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“Even after forcing you to endure three balls,” Elizabeth said teasingly, “there is somewhere else I should like to visit.”
William groaned but took her hand. “I am yours to command, my love.”
Elizabeth smiled widely. “That is good to hear, William. For I should like to travel to Longbourn.”
His face lit up like the fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens, where he had taken her only last week. “Does that mean . . .”
“It means that after Longbourn, I shall be ready to go home, William,” Elizabeth informed him sweetly. “To Pemberley.”
Elizabeth held her hand up in the window of the carriage. She waited until she could no longer see Mama waving her best lace handkerchief in farewell before lowering her hand and leaning back into the squabs.
“You were extraordinarily kind to my family, William,” she said tenderly. “I know they can be trying, but I do love them all.”
“I know you do,” William replied with a crooked smile. “I will do all I can to be prepared to face the onslaught of Bennets and Gardiners when they visit us in August.”
Elizabeth worried her bottom lip. “I confess I am feeling equal parts delight and trepidation.”
“The weather should be excellent,” William assured her. “The children will have more than enough time outside to run off their exuberance.”
“I think you know whose exuberance concerns me, and it is not anyone with the name of Gardiner.” Elizabeth gave him a look askance.
“It will be well, Elizabeth. We are all family.” He took her hand. “Now, I have only this morning received letters from both our Fitzwilliam cousins. Would you care to hear Henry’s first?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, lifting her eyebrows. “Henry always has the best news. I often do not know whether your aunt is his source, or whether he is hers.”
“I suspect the gossip flows in both directions,” her husband said wryly. “Who do you suppose his latest rumor concerns?”
She stared at William for a moment, thinking. “I am afraid I do not know. Most of our acquaintance has removed from town.”
“No?” he asked. “Very well.” He paused. “Mr. Bingley is married.”
Her mouth fell open. “To whom?” she asked, incredulous.
“Miss Matilda Johnson, as was.”
Elizabeth tipped her head to one side. “I do not believe I know her,” she said.
William laughed. “No one does. According to Henry, she is the daughter of a moderately successful tradesman who decided she wished to wed him.”
She scoffed. “And Mr. Bingley had no say in the matter?”
“Not after he was caught alone with her in his arms.” William cleared his throat. “I am told that she has four rather large brothers who were not best pleased.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Oh, please do tell me they were in the library during a ball.”
William laughed softly. “I do not know in which room they were found, but it happened at a country assembly. The gossip is that she threw herself at him and declared her undying love. Bingley was quite unhappy. Alas, he has no sheep farm to make his enthusiastic bride rethink her choice.”
“What?” Elizabeth asked, bemused.
He shook his head. “Never you mind.”
“Well,” she said, shaking her head, “my goodness. What have you to tell me next?”
“Henry also thanked me for hiring Anders’s cousins so that he could meet them. According to him, they are now often in his employ and are enjoying themselves immensely.”
She shook her head. “I am pleased to hear it, but I meant the letter from Fitz.”
“Ah,” he replied. “This is less entertaining, but I hope you will like it nearly as well. Fitz and your sister have settled into their new home and are ready for company. Would you care to visit for a few days next month?” he inquired, his eyes alight with mischief. “I believe my cousin is troubled that he cannot simply order the crops to grow in neat rows and that the weeds are not afraid of him.”
