She doubted that.
Darcy, for his part, looked deeply put out, his mouth pressed into that same pained grimace as he sat back stiffly, eyes fixed firmly ahead, as though hoping he might somehow will himself out of this moment entirely. She could almost hear the internal calculations happening behind those dark eyes—the precise mathematics of his suffering.
“Fear not, my good sir.” She waved a hand airily. “After all,” she continued, with all the flippant confidence of someone who had never once needed to be competent, “I am the daughter of a marquess. I can handle a little country gentleman’s family.”
The carriage lurched to a stop. Elizabeth swayed slightly with the motion, the warmth of the ale still sloshing pleasantly in her stomach.
Darcy made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
Then, very deliberately—very slowly—he dragged his hands down his face and let them fall limply to his lap.
Elizabeth thought she saw his lips move. She was fairly certain he had just mouthed the words “God help me.”
Chapter Nine
ThemomentElizabethsteppeddown from the carriage, she was greeted by a flurry of voices.
A large, pleasant-looking woman was already bustling forward, flanked by a cluster of familiar faces—the very same young ladies she had watched in Meryton.
Elizabeth blinked. How... unexpectedly convenient.
She turned her head slightly, glancing back toward the carriage just in time to see the driver set down a modest trunk before stepping away.
Her eyebrows lifted. So, Mr. Darcy had secured some luggage for her? How very thorough of him. She glanced up, meaning to acknowledge the fact with a simple look, but the curtain of the carriage window had already been drawn.
Still, as the carriage lurched forward, disappearing down the lane, she caught the sharp gaze of Mr. Bennet. He was not watching her.
He was watching the retreating carriage.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed slightly. What curious connection must exist between Mr. Darcy and this fellow?
But she had little time to think on it, for the lady of the house was upon her. “Oh, my dear! My dear! You are most welcome!” Mrs. Bennet swept forward, her face alight with excitement. “We have heard ever so much about you!”
“Have you?” She glanced at the gentleman of the house, whose only reply was a faint chuckle.
“Oh, and it is just like Mr. Bennet,” she declared, loudly and with great enthusiasm, “to have had your letter for weeks and only now decide to inform me of your visit!”
Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly. A letter?
She flicked another glance toward Mr. Bennet, who was watching the scene unfold with a distinct air of amusement. Elizabeth had no time to form a response before Mrs. Bennet carried on.
“I declare, when I arrived home from town not half an hour ago and he said I had best have done well at market, as we were to have a guest, I feared it might be quite another cousin coming to stay altogether!”
Elizabeth blinked slowly at Mrs. Bennet, her mind sluggishly trying to keep pace with the conversation.
Another cousin?
Her head still felt uncomfortably warm, and everything was happening far too fast for her to process. Had they been expecting someone else? Or was this about her?
She did not have time to figure it out before Mrs. Bennet beamed and clasped Elizabeth’s hands with a warmth that was nearly overwhelming. “But another young lady in the house—well, that is quite agreeable, is it not, girls?”
The four Miss Bennets stood behind their mother, watching her with open curiosity. Elizabeth stared back rather boldly. These were the Bennets. Four daughters. Which meant she was supposed to be one of them now. A cousin.
Right.
She barely had time to absorb this notion before Mrs. Bennet pressed on. “Oh, you must tell us all about your family in Shropshire! I have not seen them in… oh, ages, I declare!”
Elizabeth felt her stomach drop.
