"How remiss of me," he acknowledged, dropping the reins and bringing his team to a halt. "Of course you have every right to know where we shall reside—it's just north of Lambton in Derbyshire. My sister, I'm sure, will fill you in on any other details of my life. As to the haste of this marriage—" a slender finger lifted her chin and he looked straight into her eyes "—I need an heir. As soon as possible."
Sudden fear mingled with shy uncertainty. Elizabeth's face grew hot, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. Her mother had educated her on the duties of marriage just that day, but only now did the full impact of the idea besiege her. Dear Lord, she would...they would...she dared not think on it. She forced herself to return his penetrating scrutiny. "I see."
He nodded briefly, and lifted the reins. "My sister will put her carriage at your disposal. I hope you won't find it too onerous if she insists on accompanying you everywhere, and helping where she may. She's so delighted that I've finally chosen a bride that I fear wild horses couldn't keep her from being at your beck and call. She's a whirlwind, but I've given her strict instructions not to wear you out."
"Your solicitude is heart-warming," Elizabeth said, unable to keep a hint of waspishness from her tones. Famous! A managing sister, and a managing brother. Not at all what she'd reckoned on.
Darcy cast her a glance, his brows furrowed. "You're sure you haven't had enough for one day?"
"Positive." She'd endured it all today. Why not meet her future sister-in-law, as well? Elizabeth bit her tongue, praying for fortitude.
* * *
Darcy pulled up before Netherfield Park and jumped to the ground, tossing the reins to his footman. Elizabeth had forgotten the lad, and was embarrassed at what he may have overheard. She watched, bemused, as Darcy gesticulated with his hands and moved his mouth slowly, though no sound issued forth. The boy nodded, and appearing satisfied, Darcy turned away, lifting his arms to help her from the phaeton.
"He's deaf," he replied to Elizabeth's questioning look, and grinned. "I couldn't ask for a more discreet servant."
Elizabeth returned his smile, intrigued at his kind patience towards the boy. “It was the second time today she'd glimpsed a softer side of Darcy. For the first time in her life, she perceived her five-foot-five-inch frame as delicate. The hands she rested on his shoulders for support transmitted the whipcord strength of the muscles beneath his coat. Before she could expel a breath, her feet touched the ground. He offered his arm and they made their way to the massive front portal.
The door swung open before they reached the top step. A stately manservant bowed low. "Mr. Darcy, your sister awaits you in the Green Salon."
“Thank you, Bexley. Please meet my future bride, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, Bexley will accompany us upon our remove to Derbyshire."
The servant made another very correct and proper bow, expressing his pleasure in meeting her. Elizabeth smiled, acknowledging the introduction. Darcy's hand on her elbow guided her forward, towards what she supposed was the Green Salon, and the unknown entity awaiting her.
She scarce had time to register the muted-green-and-apricot decor of the salon before the tiny figure seated in an overstuffed chair launched herself at them. Miss Darcy was all of five feet tall, Elizabeth guessed, and had the neatest little figure. Fashionably attired and pretty, she had light eyes which shone with warmth and interest. All this Elizabeth assimilated before Georgiana gathered her into a tight embrace.
"Oh, William! Is this your Elizabeth?" Leaning back, she surveyed her brother's intended and emitted a delighted gurgle. "Why, Brother, you are simply beautiful! William, I congratulate you on your choice!"
Elizabeth noted the twinkle in Darcy's eyes. "Yes, Georgie," he said, his voice holding a hint of amusement, "this is Elizabeth Bennet, and thank you."
"Dearest Elizabeth—I may call you that? Why, I vow your beauty takes my breath away! William, do ring for the housekeeper. I've been holding tea for you, and I shan't wait a moment longer! Dearest, do come and sit down." She drew Elizabeth to a small sofa and sat beside her, nearly quivering with excitement. "I can't tell you how it pleases me to welcome you to the family, and how very delighted I am that my dear brother has finally—”
"Georgiana, I daresay you should draw a breath now," drawled Darcy, his mouth quirking in a grin.
For the first time, Elizabeth noticed the even whiteness of his teeth. He lounged against the mantel, one arm carelessly braced against the marble. He looked powerfully handsome. Elizabeth barely believed she would describe him thus, and flicked her gaze away, angry for thinking such a thing of him.
Miss Darcy emitted a tinkling laugh, bestowing a tender glance on her brother. "Ah, yes, I do forget one must occasionally have air. Now do tell, Elizabeth, has William informed you he must leave Hertfordshire? Personally, I think it's inexcusable, and told him so. He insists, however, that he must go. So, by your leave, we shall have the greatest fun preparing a wedding grand enough for you both. Of course, I shall insist your mama accompany us, for you are her first bride. I warned William that he'll be sorry for leaving his purse in our hands—"
"Ah," interjected Darcy, cocking his head. "I do believe I hear the housekeeper approaching with the tea."
Elizabeth glanced from him to the animated countenance of his sister. She was rather intrigued at the change in Darcy's demeanor. He seemed relaxed and in good humor. It also surprised her that his sister should be such a chatterbox, and not as shy and disagreeable as her brother. What a delightful and refreshing change Miss Darcy was from her brother. Not at all what Elizabeth had expected.
Mrs. Nicholls brought in the tea tray, and Darcy strolled over, pulling a chair nearer the tea table and far too close to herself. One clad knee grazed her thigh, but Elizabeth resisted the impulse to draw away. Certain he tried to put her out of countenance, she refused to rise to the bait.
"I vow my mother and I will greatly appreciate your help," Elizabeth ventured, watching her pour out the tea. "As the wedding is to be in a mere ten days, I'm sure we shan't be able to plan fast enough."
Miss Darcy smiled warmly. "Call me Georgiana. And yes, I agree ten days shows unseemly haste, but there you have it. William, though he is, hasn't the least concern for marrying in style. It's as well he called me to Netherfield. Now, I hope the tea is to your liking, and please, have one of these cucumber sandwiches. Mr. Bingley's cook is a marvel."
Darcy relaxed in his chair, content to let his sister chatter whilst he covertly studied Elizabeth. He could have kicked himself for not complimenting her appearance when he'd arrived to collect her, but the truth of it was, she'd quite taken his breath away.
White and red were perfect adjuncts to her coloring, and even now, he found his gaze drawn to her creamy throat and the dark lock caressing it. He wondered how many times in the past hour he'd wished his fingertips were stroking that silky curl, and how many times he'd had the impulse to brush it aside.
A stirring deep within warned him his thoughts were getting out of line. Gather yourself, Darcy, he admonished. It was as well he wouldn't be seeing her until the wedding. She was enough to heat a vicar's blood.
He caught the sharp glance she cast his way, and nearly laughed aloud. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had shown him a side today he hadn't known she possessed. Here was no milk-and-water miss, prepared to curtsy at his slightest whim. Odd, that fact hadn't struck him sooner—he should have realized it last night when she went scampering off to meet Wickham.
Had he made a dangerous mistake in believing she would be a demure, quiet wife? Life with her, he made sure, wouldn't be boring, but it might prove to be most uncomfortable. He hoped she was one of those women who kept to her own business, and prayed she slept like a baby at night. And thinking of babies, she hadn't looked terribly thrilled at the thought of bearing his.
"Now, I daresay I should allow William to return you to your family," said his sister, bringing him from his musings.
He sat forward and replaced his cup on the tray, n
oticing the grace of Elizabeth's movements as she did the same, and the pretty smile she bestowed upon his sister. Would she ever smile upon him in like fashion? Doubtful. And why this perturbed little feeling wiggling through him?
"My carriage shall be at your disposal at ten," his sister told Elizabeth. "I do hope that's not too early? I vow we'll be horribly busy, but I've promised William not to present him with a drooping bride. We must be sure you have time to rest before the event."
Some fifteen minutes later, Darcy escorted Elizabeth up the front drive of Longbourn. He refused her invitation to step inside. "I've many miles to go this evening, and I daresay I should be on my way."
He took the hand she offered, his gaze skimming her face. She looked beautiful, and he would have liked to say so, but the cool expression in her eyes stayed his tongue. He doubted she'd appreciate his belated compliments. Instead, he contented himself with the brief words, "I hope the next ten days pass well with you.''
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth graciously replied. Bemused at the day's events, she watched in some perplexity his return to his phaeton. The next time she met him, they would be at the altar. She dreaded the prospect.
Chapter Five
"Will you join me for tea?" asked Georgiana scarcely moments after Elizabeth was ushered into the Green Salon of Netherfield Park. "It soothes the nerves and puts a smile on the face. I daresay your internals profit, too."
Elizabeth wondered how she could refuse in the face of this logic, even though a cup of tea sounded revolting. She would much have preferred a cup of chocolate, but instead smiled graciously. "Thank you, Miss Darcy."
"Do have a seat, Elizabeth, and tell me why your mama hasn't accompanied you."
"Mama sends her regrets and apologies." Elizabeth gathered the skirts of her gown, and sank onto an overstuffed chair upholstered in pale green and apricot stripes. "She's having the veriest spasms over my wedding gown, and vows she cannot trust the maids to do a proper job of laundering it. She insists on overseeing the operation, declaring her old dress is hardly suitable, in any case."
"You'd look every inch the perfect bride if you wore rags!" Miss Darcy turned from the sideboard. Skirts swishing, she proffered the cup of hot liquid.
"Thank you, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth shyly responded, peering into the liquid with decided misgivings. "Papa said much the same, but that's small consolation to Mama. She asked if you would come to tea this afternoon, to discuss the wedding plans."
"I shall be delighted. And you must remember to call me Georgiana."
“It suits you admirably." Elizabeth touched the rim of the glass to her lips. “I'll try to address you as such, but you must know it seems rather uncomfortable, as you are Darcy's sister."
"Of course, but I am hardly so formidable, am I?" Georgiana emitted a tinkling laugh.
"Oh, not at all unfortunate!" Elizabeth responded with intensity. "In truth, I am relieved! From what I know of Darcy, I own I rather feared you'd be int..." She trailed off miserably, heat rising in her face. A hasty gulp of black tea slid smoothly down her throat.
Georgiana tilted back her head, laughing appreciatively. "Oh, you mustn't be put out of countenance. I can't tell you how gratified I am to hear you say so. Though I love him dearly, my poor brother can sometimes be so...stuffy. Oh, never so with his family, of course, for there he can be quite tolerant, but with the ladies. I vow I despaired of seeing him wed—at least to a woman who is human.”
At Elizabeth's questioning expression, she sighed. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and she spread her hands in a gesture of acceptance. "I doubt William's forgiveness should I relate this story, and you mustn't say I told you so; however, I feel you have every right to know why he sometimes appears so, how shall we say it...austere?"
Elizabeth's ears perked with interest. She nodded the tiniest encouragement.
"Well," Georgiana said, scooting forward on her chair, "to look at him now, you wouldn't guess William was once quite charming." She giggled at the lifting of Elizabeth's brows. "Yes, he was charming. Oh, he's always been rather serious, but I vow he could laugh with the best of them."
Her eyes grew pensive, and interested in spite of herself, Elizabeth leaned closer.
"He fell in love at three-and-twenty. She had the face of an angel, alas, with a scheming heart. How prettily she could dimple at him, and she often did, giving him every encouragement."
Elizabeth watched the play of emotions chase across the younger girl's face, intrigued at this deeper side of the flighty, effervescent Georgiana. She wasn't sure Darcy would care to discover she had this knowledge, either, but she was curious, and couldn't wait to hear the rest.
"William was captivated. He prepared to speak to the lady's father, certain he couldn't want for a better wife. But one night at a ball, he overheard her discussing the merits of her suitors."
Georgiana paused, taking a dainty sip. "She ranked him among the most preferable with prospects of great wealth. However, he hadn't yet inherited Pemberley, and who knew when our papa might pass? Neither could she like his penchant for country life, but rather thought his money would make up for any hardship she might suffer. Can you imagine a young miss being so calculating?"
Elizabeth's fine brows drew together in disbelief, and she shook her head.
"William was, of course, devastated. His angel was nothing but a cold-hearted schemer." She sipped her tea, looking sad. "He was better off without the minx, but became grim and cynical about the purity of the female heart. He believes he's wanted for nothing but his money, and I can't convince him otherwise.”
Elizabeth hoped her face hadn't paled. She was one with the scheming minx. Wasn't she marrying Darcy solely for his money? She couldn't vouch for the purity of her heart, either.
Georgiana drained her glass, set it aside and looked intently at Elizabeth. "I know yours isn't a love match," she said softly. "I sometimes wonder if my brother will allow himself to feel such affection again. Perhaps, however, you will understand why he appears so cold, and why I'm delighted you are not the hard, grasping female I feared he'd choose. I can't think you're comfortable with the idea of marrying him, and I'm certainly not asking you to love him, but I do wish you the best with him."
"Thank you, Georgiana," Elizabeth said quietly. She sat back, cradling her drink in her hands. The galling Mr. Darcy in the throes of unrequited love? She felt pity for him. "I'd like to assure you that Darcy and I will deal famously, but...I fear we scarcely know each other."
"And how could you?" Georgiana asked, her brows rising. "I've never seen a quicker courtship and marriage! There's no understanding him. He suddenly takes a notion it's time to find a wife, and voila! He secures her hand and runs off to Pemberley without so much as a goodbye. It's too silly in my opinion, and I vow I'd be most offended were I you."
She sniffed, then brightened. "Well, we'd best not mope on this subject any longer, lest we find ourselves needing another restorative. Come along with me." She led the way out of Green Salon, her skirts rustling.
Elizabeth followed, shaking her head and smiling at Miss Darcy's mercurial change of mood.
“The best way to learn a man's character is to look at his home," Georgiana said. ''What colors does he surround himself with? Are his servants well trained? Are they happy or surly? What are his inclinations in furnishings and art? I'm happy to say you shan't find Mr. Bingley lacking in taste."
Over the next hour, she regaled Elizabeth with stories of Darcy's childhood, and tales of his refinement and character, all leavened by her lighthearted humor.
They traipsed from the scullery to Darcy's bedchamber, the latter bringing a flutter to Elizabeth's breast. The decor was simple, yet rich, done in navy blue and beige, and once again, Elizabeth wondered how Pemberley would compare to Netherfield Park. The huge bed, hung with navy silk, brought her all too close to the thought of sleeping with him. She blushed, wishing to escape from the room post-haste.
Georgiana, as if sensing her discomfi
ture, took her arm again. "Well, if I've convinced you my brother hasn't a vice, I suggest we have a light repast, scratch out some invitations and join your mama for tea. I do hope she won't take overmuch trouble on my behalf—I daresay her nerves are as aflutter as mine."
Darcy, Elizabeth thought, had told her nothing of his life. Until today, she hadn't realized how very little she knew about him. And she didn't dislike what she'd learned. His sister obviously loved him dearly. She murmured an appropriate response to Georgiana, following her into a bright and sunny breakfast parlor.
* * *
Over tea, Mrs. Bennet and Georgiana drew up a monumental list of tasks needing to be accomplished for a wedding befitting Mr. Darcy and his bride. The following morning, plans continued to unfold, with the most important item on the list being Elizabeth's trousseau. She shyly voiced the opinion that she couldn't like spending a great deal of Darcy's money, but Georgiana soon set her straight.
"Miss Elizabeth," she admonished. "My brother has commissioned me to see you dressed in the finest of fashion. Besides, you shall be married to the man and spending his money for the rest of your life. You may as well become used to it."
Elizabeth, failing to conjure a single argument in the face of this reasoning, allowed Miss Darcy to guide her and her sisters to the best modiste in Meryton. Lydia and Kitty nearly went wild with ecstasy.
"Oh, do look at these fabrics, Kitty!" Lydia squealed. "Why, I vow there's every color under the sun! Oh, dear me, I can't wait until the day I marry. I shall choose everything!"
"Not unless your husband is as rich as Darcy," said Jane in an undertone Miss Darcy couldn't hear, though she and Mrs. Bennet were already speaking with the modiste.
"Oh, I assure you," Lydia solemnly responded, "my husband shall be very rich. I shan't marry him if he's not."
Darcy's Quest Page 5