Darcy’s jaw tightened, but he maintained his composure as Lord Hartford approached with a jovial smile.
“Darcy! There you are. Come, let me introduce you properly to our neighbours.” Hartford guided him towards a group near the refreshment table. “Sir William Lucas, may I present Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, our new steward. Darcy, Sir William received his knighthood for services to the crown some years ago.”
Sir William, a portly gentleman with a cheerful expression, bowed with evident pleasure. “Delighted, Mr Darcy! Any man trusted by Lord Hartford is most welcome in our neighbourhood. May I present my daughters, Miss Charlotte Lucas and Miss Maria Lucas?”
“Ah, Bingley!” Lord Hartford called, and Darcy turned to see his neighbour approaching with his characteristic easy smile.
“Hartford, what a pleasure to see you this evening.” Bingley’s greeting was warm, though Darcy noticed how his eyes immediately began scanning the room. “I don’t suppose Lady Jane has arrived yet?”
“Indeed she has, along with all my daughters. But first, let me introduce you properly to Mr Darcy. Bingley, this is our new steward. Darcy, Mr Charles Bingley of Longbourn.”
“Good to meet you, Bingley,” Darcy said, eyeing the man. He was young, perhaps Darcy’s age if not younger. Blond hair, cropped into the popular style. His suit was of fine material, speaking of wealth. He was not bad looking, no wonder Lady Jane had taken a fancy to him. Darcy vowed to do his best to extract the man’s intentions from him this evening.
Two elegantly dressed ladies approached their group, and Bingley’s expression grew more formal. “Allow me to present my sisters. Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst. My brother-in-law had to return to town yesterday, but we expect him back.”
Both women curtsied with practiced grace, though Darcy caught the slight tightening around Miss Bingley’s eyes as she assessed his modest attire. Mrs Hurst merely nodded politely before turning her attention elsewhere.
“Now then,” Lord Hartford announced, “let me take you to meet my daughters properly.”
Darcy followed his employer across the room, his stomach tightening with nervous anticipation. He spotted the familiar figures of Lydia and Catherine first, both dressed in white muslin and animated in conversation with a group of young officers. But it was the trio of ladies standing near the windows that drew his attention.
And there, amongst them, stood the young woman who had delivered the basket to his cottage.
“Good God,” he murmured, stopping short.
“Is something amiss?” Lord Hartford enquired.
Darcy stared at the graceful figure in blue silk, her hair arranged fashionably and adorned with pearls. “That young lady there—the one in blue. She was at my cottage the other day.”
Hartford followed his gaze and began to chuckle. “Ah, now I understand! Elizabeth was quite out of sorts the other day, muttering about rude men and presumptuous behaviour. She mentioned being mistaken for a maid, but I couldn’t fathom what she meant.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
Horror washed over Darcy in waves. “That was Lady Elizabeth? Your daughter?”
“Indeed, it was. I planned for my wife to deliver a basket of goods to you, as a welcoming gesture, but it appears she passed the task on to Lizzy. And you…” he grinned. “You mistook her for a maid. And judging by your expression, you’re beginning to appreciate the magnitude of your error.”
Darcy’s pulse thudded. He had lectured an earl’s daughter about proper deportment. He had given her jam as if she were a poor servant in need of charity. The mortification was beyond anything he had ever experienced. How he wished the floor might open and swallow him up.
“Come,” Hartford said, still grinning. “Let me make proper introductions before you expire from embarrassment.”
With leaden feet, Darcy followed Lord Hartford to where three ladies stood in conversation. The tallest, a vision of gentle beauty with golden hair and kind blue eyes, must be Lady Jane. Beside her stood a quieter, more serious-looking young woman who could only be Lady Mary. And there, regarding his approach with unmistakable amusement, was Lady Elizabeth.
“Jane, Elizabeth, Mary—allow me to present Mr Darcy, our new steward. I believe Elizabeth has already made his acquaintance, though perhaps not under the most auspicious circumstances.”
Lady Jane curtsied gracefully. “Mr Darcy, welcome to Hertfordshire. I do hope you’re finding everything to your satisfaction.”
Lady Mary offered a polite nod. “Sir.”
But it was Lady Elizabeth who commanded his attention, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief as she executed a perfect curtsy. “Mr Darcy. How delightful to see you again. I trust you’re finding the jam to your liking?”
The reference to his mortifying peace offering made Darcy’s face burn. “Lady Elizabeth, I must beg your pardon. I had no idea—that is, I failed to recognise—”
“That I was anything more than a humble servant in need of instruction on proper deportment?” Her tone was light, but there was steel beneath the silk. “How could you have known? After all, my muddy hem was terribly revealing of my low station.”
“I cannot apologise enough for my inexcusable behaviour.”
“Oh, but you were quite right about the mud,” she continued, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Most unbecoming for a lady’s maid. Or was it a kitchen servant you took me for? I confess I was never quite certain which role you assigned me.”
Lord Hartford and Lady Jane exchanged amused glances whilst Lady Mary watched the proceedings with detached interest. Darcy wished the floor would open and swallow him whole.
