Not to be outdone, Lydia leaned toward the colonel with barely concealed excitement. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, you must tell me all about your adventures, for I am sure you have done the most thrilling things! Far more exciting than anything that happens in Hertfordshire.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled politely, inclining his head. “Indeed, Miss Lydia, but as I have been assigned to Whitehall for the past months, I am afraid I have nothing to recount that a young lady such as yourself would consider thrilling.” His eyes twinkled slightly as he added, “I suspect you would find military life quite dull compared to the comforts of Longbourn. No dances or parties, only rain and mud and marches. The wives of my officers live lives of great sacrifice.”
Bless the man. Elizabeth was relieved that he had painted a more realistic portrait of a soldier’s life than had Mr. Wickham and the other militia officers. She paused, thinking that through. Mr. Wickhamdidembellish his life in the militia. He madeit sound exciting and heroic. Never did he mention the duller routines of training and poor weather.
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Marches? I do not think I should care much for that,” she conceded, before quickly brightening. “But I am sure a ball is never out of the question for an officer, no matter where he is!”
Mamma laughed indulgently and patted Lydia’s arm as though she had made the most astute of statements.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, clearly amused, shook his head. “Not a one, I am afraid.”
Her mother, undeterred, then directed a flow of cheerful conversation toward Miss Darcy. Jane, in turn, guided Mr. Bingley to the table where she was about to pour the tea. Elizabeth met Jane’s eye when her sister glanced up, but Jane shook her head once and turned to speak with her companion. Mary turned a page in her book and murmured an occasional affirmation under her breath while Kitty and Lydia, now a little subdued, listened as Uncle Gardiner and the other gentlemen carried the conversation forward.
Aunt Gardiner’s soft laughter drew Elizabeth’s attention. “My father was Mr. Manners,” she said, “a physician with a practice in Lambton. He often spoke of Pemberley’s harvest festivals, and I had the opportunity to attend a few as a child. Everyone in the community was invited, and I assure you that the kindness of the Darcy household was often remarked upon.”
Elizabeth braced herself for the sort of proud response Miss Bingley might have given, but again, she was surprised, for the tone of Miss Darcy’s gentle voice conveyed only longing. “Mrs. Gardiner, did your father know my parents?”
Elizabeth chastised herself for expecting the worst of a girl she did not even know.
“He did. I did not know them myself, but I heard many stories,” Aunt Gardiner said. “Your parents were well thought ofin Lambton. I should be happy to tell you what I heard if you wish.”
“Oh,” Miss Darcy said, leaning forward eagerly. “I should like that very much.”
As Elizabeth listened to her aunt converse with the girl, it was easy to discern that Miss Darcy was not proud at all. She was only quiet. Mr. Wickham had been quite convincing in his depiction of her, but it now appeared that he had also been quite wrong.
Mr. Darcy wandered over with Uncle Gardiner and inclined his head respectfully. “Pardon me, Mrs. Gardiner. I could not help but overhear. Your father was Mr. Manners?” He smiled with a warmth that made Elizabeth blink.
“He was indeed,” Aunt Gardiner replied.
“I never met him myself, madam, but he was well-regarded—a good man and, as I heard more than once, a gifted physician.”
Uncle Gardiner smiled proudly at his wife.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Aunt Gardiner said, clearly delighted by the compliment. “He is greatly missed.”
Was this the same man who had disparaged the people of Meryton not so long ago? Who had stared at Elizabeth constantly in his quest to find fault?
Mr. Darcy’s gaze caught hers, but in her confusion, she looked away.
“Shall we all go on a walk?” Mr. Bingley inquired. “It is cold, but we need not stay out long.”
Mary did not look up from her book, but both Lydia and Kitty grimaced and shook their heads. It was too bitter for them.
Elizabeth was the first to enter the hall. Mr. Hill nodded at her request and went to fetch their coats. When he returned, his arms were full. Elizabeth reached out to take hers, but somehow Mr. Darcy was beside her and already reaching for it. Their hands met.
“Oh!” she said, pulling hers back, her voice louder than she intended.
“My apologies, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy replied, bowing his head. He motioned to the six coats neatly draped over Mr. Hill’s arms. “I simply meant to aid your man by assisting you myself.”
Before either of them could speak further, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered, his gaze sweeping around the room as though searching for something. “Miss Bennet,” he greeted her with a polite nod. “Would your father be available for a visit by any chance?”
Jane and Mr. Bingley entered the hall with Miss Darcy.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, still distracted by Mr. Darcy’s gallantry. “He spends most days in his book room this time of year.” She did not add that he was to be found there in the warmer months as well.
“Perhaps when we return, Fitzwilliam?” Mr. Darcy asked quietly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed satisfied with that, casting a quick, unreadable glance at his cousin before suggesting they all take advantage of the pleasant weather.
