“My father might determine to arrive at any time, for that is his way. Come, William,” she smiled temptingly, then stood on her toes to kiss his freshly shaved jaw.
He smiled in cheerful defeat and offered his wife his arm, and they descended the stairs just as a carriage drew up to the door. It bore the crest of Matlock, with a fine team of matched bays and what seemed to be an entire battalion of liveried footman.
Darcy could not help a chuckle at his independent cousin, the affirmed bachelor and former battlefield commander, squiring his new bride about the country with all the trappings and opulence of a duchess. A clever strategy, Darcy allowed, for Richard had embarked upon a mission to see all of London pay homage to his viscountess. A voucher for Almack’s was not to be hoped for, but one aging countess had ventured a morning call, and two noble ladies had deigned an invitation to dinner for the new bride. It was a beginning.
“Ah, they are arrived!” Bingley came to his right, smiling with all the heartfelt delight that was to be expected of him. “I say, Darcy, having Fitzwilliam near at Matlock adds incentive to my decision to buy an estate in Derbyshire. I can think of no more agreeable neighbors. I should think, however, that he might have taken a longer wedding tour.”
“Lady Matlock desired for her father and brother to see her new home before they returned to Portugal. I believe her brother must sail soon to attend some pressing business with the new mining operations, so they travel north now.”
“I am greatly looking forward to meeting them,” Edward Gardiner spoke from his left. “I understand the elder Noronha has a large shipping company, is that not true, Darcy?”
“I do not know how large it is, but it is true, sir.”
The party stepped from the carriage, with Richard proudly escorting his lady up the steps and into the waiting arms of their decidedly informal hostess. Elizabeth embraced Amália with joyful welcome, as the new husband beamed in satisfaction. Jane Bingley and Madeline Gardiner offered their warm greetings as well, and rather quickly the ladies had left their husbands behind.
“Darcy,” Richard gestured, “I do not think you have yet met my father-in-law, Senhor António Moniz de Noronha. Senhor, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Noronha, his face awash in meekness, bowed before his host. “Mr Darcy, sir. I am humbled to be received in your home.”
“The honour is mine, sir,” Darcy bowed in return.
“And,” Richard continued, “I believe you remember the former Captain Rodrigo de Noronha?”
“Indeed,” Darcy smiled. “Sir, it is a very great pleasure to see you again. Gentlemen, may I present my friend, Charles Bingley; Mrs Darcy’s uncle, Edward Gardiner; and my sister, Georgiana Darcy.”
Senhor Noronha bowed to each, with an extra measure of courtesy toward the young lady. His son did likewise, until he stepped before Georgiana. His eyes widened, and he seemed to catch himself.
A pretty blush stained Georgiana’s cheeks. “Sir,” she raised her hand to him, suggesting a courtly greeting, and offered a demure curtsey. The young retired captain was quick to respond, bowing gallantly over her hand.
Richard quirked a brow at his cousin. Darcy was absolutely speechless, gaping at his formerly bashful sister, and calculating in his mind all the trouble this house party might cause him. Surely, it was not too late to call the whole affair off….
The party adjourned to refresh themselves, and as it was still early in the day, the mistress of Pemberley had planned an alfresco luncheon. Their party was too large for the upper stream in the mountains, favoured by the master and mistress for private outings, but a capital situation was found for them all by the lake near the house.
The afternoon was perhaps the finest yet that summer, and the meal consumed in a leisurely manner. Afterward, Gardiner took it upon himself to introduce the elder Noronha to the joys of pike fishing. Ruy approached Mrs Gardiner—who happened to be seated near Georgiana—and politely asked if he might have the honour of the ladies’ company for a short walk about the lake.
Darcy watched them go with no small degree of angst, but Richard seemed not at all troubled by his ward’s activities. He stretched upon the blanket near his cousin, one hand resting affectionately in his wife’s gloveless hand. He smiled up at her through the sunlight winking round the flowers on her bonnet, his expression one of purest contentment.
“Darcy,” he enquired at length, “I have been away, and had quite forgotten. Was not Wickham to be released about now?”
“A fortnight ago,” Darcy replied. “Mrs Wickham and her daughter removed to London to join him.”
“Ah! And how is our little Eliza? She must be walking and talking by now.”
“With utter confidence,” the child’s aunt laughed. “She has already made Mr Darcy blush.”
“I did not blush. I merely asked her not to wander into my library without notice, nor to inquire so loudly about my activities therein.”
“Was Mrs Darcy with you at the time?” Bingley grinned.
Darcy ignored the comment—though not without a faint darkening to his cheeks—and glanced to his wife. “We received a letter from Mrs Wickham when they settled in to their apartment.”
“How much money does the rogue want now?” Richard asked, as if it were a matter of course.
“Surprisingly, none at all. Mr Wickham has found work, but he is in search of better employment. Mrs Wickham then pointedly observed that we have not yet found a proper replacement for Mr Jefferson, and that Eliza greatly misses her aunt.”
Richard sat bolt upright. “Darcy, you wouldn’t! Tell me you would not!”
Darcy picked up a long blade of grass, running his fingers thoughtfully down the length, and gazed at his wife. “Not immediately, at least. A man can change, Richard.”
