“And the crystal! Why, I would be afraid that chandelier would fall on me.”
“Shh.” Elizabeth tipped her head towards the maid they followed. They were being shown to a guest room, and though it was hardly a thorough tour of the house, Elizabeth had begun to wonder how they would ever find their way back to the parlour… or perhaps it was called a drawing-room in such a house. Thebluedrawing-room—as opposed to the white, the gold, and the red, she supposed. Precisely how largewasthis place?
She had her answer a moment later when the maid opened the door to a guest room the size of their uncle’s entire first floor. Jane gaped openly as the young maid went to the window to draw aside the drapes.
“Is there anything you require, ma’am?” the girl asked.
“N-no!” they stammered together.
“That is,” Elizabeth added, “I am sure we will be quite comfortable here.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is only Miss Bennet’s room. Yours is just through here.” The maid opened a door which led into a sitting room, then another bedroom just as large as Jane’s on the opposite side. Elizabeth felt her palms beginning to sweat. Her host must be even wealthier than she had imagined.
“Mr Darcy has appointed the sitting room for your private use, and tea will be served directly.” She bobbed a curtsey then—the first time Elizabeth had ever been the recipient of such a gesture—and left them.
Jane was wandering about the sitting room, her clear blue eyes round with amazement. Elizabeth smoothed the rich upholstery of the sofa, the shining damask of the pillows, and then finally allowed herself to sink wearily onto them. All her simple wonder at her surroundings, all the astonishment of the regal welcome she had received, were nothing to the fatigue, the confusion, the thorough upheaval of all her expectations, and the dark fears clouding her heart.Richard….
“Lizzy, are you well?”
Elizabeth sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, as her handkerchief was long gone.
“Lizzy?” Jane lowered into the sofa beside her. “Come, Lizzy, it will be well. You will see.”
Elizabeth managed a rueful, strangled sort of laugh. “I am not sure how you can say that. What good can come of being lost in battle? Poor Richard! What must have happened to him? That is the worst of it, Jane—imagining him wounded, dying, and alone.” Elizabeth shuddered, and a great heaving sob shook her.
“You don’t know he was shot or wounded. He may be perfectly well.”
“Then he is a prisoner, or worse! Do you know the things that are done to prisoners of war? I have read a bit, and I am ill just thinking of it.”
“Did not Mr Darcy say that Richard’s family are doing all that can be done? They are obviously not without their resources. And what of the Army? They will surely find him, if…”
“Oh, Jane! Do you not know how vast, how far away, how brutal it all must be? It is probable that nothing at all is to be done. What he must have suffered!”
Jane fell silent, her hand patting uncomfortably upon Elizabeth’s knee.
A knock came at the door, and another maid appeared when summoned. “Your tea, ma’am. And Mr Darcy asked if you would speak with him in the study after you are refreshed.”
Elizabeth surveyed the tea tray. She had eaten little since morning, and her stomach grumbled in approval. “Thank you, miss… may I please know your name?”
“Margaret, ma’am.” The maid dipped another curtsey. “May I tell Mr Darcy you will join him in half an hour?”
“I… yes, of course. Thank you, Margaret.”
Theconversationwithherhost was a halting, uncomfortable one. He had asked for the privilege of speaking to her alone, without the benefit of Jane’s company or the distraction of Billy’s. However, a footman was conspicuous at the door, and the maid Margaret waited just outside.
Mr Darcy was stiff. All that Richard had told her about him had prepared her for a gentle being, blessed with kindness and good cheer. Perhaps these things were true, but Richard’s description had failed to capture the austere mien, the formal attitude, and the ingrained hauteur of the man. Nor had Richard made any mention of his impressive stature and chiselled features—why, it almost hurt her eyes to look upon him!
Elizabeth sat before his desk, fully conscious of the age and style of her clothing, the wear marks on her shoes, and her own unsophisticated manner. If she were disposed to whisper meekly or to hang her head before scrutiny, she certainly would have done so now. Instead, her spine stiffened, and she lifted her chin, daring to meet his penetrating gaze with an impertinent one of her own.
“Shall we begin the examination, sir?”
The smallest crack appeared in his facade. “I beg your pardon?”
“Is that not your purpose? Surely, young ladies turn up every day, claiming to be married to one of your relations. Am I to understand that you are the guard dog, barring the gates and catechising the claimants to discern the truth?”
His mouth twitched. Perhaps he did have a sense of humour, or perhaps she had merely annoyed him. “I can see that you are not inclined to mince words, madam. Very well—yes, if you must know, my intent is to shield my aunt and cousin at such a time. However, I am willing to examine your claims and to offer you what protection I may while we wait to hear word of Richard.”
Elizabeth swallowed and blinked but squared her shoulders. “I thank you for that. Richard told me before that you were a gentleman of honour.”
