Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (16 page)

“Miss
Elizabeth may not have instantly fallen in love with William, Mrs. Annesley.”
Georgiana flopped onto the settee beside her companion, clasping her hand. “I,
of course, think William the handsomest, smartest, wittiest, kindest man on the
planet, and believe every woman mad for him! I shall confess that I am
extraordinarily prejudiced, however. Mrs. Reynolds, you agree with me, yes?”

“I
do, naturally. That is not to say he is without some flaws, however minor.”

“You
do tease, Mrs. Reynolds! I suppose it is true, although I cannot name a one,”
Georgiana declared pompously, and then winked at Mrs. Reynolds.

Mrs.
Annesley feigned wide-eyed shock. “Not even one flaw? My word. How is it Miss
Elizabeth Bennet was able to withstand the lure? I would think no woman alive
strong enough to resist such a supreme specimen of manhood.”

“I
cannot fathom it either!” A fleeting frown wrinkled Georgiana’s brow, revealing
to Mrs. Reynolds that underneath the dramatic fun was a hint of seriousness. “Whatever
the reasons, Miss Elizabeth’s feeling for William were crystal clear during her
visit this summer. If her stay in Derbyshire had not been cut short, I bet
their engagement would have happened then. William was hopeful, I know, and
then terribly distressed. Something happened within her family, although I do
not know the details.”

“I
only saw Mr. Darcy briefly during those days, before he left for London.” Mrs.
Annesley squeezed Georgiana’s hand. “He was quite distraught. Praise God the
obstacles were overcome and now the desired happy ending will soon occur.”

 “Yes!
As they both deserve!” Georgiana sang merrily. “Oh! I cannot wait! Twenty-eight
of November seems so long from now.”

“The
time will pass swiftly, especially since we have much to do to prepare for a
new mistress. The staff, that is.”

“Oh!
Please allow me to help, Mrs. Reynolds!”

“I
am sure Bonnie and Colleen would appreciate another strong arm beating the
carpets. Thank you, Miss Darcy, for the kind offer.”

Mrs.
Annesley chuckled at the amazed expression that crossed Georgiana’s face before
she also laughed. “I suspect you are teasing me, Mrs. Reynolds. But if beating
carpets or washing drapes is how I may best serve my new sister, then I will
gladly do so.”

“I
am sure you would, my dear. Nevertheless, your unique talents are more
valuable. I prefer your guidance in regards to decorating and stocking the new
Mrs. Darcy’s private chambers. Your taste and elegance are superior to mine, of
that there is no question. The shelves of
La Belle Assemblée
,
The
Lady’s Magazine
, and Ackermann’s
Repository
, the pages of which I
believe you have memorized, qualify you for this assignment.”

Georgiana
flushed prettily at the high praise. “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. I accept the
assignment. When do we start?”

“Right
away, if you wish. Mr. Darcy is requesting a concise inventory of the contents
and description of the rooms, as well as a list of furnishings in the manor
that may do for Miss Bennet. Your skill in drawing might prove beneficial, Miss
Darcy, and the more help I have in note taking, the quicker I can deliver the
information to Mr. Darcy. He wants the list before he travels to London.”

“My
brother shopping for home furnishings and womanly things? Now that I would like
to see!”

“Do
not dare slam the door, Lizzy!”

Jane’s hissed warning was obeyed.
Barely. Lizzy closed the haberdasher’s door with a firm thud that did not
rattle the glass unduly, and she expelled her anger with a growling exhale as
she stomped down the steps, onto the wooden walkway.

“Feel better?”

“I would feel much better if I
had
slammed the door, preferably directly onto Lottie Thorne’s face,” Lizzy snapped
at her sister’s placating tone. “As if Mr. Bird, who resembles his surname
uncannily, can be compared, on any level or point, with Mr. Darcy! Why, he is
superior in every regard, as Lottie well knows, or she would not be reduced to
grasping at Mr. Bird’s sleight-of-hand abilities and dancing skills as the only
proof.”

“Mr. Bird has entertained with his
excellent card tricks on numerous occasions, and many of us, you included, have
delighted in dancing with him these past couple years.”

“That is hardly the point, Jane!”
Lizzy stopped cold and turned her furious face toward her sister. Then, seconds
later, was joining her in laughter. “Oh my,” she finally gasped, “I am quite
testy today.”

“Perhaps a little, and it is
understandable, although unfair to blame poor Mr. Bird for it.”

“You know I do not blame him. Mr.
Bird is a fine gentlemen, his unfortunate name notwithstanding, and I am sure
he and Lottie Thorne will be deliriously happy together.”

She sighed deeply and gazed across
the main street of Meryton. People bustled about, intent on their own business
for the most part, but a fair number cast glances toward the Bennet sisters,
some even going so far as to openly point.

Lizzy felt the irritation rising
again. Jane must have sensed her returning tension because she placed one hand
calmly onto Lizzy’s arm and, with a gentle nudge, led them toward the butcher’s
shop.

“They only stare and whisper
because our engagements are the most excitement seen hereabouts for weeks. What
else would they gossip about? Mr. Epworth’s prize hog? I did hear he was a
stupendous specimen that brought a hefty sum at the auction in Hertford, the
largest ever, so the story goes, but I doubt if even that compares.”

“Jane,” Lizzy giggled, “you do
improve my spirits! But as usual you are being kind and painting a pretty
picture when you should not. True, your betrothal to Mr. Bingley, of its own
accord, would generate bounteous chatter. Every word would extol the virtues of
the match, with the only argument being whether it is Miss Bennet or Mr.
Bingley who is most fortunate to have won the hand of such a perfect mate. I,
conversely, am subjected to pity for falling prey to a disagreeable and
domineering man who must have hidden, nefarious designs that will be revealed
in a heinous manner after the wedding, at which point I will be tossed
shamelessly aside. Or I am condemned for abandoning all my morals to ensnare,
by any improper or dissolute means at my disposal, the richest man to ever set
foot in Hertfordshire.”

“You do have quite an imagination,
Lizzy. If ever you are bored during the cold winters of Derbyshire, I suggest
lending your hand at writing a novel or two.”

“Laugh if you wish, but you heard
Mrs. Rusch talking to Miss Castell and Maria Lucas last night.”

“All Mrs. Rusch said was that Mr.
Darcy appeared clearly besotted and was unable to remove his eyes from you for
more than minutes at a time for conversation. She thought it was sweet and
romantic.”

“She made it sound as if he were
lost in an enchantment,” Lizzy countered grumpily.

“Did you not tell me Mr. Darcy said
you had bewitched him? Love is a sort of enchantment, do you not think so?”

“Not the kind that comes from
potions stirred in black cauldrons or woven while dancing unclothed under a
full moon.”

“Your imagination running amok once
again, and another plot for a potential book.”

 Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Ask
Caroline Bingley, and I wager she would assert I did one of the two. Or both.”

They reached the corner of the
butcher’s shop, where they were conscripted by Mrs. Bennet to ensure the two
geese ordered for dinner that night were being prepared for delivery. Lizzy
stopped, Jane obediently waiting at her side while she inhaled several times to
quiet her frustration. Suddenly she felt a burning behind her eyelids,
realizing with a mild start that it was the prickling of tears!

“Dear Lizzy…”

Jane’s soothing, sympathetic voice
only made it worse. Lizzy turned away from the road, busying herself by
pretending to search inside her reticule. “Blast it all! Oh, Jane,” she sobbed,
“I know you are correct about Mrs. Rusch. And Lottie meant nothing vicious by
her comments either. I am…I just hate the constant expressions of shock that
accompany news of my engagement to Mr. Darcy. Perhaps I exaggerated a moment
ago, but you know not by much. Few believe I accepted his proposal out of love
and not because of his wealth. Those who credit affection to my decision and
acknowledge Mr. Darcy’s affection for me do so grudgingly. I have lost count of
the insinuating comments. Even the well wishes for our future happiness are
spoken with an edge of disbelief or desperation, as if none can imagine it
possible in the slightest for me to be happy with Mr. Darcy.”

“Lizzy, are you beginning to doubt
your future with Mr. Darcy?”

Jane’s hesitantly whispered
question doused the flames of Lizzy’s emotions swifter than a bucket of icy
water to the face. She gasped, the idea so utterly unfathomable that for a
moment she was too stunned to speak.

“No,” she stated with conviction.
Her eyes were steadfast and clear of tears as she met Jane’s. “Not for the
tiniest second. If anything, these past days have strengthened my assurance of
our life together. The more time I spend with William, the more I love him and
am sure that we are superbly compatible. Do you not see, Jane? This is
precisely what is so, so…annoying! It is not for myself that the gossip and
demeaning attitude pains…Well, perhaps to a degree as these are people who know
me, so they should trust and be happy for me. No, I hurt and grow angry for Mr.
Darcy’s sake.”

“
That
I do not believe you
should fret over, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy seems quite impervious to what anyone says.
Frankly, I doubt he notices, or cares if he does. His attention and concerns
are directed solely toward you, dear sister.”

Lizzy blushed, her smile automatic.
“I cannot deny what you say, Jane, and daily count my blessings for having such
a man. What I also see, and perhaps you do not, is how he strives to please me
by ingratiating himself. Dinner at a different house each of the past four
nights with an endless parade of people he barely knows, the bulk of whom span
the spectrum between persistent rudeness to obsequious fawning. He has endured
personal questions, not-so-cleverly veiled insinuations, and displays of ill
manners and vulgarity, such as our Aunt Phillips’s at Mr. Meldon’s on Tuesday”—they
both shuddered at the memory—“and has done so with forbearance and
politeness that honestly astonishes me. At every turn he has made a concerted
effort to be pleasant and conversational.”

“Be patient, Lizzy. It has only
been five days. Mr. Darcy’s sincere affection for you, fine manners, pleasant
conversation, and willingness to interact with Meryton’s citizens will be
noticed. In fact, they already are. He was invited personally to join Mr.
Bingley at the Reading Room this afternoon, was he not? You know how ridiculous
the men are about admitting strangers into their private club. They had yet to
invite Mr. Bingley, and honestly I doubt they would have for another month if
not for…Mr. Darcy!”

“You may have a point, Jane, but—”

“No. I mean, there is Mr. Darcy, standing
by the pastry shop.”

Lizzy twirled around, her hat
flying off in the process and snatched by Jane when only inches from hitting
the ground. Lizzy hardly noticed. “Where did he come from? And what is he
doing?”

“Examining something in his hands,
but I cannot see what from this angle. His pocket watch, perhaps?”

“He and Mr. Bingley are not
expected at the club until one o’clock, and it is not yet ten.”

“Mr. Darcy is obsessed with
punctuality,” Jane teased. “Although it is more likely that he had other
business in the village,” she added when Lizzy flashed a sidelong glower.

As they spoke, a woman with two
children rounded the corner, making for the pastry shop door. Mr. Darcy hastily
slipped the object into a pocket, patting it securely even as he bowed and
tipped his hat.

“See how freely he engages Mrs.
Larimer and how cheerfully she responds to him, Lizzy? He even speaks to the
children, and they appear contented.”

“Jane, go on to Mr. Trask’s for
mama, and give my regards to the Janssens. I will meet you by the fountain at
noon.”

Lizzy was off the curb and heading
into the street, the instructions tossed over her shoulder. After pausing for a
passing coach, dodging other pedestrians, and circumventing a cluster of men
repairing a broken railing in front of the mercantile, Lizzy had lost sight of
Mr. Darcy. A frantic sweep had her spotting him turning onto Poole Street, one
block further down from Main. Unerringly, Lizzy diverted into a small alleyway
traveling the same direction. Another turn down the alley between the bank and
the mail office, a catercorner dive through the public garden, and a jag past
the flower vendor brought Lizzy onto Poole Street just in time to see Mr. Darcy
walk into the bookseller’s shop.