by AmyJ
The remainder of the week was much like the first days. It seemed there was no limit to the activities Lady Matlock had planned. When Elizabeth was not
practicing for her presentation at court or the other accomplishments of a lady, she was entertaining callers, or learning about keeping books, interviewing, hiring, and overseeing servants.
Though Longbourn boasted a housekeeper, a cook, a groom for the stable and a few other servants, it was nothing compared to the staff that ran Lanelle House.
There was a servant that brought the water in the morning, another that
collected the laundry, and yet another that distributed the clean linens. There were upper servants, lower servants, maids for the family wing, others for the guest wing, and kitchen servants. Elizabeth did not attempt to keep them all straight, but knew she must find a way to do so at Fitzwilliam's homes.
It had been two days since the dinner at the Matlocks'. Darcy had not seen Elizabeth since, and was growing agitated. He needed to see her, if only for his own self assurance that she was well, and was marrying him.
His aunt was still receiving calls; Elizabeth could become enamoured by one of those guests. Foolishly, he had promised his aunt that he would not intrude on her plans with frequent visits. And even if he had not, he had yet to devise a plan for winning Elizabeth's heart. Until he had one, it was imprudent to see her; else he was apt to send her running with an ill timed display of affection.
The other day, when she unexpectedly arrived at Arryndale, had proven that.
As a means of distraction, he had heartily accepted Blakeslee's invitation to see the latest boxing match that was taking place just outside the city. It was unlikely they would actually see much of the match - these things always being over crowded - but the possibility and general excitement always proved to be intriguing.
"I still say Richard could have earned a better living as a roaming milling cove than a soldier. His height advantage alone makes him formidable opponent."
Blakeslee opined.
"Perhaps, but I doubt his lordship would have provided funds for his training.
Why do you not sponsor Julian in such an endeavour? His stature is nearly that of Richard's."
Blakeslee shook his head. "The Pierce line was bred for charm, not brawn." He tipped his chin as if to prove to his point.
"Nor modesty," Darcy added dryly. Both men shared a chuckle.
"Is Miss Elizabeth not joining us? I can not believe the sport would be too much for her delicate sensibilities." Blakeslee snickered. "She used to have a fine right, herself."
Not wishing to discuss his betrothed with his friend, Darcy clipped, "She is with Lady Matlock."
"Another shopping excursion? You shall be a pauper within a year of your marriage at this rate. That being said, I should like to visit Bond Street myself when we are finished here."
Darcy stared at his friend for a moment, trying to ascertain his motives.
"Elizabeth," he said, putting a slight emphasis on her given name, "is at Lanelle House. My aunt is assisting her with her presentation at court."
"And Miss Darcy is entertaining Miss Bennet, while her sister is practicing her curtsey?"
"No, Georgiana is busy with her studies. Miss Bennet has returned to
Longbourn, a few days ago." The pursed lips showed Blakeslee's evident disappointment.
"I never knew you to be so easily turned by a pretty face, Wesley. Besides, she has no dowry or connections."
"And yet that did not stop you from falling for her sister."
Darcy gently cleared his throat, the only indication that Blakeslee had hit his mark. "There are plenty of pretty faces amongst the ton. I always thought you to be looking for someone with a little more substance; someone that could
provide insightful conversation, hold her own opinions, and read more than
fashion catalogues and ladies..." He stopped abruptly, realizing he was describing everything he admired in Elizabeth.
"There is more to Miss Bennet than a pretty face," Blakeslee replied seriously.
"You have been too distracted to notice." He shrugged. "I suppose I shall have to wait until your wedding."
Darcy shook his head as the crowd roared and the fight began.
Finally Sunday arrived, and following the strictures of the church, the day promised to be Elizabeth's first real reprieve. There would be no practicing or work today. Not only that, but she was to see Darcy and Georgiana for the first time since dinner the other night.
As planned, Darcy and Georgiana joined the Matlock party at their church, and then for a simple meal. While Elizabeth was pleased to see them, the previous week had worn on her, and it was all she could do to affect high spirits. Those that did not know her would not see anything was amiss. Darcy, however, saw the change in her immediately. Unfortunately, it was not until afternoon that he was able to speak with her.
While Georgiana graced the family with a musical piece, Darcy took the
opportunity to speak with his betrothed. "You have been so good for her, Elizabeth," Darcy whispered. A proud smile touched the corner of his lips as he watched Georgiana's fingers flow up and down the keyboard. "Never before would she have attempted such a difficult piece in company."
Elizabeth blushed demurely. She could think of nothing to say that would not betray the envy that had surfaced. Georgiana, a girl several years younger than herself, was more accomplished in almost every way. Unlike her, Georgiana
had required but a little encouragement and friendship to become a woman
worthy of the Darcy name. Now, more than ever did she wonder what had
possessed Darcy to choose her as his wife; she had nothing to offer but a
friendly face.
Though the music continued, Darcy's attention was drawn from the player to
the woman sitting beside him. She looked smaller somehow, and a shadow
haunted her usual cheerful mien. "You are not well, Elizabeth."
"It is nothing, Fitzwilliam. It is just taking me a bit to... adjust to my surroundings." There was no way she was going to tell him all that she had
been doing the past week. He would not understand. How could he? He was born to his position; he had been trained since infancy to be Master of
Pemberley. How could he understand how much she had yet to learn? Even she
was unsure what was yet to come. She smiled, but it did not extend beyond her lips.
"Elizabeth..." Fitzwilliam implored, his brow creased in concern. Before he could protest any further, Elizabeth placed a hand on his arm. "Truly, Fitzwilliam. I shall be well. But if you insist, I will retire a little early this evening."
"A wise decision. Mr. Linnell shall want to begin your portrait early tomorrow.
I do not think you wish to be painted ill."
"Why, that is a fine compliment, sir!" Elizabeth laughed, finally showing a spark of former self. "I had no idea how blue-devilled I appeared. Perhaps I should leave for the sickroom now."
Darcy coloured. "I did not mean..." He broke off and raised her hand to his lips.
"You always look lovely, Elizabeth." The gentleness with which he spoke caused Elizabeth to blush deeply and look away. "You have acquitted yourself well, sir."
At the end of Georgiana's piece, the afternoon came to a close. As everyone stood to say their farewells, Darcy reminded her, "Get your rest. I shall see you tomorrow."
Lord and Lady Matlock saw Darcy and Georgiana out. Still unsettled by
Elizabeth's appearance, he inquired after her to his aunt. "How is Elizabeth's presentation coming? She is not overwhelmed, is she? She looked a bit
fatigued this afternoon."
"She is doing well, but there is a great deal to accomplish." Lady Matlock smiled indulgently. "She is, as you say, a quick study, and has shown more aptitude in dealing with servants than I expected."
"I am pleased to hear it," Darcy replied wryly. "She is a gentleman's daughter."
> "Yes, but sometimes that term is used too liberally."
Changing the subject, Darcy said, "I trust with the initial planning over, she will be available to spend more time with Georgiana?"
"I suppose. Perhaps the two could practice the pianoforte." At Darcy's questioning look, Lady Matlock added, "Oh, come now, Fitzwilliam. I merely suggested she practice. She will be expected to entertain her guests with more than just witticisms."
"Very well," Darcy replied, bristling at his aunt's criticism. "I believe Georgiana would very much enjoy playing with Elizabeth. Do you have any
objection with her practicing at Arryndale? It would be good for Elizabeth to become more acquainted with the staff."
"I have no objections, but please keep in mind, Fitzwilliam, there is still much to be done. Her time away from here will be limited."
"I understand." He placed a kiss on his aunt's cheek. "Again, I thank you for your assistance."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Darcy returned to Arryndale, his head and heart full of Elizabeth. He felt alive.
He had been too long out of her company, and just as a tree needs sunlight to grow, he needed his Elizabeth to function. Now that he had fed that hunger, he could resume his other orders of business with relative peace.
In his mind, the wedding could not come soon enough. Then, he would not
have to be mindful of social edicts, like acceptable calling hours.
But propriety was not the only problem he faced. One unresolved issue hung
around each of their interactions, like a bothersome fly that would not go away.
If he did not win her heart soon, he might burst - or do something worse. How he might go about performing that feat, however, still eluded him.
With any other woman, the connection to his name and a few baubles would be enough to have her pledge her undying love. Elizabeth, however, was not so
easily persuaded, and he loved her all the more for it. At the same time, he could not help wishing she was just a little enamoured with his status and
money. It would definitely make things easier.
He pulled out three quills and examined their tips. Seeing one in need of
mending, he pulled out a pen knife. Armed with three sharp pens, he reached to uncork the ink bottle.
Unable to help himself, he picked it up and traced the foreign letters carved into its sides, momentarily distracted by what they meant. Perhaps they were his initials, or maybe something else. Did Elizabeth know? He searched his list of associates for one who might know, but came up empty. With a shrug, he
turned to examine the other carvings on the bottle. There was a crane and a mountain landscape. He chuckled, wondering if the strange characters merely spelled the name for those items. It was something Elizabeth would have done just to taunt the purchaser.
With a shake of the head, he cleared his mind of such idle thoughts, and set the well down. He had work to do, especially to prepare for the coming week. The only part of his plan he had worked out thus far was to spend more time with Elizabeth, as much time as he could.
As if fate was on his side, this week, she would be a captive audience, and even his aunt could not complain with him keeping her company during that time.
To that end, he had cleared his appointments and informed Cardwell he was not home to the public. With any luck, the rest of his plan for winning Elizabeth's heart would just come to him.
As promised, Elizabeth did retire early that evening. Being Sunday, there was little to do, and therefore no protest from Lady Matlock.
After dismissing her maid, Elizabeth settled on the settee with a bookmark she had begun. She examined the pattern, and began passing her needle and thread through the linen. It was not an intricate pattern -- just an outline of prancing horses with a few flowers -- but she smiled, knowing Fitzwilliam would like it.
She huffed in frustration, and angrily pulled out a few errant stitches. Feelings of insecurity welled once again. Could she not do anything well?
She consoled herself by insisting that Fitzwilliam had known of her
deficiencies when he proposed marriage. He was not looking for an
accomplished lady, or romantic love. He simply needed a companion for his
sister, someone to placate his family's demands, and someone who shared some common interests with him.
She let go of her consternation with a loud exhale. She may not be as
accomplished as others, but she could offer genuine friendship, both to him and Georgiana. From that perspective, she had fulfilled her duties admirably. Their friendship, if anything, had become stronger, and Georgiana was blossoming
into the young lady she was meant to be.
Feeling better, she finished a small flower, and then put her sewing away. After a good night's rest, she would feel even better.
As promised, Mr. John Linnell presented himself at the Matlock abode
promptly at nine the following morning.
"Ah, the future Mrs. Darcy," he said with a flourished bow. He looked over his subject, and for a fleeting moment, Elizabeth believed he might deem her not handsome enough, and reject the commission. The man, however, returned a
pleased smile.
"I trust your ladyship has determined the setting?" he asked Lady Matlock.
"The front parlour. It gets a great deal of natural light, and I particularly like the idea of seeing the town through the window in the background."
"Of course, your ladyship. A splendid suggestion." The man demurred.
Elizabeth swallowed a snicker. His mannerisms reminded her all too much of
her cousin, Mr. Collins. It would prove to be difficult week if this continued, but it would be imprudent to offend the man with an ill-timed outburst; he
might paint her with three eyes or a horrible wart.
Still, her eyes danced with amusement as she watched Lady Matlock continue discussing the portrait, the setting, and the background, while Mr. Linnell extolled the lady's artistic eye. The exchange was interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Darcy.
"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Linnell greeted with a low bow.
"Fitzwilliam!" Lady Matlock's surprise at seeing him was mixed with an ounce of annoyance. "I had not expected you this morning."
His gaze settled on Elizabeth for a moment, and then he looked back to his
aunt. "I thought I might entertain Miss Elizabeth while she is having her likeness captured." He looked to Mr. Linnell. "That is if you have no objections, sir."
"Of course not, Mr. Darcy."
Thus, while Mr. Linnell arranged his paints, easel, and canvas, the furniture of the room was adjusted to seat Darcy near Elizabeth. Once everything was
settled, Lady Matlock removed herself, and Elizabeth and Darcy settled into easy conversation.
"So Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth challenged, "you have come to entertain me?"
"I thought it best you did not find yourself bored."
"You appear to be ill equipped to amuse me, but I am fortunate enough to have this needlework. The good book does say to be wary of idle hands." She batted her eyes coquettishly and affected her best simpering smile.
Darcy could not but laugh, as his heart thumped in his chest. No one could
make him laugh like her, nor with such ease. He produced a tome and the day's paper. "I thought reading would be a comfortable order of the day, unless you would prefer something else."
"Anything I wish?" Elizabeth replied coyly. Familiar with that look, it took Darcy a moment to reply in the affirmative. "Whatever the lady wishes." He stared at her, trying to convey more than just his acquiescence.
Elizabeth tapped her chin thoughtfully, her lips pursed tightly to hide her mirth.
"I believe I shall be quite enthralled to listen to you read, while I tend to this sampler," she finally said. She leaned over and whispered, "It would not do to scandalize Mr. Linnell the first day..."
Darcy had to bite his cheek to quell the outburst
in his throat. "As you wish."
Beginning with the news from the continent, he read aloud. He did his best to remain focused on the news, but could not help peering over the top of the
paper and stealing looks at her. She was beautiful. The sun coming in from the windows behind her danced in her hair, making his fingers itch to test its
softness. Then there was the way her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, and the way her brow creased, just a bit, as she concentrated on her stitches.
When she looked up questioningly from her work, Darcy realized he had been silent for quite some time. He dropped his gaze to the paper in front of him, roughly cleared his throat, and began reading again.
Together, they discussed the latest performance of the Italian Opera, the use of the militia to quell rebellions in the north, and the latest news on the war. Darcy also shared with Elizabeth, the letter he had received from Colonel Fitzwilliam.
His brigade had reached the Cinque Ports, and would be setting sail soon.
Luncheon was declared ready shortly thereafter, and the three in the front
parlour joined Lady Matlock in the small evergreen drawing room. Though she did her best, Elizabeth could not help the way her stomach knotted in presence of her mentor. She could handle the criticism when alone, but feared what
might be said in front of Darcy. At any moment, she expected the lady to
comment on the number of cucumber sandwiches she ate, or the manner in
which she bit into the apple slices.
She did not notice the way she had withdrawn from the conversation, until
Darcy sent her a beseeching look. Doing her best, she returned a vibrant smile and forced herself to engage in the discourse.
After lunch, Mr. Linnell, Elizabeth and Darcy returned to the front parlour, while Lady Matlock saw to other matters of the house.
As they settled in once again, Darcy offered a volume of Walter Scott's most recent publication, The Lady of the Lake.
"Mr. Scott? Are you becoming a romantic, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth teased.
"Shall I find ladies novels amongst your collection next?"
Darcy raised an admonishing brow, but could not suppress the amusement that suffused the rest of his face. "And if I owned to such a thing, would you break our engagement?"