“I have not yet moved into the master’s rooms in either Pemberley or Darcy House, for that exact reason.”
Richard stared at Mr. Darcy in disbelief, but his cousin could only look away.
***
In Lady Anne’s room, the three ladies conferred.
“What of this Miss Bennet that you wrote me about?” Lady Anne demanded.
“He visits her daily, under the guise of talking with her about his friend Bingley.”
“His friend Bingley? What has Miss Bennet to do with Charles Bingley?”
“Bingley is married to Miss Bennet’s elder sister.”
“Truly? Well, that is odd. In any case, Anne, do you think if not for Miss Bennet, my son would have proposed to you?”
“Of course; what other reason could there possibly be?” that young lady replied.
“I would like to meet this Miss Bennet for myself.”
“I will arrange it,” Lady Catherine promised.
Chapter Twelve
At the parsonage, the scullery maid had spoken to the footman at Rosings Park, who had spoken with Mr. Morton, who had said that Mr. Darcy’s mother had arrived, and that same scullery maid had wasted no time in informing her mistress at the parsonage of this singular event.
Thus, it was with considerable surprise that Mrs. Collins received a message from Lady Catherine, demanding that the entire party come to dinner that evening. Why would Lady Catherine wish her parson to meet Mr. Darcy’s mother? There was only one possible answer. “I think it is likely that Lady Anne Darcy has learnt of her son’s interest in you and so wishes to meet you,” she told Elizabeth.
Elizabeth huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps; in which case she doubtless wishes to quash any such interest!”
“I fear you are right,” Charlotte said. “Oh, Eliza, I hope you have not lost your heart to Mr. Darcy. Nothing can possibly come of such an attachment!”
“I know that, of course, Charlotte,” Elizabeth assured her friend. “I cannot deny that I like him very much, but my heart remains my own.”
In truth, she was not so certain. She had never looked forward to a gentleman’s company the way she looked forward to Mr. Darcy’s. She had never before watched out the window, hoping to see a certain beaver hat come into view; she had never before been so aware of the proximity of a gentleman’s knee to her own; she had never before – in short, her feelings in this instance were new, and she was not certain what they meant.
But she understood that Mr. Darcy was unlikely to ever be hers, and with that understanding, resentment bloomed in her heart. Why was it that she was so unacceptable? Was she not the daughter of a gentleman? Was she not well-read, and accomplished enough, despite Lady Catherine’s unkind words? Certainly she was far better suited to be the mistress of an estate than Anne de Bourgh!
Her father had replied to her message immediately; a carriage to take her home was arriving the next day. She would very likely never see Mr. Darcy after tonight, but she was determined that he should not easily forget her, and this was her last chance to ensure this.
***
Elizabeth rose from her dressing table only after hearing her cousin call for her in some desperation. She had been ready some while now, but she was determined to time her descent down the staircase with great precision.
“Cousin Elizabeth! Come, we will be late! Oh, dear. Maria,dogo up and see what is keeping her!”
Maria scampered up the stairs just as Elizabeth opened her bedroom door. “I am quite ready,” Elizabeth said.
She walked downstairs, head held high, a blue ribbon wound around her chignon, loose curls falling forward to frame her face. Maria trailing behind her, open-mouthed.
Charlotte stared at her. “Eliza, you look lovely! I have never seen you so – hold; is that not the Imperial Blue dress you showed me when you first arrived? The one that Jane embroidered?”
“It is, yes.”
“But I said – we agreed –“ Charlotte floundered, wringing her hands.
Elizabeth looked at her friend, levelly. “What is there to lose, Charlotte? We already know that Lady Catherine disapproves of me, and I am to return home tomorrow as she has ordered. But I should like to be able to tell Jane that her handiwork was not wasted.”
