Georgiana, who had been lapsing into a death-like ennui that had her eyelids fluttering in contempt and her lip curled into a bored sneer, exerted herself to attention at the countess’ notice. “Your Ladyship?” she answered, but her tone was not quite deferential.
Lady Matlock smiled sweetly, held the girl’s gaze for a moment, and then her smile slipped. She gave a little gasp and waved her hand. “Never mind, my dear, that will do. Er, Elizabeth, you seem a bright, clever sort of girl. Tell me, who managed your education?”
Miss Darcy certainly perceived the countess’ slight, and her features even looked nearly green after that. Elizabeth could scarcely bite back a chuckle. She answered the countess as best she could, with the result that the noblewoman came away from the conversation resolved to acquire books of poetry, a chess board, and a reasonably proficient tutor or two—all despite the doleful predictions of Anne de Bourgh and the affronted scowls of Georgiana Darcy.
“Mark my words, Your Ladyship,” Miss de Bourgh promised, “that youth will be fit for little better than a common tradesman if you persist.”
“And yet,” Elizabeth answered brightly, “are not tradesmen required, in fact, to knowmorefigures and letters than others? My cousin Mr Collins can attest to the trials of keeping up an inventory, contracting with distant parties, and projecting futures.” She shot Billy a mischievous wink, and her cousin returned a look that promised revenge of some kind for teasing him in public.
Lady Matlock laughed aloud at this, but Miss de Bourgh sniffed at her friend and inclined her head towards Billy. “If you insist on this course, then offer the position to Collins here—at least he hassomenotion of how matters ought to be carried forth.”
Billy nearly fell over his feet as he stammered his profuse acceptance—even though Lady Matlock had not made the offer herself. However, by the time the Matlock coach rolled out of Pemberley’s drive, Billy had secured employment, Miss de Bourgh and Lady Matlock appeared equally satisfied with the outcome, and Georgiana Darcy looked thunderous.
When their hostess excused herself, Jane and Elizabeth shared a private look. Elizabeth pointed up the stairs with a wicked smile, and Jane shielded her mouth just long enough for them to gain the privacy of their room before bursting into giggles.
Nothinghadeverheldthe power to calm her senses like this. Elizabeth halted her mount and drank in a deep breath of mountain air. If she closed her eyes, she could almost…almost… imagine that she was back home, climbing the range just to the south of her father’s old ranch. The rocky, gorse-covered slope might instead be adorned in yellow snakeweed. The Derbyshire shale rang the same way under shod hooves as it did in Wyoming. But the smells, they were all different. There was a loamy quality to the earth here, rather than the familiar aridity of home… whatusedto be home.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes tightly to stop that old searing burn. The waves of homesickness washed over her again, threatening to break loose her carefully laid moorings and cast her into despair. But no! It never did any good to weep—nothing ever changed by it, and she had forbidden herself to pass through that door. Not while… not yet.
She finally trusted her eyes enough to open them and surveyed the view. She had not gone far from the house—at least, it did not appear to be far. In truth, she wondered just how far into the hills she would have to climb for that mansion to dwindle to a mere a dot on the landscape. The moon, most likely. But still, the fact that shecouldnow wander some little on her own had done wonders for her spirits.
It was Jane’s doing, of course. Jane, who seemed to get on with Miss Darcy the best, had sweetly cajoled their hostess into ordering a horse saddled for Elizabeth—and only Elizabeth—every afternoon. Miss Darcy might have simply been pleased by the prospect of having Elizabeth out of the house, but she obliged.
Whether she chose to ride every day was her own business, but the fact that the groom and horse stood ready for her after luncheon each day meant that she ventured out more often than not. And, thank heaven, it was no longer Mr Darcy’s big-boned hunter but a “diminutive” bay polo pony—also his, she was told—that felt much more like what she had been accustomed to at home. The mare was hot-blooded and feisty, but softer-mouthed and more biddable than the big gelding had been, and Elizabeth had come to like her quite well. And, after a particularly fine afternoon had inspired her to bring a book along, she taught the horse an old cow-pony trick she had seen her father use a dozen times. The mare now laid down for her on command, so she could take her ease and even lean against the horse as she read, if she chose.
As for that wretched side-saddle, it was not so difficult to slip her knee from the pommel and ride astride once she was out of sight of the house. However, without her old split skirts and with no stirrup on the right for support, she soon discovered that it was more comfortable to climb the mountains when she rode in the way of a proper English lady. Anyone looking at her from a distance at all might even mistake her for such.
Elizabeth fixed her gaze on the distant peaks and measured three long breaths. Up here, she could think, as she so rarely could in the confines of the mansion. And lately, what seemed to occupy her the most was her place in the world—or her lack thereof. Oh, how she missedhome. Whether it was that dear old place for which she broke her heart or the people she had left there, she could not say.
Jane was settling in better than expected. Frequently, Elizabeth fancied that her sister might even catch herself some handsome Englishman and remain here forever. And Billy, he had left for Matlock as a tutor, though Elizabeth and Jane were still not invited to that estate. Lady Matlock had confessed privately to her that the dowager countess was not well, and it would not do to distress her, but Elizabeth was not certain whether the ailment was of a physical or emotional kind.
She flicked the reins idly in her hand as she frowned to herself.Bored. Above and beyond the homesickness, she was dreadfully bored. And it was not that she sought constant amusement, nor that she was incapable of entertaining herself, but she craved either the numbness of distraction or the satisfaction of feeling useful. Either would have soothed the edge from her nerves. That, or someone trustworthy and understanding to talk to—someone for whom she did not feel the burden of responsibility. It was a pity Miss Darcy had not proved to be such a person.
She sighed and adjusted her seat in the saddle. She had been gone from the house long enough, and it was time to return to being a proper lady and guest. She nudged her horse and started down towards the grazing meadows bordering the estate. At least the sights and sounds of Mr Darcy’s herds were something familiar.
Chapter 13
Darcyfoundhimselfatsixes and sevens. The officers at Whitehall and even General Houghton had provided almost nothing new of import for Reginald’s questions. He had been able to dispatch another letter to Richard’s fellow officers, but it would be weeks, at best, before any reply could be had. And so, the most prudent thing to do seemed to be to withdraw again to Pemberley, at least until travel to Africa was favourable.
A groom had brought his horse to the train station at Derby, and Darcy set out at a brisk trot for home. After the stifling air and cobblestones of London, the springy green of the turf beneath his horse’s hooves was invigorating. An hour’s ride—long enough to clear the cobwebs from his body after so much sedentary waiting. Why had he stayed in London so long?
Oh… yes.
Richard’s wife must be relegated to her proper place in his mind and in his home. That was what he must do. She would take her meals with the family as a guest naturally should, but he would avoid her during his hours of work and study. She must not interfere with his daily activities, with his plans and routines, for she was but one more woman in a house full of them. And as soon as Reginald joined his wife at Matlock, Darcy would pressure his cousin to do his proper duty and receive the whole party as he should have done before—the dowager and her sensibilities be hanged. That would secure him peace of mind on all fronts, and that was the only logical and proper thing to do.
By the time he crested the knoll overlooking his home, he was filled with a renewed sense of purpose and decisiveness. This enigma of a woman would know her place, and he would no longer permit her presence to cloud his judgment. What was she but a small nuisance? The real problems—Richard, his business interests, Georgiana’s future, and the management of his home—these must be first in his mind.
Only a few moments after he had settled this with himself, he was tested. He had ridden the shorter route, round the fields of grazing livestock, when a distressed lowing caught his attention. Not far off, one of his shorthorns was down, and she looked to be bringing a calf. It was late even for an Autumn calf—most of the other calves were already fat and sleek—but this appeared to be one of the younger heifers. If she had no help…
But what was that? A horse stood nearby. Whoever had come to the cow’s aid was already hunched behind her. Darcy jogged near, expecting it to be one of his herdsmen. “How is she?”
There was a surprised squeak, and a bare, curly head popped up above the cow’s hip. “Oh, thank goodness it is you, Mr Darcy! Can you help?”
“What the devil… Mrs Fitzwilliam!” Darcy swung down from his mount and was at her side in an instant. “What are you doing out here?”
She cocked an annoyed look up to him as he towered over her. “Trying to save your cow, which is more than you are doing. Come, lend me a hand. I don’t have any rope.”
“Mrs Fitzwilliam, my men will look after the cow. I insist you come away at once!”
