“I am surprised by this news. I had thought of introducing you to her and her sister, but dared not breathe a word of it, knowing your feelings on the subject of matchmaking.”
“Did I not tell you, that William wrote about a Miss Elizabeth Bennet while staying at Mr. Bingley’s estate this past autumn?” Georgiana asked, leaning forward slightly.
“When did I write about Elizabeth?” Darcy turned to his sister, genuinely surprised. He could not recall committing his private thoughts of Elizabeth to paper.
“You described how she walked three miles through the mud to nurse her sister at Netherfield,” Georgiana said, her eyes bright. “Then came the drawing-room discussions. I laughed until I wept at your account of Miss Bingley’s catalogue of feminine accomplishments and how Miss Elizabeth picked it apart so graciously that Miss Bingley found herself arguing against her own position without the faintest notion she had done so. I decided then that I should like her very much.”
Darcy smiled at the memory, the firelight catching Elizabeth’s eyes as she looked up from her book, wholly unbothered by Miss Bingley’s performance. He should have known then that his heart was already lost. The instant she had raised arched a playful brow in his direction, shortly after he had insulted her appearance at the Meryton Assembly, he was undone. He was grateful she had forestalled his proposal at Hunsford. Had he blundered on, they might have parted bitterly,for his poorly thought-out proposal had been filled with the particular cruelty of a man who believed his condescension a compliment, and his dismissal of her close connections to trade something she would learn to accept.
“Darcy,” his aunt interrupted his thoughts. “I would like to invite Lady Elizabeth and her family to dine this week.”
“The earl and countess are in Bedfordshire, with no intent to return until October. Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth are staying with their aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.” He paused. “I believe they depart for their father’s estate the second week of June.”
“Good to know. I shall write Madeline at once.” His aunt gave him a teasing look. “If you conduct yourself with even a fraction more sense than you have shown this past year, I may even extend the invitation to you.”
He laughed, a real laugh, the kind that loosened something in his chest. She had forgiven him.
Elizabeth, Jane and AuntMadeline had finished shopping for new gloves when they decided to enjoy some refreshments at a nearby tea shop. Upon arriving at the busy establishment, they came across Mrs. Hurst and a lady whom Elizabeth recognised from Lady Meadowbrook’s ball.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hurst, and… I believe you are Miss Grantley,” Elizabeth said, inclining her head with inherent grace towards the young woman.
Before Mrs. Hurst could return the greeting, Miss Grantley executed a poised curtsey while saying, “Good afternoon, Lady Jane, Lady Elizabeth, Mrs. Gardiner.”
Mrs. Hurst’s jaw dropped slightly at the same time her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Have you both married?” she asked, her tone of voice half question, half gasp.
“We have not, Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth said with a soft laugh. “Please, will you join us for tea so that I can explain further?”
They agreed, and soon the five ladies were seated around a small mahogany table covered in a snow-white cloth. Wisps of steam curled above their porcelain cups as Elizabeth cleared her throat delicately. She began by outlining a bit of their family history, then concluded with, “Papa received the express, announcing Cousin Arthur’s death, and decided we should immediately withdraw from your brother’s ball.”
“My goodness! Such news in the midst of a ball!” exclaimed Mrs. Hurst. “Did your father not expect to inherit?”
“He did, but not so soon,” Elizabeth replied. “Ever since Cousin Arthur’s son died in ’05, Father knew he would eventually become Earl Rumley, provided he outlived his cousin, who was only two and fifty. His passing took us all by surprise.”
Louisa Hurst frowned and canted her head to one side, as though in deep thought.
“Did not the late earl’s son hold a courtesy title of viscount?”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the precise question. “He did. At the time of Peter’s death, Cousin Arthur offered Father the title Viscount Tuttreon, but he declined.” At Mrs. Hurst’s audible gasp, Elizabeth allowed herself a small, knowing smile. “Papa saw no advantage, as it would not have altered our life in Hertfordshire.”
“But… he would have been Lord Tuttreon, and your mother Lady Tuttreon,” Mrs. Hurst persisted, her voice low but insistent. “It certainly would have enhanced your status in Meryton.”
“Mrs. Hurst,” Jane interjected softly, “our standing in Meryton has never depended on titles. Father already owns the largest estate after Netherfield. A title does not define us.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed, her tone measured as she lifted her teacup. “A title might even have alienated our friends and neighbours. We all assumed Cousin Arthur would live to a grand old age, and Papa would inherit when he was in his dotage and all his daughters married and gone from Longbourn. A title, or the prefix of ‘Honourable’ before our names, had no bearing on how we went about our daily lives.”
“It may have curbed your younger sisters’ behaviour—” Mrs. Hurst began, then covered her mouth, whispering, “Forgive me; that was uncalled for.”
“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Hurst,” Jane soothed. “Our two youngest sisters were indeed spirited, but you will be pleased to learn they are thriving at an academy for young ladies. Both of which are in Kent.”
“Are the earl and countess still in town?” Miss Grantley asked.
“They are not. After Mother’s presentation at court, they departed for Tetherwood, the family seat in Bedfordshire. We shall join them in mid-June.”
“How delightful, though I am sorry for your loss,” Miss Grantley said, inclining her head with proper solemnity. “My mother would be honoured to host you and your mother for tea upon your return. Mrs. Gardiner, you are most welcome as well. Mother speaks often of your friendship with Lady Meadowbrook and Lady Matlock. At times, she is quite envious of your easy camaraderie.”
Aunt Madeline smiled warmly. “I have known Lady Meadowbrook since our skirts were short and our hair in braids.Lady Matlock’s friendship was with my mother, but I hold her in great esteem. I am certain your mother, too, has childhood friends she meets with enjoyment.”
Miss Grantley’s lips curved upward. “Indeed, she does! When they meet, they often laugh so hard their cheeks hurt.”
