"You look shocked, William," Georgiana continued, "but you need not be. You are so careful not to show any particular attention to any young lady. When you mentioned Miss Elizabeth by name on three different occasions in your letters to me, I knew she must hold a special place in your affections. I am so happy for you! There is nothing more romantic than to marry for true love."
Darcy was too stunned to speak. Richard smirked at him with one brow arched.
Miss Bingley sputtered and then fell silent, her face as crimson as her nose.
CHAPTER21
Mortification burned Elizabeth’s cheeks. It all started with Kitty and Lydia’s hasty return from Meryton bursting with complaints about Mr. Wickham’s inexplicable absence and announcing they had seen a stately carriage with windows on all sides, a coat of arms on the doors, pulled by four matching bays, and a footman almost as tall as Mr. Darcy perched on the back with the finest silk-encased calves they had ever seen.
“A coat of arms, you say?” Mama forgot about the bout of nerves which had afflicted her all morning. “Did you notice in which direction it traveled?”
Kitty replied, “It continued up the road toward Netherfield.”
“Netherfield! It must be Mr. Darcy’s relatives come to meet Lizzy! His mother comes from aristocracy, and his grandfather was an earl.”
“I would make an enchanting countess! What a laugh! I would lord it over all my sisters,” boasted Lydia.
Mama tapped her chin. “If they have come to meet us, then the least we can do is present ourselves.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “We cannot call without an invitation.”
Her mother waved her objection away. “We are free to call on Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy whenever we wish. If their noble relatives are there, who are we to know it?” She rubbed her hands together. “A coach full of unmarried noblemen!”
“We do not know that, Mama.” Jane tried to dissuade her, but their mother’s head was too full of possibilities to be reasonable.
Launching herself from her chair, Mama readied her daughters with remarkable speed and attention to detail. Mrs. Hill and Sarah hastened from one room to another, ruddy-cheeked and damp with exertion. After one hour, not one hair was out of place, nor could a wrinkle be found in a skirt.
Papa tried to escape into his book room, but Mama was insistent. His argument that they would not all fit in the carriage was no obstacle to Mama.
And so, Elizabeth found herself sitting beside her father in the cart ahead of the carriage, doused in perfume, braids pinching her scalp, whalebones from the old stays Mama insisted she wear jabbing her in the ribs. It was the worst of humiliations to be a party to her mother’s plan to thrust themselves on Mr. Darcy’s family.
What pained Elizabeth even more was the knowledge that her first impression was bound to be a poor one. She had imagined meeting them; she had practiced conversations; she knew which gown she would have preferred to wear. But this? There was nothing she could say or do to undo the damage certain to occur.
Papa leaned down and sniffed her hair. “Much better after a good airing.” He laughed.
Elizabeth pressed her cold hands against her cheeks and prayed fervently that the butler refuse them entry… or even better, that the household not be in.
But theywerein. Before the twists in Elizabeth’s stomach made her ill, the butler showed them into the parlor.
A young lady with alabaster skin, golden hair, and a stylish gown draped becomingly over her figure clung to Mr. Darcy’s arm.
Elizabeth went numb… and then she felt Mr. Darcy’s bold, proud gaze on her. Elizabeth stewed, an unfamiliar sensation gnawing at her gut and hardening her face. Perhaps Mr. Darcy thought it was acceptable to flaunt his friendship with beautiful ladies in town where such things were expected of gentlemen of his sort, but he had led her to believe that he was different. She lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his defiantly, demanding an explanation.
Only now that she saw his expression clearly, she noticed the sheer misery in it. His chest and shoulders rose and his cheeks puffed out like hers had moments ago when she felt nauseated, and she realized her mistake. The way he placed his hand over the young lady's was not possessive, it was protective.
Elizabeth’s relief was too great to remember her embarrassment. She had been mistaken to jump to conclusions so quickly—an error she had made too frequently with Mr. Darcy. The girl at his side could be none other than his sister.
Miss Darcy tugged her brother closer and whispered into his ear. After he smiled and nodded, she released her hold on him and stepped tentatively toward their callers, her large, brown eyes looking anywhere but directly at Elizabeth. "I have been eager to meet you." Her soft voice warbled, and it was impossible for Elizabeth not to feel compassion for the girl. This was hardly the haughty heiress Mr. Wickham had described. Far from it!
Mr. Darcy introduced them to his sister and cousin Richard, and Elizabeth relaxed. They would offend no earls or countesses today. To the contrary, Elizabeth hoped to make two allies.
Mama’s eyes widened when the colonel was introduced. Without looking behind her, she caught Kitty and Lydia’s hands to propel them closer to the gentleman. Mary was intelligent enough to stay out of their mother’s immediate reach and therefore avoided being pushed at the poor man.
There was nothing remarkable in his features, and while he cut a fine figure in his tailored coat, he was not particularly tall. For Kitty and Lydia, the final nail in his coffin was his lack of a uniform. Had he been wearing his military coat, they might have shown greater interest.
This was lost on Mama, who would not fault the gentleman for wearing civilian attire when he was a colonel in the regulars and the second son of an earl.
The charming ease with which the colonel received Mama’s string of compliments and replied to her intrusive questions won Elizabeth over. He was quick to laugh without taking offense. Elizabeth could easily imagine him and Mr. Darcy getting into scrapes. Masters in mischief, the two of them.
