“Before or after learning of our new status?” Bennet asked, finding Darcy’s change of opinion highly suspect.
“Most definitely before. Jane has told me, in the greatest of confidence, that Darcy attempted to propose marriage still thinking your daughter was merely a gentleman’s daughter, only to have his proposal turned back on him when she demanded he give her reasons why.”
“My Lizzy,” Bennet said with a wide smile. “Fearless and forthright.”
“Perfect woman for a man like Darcy,” Morgan said. “He needs someone who will pull him off any pedestal he tends to brood upon. She will be the making of him.”
“In light of this information, I look forward to seeing Mr. Darcy again, although I will still have some sport with him. There are a few things I wish to discuss with regard to his past behaviour.”
“I would ask to witness this battle of wills, but I shall keep out of it and instead take my lovely betrothed for a walk in the garden when this momentous reunion takes place.”
Two days after arrivingat Tetherwood, Elizabeth was settled enough to revisit the familiar walks around the manor. As she paused at the open front door, pulling on her soft leather gloves, the dowager countess drifted past, her silver hair coiled neatly at her nape.
“Do not forget your bonnet,” the dowager countess said, her voice gentle but firm. “Though the morning is cool, the sun will rise high by your return, and you will be thankful for its shade.”
“Thank you for your timely reminder, Lady Deborah,” Elizabeth replied, “I had ‘conveniently’ forgotten it on my bed upstairs.”
Elizabeth, mindful of the butler waiting by the front entrance, stepped closer to the dowager countess, and took the frail woman’s hand in hers. “How are you managing with all of us underfoot?” she asked quietly.
The dowager drew a soft breath, her pale blue eyes misting. “I am deeply grateful you are here. This house has been unbearably silent since Arthur died.” She glanced towards the staircase just as Danvers descended, bearing Elizabeth’s straw bonnet, its wide brim edged with a blue ribbon. “We shall speak further after your ramble. Do not forget to visit the rose garden. After your last stay, Arthur insisted that the head gardener plant a new bed of Damask roses. They promise a lovely show this year.”
“How wonderful,” Elizabeth said, accepting the bonnet from Danvers with a grateful nod. “I am honoured that Cousin Arthur chose my favourite blooms.”
She curtsied, then stepped onto the sun-warmed steps. Below, the gravel path wound through the rose garden, where early buds blushed pink and ivory, and bees hummed among their petals. Leaving the roses behind, she wandered past the neatly strung kitchen gardens and out towards the west lawn. A placid lake mirrored the pale sky, its glassy surface broken by darting dragonflies and the ripple of a fish breaking the stillness. Deciding a full circuit would detain her too long, she turned back towards the manor.
Just as the columns of the portico rose into view, the sound of wheels on gravel drifted to her ears. Startled delight quickened her heart when she recognised the gilded crest on the carriagedoor, and she hastened up the path to meet her unexpected visitor.
“Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, breathless, as the carriage door swung open and he alighted from the plush carriage. His black coat was cut precisely to his tall frame, and the linen of his cravat gleamed against his breast. “What brings you to Tetherwood? I had thought you would be at Pemberley by now.”
He offered a brief, courteous bow, his dark eyes steady. “Lady Elizabeth,” he replied, voice low and earnest, “I took a small detour. I have yet to speak with your father about our fledging courtship. I dislike acting without his knowledge and wished to declare my intentions in person.”
Elizabeth’s heart raced at his sentiment. She had attempted several times to broach the subject, but had no wish to be mercilessly teased by her father.
“Then, I am delighted you are here,” she said, meeting his gaze. “For I, too, wish to have Father’s blessing and consent.”
Darcy gave a few instructions to his driver and valet before turning back to Elizabeth and offering his arm. She slipped hers through his willingly as they climbed the sun-warmed steps, and the door swung open silently before them when they reached the top.
“Thank you, Nelson,” Elizabeth said as they entered the cool dim of the entrance hall. “Please inform Mrs. Clarke that our guest will require a room for the night, and prepare quarters for his valet as well.” She paused and looked at Darcy. “You will stay the night, perhaps a few days?”
“At the very least one night,” he replied. “The rest depends on your father.”
“Where is my father?” Elizabeth asked the butler, whose eyes moved between them with quiet interest.
“Lord Rumley is in the library, my lady.”
“Why did I ask?” she murmured with a soft laugh, turning towards the main staircase, its broad mahogany banister gleaming in the light from the tall windows above. “I believe Mamma has threatened to lock the library permanently if he does not show his face for at least one hour a day, other than to dine.”
Darcy hesitated on the first step. “You may not wish to invite him to Pemberley, then...” He trailed off as Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the implication. “Forgive my presumption.”
“No apology necessary,” she assured him gently, resuming their ascent. “You warned me in Kent of the depth of your feelings, and I am pleased to admit that I am not far behind with mine.”
They had reached the landing, where Danvers waited with her customary stillness. Elizabeth surrendered her bonnet and gloves, while a footman relieved Mr. Darcy of his coat and hat.
“Did you wish to refresh yourself before I take you to Papa?”
“We stopped at an inn a few miles from here. I did not wish to waste any time once I arrived.”
“You are methodical, I will grant you that.”
