“You!” she barked. “Fetch the housekeeper! Anne cannot travel to London with nothing in her trunks! She requires her winter pelisses! And the fur-lined muffs!”
“Mother, it is nearly May,” Anne protested.
“The London fog is deceptive! You will freeze!” Lady Catherine ignored her, marching to the hallway. “And I shall order the seamstress to make you four new shawls! Thick wool! Double-lined!”
As Lady Catherine’s voice faded down the corridor, demanding an unreasonable amount of wool for the spring season, the four cousins stood in the drawing room.
“Well,” Richard sighed, finally abandoning his vigil behind the sofa. “That went better than expected. I thought she was going to have us all flogged.”
“Fitzwilliam.” Anne turned to Darcy, her eyes shining. “Thank you. Truly. Darcy House sounds like paradise.”
“It is the least I could do, Anne.” Darcy held her hands between his for a moment. “Considering you saved me from a lifetime of hiding in the shrubbery.”
“London,” Robert mused, wandering over to the drink cart and pouring four glasses of sherry. “The entire menagerie is descending upon the metropolis. The Bennets, the Lucases, the Darcys, the Fitzwilliams, and the de Bourghs.”
He handed a glass to each of his cousins, raising his own in a toast.
“To Friday.” He grinned, his eyes gleaming with the promise of spectacular social anarchy. “May London survive us.”
Darcy raised his glass, touching it to Robert’s. He thought of Miss Elizabeth and the beautiful summer stretching out before them.
“To London,” he agreed, drinking the sherry and finding that smiling came easier when it cost him no effort.
Chapter Fourteen: The London Revisions
THE AIR IN KENT HADbeen crisp and quiet, unlike the air in Cheapside, which was a riotous, soot-tinged symphony of commerce and life.
Elizabeth stepped down from the hired post-chaise onto the bustling pavement of Gracechurch Street, feeling as though she had just awakened from a vivid fever dream. The rumble of cartwheels and the shouts of street vendors were a stark contrast to Mr Collins’s eternal ramblings.
“Well, my dear Lizzy.” Sir William stepped out to hand her down, then adjusted his hat with a jovial but exhausted sigh. “A most edifying journey! Though I must admit, the springs on these hired vehicles lack the grace of Her Ladyship’s phaeton. But we are returned to civilisation, are we not?”
“We are indeed, Sir William.” Elizabeth smiled with affection to the amiable knight. She turned to Maria, who was surveying the neighbourhood with awe, half-hanging from the carriage window.
Elizabeth pulled the younger girl into a fierce, awkward hug. “You survived, Maria. You marched into the dragon’s lair and emerged unscathed.”
“I am never going back,” Maria whispered fervently into Elizabeth’s shoulder, still clutching her friend. “Never. If Mr Collins invites us again, I shall feign a deadly ague. But oh, Lizzy, wasn’t Viscount Keathley magnificent?”
“He was certainly loud.” Elizabeth laughed, squeezing her once more before pulling back. “Give my love to your mamma, Maria. And Sir William, my deepest thanks for your escort.”
“Capital, capital!” Sir William beamed, waving his walking stick. “Give our best to the Gardiners!”
As the Lucases set out to complete the final leg of their journey to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth turned to the welcoming door of her uncle’s house.
Before she could even reach for the knocker, the door flew open.
“Lizzy!”
Jane stood on the threshold with a wide smile that made the grey London street seem brighter. She wore a simple morning dress of pale blue, her blonde hair pinned up neatly, and she did not look remotely like a woman pining for a lost love.
Elizabeth threw herself into her sister’s arms, burying her face in Jane’s neck, breathing in the familiar embrace.
“Oh, Jane. I have missed you so much,” Elizabeth mumbled against Jane’s collarbone.
“And I you.” Jane pulled back to frame Elizabeth’s face with her hands. Her blue eyes searched Elizabeth’s dark ones, detecting the subtle shifts that had occurred in Kent. “You seem... different, Lizzy. As though you have fought a war and won.”
“I have fought several,” Elizabeth admitted dryly. “Mostly against myself.”
“Come inside, before the soot ruins your pelisse!” Aunt Madeline appeared behind Jane, taking in her niece with a mixture of affection and calculating assessment. Madeline Gardiner was a handsome woman with elegance and grace, and Elizabeth adored her.
