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“I know; however, Mother is sick, and this is all she asks for her birthday. Will you not do it for her?” He held out his hand. “Or for me? You can sit still for a little while longer. The artist is almost finished.”

“I—I guess so, if you promise to play tea party with me after.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Thank you, Fitzy. I love you.”

“I love you, too!”

He led his three-year-old sister back to the drawing room where his father and mother waited patiently, while the artist patted his foot impatiently. As his father sat Georgiana in her mother’s lap, he and his father took their places alongside them. He felt the familiar squeeze of his shoulder, signalling that his father was pleased.

Even though he was but six, William had understood his father’s unspoken communication—this portrait could possibly be the last likeness of his mother. Though he had watched her grow weaker and weaker with each child she had lost, he chose to believe her health was improving, as his father always assured Georgiana. So it was on the occasion of his mother’s thirtieth birthday that he pasted a faint smile on his lips, and stood perfectly still, willing his heart not to break. Fortunately, he had no way of knowing that two summers later, it would.

Unbidden tears filled his eyes, and William looked up through his dark lashes to see if anyone was looking. Finding Richard observing him, he turned to the window, hoping the offending tears would not spill and give him away as his thoughts returned again to that painful memory. Had it truly been four and twenty years since his family was complete?

Millie’s small hand on his face brought his thoughts back to the present, and he looked down at her. Several small teeth gleamed as she crinkled her nose and smiled at him. Then satisfied, she laid her tired little head back on his chest and instantly fell asleep. As feelings he had long suppressed came rushing back, William’s arms wrapped protectively around her.

Richard had not missed a thing—from the initial fear of holding the child, to the remembrances of long hidden hurts and the unsolicited tears, and finally the comfort of the child’s caress. Rarely had he seen his cousin so exposed. Without the usual expressionless mask, there was nothing but a very vulnerable man.

You have seen much heartache, my brother. Would that you find equally as much happiness with your Elizabeth.

Arthur looked on in awe. “She does not usually take to strangers.” He cocked his head to the side. “It looks to me like you have done this before.”

Pemberley

The Library

Mrs. Reynolds peeked in the door, pleased to see Elizabeth sitting quietly among the books, as Mrs. Drury read from Donne’s sonnets. Elizabeth held another leather covered book in her hands, sliding her fingers up and down the spine. Stopping to admire the beauty of the wood panelling, thick rugs over polished wood floors, and the cream and green sofas and chairs spaced throughout the vast space, the housekeeper sighed with contentment. This library was one of Mr. Darcy’s delights, and she had no doubt that when he returned, he would be pleased to know that Miss Elizabeth had agreed to join Mrs. Drury here in lieu of staying in her room all day.

Marvelling that due to the considerable size of the room the companion’s voice could barely be understood from the doorway, Mrs. Reynolds entered, confidently striding towards the duo with a tray of tea and refreshments. Since Miss Elizabeth had unquestionably accepted her as a friend while the master was away, she was determined to become better acquainted. It was obvious that her boy cared a great deal about the young woman, and she intended to let her know that she cared as well.

“Good morning!” she said, a bit louder than necessary and in a decidedly cheerful tone. She was pleased to note that when Elizabeth looked up to study her, a very slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

She set the tray on a table directly in front of the young woman, leaning down to address her. “I brought your favourite, Miss Elizabeth—apple muffins!” Elizabeth’s eyes studied the lid the housekeeper was removing, and the smell of apples wafted through the room as they were uncovered. “I hope you and Mrs. Drury will enjoy them.”

When Mrs. Reynolds’ eyes flicked to Mrs. Drury’s, and she noted that Elizabeth’s companion was nodding her approbation.

“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. You have been so kind to us,” she murmured. Her voice almost cracked as she added, “You have taken on so much by having us here.”

“It has been our pleasure to have you and Miss Lawrence as our guests. Never think it has been anything but a delight. I am thrilled that you both,” she cut her eyes to Elizabeth, “have begun visiting other areas of the house. I am sure you will love the conservatory and the music room just as much, should you care to spend time there. Mr. Darcy will be so pleased, when he returns to learn that you have ventured from your rooms.”

Both women watched as Elizabeth leaned forward, took a small plate and placed a small muffin on it before placing it in her lap.

“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Reynolds hurried to pour a cup of the steaming liquid. “Sugar and cream, I believe, is your preference.” She prepared the tea and held out a saucer, carefully balancing the delicate china cup on top.

“Thank you.”

It was weak, barely audible, but both women gasped and exchanged glances, aware that they must have heard the same utterance. Mrs. Reynolds’ hand shook, and she placed her other hand on the cup to keep it steady. Elizabeth’s eyes met hers before accepting the proffered refreshment and taking the cup to her lips.

“You—you are most welcome, my dear,” Mrs. Reynolds breathed.

Mrs. Drury sat transfixed. Had she been alone, she might have thought it just her imagination, but the look on Mrs. Reynolds’ face confirmed what had occurred. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Finally, she recovered enough to ask, “Miss Elizabeth, are you well?”

Elizabeth’s face had settled into her former indifference, and no answer was forthcoming when she met her guardian’s gaze. Then resuming her enjoyment of the delight, she took a bite as if nothing had happened.

Mrs. Drury sighed, and with a nod to Mrs. Reynolds, patted her charge’s hand. “After you finish eating, perhaps we shall walk in the garden. Would you like that, dear?”

Knowing there would likely be no reply, she suppressed the tears that threatened. At least this was a beginning.