“You will set precedent my dear!” he exclaimed. “Precedent. In two years, they will be aping your current dress at Almack’s. I see from your mouth that you mean to reproach me, as you assume my speech to be sarcastic. But that is neither here nor there. We must return to the topic later. Darcy, surely you can understand my father’s annoyance.Hehad to receive Batty Catty’s letters.”
“Don’t call your aunt that.” Lord Matlock sat straight. “She has no resemblance to a bat.”
Lady Susan giggled. “That bat. It rhymes.”
Lord Matlock had an expression which suggested that he rather at this moment wished for a different daughter-in-law.
“See, you look upon a defeated old man. He cannot manage his own sister,” added the grinning Lord Hartwood.
It was impossible for Darcy not to grin back at his cousin. “I received letters from Aunt Catherine as well expressing her opinions on the marriage.” He noticed Elizabeth looked at himwith a half frown. “I of course only read the first paragraphs before burning them.”
Viscount laughed. “If only my father could reply in such a way.”
“It surprised us very much,” Lady Matlock said. “Quite unlike you — you do notoweus an accounting. Not at all. No matter what my husband might think, you are your own man. But…” The gray-haired woman smiled brightly at Darcy. “We are family.”
Lady Matlock had always been the kinder and more friendly of the two.
There was too much of Lady Catherine’s confidence and stubbornness in Lord Matlock — and in Darcy himself, if he was honest on the matter — for it to be easy for them to manage when they disagreed.
But with her sweetness, combined with a fine intellect that was the equal of any man’s, Lady Matlock served as the peacekeeper who had kept the occasional angry disputes within the Fitzwilliam portion of the family from exploding out of bounds — at least she had until Lady Catherine had written so viciously about Elizabeth and Darcy in response to the marriage. Until such time as his aunt apologized, which might easily be never, there would be a rupture between them.
“I wish…” —that I had not been so desperate to finally be married and to be enjoying the reward of my lack of wisdom —“that I could have given you all ample time to know Elizabeth and her virtues before the marriage. But as I wished to return quickly to Pemberley, and I wished to marry before that return, it seemed best to simply do so.”
“Balderdash,” Lord Matlock said. “Could have still given us more than a week’s warning. Waited out the banns — wouldn’t have hurt anything if you needed to let the lady sit in Hertfordshire till January or February. I wrote courting lettersto Lady Matlock for nearly six months before we married, and it did us both good to understand each other so well. Conversation? That is not a good reason to hurry. Unless there was aneedto hurry.”
“I have already told you my reason — Georgiana, do you feel up to playing?” Darcy stood from his chair, and he went to Elizabeth and pulled her up. “Would you both not like to play to display to the company? — perhaps you might play a duet.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no. I would much prefer to let us all simply hear Georgiana — you all know how superior she is to the usual performer. I am not.”
This surprised Darcy. She had generally been perfectly happy and willing to play whenever he’d asked before now, though she never made a point of seeking opportunities to display. Exactly what, in his view, an accomplished woman should be. But she had no cause to be anxious about playing in front of her family, Darcy always found her song wholly lovely and delightful.
Georgiana exclaimed, “No, no, Elizabeth, you must sing with me. I ever so prefer it to not have everyone’s eyes upon me.” And she grabbed Elizabeth and pulled her to sit next to her by the large piano on the side of the room.
“If I must sing,” Elizabeth replied, “then I must.”
Chapter Eight
The twenty minutes that Elizabeth had to dress for dinner had not been enough to let the tension leave her body.
How dare they.
There was an undercurrent of anger every time she thought of Darcy’s family. Oh, certainly, she had managed to pretend to be pleased with them, a pretense that wore thinner and thinner the longer the afternoon had gone on, and on, and on. But she would rather stab needles into her own eyes than appear cowed.
If she let them see thehurtthat the way they all spoke of her as “the fortune hunter” who had gained their beloved rich relation with herconversation— thatword. Elizabeth nowdespisedthat word.
She sat straighter, and she became quieter and kept her words mild, because she wanted to reply with sharp edged anger, and these people were clever enough to perceive any hidden barbs. Especially the Earl and his Countess, but Lady Susan and Viscount Hartwood were not fools. If she tried to layer hidden insults into what she said, like Papa often did, they wouldseeit, and they would know they had poked her hard enough to make her want to attack.
And then the entire time Darcy had this look about him, this frowning worried look as he glanced between them.
The singing had been the worst. Her voice was hardly up to the standard they expected, and next to Georgiana's, her piano playing was awful.
Dinner was no more pleasant. Georgiana remained quiet, and at first the conversation went around news of the war, the progress of Wellington’s campaign in the Peninsula, and theprospects that the absent Colonel Fitzwilliam had for achieving advancement and glory when his regiment was sent to Spain in May.
Then a long discussion of the likely weather tomorrow during the fox hunt, and each of the gentlemen talked through their memories of past hunts. But after a while Lady Susan demanded that they turn the conversation from masculine topics to a subject that might entertain the ladies. “Mrs. Darcy — Eliza, do you mind if I call you Eliza?”
“You can call me whatever you wish,” Elizabeth replied. It was in fact what most of her friends called her in Hertfordshire, Lizzy being the name within the family. She had not been called either since she’d taken leave of her aunt and uncle. “And I imagine you will.”
“Eliza, what were the balls in your neighborhood like? Did your father have a fine ballroom?”
