by Maria Grace
She blushed hot, her cheeks prickling.
“These things happen, that is the way of the world.” Mrs. Reynolds poured a cup of tea and handed it to her. “The Lady Anne once fell from her horse in front of the church when a dog spooked the beast. She injured her shoulder in the fall and was unable to pay calls for near a month complete. There was widespread consternation over her health after that.”
One more thing Lady Anne never committed to her journals.
“Has Georgiana stirred from her rooms?”
“No, madam. She remains locked away. Mrs. Annesley says that she is quite content to be so.”
“Does Mrs. Annesley at least continue her lessons during her isolation?”
“I believe she tries, but—”
“Miss Darcy feels too frail to undertake such efforts. She fears a brain fever might ensue, I suppose?” Elizabeth sipped her tea, eyes closed, lest she been seen rolling them.
“Mrs. Annesley thinks it unlikely and is loath to permit the excuse, but …”
“Mr. Darcy accepts it.”
“That is Miss Darcy’s explanation, madam. But, do not trouble yourself with that now. The surgeon is expected soon. You might wish to have your supper first.”
The possibility of good news whetted her appetite, and Elizabeth ate, watching the window for the surgeon’s gig.
The surgeon pronounced it safe enough to attempt to walk using walking sticks. Darcy brought them to her and hung about like a mother hen as she hobbled across the room.
While she could manage to traverse a short distance, she would not be going far. The stairs were certainly out of the question, but the entire first floor of the house was now open to her.
After the surgeon’s visit, Darcy suggested a stroll through the gallery. By stroll, he meant a slow, tottering shamble, but still, it was better than sitting. The change of scenery alone improved her mood dramatically.
Since her accident, he had been so patient, so solicitous, with little trace of dissatisfaction with her. It was like having the man she knew as her husband back again.
“I know the stares of my ancestors are nothing to the outdoors, but at least the coolness of this chamber reminds one of fresh air.” He hovered very close to her side.
Though the attentions were mildly suffocating, the walking sticks were difficult to manage and the security of his strong arms nearby proved welcome.
“Indeed it does. I have been far too long in a single room and fear that Bedlam beckons. Tell me of our guests.”
“Fitzwilliam is quite sanguine in all things. He is not difficult to please. A bit of peace in the countryside with nothing to remind him of France, and he is a happy man.”
“I understand your aunt still complains of a headache and keeps much to her rooms.”
“She does, but I am not sure anyone truly minds. The surgeon called upon her as well today. I believe she availed herself of one of his laudanum potions.”
Elizabeth shook her head hard enough to threaten her balance. “While they are indeed effective at relieving pain, I find they bring more discomfort than relief. Every time I drink it, oh, how I itch, and my mouth feels stuffed with cotton wool.” She smacked her lips and worked her tongue over the roof of her mouth.
“It seemed you must have had strange dreams, too, disturbing ones at that. You were very restless those nights.”
“I feared I might have disturbed your sleep. Are you certain—”
He caught her upper arm in his strong hand, gentle and warm, but sure and unwavering.
“Absolutely. Even when you are restless, I sleep far better with you beside me.”
She paused to catch her breath, arms aching from the walking sticks.
“Uncle certainly seems more agreeable for Aunt’s use of the draughts. He barely complained about his gout or anything else over breakfast. What is more, Mrs. Annesley brought Georgiana down to the breakfast table this morning. She has not appeared for any other meals, but this is a start. I am hopeful it will continue.”
Hopeful? It was by his approval that she kept to herself.
“The Gardiners are supposed to arrive tomorrow. The nursery is in order for the children and their nursery maid. But as to your aunt and uncle, what might be done for their comfort?”
Oh, that.
She sagged against the walking sticks.
“What rooms have you instructed Mrs. Reynolds to prepare for them?”
He stopped mid-step and stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“My aunt and uncle will require chambers.”
“Have you not made arrangements for them?”
She hobbled her way toward the window. The air was cooler there, easing the burn in her cheeks.
“Elizabeth?”
“The Earl and Lady Matlock are using those rooms,” she whispered.
He walked again, hands clasped tightly behind his back, the way he paced when he was trying to puzzle something out.
“Mrs. Reynolds did not mention to you those were the rooms favored by my relations? But why would she? They were not expected. How would you have known? It should not have mattered in the first place,” he muttered, barely audible.
He rarely muttered.
“Bloody hell!” He slapped his fist into his palm.
And he never cursed in her presence.
“Pray, will you tell Mrs. Reynolds where they should stay?”
He stared at her in such an odd way. What had she said so very wrong?
“Excuse me.” He bowed as he did to company and strode out.
She lowered herself onto the bench below the window.
What had she done this time? She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the back of her hands to her eyes. Hot trails traced down her cheeks.
∞∞∞
Darcy pelted down the stairs, restraining his urge to shout for Mrs. Reynolds. She must have heard his frantic footstep, appearing at the base of the stairs as he reached them.
“Has the mistress taken ill? Has she injured herself?”
“No, no, Mrs. Darcy is quite well. We were walking in the gallery. The Gardiners, they are arriving tomorrow.”
Furrows deepened beside her eyes and she took on that look, the one she had worn when he was young, and not behaving as he should.
“Yes sir.”
“Their rooms?”
“The staff is prepared to make rooms ready as soon as we are directed which rooms to use.”
“You had instructions previously?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I overrode those?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why did you not inform me?”
“I did, sir.”
He dragged his hand down his face. “In the future, Mrs. Reynolds, should I issue an order that in any way affects something Mrs. Darcy has already told you, you are to inform me directly of the conflict and direct me to speak with her on the matter before you make a change.”
“Understood sir.” The creases around her eyes eased a mite.
“As to accommodations for the Gardiners.” He pulled at his face again. “What do you believe Mrs. Darcy would find most pleasing?”
“Have you asked her?”
“She asked—informed me—that I should make those arrangements. To that end, I require your recommendation. What would please her the most?”
“If I might be so bold as to suggest, sir. There are unused rooms in the family wing. They are not as grand as the gold suite to be sure, but those might make it easier for her to spend time with her aunt.”
“Brilliant! Make it so.”
She curtsied and hurried off.
Darcy leaned against the banister.
Hopefully, Elizabeth would approve and some of her melancholy would abate. Perhaps then she would talk with him again.
He wandered back to his study.
How striking that his house should be so full of people and yet he felt so very alone.
Chapter 6
Late the fo
llowing morning, Sampson announced a carriage and luggage cart had been seen on the lane. The Gardiners, no doubt. A final check with Mrs. Reynolds ensured the rooms ready for their arrival and refreshments prepared.
How could half an hour last so very long?
He paced the parlor, dodging comfortable chairs and small tables, waiting. Why was there not a clear open path for walking the length of the room?
In his younger days, he would have been outside, running the front lawns in anticipation of company. But that was no longer considered proper.
“The Gardiners, sir.” Sampson ushered them into the parlor.
Weary and dusty, the children tumbled in ahead of their parents. The four youngsters assembled themselves before him and curtsied and bowed as best as their stiff little bodies allowed.
“Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner, I am very pleased you are come.” He bowed. “I trust your journey has been a comfortable one.”
“As comfortable as any long journey may be.”
“Refreshments for the children are laid out in the kitchen. If you would like your nursery maid to escort them?” He smiled and glanced at his newly acquired nieces and nephews.
“Once they have eaten, if you think it fitting, they may have a ramble about the grounds. One of the young grooms can bring out the spaniels. They might have a bit of a romp with the puppies, if that would be agreeable.”
“Oh yes, Papa, please!” The smallest boy ran up to his father, a hopeful look on his face.
Mr. Gardiner ruffled his hair. “I think that would be just the thing for you, son. We are most obliged, sir.”
“When they are finished, the nursery has been made ready for them.”
“Most kind of you, sir,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
Mrs. Reynolds arrived with the nursery maid in her wake. The children followed them out.
A maid slipped in, bearing a tray of tea and refreshments. They sat down.
“Might I inquire, sir, where is Lizzy? I am a bit surprised not to see her here with us.” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
“I am afraid she met with a bit of an accident.”
“What happened? It is serious?”
“She slipped on some wet ground and injured her ankle. The surgeon has pronounced her well, save for that. Yesterday she was able to have a bit of an amble about the first floor, but she cannot yet manage the stairs.”
Mrs. Gardiner pressed her hand to her chest and leaned back. “I am quite relieved to hear it is nothing serious. What a shame for her to be unable to enjoy her company.”
“There is a sitting room that she favors upstairs. I have taken the liberty of preparing rooms for you nearby. Perhaps you may keep company with Elizabeth there.”
“Most considerate of you, sir.” Mr. Gardiner glanced at his wife.
She wore a quiet, thoughtful expression, very similar to Elizabeth’s. What was she thinking?
“At dinner tonight, I shall introduce you to my relations, Earl and Lady Matlock.”
“Indeed? We had no idea you would be hosting so large a house party, sir.” Mrs. Gardiner’s brows rose high. “We would certainly not have imposed our company upon you this season had we known.”
“Their arrival was most unexpected.”
“What an honor for Elizabeth to receive. Dinner is then a quite formal event, I imagine?” she asked.
That was one way to describe it.
“My aunt prefers it so.”
“We will dress accordingly.”
Darcy’s jaw dropped. “Forgive me, madam. I meant not to imply … that is I meant no offense … I had not thought …”
“No offense is taken, sir. I would much rather understand expectations in advance.” Mrs. Gardiner sipped her tea.
How different they were to the Matlocks, gracious and pleasant, looking to be pleased, not offended.
Mr. Gardiner set his teacup aside and crossed his legs. “Now, you said something about spaniels, or was it pointers? You keep a pack of hunting dogs?”
“Indeed I do. I am very fond of spaniels.”
“As am I. I would be very interested in seeing your kennel, if I might.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Conversation with the Gardiners was easy and agreeable. Their enthusiasm and interest in those things which interested him made what was usually a trial, a delight. When they made their way upstairs, he felt the loss of their company severely. At least dinner tonight would be a far more pleasing event.
If only Elizabeth might join them as well.
The Gardiners arrived in the drawing room in dinner dress. Darcy and Fitzwilliam greeted them.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Mrs. Gardiner curtsied.
“Indeed, our niece has told us a great deal about you.” Mr. Gardiner winked.
Fitzwilliam laughed. “That may or may not be a good thing.”
“Well, in this case, you may be certain it is good.”
The Gardiners’ manners would be welcome in any society drawing room, much more so than the Matlocks’. How strange that there had been a time he was set against them.
“My parents send their regrets tonight as neither will be joining us for dinner.”
Darcy grumbled under his breath.
“It is not my fault, Darce. Father complains his gout is making him miserable. Given he has been at the port to ease his discomfort, it is just as well not to have his company. Mother’s headaches continue, as does her supply of the good surgeon’s tonic.”
How very convenient that their ailments enabled them to make their opinions known, with no tarnish to their own reputations. Darcy squeezed his temples.
“So then it will be a small, intimate dinner. The kind we most enjoy,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
Was she always so able to see the pleasing aspects in everything? Perhaps Elizabeth learned the skill from her.
“It is a shame to take up the entire dining room for just the four of us.” Fitzwilliam rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “What say you of shifting us to the small dining parlor? I will invite Georgiana to join us. We shall have a merry little party.”
Darcy glanced at the Gardiners. Would it insult them, to be treated so familiarly?
“What a lovely idea. There is never so much good conversation as when the table is small and the company amiable,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
Fitzwilliam sauntered off to inform Mrs. Reynolds and fetch Georgiana.
In less than a quarter hour, they assembled in the small dining room, the room he and Elizabeth favored. Mirrors glinted from three of the walls, reflecting the candle light and offering an illusion of space. Still, it was confining with barely enough room to skirt around the table, so no servants could attend them. Then again, that was perhaps the room’s chiefest appeal. The sense of closeness to the other diners and lack of interruption from the staff made it much easier to converse and enjoy the meal.
The small table would not accommodate all the dishes planned for the evening.
Bless Mrs. Reynolds! She edited the selection to those Elizabeth would have chosen, not Lady Matlock. How delightful not to have to pretend he liked the Fitzwilliam carrot soup again.
“Elizabeth sets a very fine table, does she not?” Mr. Gardiner said.
“Yes, she does,” Georgiana whispered, not looking up from her plate.
“That is perhaps the one way she takes after her mother. Fanny is an excellent hostess. She learned from the best, my niece did.”
“Have you enjoyed having a sister in the house? I am sure it is a big change for you.” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
“Yes, it has been a big change. Since my father passed, we have entertained very little for the holiday, hardly at all. It has been very different trying to plan a ball.”
“A ball?”
Darcy glared at Georgiana. What was she about, mentioning that?
“Unfortunately, we had to cancel it with Mrs. Darcy’s injury. There is no way she can carry off such an event whilst she is stil
l unable to walk downstairs.”
“It is sad that you had to withdraw the invitation. I know she must be disappointed.” Mrs. Gardiner chewed her lip. “I remember when I was a girl, living in Lambton, invitations to events at Pemberley were much anticipated. Of course, we were not on such terms to be invited to formal events, like a ball. One year, though, there was a summer picnic for all the children on Pemberley grounds.”
Fitzwilliam scratched his head. “Yes, yes, I think I recall that. I was barely breeched at the time.”
“I believe the event was in honor of Mr. Darcy’s breeching as a matter of fact.” Mrs. Gardiner giggled.
Georgiana tittered. “I have never imagined you in a baby dress, brother.”
“Then you have been ignoring the portrait in the gallery?” Fitzwilliam served himself another helping of medlars with walnuts.
“I totally forgot about that picture. Your curls were so lovely, brother. It is a shame they were all cut off.”
Darcy grumbled. “I was too young to clearly recall the event.”
He would protest her informality, but it was so pleasing to see her returned to conversation and participation that he dare not remark on it. She was far too sensitive to anything resembling criticism. Perhaps Elizabeth could teach her to be more resilient.
“You can be assured that it was a lovely event, with games of all sorts for the children, some lovely refreshments, and plenty of biscuits. I remember taking home a lovely little box of pretty biscuits. I think Mrs. Darcy herself folded it for the occasion. I may even still have it … indeed I do. I keep locks of my sons’ hair from their breechings in that box.”
“What a very sweet thing to do!” Georgiana exclaimed. “Elizabeth talked of hosting a picnic for the children instead of inviting them to the ball.”
“A Christmas picnic for the children. What a lovely idea. What date for it?”
“There is no date, not now.” Georgiana shrugged.
“I thought you were planning that.” Fitzwilliam leaned forward on his elbows. “I do not recall hearing you had cancelled it as well, Darcy.”
Georgiana swallowed hard. “I … I told Elizabeth … I could not …”
“She never mentioned it to me.” Darcy steepled his hands. “The picnic invitations were sent along with the ones to the ball, but the only ones I rescinded were for the ball.”
