by Leenie Brown
“Then, you may borrow my son,” his aunt replied. “Now, if everyone is finished eating, I would suggest we retire to the drawing room. You men can drink your port there. We ladies will not mind. However, you must keep your conversation to acceptable topics.” She skewered her husband with a pointed look.
“Yes, my lady,” he replied with a chuckle as he rose from his chair. “Darcy, see that your aunt reaches the drawing room unscathed. I should like to escort Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth took the earl’s hand and allowed herself to be led from the room.
“We will take a turn of the drawing room while the rest are getting the card tables arranged,” he said, patting her hand where it lay on his arm. “I would like to meet your father.”
“You would?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.
“Yes, I would like to meet both your father and the rest of your family.”
They took several silent steps before he asked, “Why do you look so troubled?”
Elizabeth, who had been pondering her mother’s exuberant response to meeting an earl and her younger sister’s giggling, blew out a breath. “I am not a good match for him.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My lord, along with having no fortune and ties to trade, my family is not what it should be.”
He turned her from the card tables and led her back into the hall. “I feel we are not ready to pick up our cards yet,” he explained. “Please, continue. I am very much interested in why you feel your family is not what it should be.”
“Mr. Darcy is so…so…” she paused, searching for the right word, “dignified. He has been raised to greatness.” She shook her head. “I have not.”
“That tells me nought of your family,” Lord Matlock prodded.
“My father’s estate is modest. It produces well, but, I am nearly certain, it could produce better.” She sighed. “And my mother.” She shook her head. “I love her, but she is not always sensible, and my younger sisters are rather silly because of it.” She shook her head again. “He could do far better than me.”
“I see,” Lord Matlock said as they reached the end of the hall and turned to make the return trip to the drawing room. However, instead of continuing to walk, he stopped and motioned to a couch that stood along the wall under a beautiful painting of an outdoor scene. “It may come as a surprise to you, Miss Elizabeth, but my mother was not the most sensible woman either. She would prattle on for hours about the most inane things and insist on the most absurd strictures at times. I had two sisters. Darcy’s mother, Anne, was sweet as could be and not at all like my mother. However, my sister Catherine is the very image of our mother. And my brother?” He grimaced and shook his head. “He was happy to go to sea to be away from both Catherine and our mother. He was sensible to a fault at times and yet unyieldingly foolish at others.”
He covered her hand with his. “When my sister discovers Darcy is marrying you.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. “I realize you are not yet betrothed, but you will be,” he assured her with a squeeze of her hand. “As I was saying, when Catherine realizes that Darcy is not marrying her daughter, she will likely put on a demonstration that would make anything your mother could do pale in comparison. She has said for years that Darcy would marry Anne, and no matter how many times, Darcy’s parents or I, myself, refuted it, she would not listen.” He smiled. “Did I mention she is not always sensible?”
Elizabeth nodded. Darcy’s uncle was a surprisingly easy person with whom to speak. She felt as at ease sitting her with him as she did her own uncle.
“I say all this, Miss Elizabeth, to assure you that your family will not offend me.”
“And what of my ties to trade?”
“You are a gentleman’s daughter.”
“But my uncle and aunt are very dear to me.”
“Do you fear not being permitted to see them?”
She shrugged. “I had thought all gentleman, especially those with titles, wanted nothing to do with men of trade.”
He squeezed her hand again and smiled. “And what is Bingley? Besides a most amiable man and Darcy’s particular friend? He is not yet a gentleman, is he?”
A smile spread across her face as she laughed lightly at her own foolishness.
“In addition to that, my brother did not go to see on a naval ship but on a merchant one. He is in India.” He chuckled. “I see I have shocked you. It was quite the scandal.” He stood and drew her to her feet. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said as they began walking, “I will be delighted if you chose to join your family with mine. Darcy deserves to be loved. That is the only requirement that I will leave with you to consider when you are deciding whether or not to accept his offer when he finally gets around to making it. If you do not love him, then you are not a good match for him. However, if you do love him, then there can be no better match.” He patted her hand. “Are we agreed?”
“Yes.” Again, Elizabeth pondered that word love as she had in her aunt’s sitting room earlier today. “Then, ” she said softly as her heart beat a loud and rapid rhythm in her chest, “I am a good match for him.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Lord Matlock said with another pat for Elizabeth’s hand. “Ah, see, I knew it would happen.” He chuckled and nodded toward the drawing room door from which Darcy had just exited. “I knew he would come looking for you,” he whispered to Elizabeth. Then, raising his voice as Darcy approached, he said, “I can see my services are no longer needed.” He lifted Elizabeth’s hand from his arm and held it out to Darcy. “We can play a person or two short. Take a walk. Show her the library.”
Darcy looked uncertainly from Elizabeth to his uncle.
Lord Matlock shrugged. “Leave the door open if you must.” He smiled at Elizabeth. “I think Miss Elizabeth could use a few more minutes to collect herself after our discussion.” He clapped Darcy on the shoulder and took his leave.
“Are you well?” Darcy asked as they walked toward the grand staircase.
“I am.”
“The library is just behind the dining room,” he explained to Elizabeth as they began descending the stairs. “You do not mind going there do you?” He glanced at her. He did not wish to put her in a place where she was uncomfortable, no matter what his uncle suggested.
“No, I love libraries.”
“But we are unaccompanied.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured, and she carefully watched where she was walking. “We were given permission.” She peeked up at him. “Would you rather not go to the library? We can return to the drawing room.”
He shook his head. “I would always much rather go to the library than the drawing room,” he said with a smile. “The library here is among my favourite rooms.”
“Is it? Pray tell, which other rooms are on your list of favourites?” she teased.
“The library at Darcy House, the library at Pemberley, and the library at Netherfield.”
She laughed. “Do you enjoy any rooms that are not libraries?”
He shrugged. “My study both at Pemberley and Darcy House are quite comfortable, as are my rooms in both places.”
“No drawing rooms?” There was a teasing tone to her voice.
“I do not mind them, but if I had to choose between a drawing room filled with people and a well-stocked library, I would choose the library. I am not well-versed in the art of conversation. It is not something that comes easily to me.”
“I do not believe that for a moment,” Elizabeth retorted. Her breath caught and whatever she was going to add to her rebuttal was snatched from her mind as she glimpsed the sight which lay beyond the door he was opening. “Oh, how beautiful!”
“You see why it is a favourite then?”
“Indeed, I do!”
Two walls were lined with shelves of books which reached from the floor to the ceiling. One set of shelves was interrupted by a door that Darcy told her led to his uncle’s study while the other vast expanse of volumes was broken up by two windows eve
nly spaced. On the far end of the room and only a short distance from the door to Lord Matlock’s study, was a grouping of two chairs and a small sofa with a low table standing before a fireplace. In the midst of the room, were more chairs, a table, a globe, and a few other cabinets and furnishings, all neatly arranged.
“This,” Darcy said as he led her toward the fireplace, “is my favourite place to sit. Richard and I have spent a great deal of time in discussions here.” He smiled at the memory. “Uncle Henry often joins us and shares his wisdom. Chair or sofa?” He had stopped in front of the sofa and wished to pull her down onto it beside him, but he could not bring himself to be so presumptuous.
“The sofa will be perfect,” she replied with a smile. “It is where you wished to sit, is it not?”
“It is,” he admitted. “I had hoped you would sit with me.”
“And I shall.” She took a seat and gave the cushion on her right a pat, inviting him to be seated.
“Before we entered, you said you did not believe I struggle with conversation.” He had always felt awkward in drawing rooms — a fact that was painfully obvious to all on many occasions. Therefore, he was curious to hear her explanation of her claim.
“You converse very well, sir, when you are at ease,” she said with a smile. “Why, today, at my aunt’s house, you did not stumble once, and I would venture a guess that you rarely are without something to say when at Mrs. Verity’s. The children would not be so comfortable around you if you were not also comfortable. And this evening, you have carried on a great deal of conversation both in the dining room and the drawing room. Therefore, I suggest that it is not conversation skills which you lack, but rather the ability to feel at ease in unfamiliar places and with unfamiliar people.”
He shook his head as a smile spread across his face. She was right, of course. If he looked at it as she was, he had to admit it was a lack of feeling at ease that seemed to tie his tongue. “While I will allow you to be correct, I cannot say you have been completely thorough in your evaluation.”
“Have I not?” Her knee brushed against his leg as she turned toward him.
“No,” he said, taking her hand. “There are people such as my aunt Catherine who are not strange to me, nor is her house unfamiliar, yet I am as unable to speak in her presence as I was at the assembly in Meryton. I fear I am rather arrogant when I am at Rosings.”
“She makes you uneasy?”
He nodded. “She is demanding, and she expects me to marry my cousin.” His brows furrowed, and his eyes filled with concern as he mentioned it. “I am not betrothed to her.”
“I know. Lord Matlock told me, but,” her gaze dropped to the hand that was clasped in his, “I had already heard of your betrothal from both my cousin, Mr. Collins, and Mr. Wickham.”
“And yet you have given me leave to call on you without asking me if it was true?”
She looked up at him. “It was not true. I knew that.” Her eyes dropped to her hand again. “After hearing your sister’s tale when she called and then learning what you did for Nellie and the others at Mrs. Verity’s there was absolutely no trace of doubt about your character left in my mind. You are among the best of men. You would not call on one lady while being promised to another.”
“I would not place myself there,” he said, though his heart thrilled to hear her say it, he still felt woefully inadequate at times, especially when he considered Georgiana’s ordeal.
“That is just it,” she replied. “The best of men never place themselves in such a category. The scoundrels and rouges attempt it, but never those who truly deserve such a title.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, unsure of what else to say to such a thing.
“I apologise. I have made you uncomfortable.”
He looked at her in surprise. How did she know that?
“You have fallen silent,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “I have, have I not? And now, when my heart is so full that it feels as if it will burst from my chest.” He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “I cannot express to you how delighted I am to hear I have won your good opinion. You have long had mine, but it deepens upon each meeting. You are the most handsome lady I have ever met, and not just because of your beauty. Your heart, your integrity, your truthfulness, all that is you cannot now or ever be overshone by another.” He lifted her chin to raise her eyes, which had once again lowered to look at her hand, and gazed for a brief moment on her flushed cheeks and her eyes that shone with happiness.
“I love you and would like to speak to your father when I am in Hertfordshire.” He cupped her rosy cheek in his hand. “Do I have your permission to ask him for your hand?”
A smile spread across her face as she nodded her consent.
“You would have me?”
Again, she nodded. “If you will have me.”
“I should like nothing better,” he replied. There was one more thing he wished to know. “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” she replied before he could even draw an anxious breath.
“You love me.” The words settled in around his heart, wrapping it in a comforting peace he had never before felt.
She nodded. “Very much. So very, very much.”
She loved him. The words proclaimed themselves loudly in his mind. She loved him. “May I kiss you?” he asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
She saw the longing in his eyes as well as the uncertainty. Such a loving look could not be met with anything less than a willing acquiescence.
Leaning forward, he gently brushed her lips with his. Then, pausing to make certain she was not startled or uneasy, he whispered, “I love you,” before claiming her lips in a kiss that both left no doubt in her mind as to the truth of his words and compelled her to respond in kind.
Chapter 12
Georgiana draped her pelisse over the back of a chair and placed her gloves, hat, and reticule on the table beside it. Everything else had been stored away in her travelling case or was tucked under the seat in the carriage just waiting for their departure. Excitement and fear warred within her as she anticipated her trip to Netherfield.
“I am afraid my brother is not home,” she said after greeting the people gathered in the drawing room. “However, I do expect him to return at any moment.”
“Oh, I am certain we can wait as long as needed,” Caroline Bingley said sweetly.
Before stepping into the drawing room, Georgiana had heard Caroline complaining to her brother about having to wait.
“I am sure you are anxious to return to Netherfield,” Mrs. Annesley said.
Caroline raised a disapproving brow at the mere servant who deigned to speak and made no reply.
Georgiana bristled at the dismissive action. “I know I am all anticipation at the prospect of finally seeing Netherfield. I have heard so much about it.” Indeed, she had heard plenty about the rooms and gardens from Jane, Elizabeth, and Bingley with a smattering of details thrown in by her brother. Of course, most of the things he mentioned, such as the library, were for Bingley to consider as needing improvement. Once Fitzwilliam had renewed his determination to see his friend well-settled in an estate, he had taken it upon himself to draw up a list of items to which he thought Bingley should see.
Bingley had been eager to listen and learn, of course, while Jane and Elizabeth had preferred to answer Georgiana’s questions about the more homely items of furnishing and fabrics.
“You will simply adore it,” Caroline cooed.
“Do you?” Georgiana asked pointedly.
“Do I adore Netherfield?” Caroline asked with wide eyes.
“Yes. Do you adore Netherfield? I know that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth both speak highly of it, but until this moment, I have not heard you praise it at all.”
Caroline lifted her chin. “You have not been home to callers enough for me to speak to you about such things.” The bitterness in her voice was plain to all.
“I do apolog
ize, but I have been out.”
A sour look settled on Caroline’s face. “Of course.” She sighed. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth have very little with which to compare Netherfield, so they will naturally be more impressed than I am. I have seen Pemberley after all, and Pemberley is an estate without an equal. Be that as it may, Netherfield’s gardens are appropriately sized and styled. They are neither grand nor ostentatious. They are appropriate to the grandeur of the house and do not detract from it.”
Georgiana smiled and muttered her agreement that simple, dignified gardens were what she preferred.
“The house is impressive. There are none that outshine it in the immediate area. The next largest home is Longbourn.” Her lips curled in derision. “And Longbourn is of no great beauty. It has a very small park and,” she shook her head and lowered her voice, “it is not well-tended.”
“Caroline,” Bingley snapped. “Longbourn is a fine estate. It is not so large as Netherfield, but I will not have you disparaging our neighbours.”
Caroline’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “Our neighbours are much like their estate — of no great beauty and not very well-tended. The youngest Bennets!” She shook her head. “And their mother! I do not know why you would wish to tie yourself to such a family.”
“Indeed?” Georgiana’s brows rose as she turned amused eyes to Bingley. Bingley had mentioned how his sister was not pleased about returning to Netherfield or his plans to marry Jane — he had already acquired Mr. Bennet’s permission and was merely waiting to make his offer and present her with his fede ring. But it was surprising to hear Caroline speak so freely.
“Are they so bad? My brother has not said they are.” She knew how Bingley and her brother had described the rest of the Bennet family as well as the cautioning that Elizabeth had given her about her mother and sisters.
“Enthusiastic, a touch unrefined, but pleasant,” he responded with a glare for his sister. “And well enough bred to not speak of their neighbours in such a demeaning fashion, but then, you are not a gentleman’s daughter, so perhaps that is why your civility is lacking?”
