“Grandmamma, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my betrothed. Miss Bennet, I would like to present my grandmother, Rebecca Fitzwilliam, the Dowager Countess of Matlock.”
She curtsied. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The lady’s eyebrows lifted, and she turned towards Mr. Darcy. “Well Fitzwilliam, you will be doing a great deal of explaining!” She then faced Elizabeth once more, but her expression was not one Elizabeth could identify. “You must forgive me. Until this moment, I was unaware my grandson was to be married.”
“Of course! I would imagine it would be quite a shock.” The humour in the woman’s eyes gave her the courage to take a chance. “I know it was quite a shock to me when he proposed.”
The dowager appraised her, and then her lips quirked up. “I shall look forward to hearing the story from your perspective. In the meantime, I am certain you would like to refresh yourselves.” She pulled the bell and a servant came through the doors a moment later. “Mrs. Henderson, my housekeeper, will show you to your rooms. Dinner is planned for seven.”
“Thank you, Grandmamma,” said Mr. Darcy as they passed the grand lady.
“You know you are always welcome here.”
He leaned in to kiss his grandmother once more upon the cheek, and then proceeded to accompany Elizabeth up the stairs behind the housekeeper.
Elizabeth became more anxious by the minute as they were shown through lavish hallways to their rooms. The house was richly furnished and very beautiful. How would she, a simple country girl, fit into this world? Would people scorn her and would she care if they did?
The housekeeper halted before a door, causing her to startle. “These will be your rooms,” the servant announced as she opened the large door.
Her betrothed released her hand, and Elizabeth stepped forward past the servant, taking in every detail as she moved to the middle of the room.
“I believe I have never seen a room so lovely. Thank you.”
The woman dipped her head and then held it high as she smiled with pride. “As my lady mentioned, my name is Mrs. Henderson. I am the housekeeper here at Ashcroft House. Please inform me if there is anything you require for your comfort.”
With a nod, Elizabeth watched as the servant closed the only method of escape before her eyes. She shook her head. “No, this is your only escape, Lizzy,” she muttered. Before more second thoughts could come to mind, Hattie bustled through the door with her best gown over her arms.
“Judging by the looks of this place, miss, I readied your prettiest gown, and we must alter more of Miss Jane’s. Mrs. Bennet used to use finer materials on hers than the resta you girls, but I don’t have better to work with than this one.”
The pale blue muslin gown was draped over Hattie’s arm. “But the colour is not suitable for half-mourning.”
“No, but the grey one you wore earlier didn’ have black trim like it should’ve either.”
Elizabeth’s head shook in dismay. “I could not bring myself to do that to Jane’s new…”
Hattie lay the gown on the bed. “If you’ll forgive me for sayin’ it, I think Mr. Bennet and Miss Bennet wouldn’ be wantin ya to stay so sad for ‘em—especially Miss Bennet. She was always such a happy young miss, and never liked ta see anyone sad.” Hattie bustled over and began to help her unlace the back of her bodice. “I don’t think she’d mind ya wearin’ her things either.”
She took a deep breath and released it. Her heart knew Hattie was correct; Jane would want her to live her life and be happy, and would have expected her to take her belongings and use them, or at least find someone who could.
While Elizabeth remained by all appearances quiet on the outside, inside she argued with herself about her decision to travel to London with Mr. Darcy. Had it been the best choice? She continued to ponder the issue, turning it over and over in her mind, as her clothes were removed and she washed up with the water and soft towelling provided. Hattie prattled on, oblivious to her lack of attention.
“If ya be wantin’ to dress half-mournin,’ I’ll have another gown pressed and ready for ya on the morrow.”
Elizabeth caught her maid’s eye in the mirror and nodded. She was too preoccupied with her present situation to really argue whether she would wear the proper mourning clothes the next day.
Meanwhile, Darcy had refreshed himself and sought out his grandmother, who was discovered in her private sitting room reading.
“Grandmamma.”
Her head snapped up at the interruption, and she closed her book and gave him her attention.
He spoke with firm conviction. “I know you wish for an explanation, but I should like to dispense with what I feel will be quite the ordeal.”
“You would think I was a harridan by the way you speak.”
“Now, now. Do you think I would ever compare you to Lady Catherine?” He held his gaze steady for a few moments, knowing his eyes were full of mirth, until a smile erupted upon her face.
“Touché,” she said with humour. “But you must not make sport of your aunt in such a manner, even if she does make it quite easy.”
He rolled his eyes and took a seat opposite her while his grandmother observed him. She did not say a word, but there was more happening in her mind than she voiced.
“I received a summons from my father almost a fortnight ago.” He adjusted his topcoat and shifted in his seat. “It took a few days, but I managed to complete the more pressing business at Sagemore, so I could travel to Pemberley with haste. I had a suspicion as to why he demanded I report there so urgently, which was confirmed the day after I arrived. You see, my valet was privy to the conversations below stairs, and it seems the entire household was acquainted with my father’s plans.”
“Well, my suspicion is that he is pushing you to arrange your marriage to Anne, regardless of whether or not the two of you wish for the union.”
“Yes,” he said with a start. “But…” His grandmother’s lack of reaction unnerved him. He could not imagine that she was a part of his father’s scheme, yet she remained unperturbed by his revelation.
Then, the dowager chuckled. “Catherine came to me and your uncle, insisting we promote the match.”
He sat a bit straighter as he waited to hear whether he would be on his own in the future.
“As you should have expected, we both refused to aid her request.”
He exhaled in relief, knowing his mother’s family would remain by his side. “My father was unusually insistent. He even threatened to publish an announcement in the papers to force my hand if I have not proposed to Anne within a fortnight.”
“And yet, here you are, betrothed to a young lady I have never heard you so much as mention in passing.”
He fidgeted once more in his seat, as he was still concerned over his grandmother’s view of his hasty engagement. “Would you believe this is Georgiana’s doing?”
“I am unsure if relying upon the advice of your thirteen-year-old sister is the best method of solving your dilemma, Fitzwilliam; however, if you must assign blame, then I am most interested to know how your sister is responsible for your betrothal.”
He shook his head and smiled at her dry tone. “I must admit I rather blurted my way into the entire situation.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she tilted her head as she regarded him with marked interest. “That is unusual for you.”
“It is.” He recounted the conversation between Elizabeth’s uncles in the inn, followed by his inclination to assist. “I cannot explain why, but before I was conscious of it, I had proposed—in front of her uncle! I could hardly credit it, yet, I would never dream of rescinding the offer. Once the words left my tongue, I was honour-bound.”
“I do not believe Miss Bennet or her uncle would hold you to your impulsive outburst should you express a strong desire to cry off, even though it will solve both your dilemmas. But are you prepared for the repercussions?”
“Do you mean society’s or my father’s persecution?”
She scoffed with a dismissive wave. “Not that you have ever given a fig about society, but as long as the Matlocks stand behind you, the old bats will not be an issue. Other than disowning you, your father could withhold Georgiana from you. I believe that punishment would be the most effective.”
“I had a long conversation with Georgiana before I departed Pemberley. She and I discussed the possibility.”
“You told her your father’s edict?” his grandmother asked surprised.
“No, she knew of it from the servant’s gossip and approached me. Finding a wife besides Anne was her idea.”
“Ahhh, I see why you are attempting to place the blame with her.” She stood and poured them both a small snifter of brandy, handing him his before she resumed her seat. “The notion may have originated with her, but I do not believe your impulsive action was born out of that scheme.” Her eyes narrowed a bit while she took a small sip of her drink. “I want you to describe Miss Bennet.”
“Well… but why?” he questioned. He could not divine the reason his grandmother wished this, but he scrambled for words to sketch the character of his betrothed in the event she pressed him.
“Humour me, Fitzwilliam. Describe your betrothed.” Her tone was insistent, and she had a recognisable glint in her eye; he would be unable to avoid her interrogation.
“She is a gentleman’s daughter.”
“You mentioned that, my dear,” she said, “when you told me about her accident. You recounted they were travelling to her father’s estate.” She spoke in a casual manner despite the seriousness of their discourse.
He tugged at his collar as it had begun to feel too snug. “She is fond of books.”
“Do you know of her preferences? What types of books?”
“She has read some Shakespeare and Homer, and she mentioned a portion of The Odyssey. In the carriage, she was reading The Lady of the Lake. I also know she speaks French and a bit of Italian.”
He now grasped for any detail he could remember, so he would not sound too pathetic. “Her father taught her many subjects, but her mother often attempted to redirect her efforts towards learning more household duties or practicing the pianoforte.”
“Do you find her pretty?”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me,” she answered. “This woman that you brought into my home, and that you intend to wed will be the mother of your heir. If you are to marry without love, then I hope you find her tolerable enough for bedding.”
“Grandmamma!” His face was warm, and he was positive his cheeks were a bright crimson, but nothing could be done to relieve his mortification any time soon. “I will not discuss this with you!”
She laughed, and he raised his eyes to find hers were sparkling. “I have borne children, Fitzwilliam, as well as lived in society these many years. You will not shock me.”
“I will not…”
“Very well. I will not press.” She took her last sip and set the glass upon the side table. “You will make arrangements for the wedding, and I will spend time with her. I will ensure she is everything you require, and help her to select an appropriate wardrobe. That way, not only will she have a trousseau, but she will also be witnessed by others whilst she is about town with me. It will help her entrance into society.”
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Thank you, Grandmamma. I appreciate any assistance you can offer.” He swirled his brandy around the glass before he remembered another important detail. “Oh! Miss Bennet’s abigail comes from service at Longbourn. She may be perfectly adequate, but could you have your maid take her under her wing?”
His grandmother nodded. “I will mention it to Sarah this evening. I do not believe she will mind helping.”
“Thank you.” He finished his glass just as the doors opened and a footman showed Miss Bennet into the room. She glanced around in an unsure manner.
“I hope I am not interrupting.” Her complexion was flushed, and she spoke with a swiftness that left no doubt she was nervous. She had changed her gown, which was more becoming than the travelling clothes she had worn earlier. The cut highlighted well the light and pleasing figure he had admired upon their first meeting.
His grandmother stood and crossed the room to take Miss Bennet’s hands. “Please do not be uneasy. Dinner will be served soon, so we expected you. After all, it is where the rest of us are.” Nodding, Miss Bennet gave a small smile, but still appeared to feel out of place.
She touched a bit of the fabric on Miss Bennet’s sleeve. “This is a lovely gown. The blue is very pretty.”
The shade did suit her, and a warm sensation crept over his body as he admired the manner in which her bodice and skirt accentuated her curves. He turned to hide his reaction from his grandmother, who was certain to notice.
“Thank you, my lady.”
His grandmother waited, perhaps in case Miss Bennet might say more, but when nothing further was offered, she led his betrothed to a seat. “I understand you lost your family seven months ago. I hope you have not put aside your mourning to accommodate us.”
He scanned Elizabeth’s attire, and his grandmother was correct; however, the blue was better suited to her complexion and was more elegant than the gown she had worn for their journey to London. She appeared very well indeed!
Elizabeth swallowed, determined not to let her trepidation show. Her courage usually rose with any attempt to intimidate her; hopefully, this instance would be no different!
“My maid prepared what she felt most appropriate.”
The dowager’ eyes showed no censure or malice, only concern; a realisation that provided some relief in Elizabeth’s unfamiliar surroundings. “I have been wearing half-mourning, but not all my gowns are black-trimmed. Those that I wear most often have the appropriate modifications, but none of the rest have been altered.”
“I do not wish to sound callous,” Mr. Darcy interrupted, “but it may be a sound idea to refrain from wearing mourning for now.”
The dowager regarded him with a critical eye. “And why is that?”
“Mr. Gardiner will, no doubt, return to London at some point. Miss Bennet will be easier to identify at a distance in gowns he is accustomed to seeing. Without mourning attire, recognition is less of a threat.”
“Yet, London is a very large city.” She straightened and stared her betrothed directly in the eye. “We could reside here for weeks and never cross paths with him.”
“Whilst that is true,” he agreed. “I would prefer to avoid any chance of a threat to your welfare.”
The dowager studied her grandson for a moment before she returned her attention to Miss Bennet. “Wear what you like, dear.” Her voice was gentle as she patted the young woman’s hand. “I will send a message to my modiste this evening, and she will arrange the necessities, so we can order your trousseau. I assure you, we will be quite safe whilst we shop; I always arrange for two footmen to attend me.”
Her grandson’s displeased countenance was evident, and though Miss Bennet had seen it, she nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”
They had no further time for pleasantries, since they were called in to dinner. Fitzwilliam offered an arm to both ladies and escorted them to the dining room, where a footman assisted Miss Bennet to her seat. Once they were all served, she returned to Miss Bennet.
Though sympathetic to the young woman’s plight, during the dowager’s conversation with her grandson, she resolved to discover for herself whether Miss Bennet had the mettle to take on his stubborn nature. She was disposed to accept this young woman, but would the future Mrs. Darcy know when to pick her battles? She had suggested the young lady continue to wear her mourning attire, curious how Miss Bennet would negotiate the situation.
Her grandson was silent as he ate his meal and observed the two of them in conversation. Well, it was not accurate to say he observed the two of them; instead, he was staring unabashedly at his betrothed. She smiled to herself. The poor boy was smitten by a woman he had met this d
ay!
It reminded her of George Darcy’s initial reaction to her daughter, Lady Anne Fitzwilliam. He had been unable to remove his eyes from her much in the same way his son was now eyeing Miss Bennet.
She was inclined to like Miss Bennet from their short acquaintance, but prayed the young lady was what her grandson needed. Moreover, that they were both truly what the other needed. If they were ill-suited, how would their marriage survive?
Back in Hertfordshire, Edward Gardiner’s fear and anger were overwhelming. He had timed his arrival for as soon as he could be assured that most of the village would be at the assembly, only to find his sister’s home closed and locked tight, and no servants available to answer to where they travelled. His law clerk was not even working his usual late hours in the office.
A quick turn through the assembly, garnered him a few strange looks due to his lack of dress for the occasion, but no one would share any rumours, so he had been unable to discover anyone who could help him solve his problem.
His last attempt was the small house where the Philip’s servants resided. Mr. Mills claimed the Philips had gone on holiday to Lyme. Lyme? Why would they travel all the way down there? Mr. Mills appeared to truly believe that was his brother and sister’s destination, which indicated the Philips had lied to their servants.
“Damn you, Philips! Where have you taken Lizzy?” he grumbled under his breath. He could not tarry lest he be discovered by Grayson—he must return to London! He mounted his horse and set off bewildered and unfulfilled.
Somewhere, he must find a hiding place to shield himself from Grayson for as long as possible.
Chapter 5
Elizabeth awakened early the next morning. The excitement and nerves of the previous day must have caught up with her by the time she had lain in bed because she could not remember closing her eyes. Rather than rise straight away, she lay there for a time watching the light streaming in through the drapes.
An Unwavering Trust Page 6