“Aunt Catherine is delusional,” Darcy grumbled. He would rather talk about trains.
“Yes, and also vociferous and insistent. Seriously, Darce, Mother wants me to have a word with you… as if I or anyone else can convince you to do anything you have not already resolved to do. God help the woman you decide to marry. She will have no choice at all in the matter.”
Darcy felt his color rise, heard his pulse thrum in his ears. “Aunt Helen expects me to take her counsel when she was the one who insisted I allow Georgiana more freedom? That I set up her own residence in Ramsgate? Need I remind you how Mrs. Younge came to be in my employ?” Serafina hopped down from his lap and left the room. Darcy wished he could follow her and leave Richard to his mother’s interfering orders.
“Mother regrets Mrs. Younge, but she came so highly recommended by her friends, really, you cannot blame her.”
Darcy could, and he did, and he resented Richard for suggesting otherwise. Nobody else took Georgiana’s protection as seriously as Darcy did.
Richard sighed. “I see you are determined. But, Darcy, love blooms where it will, and it will thumb its nose at you for interfering where you are not wanted.”
He was one to talk. “I assure you, I only have Georgiana’s best interests in mind. And Bingley’s.”
Richard filled his glass. “Let us pray the young ladies in Hertfordshire are not so handsome, plentiful, or charming as Bingley finds the young ladies to be in London.”
Darcy was not ignorant of the challenges before him, but he knew estate management and young men like Bingley much better than he did the confounding mind and tumultuous emotions of his own sister. He raised his glass and drank deeply.
CHAPTER2
Elizabeth Bennet scraped her boots, untied her bonnet, and shook out her damp skirts. Checking her reflection in the mirror placed in Longbourn’s entrance hall, she smoothed her fingers over her untamable hair and prayed that the high color in her cheeks was due to exercise and not too much exposure to the sun. Not that Elizabeth minded. A sun-kissed complexion was the mark of a hale constitution and a healthy regard for nature, but her mother would not be convinced of its merits.
Outside the walls of her childhood home, over the sprawling fields, Elizabeth was at liberty to roam and dream. It was her only time alone, free from the constant reminders of everything she was powerless to change about Longbourn and its residents. Today must be perfect, and Elizabeth had devised a plan.
First, she found Jane, the eldest of the five Bennet sisters and Elizabeth’s dearest friend. Jane was often praised for her beauty, but Elizabeth found her graceful character, sweet nature, and calm strength far more admirable. Her sister sat by the window in the drawing room with a basketful of lace, ribbon, and trimmings on one side and a pile of muslin gowns on the other.
At the other end of the room, Mary, the third eldest of the Bennet sisters, was playing a grim tune. Poor Mary. If only Papa would allow her to study with a master. But unless a miracle moved their father to do something to improve his daughters’ unfavorable prospects, Elizabeth’s subtle hints would have to suffice. “Mary, dear, perhaps a livelier song would suit the occasion best.”
“But I only know the one, and it has no singing to accompany the melody.”
Perfect. “Why draw attention away from your technique with song?” Elizabeth turned to Jane before Mary replied, hoping the seed she had planted would take root and lead to a more agreeable performance at the ball that evening.
Mary began a piece over which she had labored and now played to perfection: Bach’s Minuet in G Major. An uncomplicated air. No lyrics and therefore no moral message or notes beyond the comfortable reach of Mary’s limited vocal range.
Plucking a wad of knotted ribbons from the basket, Elizabeth sat in the chair opposite Jane and began untangling. “Are Kitty and Lydia still asleep?” If the two youngest sisters begged Jane to alter their gowns, they should be helping. More likely, they were lingering in their bedchambers to avoid Mr. Collins. As Papa’s heir apparent, he would inherit Longbourn, and he had already threatened that he intended to marry one of them.
“They have departed for Meryton,” Jane replied.
Of all the ungrateful, selfish…Elizabeth pinched her lips together. Saying her thoughts aloud would only upset Jane, but if those two did anything foolish to spoil Jane’s night, Elizabeth was tempted to lock them in their rooms and bury the key or lace their afternoon tea with some of Mama’s sleeping tonic. There was only one reason Kitty and Lydia would venture into Meryton so early in the day. It wore a red coat and shiny, black boots.
Mary stopped playing. “They told Mama they would purchase shoe roses for our gowns, but they shall waste their money on sweetmeats and flirt shamelessly with the officers.”
“Who accompanied them?” Surely not Mr. Collins. Elizabeth cast a wary glance about. Where was he? She would give him no opportunity to importune her with an unwanted offer of marriage.
“Sarah.”
Elizabeth sighed. The first thing Kitty and Lydia would have done is ditch the maid.
Mary added, “Mama sent her to the apothecary to fetch more nerve tonic.”
Good. At least there would be a sufficient supply if it came to that. “How long ago did they leave?”
“Not a quarter of an hour ago.” Mary turned to the instrument and resumed practicing. She might not mind receiving Mr. Collins’ attentions, but Elizabeth could not wish such a match for any of her sisters.
She would concern herself with the annoying man later. Right now, she needed to prevent her family from ruining Jane’s chances again. She stopped chewing on her lip. “We shall not overtake them, but we can ensure they do not get into too much mischief before we arrive.”
Jane pinned the needle into the bodice of the gown on which she worked. “I do not know how I shall finish these gowns in time without a walk into Meryton, much less with one.”
“They can do without new lace,” Mary called over her shoulder without losing her rhythm.
