Page 4 of The Longbourn Bloodline

“The circumstances.” Another laugh, smaller, privately relished. “Oh, the circumstances are magnificent. My second daughter, who has just this afternoon informed me that any heir who came courting at Longbourn deserved to be—how did she put it?—warned, if not hexed. My dear Lizzy does not yet know that the heir in question is the one man in England she has declared she would not dance with if he were the last gentleman standing.”

“We danced once at Netherfield,” Darcy corrected.

“A minor oversight on my daughter’s part, I should say. You caught her unaware and without an excuse.”

“Then I appeal to your discretion, sir.” Darcy’s voice was too close to the open window as his fingers tapped the windowsill. “Because I will marry her.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, as if closing them would mean Darcy would fail to see the top of her pink-bonneted head. Oh, why hadn’t she chosen the dusky brown?

“You see the comedy and the danger,” Mr. Bennet continued to the sound of the brandy decanter clinking. “Not a word outside of this library. If my wife catches wind of your proposal, we shall never, ever hear the end of it. And if Elizabeth were to suspect… she would run you through with her sharp wit or set your waistcoat on fire. I have not been so diverted since Collins proposed in the breakfast room and Lizzy told him she would rather scrub chamberpots.”

“Then I trust your discretion, sir. Speak to her when you will, but I shall be back, and I will not take no for an answer. I am not Mr. Collins who requires the patronage of my aunt, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I am my own man, the master of Pemberley and the future master of Longbourn, once it has been entirely renewed to its former glory—as described by my great-great-grandfather in the entail documents.”

“Well, Mr. Darcy, my wife is already at the door, and I suspect my two youngest have been listening in. No more talk. I shall introduce you, or do you prefer to take your leave?”

“I shall stay in the steward’s cottage, if you do not mind, as I see you do not have a steward, and this estate is in a considerable state of disrepair.”

“Ah, yes, yes, of course, of course.” Mr. Bennet was all amused conciliation. “You are welcome to any and all renovations as long as you rob the coffers of Pemberley. We here, as you can see, live in a state of rustic indolence. How sporting it is to have such a diligent heir as yourself, Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth’s hems were muddied, her cloak damp, and her bonnet drooping over a face likely pale as curdled milk. She crept along the wall to the garden gate, gathered a few sprigs of ivy and a pinecone or two, and strode toward the kitchen door.

She would not give either man the satisfaction of knowing she had heard.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEW HEIR

Elizabeth piled her arms with hastily torn twirls of ivy and prickly holly branches, the better to disguise her whereabouts. She pushed her way through the kitchen door, purposely humming a Christmas tune, as if she had been in the garden, gathering merry Yuletide greenery, and knew nothing of heirs or proposals or one entitled man who had proclaimed her destiny as if she had no say in it.

She halted, for there stood the very man in question—Fitzwilliam Darcy—glowering in the passage. He was in the act of pulling on gloves, but his gaze made a point of abject disapproval, traveling from her mud-caked boots to the bedraggled hem of her pelisse, and finally to the dripping greenery clutched in her arms, each detail earning its own silent censure.

“Miss Elizabeth, were you not aware that greenery gathered before the twenty-fourth is inauspicious?” His stare centered on the pink bonnet that had slipped sideways and now hung askew from her head.

Elizabeth’s stomach twisted, wondering how conspicuous the pink bonnet would be amongst the gray December landscape. He had been at the window. Had he looked down and seen her telltale bonnet?

“Inauspicious?” Elizabeth adjusted her armload of holly with a frigid smile. “I should think a gloomy gentleman lurking in dark passages with his gloves already drawn would bring far more ruin to a household than a branch of winter ivy. Or perhaps you fear the greenery might spook your mount along the lane?”

“Oh, I fear nothing other than your talent for turning a quiet country lane into a hazard course, Miss Elizabeth, though I confess an ivy-festooned creature topped with a glaring pink bonnet is enough to spook every horse between here and Meryton.”

Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth’s sisters had by now gathered in the passage, along with her father, who puffed on a pipe.

“Lizzy, whatever were you doing trampling around the muddy groves?” Her mother exclaimed. “Hill! Hill, kindly relieve Miss Elizabeth of the grotesque greenery, and oh, but you must be more presentable as Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley—can you imagine?—is your father’s heir—due to take Longbourn from us and pitch us all into the hedgerows unless…”

And here, her mother’s avaricious attention alighted onto Jane, and Elizabeth saw her sister cringe while Hill and the kitchen maid attempted to relieve Elizabeth of the greenery she was hiding behind. The ribbons on her bonnet were tangled in the holly, and Elizabeth’s curls fell from their pins as the unfortunate bonnet was taken away with the bundle of rustic decor.

“Indeed.” Darcy finished pulling on his gloves, bowing stiffly. “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, young cousins, I was just taking my leave.”

“I believe you will find London more to your liking, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth mock-curtsied.

“Oh, but Lizzy, have you not heard?” Mrs. Bennet crowed. “Your father has kindly offered Mr. Darcy the use of the steward’s cottage while he attends to his business here.”

A jolt of fear licked Elizabeth’s insides. She studied her mother carefully, wondering if her father had also disclosed Darcy’s intent to marry her.

“Estate matters,” Darcy said, darting a sharp glance at her. “Longbourn has vast potential, as noted in the entail documents.”

“How fortunate for us all that you have volunteered to oversee its improvement,” Elizabeth replied. “Though I must warn you, the cottage has not hosted anything larger than a mouse in recent memory, and the roof has lately shown a keen interest in stargazing.”

Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I am accustomed to managing difficult situations, Miss Elizabeth.”