“Mr. Darcy, Lydia says she cannot survive another minute without your male perspective, whether the dark blue or the silver ribbon should adorn her bonnet.” Placing the back of her hand on her forehead, she acted like she would swoon, making him chuckle.
“Your mother has yet to choose her lace.”
She leaned closer. “Do not be concerned. The proprietor, a very patient man, is accustomed to Mama, whowill expect you to aid Lydia since we know we are here because of her.”
“Yes, well…” Darcy followed her to the back of the shop. Miss Lydia immediately pointed to the hideous bonnet she described during the assembly when he first made his demands.
“Do you not see how horrid this orange would be against my complexion?” Lydia held it next to her.
Tactfully, he replied, “As you suggested, the blue is a more complimentary choice.”
Lydia beamed. “I knew it. You are a man with discriminating taste, even though you refused to dance at first, and you wore a scowl all evening.” She stepped closer. In a loud whisper, she said, “I think that if you smiled more, Mr. Darcy, you might have ladies standing in line. As it is, none of our friends, not even Charlotte Lucas, who is on the shelf, is interested.”
Never had a young girl spoken to him in such a forward manner. His first instinct was to turn his back on her. Did she even know who he was?
Unbelievably, she went on. “Perhaps Kitty and I could talk you up to the unwed ladies in the neighborhood. I know more than one father who would like to have someone else purchase food and clothing for one of his daughters.”
He would accept her comment in the spirit she meant it to be received; Miss Lydia assumed she was being helpful.
“While I thank you for your offer, Miss Lydia, I will need to refuse your matchmaking services. My family’s expectations for my wife were set at my birth. As well, Iam not inclined to marry at present. I choose not to raise expectations.”
“I understand, Mr. Darcy, and I grieve for you.” Her countenance fell, surprising him. “A quiet gentleman like you could never be happy with a wife who considers herself to be a queen, which I am sure is what your family wants for you. However, that is the choice your ancestors made, apparently. To me, it would be better to have the freedom to love someone who would be a complement to my character and who admires a lovely blue bonnet like I shall wear on my stroll back to Longbourn.”
He could see in her expression that she was not attempting to flirt. Rather, she must have assumed that he was too ancient to consider, as he felt she was too young to be in society. Nevertheless, she had valid concerns. As the master of Pemberley, he had very little freedom to come and go as he pleased, as well as to choose who his marriage partner would be.
As Bingley professed, some good came from his changed circumstances. Unless he regained his wealth and restored his good name, he might as well marry where he chose.
Unwittingly, his eyes sought Miss Elizabeth. Her laughter, when Miss Kitty tried on the ugly orange bonnet backward, lightened his heart. These people, these Bennets, despite being minor gentry, were far below his sphere. Yet, they were remarkable when it came to kindness and care for others. They were not pretentious.
His shoulders drooped as he exhaled. He was the pretender. He was not wealthy like the Bennet ladiesthought he was. His dressing well at the assembly, arriving at the haberdasher in his uncle’s carriage, and purchasing bits and bobs for them must be feeding their view that he was rich.
A heaviness settled over him. Was that not how Wickham acted while they were in school? He used the Darcy name and influence to get easy credit by pretending his pockets were flush when they were empty.
He needed to say something before gossip arrived.Good lord! Miss Bingley!The vicious shrew would love nothing more than to lower Darcy in the opinions of others.
After he helped select Petey’s shiny leather shoes and a children’s book once Petey proved he could read, he asked Miss Lydia whether Mr. Bennet was at Longbourn. It was time he took control before any damage could come back on Bingley for offering him hospitality.He had one more task before he took charge.
Approaching Miss Elizabeth, he asked, “I wonder if you might give me an idea of what Petey’s grandmother needs.”
She had been standing close enough that she must have heard his conversation with Miss Lydia.Did she think he was old, too?
“Mr. Darcy, what Mrs. Sawyer needs is a roof that does not leak, coal for her stove, food for her pantry, and enough fabric for new clothing. With that said, what every woman wants is something pretty, something special. You are already providing for her table, which is kind enough. To answer your question, though, I know that she favors red since I have never seen her in an apronthat was not trimmed in that color. Perhaps a ribbon to tie in her hair would be welcome.”
He bowed. “I thank you.”
When she turned away to browse the assortment of silks in a large box on the table near the clerk’s counter, Darcy considered her comment. Needs versus wants. He clearly understood the difference. Pemberley was far more than a want to him. It was a need.
He would pay for the purchases at the haberdashery as reparation due Miss Elizabeth. Afterward, he would be as frugal as he had been for the past three months. Then, he would use all his resources to reclaim what he deserved. Pemberley.
Elizabeth surreptitiously watchedMr. Darcy throughout the whole of his exchange with Lydia. She was stunned that he appeared to be taking marriage advice from her most headstrong sister. That he then brought up Petey’s grandmother was very telling. There was gentleness woven amongst his pride. If only she knew who he really was.
She held a pretty green ribbon against her cheek, checking in the looking glass beside the counter. Mr. Darcy was a puzzle, and she enjoyed nothing more than solving mysteries.
Selecting another ribbon, she paused. Why was she thinking about him? Certainly, he was a handsome man who could not help but catch the eye of females of any age. But as he said, his family’s expectations would limit him from pursuing anyone in Meryton. She had noreason to repine. Shrugging one shoulder, Elizabeth turned her attention to the task at hand.
“Miss Elizabeth. I find myself in need of assistance.”
She glanced up, having not noticed his approach. “Sir?”
