Her rant caused their father to halt at the academy’s entrance, and he turned back. “I now see that it would be best if you joined me. Miss Peabody is expecting us. Come along, girls.”
After Elizabeth embraced her sisters, the three younger girls followed him toward the school with varying degrees of reluctance. Lydia’s shoulders remained rigid with indignation. Kitty sniffled. Mary stepped forward eagerly.
Elizabeth remained inside the carriage, the girls disappearing through the doorway. She closed her eyes briefly as she wrestled with conflicting emotions. Protective instincts struggled with the recognition of how much this would benefit her sisters. Lydia and Kitty had learned nothing but willful disobedience at home.
Tears blurred her vision, as their trunks were unloaded and carried inside the building. Whether fromdisappointment at their father’s deception or relief at her sisters’ safety, she could not say.
The carriage door opened, and her father climbed back inside, unusually quiet.
She scanned the academy’s windows for any glimpse of her sisters. “They will hate us for this deception.”
“Perhaps. But they will also receive the instruction they desperately need.” He opened his book again. “Sometimes, my dear Lizzy, love requires daunting choices.”
Love?What she had witnessed was convenience, not love. He allowed her sisters to build impossible dreams, and then he unmercifully crushed them.
The realization struck her that their father had never trained them in deportment or the accomplishments expected of young ladies because such instruction demanded the patience and attention he reserved for his books.
Another even more frightening truth emerged. If he could abandon his responsibilities so easily here, what did that mean for their journey ahead? The expedition would present real trials. She had assumed that her father would protect her, guide her, and make the difficult decisions their travel would require. With startling clarity, she knew he preferred the easy path and would retreat into scholarly pursuits when practical action was needed. A cold weight settled in Elizabeth’s stomach. What she had imagined as a romantic adventure was far more sobering, terrifying.I am truly on my own.
6
After a good night’s sleep at the Gardiner’s residence, the Bennets’ first stop was at Hatchards Booksellers on Piccadilly. Elizabeth ran her fingers along the spine of a beautifully tooled leather journal; its deep blue surface, embossed with gold arabesques, reminded her of the manuscripts the expedition hoped to discover in Egypt. The weight felt substantial, worthy of recording her activities over the next several months.
“This one will do perfectly,” she said to her father, who was examining a collection of recent translations from Arabic texts nearby. “It is large enough for detailed observations, yet compact enough for travel.”
“An excellent choice, my dear,” he replied absently, his attention captured by a volume on ancient irrigation systems. “Though I suspect you might fill it twice over before we reach Alexandria and need another one for our return trip.”
Elizabeth smiled, already imagining herself sketchinghieroglyphs and recording her impressions of the ancient world. She was so absorbed in examining the journal’s ribbon bookmark that she nearly collided with another customer reaching for a similar volume on the same shelf.
“I beg your pardon?” She stopped short when she recognized the tall, imposing figure of Mr. Darcy.
He had frozen as well. “Miss Bennet. What an unexpected pleasure.”
Elizabeth’s fingers pressed against the journal’s leather binding until her knuckles were likely the same shade as her white lace gloves. Even here, in this sanctuary of books and learning, she could not escape him.
“Mr. Darcy.” Her tone was nothing more than polite.
He held two journals. One was identical to her own choice, while the other was a smaller volume in forest green leather.
“I see you share my appreciation for fine craftsmanship.” He gestured toward her selection.
Elizabeth clutched her journal a bit more possessively. “One can hardly record important discoveries in anything less substantial, though I suppose such pursuits might seemmerely tolerableto someone of your elevated tastes.”
“Miss Bennet, I…”
“Papa,” Elizabeth called, deliberately turning away from him. “We should see about having this journal properly wrapped.”
She moved to the shop counter. As the clerk finalized her purchase, Elizabeth caught sight of Mr. Darcy speaking with another shop assistant, gesturing toward a stack of books placed on a table. She shifted her gazeaway, refusing to let curiosity about his preparations spoil her anticipation of the journey ahead. Egypt awaited with all its mysteries and ancient treasures. Whatever Mr. Darcy’s own plans might be to reach the same location, they were certainly no concern of hers.
Georgiana Darcy satat the pianoforte in the morning room of Matlock House, with sheet music scattered across the bench beside her. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching the golden highlights in her hair as her fingers moved gracefully across the keys. At sixteen, Georgiana possessed her mother’s delicate features and her father’s serious eyes—though in hers there was a shyness, an uncertainty, that made Darcy want to shield her forever.
She looked up as he entered, brightening with pleasure. “Fitzwilliam! I did not expect you until late this afternoon.”
“I finished my business early and could not resist the opportunity to hear you play.” He settled into a chair near the instrument, as she self-consciously adjusted the sheets on her music stand. “That piece is new to me. Is it one of your recent acquisitions?”
“Aunt Helen discovered it at a music shop. She thought I might enjoy the challenge.” Georgiana’s fingers found the keys again, playing a few measures with obvious skill. “Cecilia and Felicity have been encouraging me to attempt more difficult compositions.”
“Ah. Your new friends. How are you finding their company?”
