Page 26 of The Longbourn Bloodline

“I believe you heard wrong.” She speared the Colonel a signifying look. “My father witnessed his attempted rescue of our Cleo, but I was regrettably feeding bread crusts to the geese.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam lifted an eyebrow but had the sense not to contradict her. “So, Miss Elizabeth, how are you finding the dancing master’s instruction? I believe you are eager to try the waltz?”

“I am indeed,” she replied. “I heard the dance is quite the rage on the Continent.”

“Quite so, although my time on the Continent is spent on the battlefield; however, should you be invited to any balls in the upcoming season, I should like a turn on the dance floor with you.”

“Then I shall be sure to save you a set, Colonel. Are you quite partial to dancing?”

“I am,” he replied, the snow crunching underneath his boots. “It is not often for a second son to have the pleasure of conversation with charming and intelligent young ladies.”

“Your cousin, I believe, does not like to dance.” Elizabeth hazarded a glance at Darcy, who was attempting to converse with Jane while her three younger sisters buzzed about them like persistent hornets scenting sweets.

“He will dance if there is an obligation,” the colonel said carefully. “But he prefers to stand at the side. Unlike me, he is the master of Pemberley, and if he should dance with a young lady, he would be raising expectations. He cannot afford to converse and dance with young ladies while holding such a large fortune.”

“Not all young ladies are fortune hunters,” Elizabeth said. “I, for one, would rather be poor and content than married to a foolish man.”

“Are you calling my cousin foolish?”

“Oh, no, not at all, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I merely wondered why Mr. Darcy would wish to inherit Longbourn when he already has Pemberley. If it is fortune hunters he avoids, then perhaps, having a smaller fortune would be preferable.”

“I see your point,” the colonel agreed. “However, Darcy has always been responsible, and he aspires to be the man his parents wished him to become. His great-grandfather loved Longbourn, and hence he would see it within his duty to treat Longbourn as well as Pemberley.”

“But Longbourn is not his to hold, not while my father lives.” Elizabeth stopped in front of a grey stone wall where the best ivy grew, thick and glossy. She peeled a length of it from the wall. “Yet he has immediately installed himself at the steward’s cottage, engaged masters for my sisters and begun improvements. I should very much like to know what he intends.”

Richard looked ahead to where Darcy was walking with Jane, pointing out a cluster of holly high on a sheltered bank. If Elizabeth were honest, they did look the part—Pemberley’s future lord and lady, ready to preside over endless dinners.

“Pemberley is grand, but empty.” Richard gallantly offered the use of his knife to cut more sprigs of ivy. “Darcy’s father died when he was two-and-twenty. His mother some years before that. They left him an estate, a sister, and a weight of expectation that would crush a lesser man. He carries it well, but he carries it always.”

“Yes, but why extend the weight to Longbourn? What does he hope to gain?”

“He found his great-grandfather’s journal in the Pemberley library—the boy who was sent here as insurance, in case the Bennet heir failed to produce sons. He has been reading it every evening. I believe he feels… connected to this place. To its history, and to you and your sisters.”

“A singular sort of connection, to be sure.” Elizabeth placed a dry smile on her lips as irritation darted through her chest. “Achieved by marching into our drawing room with a ledger of improvements rather than a bouquet. One usually prefers a civil inquiry over a systematic restructuring of one’s manners as proof of tender regard.”

“Perhaps, but Darcy takes family seriously, and you are his cousins, Miss Elizabeth.” Richard paused, watching Darcy help Kitty reach a high branch, steadying her with a hand on her elbow as she stretched for the glossy leaves. “If something were to happen to your father—God forbid—Darcy would become your guardian and protector. He is preparing for that possibility, whether you wish him to or not.”

Elizabeth felt the beginnings of misgiving rattle deep in her chest. She had built her story on his arrogance and presumption—that of owning Longbourn and her. Yet if his only aim was to see his cousins well established, what then of his declaration to her father that he would marry her? She had not seen his expression, having been crouched beneath a hedge. Perhaps it had been but a jest, a way to gain her father’s friendship by using the humor he delighted in.

Her mortification could not have been more complete, especially since her father joked about marrying them off by compromise after a botched cat rescue.

“Miss Elizabeth, you seem troubled.” The Colonel’s voice reached her as if from a great distance.

“I am merely overcome by the glossy ivy and the bucolic wintry scenery. I imagine Pemberley is quite different.”

“To be sure,” Richard exclaimed. “It is manicured too well, some may say. The hedges clipped to exact evenness, the gardens laid out geometrically. Every detail attended to with architectural perfection.”

“And that was what his parents wished for? The perfection in every aspect of his life?”

Kitty was at the moment pelting snow at Darcy while he attempted to reach for a mistletoe sprig without allowing Lydia to wedge herself beneath it, while Jane stood serenely aside, smiling warmly, and Mary sermonized to the air with no one paying her the least attention.

Richard noted her gaze and shrugged. “He will be the perfect cousin and gentleman. Responsible and protective. A marked improvement over the…” he cleared his throat to avoid the mention of Mr. Collins, “what I mean is you need not fear that he has designs on any of your sisters. He will marry well because that is what his parents wished for him. Whilst our mutual aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and his dear mother matched him with Anne de Bourgh, his father has higher aims than a daughter of a baronet, even if she comes with her own estate.”

“A young lady comes with an estate?” Elizabeth’s hands stopped, still wrapped around a thick strand of ivy. “But wouldn’t it be entailed to the nearest male relation?”

“Not Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s Rosings Park.” Here, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared to warm to the idea of sharing what he knew. “The de Bourgh entail includes females, and hence if Anne were to marry Darcy, they would hold Rosings Park and Pemberley.”

“As well as Longbourn,” Elizabeth grumbled. “Life is truly unfair.”