Elizabeth hesitated, then smiled again—this time with a gentle seriousness that struck him more than her earlier ease. “I am glad if I am of use, but I cannot claim much credit. Mrs Annesley has done far more than I. She guides Georgiana with such steadiness and care, and I believe it is her example that has given her the confidence to try more for herself. I only encourage what is already there. If I have done anything for her, it is encouraging her towards a little more liveliness.”
She paused, then added, her expression brightening with quiet pleasure, “Georgiana has begun to take a real interest in the concerns of your estate as well. As you know, we have spoken several times now about the duties of a mistress of an estate, and I believe she will be quite eager to learn more. We will visit some tenants in the morning. A footman will accompany us. It is a pleasure to see her so engaged in this work.”
The admission struck him more deeply than he had anticipated, not merely for what it revealed of Georgiana, but for what it revealed of Elizabeth herself.
“It is,” Darcy said quietly. “She has always possessed a strong sense of responsibility towards those in her care, but I have seldom seen it awakened with such readiness. You speak of duty as though it were something to be valued, and I believe that is why she listens to you so willingly.” He hesitated, the moment stretching longer than he had intended before adding more softly, “I find that I do as well—although I am no longer entirely certain I speak of Georgiana alone. You have been a good influence on both of the Darcys.”
A brief silence followed—neither awkward nor wholly at ease—laden with more than either had chosen to express. Elizabeth was the first to move.
“I shall return before my grandfather thinks me lost,” she said, with a lightness that restored the moment to safety. “He is expecting me to go over a few matters with him related to our coming guest. As I understand, your cousin is to arrive tomorrow.”
Darcy bowed, watching her go with a restraint he had long practised, and found—somewhat to his surprise—that the corridor felt quieter for her absence. He wished that LordGranfield were not so determined to match her with Richard. He understood the man’s reasoning well enough, yet it did nothing to alter his own desire to win her for his wife—a desire he knew he must not indulge.
He had not been mistaken: Elizabeth Bennet was a good influence on both the Darcys. Already Georgiana was far more at ease than she had been in many weeks—more at ease, indeed, than she had ever been—and her confidence grew daily beneath Elizabeth’s encouragement.
In time, Georgiana would enter society and, in time, she would marry. If Elizabeth were his wife, Darcy thought, that inevitable change might be borne with less regret.
But if Elizabeth were not his wife—if she were instead to marry Richard—he was forced to wonder whether he himself would ever find another with whom he might be content.
Elizabeth rosethe morning of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s expected arrival with a sense of quiet expectancy for what the day would bring. As she dressed with the assistance of her maid, she found herself smoothing the folds of her gown more than once—a thoughtful habit, rather than one born of unease.
She was still unaccustomed to having a maid solely in her service; at Longbourn, it had been easier to allow the girl her grandfather paid to assist wherever she was most demanded, rather than endure the fuss her aunt and younger cousins were apt to raise whenever the arrangement appeared to favour Elizabeth. That the maid was engaged entirely at her grandfather’s expense made little difference to her aunt oryoungest cousins, who were quick enough to remind Elizabeth that she was, after all, only their cousin and not mistress of the house. What had begun as mild teasing had, over time, grown into a source of real irritation within the household.
Mr Bennet had been obliged to intervene only once, when Lydia attempted to extend that expectation to Elizabeth’s gowns, which were purchased for her in London by her grandfather. Matters had come to a head when Lydia announced at the dinner table that she had taken one of Elizabeth’s dresses for her own use and—despite its evident ill fit—intended to make it serve. Mr Bennet had then made himself perfectly clear: anything purchased expressly for Elizabeth was hers alone, and none of her gowns, nor anything else, were to be shared, borrowed, or appropriated without her consent.
Elizabeth, long practised in choosing ease over explanation, had found it simpler to yield in lesser matters; and so she accepted the arrangement without remark.
“My hair seems to have formed views of its own this morning, Hannah,” Elizabeth observed, regarding her reflection in the glass. “Pray see if it may be brought to reason and persuaded to behave for our guests. My grandfather is much invested in my making a good impression today.”
“Yes, Miss Bennet,” Hannah replied, stepping forward with quiet competence. “I shall do my best. I know I have had only a few opportunities to work with it in the past, but I have always thought you had lovely hair. I am pleased to have this chance to attend you at Millwood.”
The calm efficiency of the response pleased Elizabeth, and she allowed her thoughts to move naturally on to the occasion itself. Colonel Fitzwilliam was to arrive before luncheon, andshe permitted the anticipation its proper place. She had listened—politely and without objection—to her grandfather’s repeated hopes regarding the visit, and after her single outburst in the coach on the journey to Millwood, she had resolved to meet the gentleman with an open and reasonable disposition. There was no harm in such an intention nor any reason she should not find the colonel agreeable even if she remained unconvinced that she must necessarily discover in him the very image of the man she ought to marry.
Her toilette nearly complete, she permitted the final pins to be secured in her hair, her reflection meeting her with a calm she was pleased to recognise. Still, her thoughts would not remain where she directed them.
In the days since the Darcys’ arrival, she had grown accustomed—more than she would once have anticipated—to Mr Darcy’s presence. She was still uncertain what to make of him, and more uncertain still what she ought to think of her own regard; but the ease of that familiarity lingered now, unbidden and quietly persistent.
The morning stretched before her and Elizabeth found herself suspecting that the agreeable balance she had enjoyed was about to be gently, and quite possibly irrevocably, altered.
Jane and Mary were to arrive on the morrow for a brief visit. She had planned it so with care, aware that too many Bennet relations at once might unsettle the pleasant rhythm that had established itself at Millwood since her arrival, and wishing to honour Georgiana’s request.
For the present, she wished to preserve that harmony, however delicate it might prove, particularly when there was already the uncertainty of the colonel’s arrival. She would be pleased to seeher cousins again; it had been more than a fortnight since she left Longbourn, and none of them had visited.
Before her departure from Longbourn, her grandfather had met with her uncle. Elizabeth was unsure what had been said, but she had been somewhat surprised when she received no note from any of her relations until she herself wrote to Jane, asking that she and Mary pay a call. She looked forward to learning what had occurred there in her absence, and wondered what, if anything, might have transpired with the Bingleys.
She only knew that Mr Darcy had mentioned his unhappiness with his friend when he departed.
“I am certain Bingley means no harm,” he had said, with an earnestness that suggested the matter had not been lightly resolved,“but he is new to the idea of owning—or rather, leasing—an estate. Regardless, I could not leave matters as they stood with his family. I can only hope that he will take a stand before serious damage can be inflicted upon anyone.”He had felt it necessary, he added, to write to his aunt, to ensure there was no gossip being spread about him in London.
With one last look in the glass, she squared her shoulders, ready to face the day. She was no longer inclined to linger and wonder. Whatever the day might bring, or rather whoever the day might bring, she would meet it as she had resolved to do; and so, gathering her composure, Elizabeth left her chamber and went down to make ready for her guests.
When Elizabeth lefther bedchamber in the family wing of Millwood Cottage, she was surprised to find her grandfather awaiting her in the passage.
“I hope,” she said with a smile already tugging at her lips, “that I am not about to be scolded before breakfast. I cannot think what offence I might have given so early in the day.”
He chuckled, offering her his arm at once. “You are in no danger of that, my dear Elizabeth. I merely wished to secure your company while escorting you downstairs.”
“Then I am relieved,” she replied, slipping her hand through his proffered arm. “I should hate to begin the morning under a cloud.”
