∞∞∞
Straightening as his driver gave their agreed signal of two firm thumps upon the coach’s roof, Darcy turned his gaze toward the long drive, well-lined with large oak trees, their trunks and branches twisting wildly. Beside him, Fitz opened his window, a sharp, snow-filled wind pouring in as the man dipped his head outside.
“It is akin to something out of a gothic novel,” Fitz mused as he returned fully inside, Bingley shutting the window as he frowned.
“What in the blazes, are you trying to freeze us?” Bingley began, the fire in his eyes dying as he fixed a wicked smile on Fitz. “Since when do you read gothic novels?”
“I read that new one, saint something or another, to appease Cathy and Georgie… do not give me that look, it is hardly a shameful thing. Still, I do not know if it is something they ought to be reading; dark musings, a crazed alchemist, passions, death… a dainty, prudish man I am not, but it was not to my tastes.”
“No. Cathy may yet be a little young for stories such as those,” Darcy agreed as he took in the dark stone of the gothic mansion through the snow. “Still. It is awkward for me to determine their reading materials; already I select their masters, hire their governess, and tell them, in their governesses’ absence, when they can visit friends or explore the shops in Lambton. I desire to leave them with some bit of freedom.”
“Brother and father in one;” Bingley said, “as much as my sisters are older–one married at that–I understand the precariousness of balancing those roles too well. My sisters have too much freedom I fear… even now, I shudder to think of what my negligence might bring.” Wringing his hands he let his head drop, “I must warn you two, I told Caroline where I would be staying and… let slip that our host is titled. Though I reminded her that the invitation did not extend to my family, there was a glint in her eyes I did not much like. I would not put it past her to arrive without an invitation!”
“She would not risk it, surely?” Darcy remarked; the sullen faces of BingleyandFitz causing the rolling of Darcy’s stomach to increase.
Staring at the intimidating spires above them as the carriage slowed in front of the mansion, Darcy frowned.He would get through this. Miss Bingley may make an unwanted appearance. His connections to America might make him an unpopular guest. And he in no way desired to attend this house party. But he would. For his sisters. His cousin. And anyone else who may be relying on him.
He could do this.
He could.
Yes?
“Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley,” a grand lady, wearing a surprising number of jewels for the time of day, said as they exited the coach one by one, the ground growing white at a surprising rate. “I fear I have not had the pleasure of meeting you all, and dearly hope I am correct in my assumption of what name belongs to each of you. Things are bound to be rather informal during your stay.”
Informal in manners, perhaps,Darcy considered as he noted the lady’s burgundy gown covered with lace of the same hue,certainly not in attire.
“Correct on all accounts,” Fitz said gaily as he bowed. “May I assume you are Lady Charmane?”
“I am.” Motioning toward the door she added, “It is rather chilly, would you care to come in?”
Following her through the massive doorway, its iron hinges twice the size of any Darcy could recall seeing at a private residence, they came upon a drafty entry, the walls and floors covered predominantly in textiles in a vain attempt to warm the space up.
“Do forgive the state of things, I beg you. I am in the process of renovating my dear home; some rooms, such as the drawing room, library, and your own rooms, have been completed in full, however, you may find other rooms rather less hospitable. Not to mention drafty. No amount of renovation can lend true coziness to such an old building, in spite of how hard one might try. Save in feeling alone, of course… Here we are. A warm cup of tea, then I shall have you shown to your rooms,” Lady Charmane said as a fine wood paneled room opened before them. “Ah, here are Miss Bennet and Miss Mary… but where is your sister?”
Miss Mary, opening her mouth to answer, cut her eyes toward the door, a squeal and distant thud emanating from down the hall capturing the attention of all. “Elizabeth,” she whispered, Darcy moving toward the hall even as Lady Charmane bade all to let the servants see to the matter.
The sound may not have been dire, but it certainly warranted investigation.
Peering in room after room, Darcy frowned at their emptiness; some merely devoid of people, others, of all furnishing as the very walls appeared ready to crumble at the smallest breath.
A muffled voice catching his ears, Darcy followed it toward the stairs, his steps stilling outside of one of the final rooms along the main hall.
“Foolish… What a mess…” the quiet voice of a woman growled behind a massive, half open door.
Pushing the door, Darcy’s lips curled as he caught sight of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she gathered a large number of books scattered on the floor.
“Here,” he said laughingly as he reached for the nearest tome, “allow me.”
Her head ripping upward to meet him, the title she held fell from her fingers, the quiet thump of the book the only sound other than the pounding of his heart.
She? At Hyde Park? With her young cousins? Yes. Cousin Lizzy they had called her. Three years little altered her, save for the better.
There,he hoped as she held his gaze,she must recall it too?
“You?” she questioned softly; books forgotten as she came to stand.
“And you?” he grinned as he tapped the title he held, “It seems I am forever retrieving something you have dropped.”
