“You make it sound so bleak,” Elizabeth sighed.
Rebecca screwed up her face. “Really? That is hardly my intention – I am quite pleased with myself. I am sure Lady Catherine will be furious, which will be amusing once the worst of her ire has subsided. The marquess is fond of amusement and society, and can easily afford his lavish lifestyle. We agreed to certain terms – we shall each pursue our own private interests, so long as we are discreet, and I shall have a comfortable allowance and complete liberty to redecorate his homes all to my own taste. I may invite company as often as I choose, reside in any of his homes and go from one to the other as often as I please, and since he has four brothers, he does not care a whit if there is no heir. I should call that an ideal marriage.”
Elizabeth was silent for a few minutes as she considered all this. “But are you quite sure your disposition is not suited to real affection? Under all your bluster, is there no sense of romance at all?”
“None whatsoever, I am afraid. No, I am just black-hearted, self-indulgent Rebecca, though I must say it is rather noble of me to fall upon the financial sword in making a grand match so that Rose may do as she pleases.”
“Oh! Certainly – it is very generous of you. Does she know?”
“She does, and she thinks me quite mad, but she was exceedingly grateful. I should like her to be often with me, though she drives me to distraction – but she is like you, Lizzy, and prefers to be in London, beset by so many beaux.”
Elizabeth made a droll face. “You know there is only one man I am interested in. And I amveryinterested! Oh Rebecca, I wish you could know such wondrous sentiments!”
Rebecca listened in good humor as Elizabeth waxed poetical on the many charms of Mr. Darcy, not the least of which was the romance and music of his name. She described theirthrilling kiss at Vauxhall and speculated on what she imagined their next embrace might be like, she praised his intelligence and sly, sardonic wit, as well as her desire to acquaint herself with his every opinion and compare all his impressions with her own, and then she resumed her lamentations that they must be parted.
“I should hardly wish to be prone to such powerful affection, now that I see how this impending separation has driven you quite mad! But you paint a very pretty picture, I shall grant you – and you know I am inclined to be of aid to your cause. I have long enjoyed vexing your mother, you know.”
Fortunately for Elizabeth, Rebecca was keen to formulate any number of tricks and schemes for clandestine meetings between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. She took to it with alacrity, and for the next fortnight Elizabeth was swept up in a flurry of flimsy excuses, gleeful sneaking, and swiftly moving further away from her favorite gentleman whenever her mother entered the room.
It was a convenient inevitability that Lady Catherine was quite put out; she was of the opinion that Rebecca had, with great cunning and malice, stolen the marquess from her daughter. Thus, she refused to participate in the ensuing discussions of wedding planning, which were a surety of any visit to Matlock House. She permitted Elizabeth to visit her cousin for this purpose, but under the wishful thinking that her daughter might inspire Lord Douglas to reconsider his choice of bride. She seldom went there herself, for though Lady Anne had not yet met Mr. Darcy, she was a fanciful creature herself, and sympathetic enough to her niece that she happily detained and distracted her sister as often as she could
Of course, there were a great many other suitors for Elizabeth, put forward by her ambitious but affectionate mother. None of them could possibly compare to Mr. Darcy, who becamemore beloved at every encounter. Still, she was sensible enough to be more than civil to them, and though she resolved not to do any of these eligible gentlemen the disservice of showing too much false encouragement, she managed to satisfy her mother by simply not diminishing her own natural candor.
For his part, Mr. Darcy bore it all far better than he had during the week of their quarrel, and Elizabeth appreciated his willingness to temper his worst impulses of jealousy for her sake. He made the most of their stolen moments together, and the thrill of their secret attachment only heightened the ardor for both of them.
When the final week of her time in London came all too soon, Elizabeth grew quite anxious. Jane and Richard reached an understanding in what seemed like perfect time, and their happiness was unmistakable. Elizabeth was elated for her sister to be so cherished, even if Derbyshire was so far away, and she had come to delight in the prospect of her puckish cousin as a brother. But after the second engagement in the family, Elizabeth was ready for the third to be her own.
And confident though she was, her desires were only compounded when, at the celebration of Jane’s engagement, Lady Anne finally had the opportunity to bestow her venerated approbation upon Mr. Darcy. She agreed with Elizabeth that he was just what a gentleman ought to be, and she promised to speak to Lady Catherine on Elizabeth’s behalf when the young man finally came to the point.
It did not escape Elizabeth’s notice that Lady Anne observed Mr. Darcy with greater interest than just as a suitor for her niece. There was something wistful in her scrutiny of him, and when the two women had a private moment together after supper, Lady Anne naturally spoke about the coincidence of his name.
“I know of so few other Darcys beyond the close kin of my first husband; surely theremustbe some connection, even if he is a year too old to be my own lost Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth knew not how to respond, how to ease that loss from which her aunt could never fully recover. She even wondered if this was perhaps some contributing factor to her mother’s steadfast dislike of Mr. Darcy, for Lady Anne was desperate to find some connection to him where none could possibly exist.
Elizabeth patted Lady Anne’s hand with a sad smile. “I cannot think he would keep it to himself, when it would be to his advantage to say so, if there were any connection. And then it has occurred to me that if he wereyourFitzwilliam, he would likely be called something else, if he was taken as a baby; if your son was kidnapped, surely knowing who he really was would have brought him back to you. But in his infancy, he could not have been sensible of his own name. He might have been told his name was something else entirely.”
“I suppose you are right,” Lady Anne admitted with a heavy sigh. “At any rate, I very much like your Mr. Darcy, and I shall be satisfied to call him my nephew.”
Mr. Darcy was equally delighted by Lady Anne, and Elizabeth was soon treated to his praise of her favorite aunt. He thought her genteel, kind, and clever, and found her motherly affection for Elizabeth to be her most pleasing charm of all. “I can easily see her influence on your wit and whimsy alike, and I appreciate that her good opinion is well worth the earning. It has given me hope.”
Hope was among the many things Elizabeth wished to give Mr. Darcy, and she offered him a beguiling smile. “And what do you hope for, Mr. Darcy?”
He grinned at her. He had but a moment before they must separate to avoid her mother’s interference, and happily he made the most of it, “I hope you shall come to Matlock House tomorrow, to attend your cousin’s increasingly outlandish nuptial planning. I must entreat her, however, to contrive a chance for us to speak privately, for there is something very particular I shall wish to ask you.”
Chapter Eight
“Darcy, I hear you have been packing your bags.” Richard sank back against the sofa and gave William a playful pout. “Headed back to the country?”
“Not for a few days yet, but I believe I must go soon,” William replied. He joined Richard and Bingley in the corner of the parlor that had become their haven, far away from the big table by the front window that served as the headquarters of the ladies’ nuptial raptures.
“Because my cousins are soon for Kent, and there is nothing left for you in town?”
Bingley chortled with laughter. “Whatever do you fellows get up to in the country? My brother Hurst has a manor in Shropshire, and he never goes there at all – I have always thought it must be very dull.”
“Tremendously,” William said with a sigh, aching at the thought of returning to Wildewoode – of removing himself from Elizabeth’s presence. He felt as if he would never see the sun again.
“In town, one amuses oneself,” Richard told Bingley. “In the country, one amuses other people. It is excessively tedious.”
