He frowned. “If we manage it carefully, society ought not to find out, or be too acerbic if they do.”
He scratched his head. “What are the profits?”
Gardiner nodded. “They have been very good. Despite the heavy outlay in buying materials before we had the contracts in hand, we have already exceeded the returns on the four per cents.”
“Well, I need to invest more of the surpluses from the farms.” The duke ran his hand through his hair. “And my younger son — Anthony — he’s a little like you, Darcy.”
He looked rueful. “But without the energy. He is interested in much of the structure of businesses, and has shown no interest in the professions which would better suit his station.” He got to his feet. “Perhaps we can devise some way of supporting the business without too close an involvement.” He looked at Gardiner.
“You could also, in time, move slightly back from day to day involvement. If you acquire an estate before your eldest son is to go away to school, they could grow up as children of a gentleman.”
Gardiner looked as if someone had bested him in a bout at Gentleman Jack’s. “Well … well, that has always been my ambition, Your Grace, but I am not yet ready for such a move.”
Darcy leaned forward. “Your Grace, I can attest that it’s a very difficult thing to move from one station in life to another, if one thinks one’s security is not yet stable enough to support that move.”
“I can understand that.” The duke nodded. “And I would bow to your personal experience, Darcy, of course. But I think a swift expansion is worth considering, and adding a service for the Royal Navy is an obvious addition.”
He put down his glass. “We can spend some time discussing it over the next months, perhaps. I have been feeling for some time that secure and gainful employment could be helpful to many workers from a business that can outsource work.”
The Lost Heir Page 31
