Elizabeth smirked. “If you said as much to Cathy – Miss Morland – I should be much obliged.”
“She does have the look about her of a lady in love with a man of more countenance than comprehension,” the princess tutted. “My, you are a witty creature, just as Sir Edward said. Such open manners! You have a look of intelligence about you, and you have certainly grown into the resemblance that has always been there.”
“Has he ever told you about me?”
“I made it a secret condition of his knighthood, that he must provide me with annual reports of your wellbeing and accomplishments. I asked the same of Mr. Bennet, though he begged off the arrangement some years ago. One of your sisters saw a letter with my seal and asked him too many vexing questions. I have seen you many times with my own eyes; it has been a lark of mine.”
Elizabeth was startled. “What do you mean?”
“My friend Arabella has a penchant for costumes and disguises. Her mother was an actress, and she worked as a seamstress in the theatre before entrancing the late LordAbernathy. She is deliciously scandalous; I shall introduce you at dinner. She helped me with what became an annual tradition. Every year, as near to your birthday as I can manage, she and I travel to Meryton in a very shabby carriage, and she disguises me very cleverly, so that I might have some chance encounter with you. I have been a babbling widow at the milliners, a posh lady perusing novels at Hatchard’s, and even the eccentric dowager who let Netherfield for only a day, threw a ball, and left the county. This year, I was the gypsy at the May Day Fair.”
“You told my fortune, and would not take my coin,” Elizabeth said, laughing. “You told me I was destined for greatness.”
“And so you are, of course. I hear you are betrothed to Mr. Darcy of Pemberley – very well done, child! He shall need a title to truly deserve you, but all that can be managed; my father will oblige whatever I wish. A dukedom would mortify your Mr. Darcy, if he is anything like his father, and I daresay his cousin would tease him mercilessly for it. But an earldom would do, since I may soon have grandchildren to think of. Lady Darcy, how do you like that?”
“I hardly know,” Elizabeth said; she was all too aware that her mouth was hanging open, yet she was powerless to rally her good sense.
“Any other young lady would have begun calculating the advantages of being my daughter the moment the truth came out. Perhaps your humility is to your credit, but you must begin to think more decadently, and prepare yourself to grow quite spoilt.”
“Do you wish to continue our acquaintance?”
“Of course, my dear. I know you must have a great affection for the woman who raised you, and she has mygratitude, but she is soon to part with you, anyhow. Your husband will simply have to share you. He has a house in Mayfair, I believe? It will be no inconvenience at all for you to visit St. James’s and Windsor.” The princess’s enthusiasm waned for a moment. “If you wish it, of course.”
“I believe I am willing to visit you, though I am sure it shall be overwhelming at first.”
“I can visit you in your homes, if you prefer it, and you are welcome to come to Clwyd, for I mean to make the whole castle over when I purchase the place.”
Elizabeth nodded, unable to comprehend the possibilities of what they were discussing. It was all too much. But she liked the princess’s open manners, and she still had many questions to be answered. “Did my parents know you visited me?”
“If they suspected anything, they never let on.”
“Did you ever observe, or hear from Sir Edward, anything that gave you any alarm?”
"I hope you were not unhappy with the Bennets! Sir Edward wrote of your affection for your sisters, particularly the eldest, and how like Mr. Bennet you were in disposition, well-read, clever, and playful. I did hear of you forming an attachment when you were but young, to some son of a mayor my father knighted while in his cups. When Sir William Lucas turned up at St. James’s, I introduced him to a widow with three rich and comely daughters, hoping his son would take a shine to one of them.”
“I was crestfallen when he wed,” Elizabeth said. “But as I told Mr. Darcy just a few hours ago, I have long ceased to lament the loss of Mr. Lucas.”
The princess laughed. “What sort of man is your Mr. Darcy? He must be supremely secure in your affections, for you to tell him of a youthful infatuation.”
“He has every reason to be, for I love him very dearly.” Elizabeth told the princess everything, beginning with the insult at the assembly, and Mr. Wickham’s subsequent slander, and going into greater detail of how she had come to trust and rely on Mr. Darcy since coming to Clwyd Castle.
The princess listened intently, her countenance expressive. “That is quite a tale, my dear; you have had a proper romance, indeed! Locked in a castle together, forced to place your trust in a man you once hated, only to face the great shock of being proven utterly wrong about his character! And he pined after you all the while, but you never knew. Did he truly kiss your tears on his handkerchief? I should faint straight away. You had better not tell Sir Edward that, for he is too charming already.”
“Were you in love with him?”
“A little, I think. I cannot say how great a compliment that may be, since I have fancied myself in love at least a dozen times. But he was one of my favorites, and I am glad that he is your father. You have his eyes, and his easy charm.”
“It is strange to imagine him some sort of youthful Casanova.”
“Ah, but he was. All the ladies at court were half in love with him, for he was full of compliments and poetry, sneaky winks and sly touches in a crowded ballroom. I was astonished that he noticed me, but we got on like a house on fire once I managed to speak sensibly with him. I hear he is to be congratulated on his upcoming marriage.”
“Yes, he and Lady Allen are to be married. He has only just met their daughters.”
“So many new relations for you, all at once. Well, most young ladies could say the same, on the verge of marriage, but in that regard you shall gain only a sister, I believe. The Darcys are rather dwindling; you must have sons.”
Elizabeth could make no reply, and she was spared the thought of giving Mr. Darcy sons, for Sir Edward returned. “The magistrate wishes to speak to you, Lizzy. He has questioned everybody else but the prisoners, and Mr. Tilney is keen to announce dinner.”
“Send him in,” the princess said. “I have a great curiosity to hear this tale of killers and clues fromLizzy.”
