Mr. Tilney gave them a jovial wave as another carriage crossed the drawbridge, and the woman he indicated began to lead them into a dim stone corridor at the back of the courtyard, their maid and valet following at some distance. “I am Mrs. Clay, an old friend of the family,” she said with a thin smile. “I am acting as housekeeper for Henry, as he’s only just inherited the place, and the staff isn’t yet up to snuff.”
“I hope he has at least got a fine cook,” Elizabeth said.
“Mrs. Younge, anotherfriend of the family, found a girl in Wrexham yesterday, and a kitchen boy who’s rather dim, but he’ll do.” Mrs. Clay ushered them up a flight of stairs, and down another stone corridor, this one lit by torches mounted on the walls, casting a rather eerie aspect.
Mrs. Clay smiled apologetically as Elizabeth stumbled over a rough stone in the floor. “The rooms are all quite comfortable, I assure you. The old King had started to modernize it back in the eighties, but then his son lost the place in a high stakes card game. The man he lost it to, Lord Cameron, never had much interest in the place, being Scottish himself.”
Elizabeth nodded with interest. “I take it you have visited before?”
“No, but it was in the papers last month when Henry inherited the place. It was once quite a favorite place of the royal family, before Prinny lost it. They say Princess Elizabeth is of a mind to buy it back and make it all her own.”
“I can well imagine a princess being quite content in such a place,” Elizabeth agreed.
“You will see for yourself, tomorrow. Pardon me, but did you not know they were coming?” Mrs. Clay shook her head and laughed. “That’s the second time I’ve blurted it out! Henry will be cross with me for spoiling the big reveal.”
Sir Edward coughed. “Am I to understand that Princess Elizabeth is coming here?”
“Aye, and Prince Edward, the Duke of Kent.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips as she considered this new information. “Mr Tilney must be eager to give a party in his new home, inviting royals before he even has a full staff.”
“He’ll not deny that, I’m sure,” Mrs. Clay said with a strange half-smile. She stopped and opened a door, gesturing to Elizabeth. “This will be your suite, Miss Bennet. There’s a shared parlor you are free to use; it adjoins the room of another young lady you’ll soon meet. Sir Edward, yours is just around the corner. When you have made yourselves ready, the drawing room is down the hall and to the left, the third door.”
Mrs. Clay led Sir Edward and his valet on, and Elizabeth stepped into the guest room. A fire had been lit, along with a few wall sconces, though the furnishings were just what the creepy corridor had led her to expect. The furniture was not too out of date, yet the look of the room was just what she might imagine in some scene from a gothic novel, rather frighteningly ornate in the flickering light.
Her maid, Sarah, seemed not to mind it, and set about unpacking the small valise she carried. “I have your best dinner dress here, Miss, and when Albie brings up the big trunk, I shall get your other clothes all hung in the armoire for you, and your nightgown laid out. I’ve set aside the peridot drop earrings your uncle gave you for your birthday, your favorite silver slippers, and your new green silk.”
“Thank you, Sarah, that is just what I would have selected, though I shall have nothing better to wear for such auspicious company tomorrow.”
“You‘ll be meeting a princess! Oh, well, the topaz shall look very grand with all your other frocks, and you have your grandmother’s pearls, too. And I’m sure in a day or two, I’ll have finished the necessary alterations to the two new ones you bought ready-made before we left Meryton.”
“Thank Heaven there was no time for Mamma to have them over-trimmed in lace and beading,” Elizabeth laughed as the maid began to arrange her thick chestnut curls.
She spent a pleasant quarter hour musing on the finery she had been pressed to accept, and found herself growing anxious at why her uncle had insisted upon it – she feared what it might have to do with whatever it was that he could not bring himself to confide in her. Perhaps shewasto be offered up like some sacrificial lamb to some eligible but objectionable oldbrute. Even a man as handsome as Mr. Tilney, if forced upon her, would send her swimming the moat to make her escape.
When Sarah finished her ministrations and bid Elizabeth examine her reflection, Elizabeth managed a grateful smile despite her mounting apprehension. “You have done splendidly, Sarah, as always. But perhaps only unpack my nightgown when the trunk is brought up, and leave the rest for tomorrow – I insist.”
Sir Edward was waiting for her in the corridor, and she took his arm as they followed the directions Mrs. Clay had given them. Her uncle was still uncommonly stoic, and Elizabeth feared she would have no appetite at all as they made their way to dinner.
“Uncle, you would never… ask me to do anything I did not wish to do, would you?”
“Lizzy, what a question! You are as dear to me as any of my children. I know it must seem a bit dodgy, but once I have spoken to the general, you and I shall have our little chat. You have nothing to fear, my darling girl.”
Elizabeth nodded gratefully at his earnest reassurance, and let out a slow, calming breath as they entered the parlor. There were at least a dozen people already assembled, though the conversation seemed tense. Mr. Tilney came toward them with his arm extended. “Excellent, now we are here. Shall I introduce you?”
Sir Edward gave no answer. His gaze landed on a woman in her late thirties who sat on a chaise with a young woman whom Elizabeth presumed was her daughter. The woman, pretty despite how ill her widow’s grey suited her pale features, looked up at Sir Edward with surprise.
Mr. Tilney smiled. “I presume you are acquainted with Lady Allen, sir? The young lady, Miss Catherine Morland, is her charge, the daughter of a neighbor, and a favorite companion.”
Sir Edward began to move toward the widow without seeming to require any assistance from their host; Elizabeth allowed Mr. Tilney to take her arm and present her to Miss Catherine Morland.
“This is the young lady whom I told you of, with whom your room shares a parlor. I had imagined you two might make fast friends,” Mr. Tilney said to the young lady, with whomheclearly wished to make fast friends.
Miss Morland smiled brightly at Elizabeth, who had no chance to ask how a complete stranger might have come to such a conclusion. “Miss Bennet, I have just been telling Mr. Tilney that if you are fond of books and music and countryside rambles, his conjecture shall be swiftly proven.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Then we must own our host is a singularly intuitive man.” She breathed a sigh of relief at finding a friend amongst so many strangers. Though she had not yet been introduced to the rest of the party, the number of guests somehow eased her anxiety at what might possibly occur to affect herself.
And then she glanced around at one of the guests, a tall, broad-shouldered man staring out the window with his hands behind his back. As he turned, she instantly recognized that brooding profile. She had not seen Mr. Darcy since the night of the Netherfield ball; he had departed in inexplicable haste just before Mr. Bingley announced his engagement to Jane, and Elizabeth had jested with Charlotte that if only the odious man had fled an hour earlier, she would not have had to break her vow never to dance with him.
