She took a step back, Not retreating, no. Or rather, not from him. It was so unexpected to hear the declaration.
“It is not easy for me to speak of feelings,” he continued. “Except with you. That is how I know you were meant to be mine, and I yours. If you will allow it to be.”
“I—”
“No fear, Lizzy. And if travel is what you desire, then we will travel the world together.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wickham disappeared.
“He is up to something,” Darcy said, his presence filling their drawing room.
“Or perhaps he knows staying would be foolish,” Elizabeth said. “His attempt to cause irreparable damage went awry.”
“There’s no ball,” Kitty muttered. “I call that irreparable damage.”
Darcy looked at her for a moment. “Perhaps we might have it at Pemberley.”
Adelaide had insisted Jane and Bingley wed immediately in order to accompany Elizabeth to Derbyshire for her wedding. The new timeline of future events necessitated cancelling the ball, though Elizabeth was uncertain why. A betrothal throttled any further gossip, so she was safe enough. But Darcy insisted they return to Derbyshire as soon as possible. His presence in her home now was an aggravation as Elizabeth was supposed to be packing, not entertaining him.
Men. They wanted their wills executed and then stood squarely in the way, waving their arms and begging for attention.
“Oh, how grand,” Kitty exclaimed. “A ball at Pemberley! But. . . .” Her lashes lowered, and she looked up at Darcy, bottom lip poking out. “We do not have gowns suitable for the sister of a princess. We would shame you, I fear.”
Darcy opened his mouth.
“Absolutely not,” Elizabeth said, voice flat. “Do not even think it, Your Highness. My sisters and I will make do.”
“Miss Elizabeth, it is not an unreasonable request to dress your family in attire appropriate for the occasion.”
She fixed him with a glare. “No.”
“Oh, why not, Lizzy!” Kitty cried. “Your husband is as rich as Midas.”
“He is not my husband. And his wealth is not to be laid at your feet for the purpose of buying dresses. I said no, Kitty.”
Her sister stormed out.
Alone, Elizabeth turned to her betrothed. “I have a request.”
His brow rose, and he approached her slowly. When she did not move, his hands rose, settling on her upper arms. “Yes, my lady?”
Darcy kept calling her that, and it was only the lack of patronisation in his voice that kept her from snapping at him that she was no lady. His fingers around her arms were a comforting weight, but more and more that comfort turned into a different sensation. Comfort was for siblings or bosom friends. He was to be her husband.
“Do not announce our betrothal once we arrive at Pemberley.”
“What?” He stared down at her. “Why would I not have Pemberley receive you as their new princess?”
“Because that is my wish. If I am to be a princess, I desire to get to know the people without the barrier of rank. Let me spend time in town, among them as just another woman.”
His hands rubbed up and down her arms. “You surprise me, even when some of the things you say I should have guessed.”
She nodded. “I will stay in town with—”
“You will do no such thing.” He scowled. “There is your security to think of.”
“I will not need security. No one will know I am your betrothed. I will simply be Elizabeth Bennet. I have been in Lambton on holiday before. That is where I will stay again.”
“I do not like it.”
“Enduring situations you dislike builds character.”
Darcy was silent a split second, then he laughed. “As you wish. But I request a boon in recompense.”
“I am beginning to dislike that word. What boon?”
As his head lowered, she learned how a prince and a betrothed demanded payment.
Darcy argued with her the entire trip to Derbyshire, alternating between icy silence and tightly controlled temper. He was forced to remain somewhat dignified due to the presence of Mary in the carriage with them, otherwise Elizabeth knew they would have devolved into a full blown argument.
“You will stay at Pemberley,” he insisted.
He had forgotten her entire purpose was to remain anonymous. To get to know the people. Elizabeth pressed a hand to her stomach, glad she had only had toast and weak tea at breakfast. “No, that will not do. The offer is kind, but if I were to stay in your home, even with my stepmother and sisters present, our connection would soon become apparent. Neither of us is that skilled in dissembling.”
He crossed his arms and glared at her. Mary eyed them both, saying nothing, and of course Jane and Charles traveled in their own carriage so they might spend the time together alone. Conversing or whatever newly married couples did when granted that much free time.
“Besides,” Elizabeth continued, “my family is beneath your notice. Tongues will wag if you are seen to single us out.”
The Bennets were a respectable, gently bred family, but she would make no bones about their relative poverty. It would lower her dignity to pretend they were anything but what they were. Impoverished. She would not go into Derbyshire putting on airs or pretending she thought herself more grand than reality might otherwise suggest.
His look remained steady, edged faintly with exasperation. “Miss Elizabeth. The opinions of those who are so far beneath me I cannot tell them apart should be as little concern to you as they are to me.”
In his mind, everyone was beneath him—except those whom he deemed his equals, and of course only his opinion was required to make them so.
“My way is best, you will see.”
“This is highly irregular, sneaking you into Derbyshire as if I am ashamed of you.”
His obtuseness both warmed and irritated her. Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her hand over his, the only sign of affection she was willing to make even though Mary remained silent, staring out of the window.
“I need time, Darcy. This has all been so sudden. So many girls dream of being presented to a court as the fiancée of a prince. I am not one of those girls.”
He stiffened. “Or perhaps it is that you are ashamed of me.”
Mary made a noise. Elizabeth did not blame her. Darcy was making Elizabeth’s reluctance about him, as if by desiring to enter Derbyshire quietly, she was rejecting him.
“Or perhaps it is that I am poor and shabbily dressed, and like I said, this has all been sudden,” she snapped. “Stop pouting.”
“Pouting?” His eyes widened, the blue brilliant with outrage. And then he laughed. And laughed.
Elizabeth smiled reluctantly. How had she ever thought him cold?
“Dear Elizabeth!” Julia Browning, a longtime friend of her mother’s, exclaimed. She hurried down the path as Elizabeth exited the carriage. They had stopped before entering Lambton so Darcy could switch conveyances.
“You will of course inform me when you are prepared to take your place,” he had said, resignation in his tone. “It cannot be too long, though. We are engaged.” He pressed her hand, a hint of steely will entering his voice. He would allow her only so much leeway.
Elizabeth embraced the older woman. “Aunt Julia, I am so happy to see you. I hope our sudden trip has not inconvenienced you.”
“Nonsense. I was delighted to receive your letter. All is prepared.”
They entered the townhouse, a young man slipping outside presumably to deal with their baggage. Julia, the daughter of a gentlewoman who had married down in status but up in wealth, was also a widow of some means. Her household in town supported a small, but quite respectable, staff.
“Mrs Browning,” Adelaide said, stepping into the house. “Be careful with the bag, girl!”
“Mrs Bennet.” Julia’s smile was strained. “I am so pleased to see you again.”
“No doubt,” her stepmother said, walking p
ast Julia towards the parlour. “I am famished. I hope there are cakes.”
Mary pleaded—well, she did not plead anything she merely stated a fact—a headache and excused herself. Lydia and Kitty entered on Elizabeth’s heels and immediately began chattering about the furnishings.
“You have redecorated,” Lydia said. “I prefer blue to mauve in a parlour, but this is done well enough. Perhaps I might change my mind on the decor in my future home.”
“Oh?” Julia took a seat, gesturing. “Are you to be wed?”
“No, Lizzy has not found us husbands yet.” Her smile was wicked. “She made the most hasty promise to mother, and now I am off the hook to do anything but have fun and flirt.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me,” Elizabeth said.
Lydia waved a hand. “You are to wed a prince, it will be no trouble for you.”
Julia’s teacup clattered to her plate. “I beg pardon. Elizabeth?”
So there was nothing to do but give Mrs Browning an abbreviated accounting of the events that led to Elizabeth’s betrothal.
Julia stared at her, nonplussed. “My dear, what are you doing here? Why are you not at Pemberley?”
“It would be improper.”
“You are the betrothed of a prince. There are different rules.” Julia stood, looking flustered. “You have a wedding trousseau to see to!”
“We have no money set aside for a trousseau,” Elizabeth said.
“And she is too proud to spend her husband’s money,” Adelaide said, lip curling. “She should be dressing herself and her sisters in the finest but she insists we all makeover our gowns.”
“That—Elizabeth, I must say. . .are you certain that is how you wish to proceed? There will be expectations of your dress, your deportment. . .”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “I am certain. Darcy is not a treasury for us to plunder. He is a man.”
“A rich man. And while I admire your principles, they are misplaced in this case.”
“My mind is made up.”
And not only because she was uncertain she and Darcy would truly wed. Once he saw her in the setting of his home and court, surely he would change his mind.
Adelaide rose. “I am exhausted, I must retire. All this foolishness has me faint. My daughters will never find husbands if this is how their sister fulfils her promises.”
Her stepmother swept from the room.
Mrs Browning stared after Adelaide for a moment, then turned to Elizabeth. “You had better tell me what all that was about as well.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elizabeth tied her bonnet underneath her chin, drawing on gloves as she exited the house. She walked into the town square, enjoying the quiet time alone. Her younger sisters had gone on ahead in the carriage while Adelaide pleaded a headache and stayed in. Jane and Charles were at Pemberley, Darcy having insisted that it was perfectly normal for him to have invited his friend and his friend’s new wife.
Today she would turn her attention to the problem of accessorising the gowns she and Jane were painstakingly remaking. Jane’s husband would provide for her, but that left the other Bennet women.
“Lizzy,” her sister had said, “Charles is your brother-in-law now, there is no shame in—”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “And before you say I am prideful and stubborn, no, I am merely pragmatic. What man will wed a poor girl if he thinks he will be required to provide for her mother and unwed sisters as well? We’d best not set that example going forward. Let any potential bridegroom feel unencumbered by such daunting responsibilities. Even if it is only a temporary illusion. Or else I shall never find them husbands, even with their new connections.”
“In the normal course of events,” Jane replied slowly, “I would agree with you. But here we are, wed and betrothed both to wealthy men.”
“Which proves my point. Lightning surely shall not strike more than twice.”
Making over gowns acceptable for a ball in the home of a Prince required new ribbon and lace, altered necklines and the addition of new accessories. If they were clever with a needle, no one need know the extent of her family’s impoverishment. Jane’s beauty would eclipse anything she wore, and no one would notice if Elizabeth’s gown seemed a trifle threadbare.
At least that was the fairy tale Elizabeth told herself.
“Elizabeth, you are my fiancée,” Darcy said the final time the subject came up. Tried to sound reasonable, she could tell. Reason had nothing to do with it. “I will be expected to clothe you.”
“Your Highness, if you expect me to remain your fiancée we will hear nothing more on the subject. When we are wed, you may buy me as many dresses as your heart of gold desires.”
His eyes narrowed. “Somehow I do not think you mean heart of gold in the complimentary sense.”
“Nonsense.”
She was under no illusion Darcy would actually allow her to hide behind a tall plant or column the entire evening. She feared even his patience would not tolerate such behaviour. All those eyes on her, judging, finding fault. She pressed a hand to her stomach again. She would get through this. These last few days of being plain Elizabeth Bennet were her anchor.
Elizabeth would wait until after they wed to tell him that she had no desire for a new wardrobe. A few things to outfit her as befit his rank, perhaps. But she was not a woman overly interested in clothing. It served a purpose. The purpose was to cover one’s nakedness while walking and reading.
Consulting the list Julia had drawn up of shops in town, she approached the first. Entering, Elizabeth met the eye of the man behind the counter. His gaze flicked as he took in her bearing and appearance, likely sizing up the contents of her purse.
“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Miss,” he said, coming from behind the counter. “And fine weather it is today, too.”
“Indeed. The walk here was most pleasant.”
“Oh?”
“I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I’m staying with friends in town for a few weeks.”
He beamed. “Welcome to Lambton! I hope you will enjoy your holiday.”
“I have been here before, so I am sure I shall. For now, I am seeking new gloves.”
“Very good. For what occasion may I ask?”
“A ball. Prince Darcy’s ball, to be exact. I am to attend with my sisters and we are in need of some small items.”
His entire demeanour changed. While before he had been pleasant, albeit a tad revered, now he brimmed with eagerness.
“Prince Darcy’s ball! Yes, we only just heard news of the occasion, and it is to be soon, as well. Well, Miss, I am honoured you would choose my humble establishment for your fashion needs. We have the latest from London. . . .”
They haggled over the price of satin gloves, additional strands of ribbon. Pink for Lydia and blue for Elizabeth. Kitty and Jane entered the shop during the negotiations, announcing they had seen Elizabeth from a block down.
“My husband has found sanctuary from our shopping in an establishment he refuses to call a tavern,” Jane said, sounding amused. “So we are on our own until done.”
“I want to go to the bakery,” Kitty said. “Jane, come with me. You will keep me from purchasing too many pastries. And I suppose we should see where Lydia has gone off to.”
Jane obliged, leaving Elizabeth. There were also scraps of lace to purchase and Elizabeth stood frowning over two varieties, half wondering what mischief Lydia was up to, when the door opened again. She looked up as the shopkeeper exclaimed, expecting to see another Bennet woman.
It was Darcy.
She dipped into a curtsy, covering the usual influx of confusing emotions whenever she saw him now. Joy and wariness, longing, and a desire to flee because surely if she pinched herself this dream would evaporate. “Your Highness.”
“Miss Bennet.” He came forward and bowed. “Mrs Bingley and Miss Lydia were outside. I thought I would stop and inquire if you have settled into your accommodations satisfact
orily.”
“Yes, indeed, sir.” They said nothing for another moment, Darcy’s hand rising as if he was about to touch her cheek when the other man shifted.
Darcy stilled, arm lowering to his side ,and glanced at the shopkeeper. “Please take care of Miss Bennet. She is a friend of Pemberley.”
Elizabeth suppressed a wince. While she appreciated his intention behind the sentiment, she hoped the price of the goods would not increase on the shopkeeper’s assumption she had to be of greater wealth than he previously assumed. After all, why would the prince associate himself with a poor woman?
The shopkeeper bowed and moved away to give them a semblance of privacy.
“That is not the only reason I wished to speak with you,” Darcy said, turning back to her. “My sister has asked me to invite you to tea tomorrow.”
They stared at each other, waging a silent battle of wills. “Surely the princess is far too busy to entertain me.”
“On the contrary. She is most excited to meet you. I have told her all about my time in Meryton.”
“I see. If she insists, despite all known considerations—”
“She does.” His expression shut down into his stubborn look.
“I would be delighted to attend Her Highness tomorrow.”
“She will be gratified.” Fingers light on her elbow, he drew her farther from the averted eyes and avid ears of the shopkeeper. “When will you allow me to present you at court?”
She smoothed her free hand down her dress. “In due time. Perhaps it is better your sister and I come to be friends first.” That would buy her a great deal of time.
He frowned. “I think you believe yourself able to manage me.”
“I beg pardon?”
“I allowed your accommodations with friends rather than placing yourself under my care at Pemberley as I ought to have done. That does not mean I will allow you to have your way in everything, Miss Elizabeth.”
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