A sobbing laugh bubbled from somewhere and she wiped her eyes. “Yes. It may have broken my heart, but it also gave me a few pieces to put back together again.”
Georgiana’s brow creased, but eventually, she decided, “That is well. William will be fearfully put out if he discovers it upset you.”
“Oh? Has he tasked you with my happiness, then?”
“Very nearly. I have strict orders to comfort you, no matter the need or the hour.”
Elizabeth laughed more freely this time. “You may tell your brother that I appreciate the thought, but it is unnecessary.”
“Well, he thought it was, and I do not dare annoy him. He was on the edge of furious when he insisted upon it—not furious with me, you understand. Not this time, but then, he has not been right since he heard about Richard.”
“These things take time,” Elizabeth offered softly.
“I suppose.” Georgiana frowned and then fell silent, staring out the window as if even then, she thought herself to be carrying out her brother’s command of staying by Elizabeth’s side.
Elizabeth gently slipped her father’s letter beside William’s. “I have an idea. It ought to be good for a laugh, if nothing else. What do you say to a duet on the piano?”
Georgiana looked doubtful. “I noticed just recently that the countess’s piano needs to be tuned. Nothing we play will sound right.”
Elizabeth whispered into her ear. “Do you really think that will matter when I am the one playing?”
The girl pursed her lips. “No.”
Chapter 35
Matlock
January 1901
Elizabeth’sfingerswerecold,even inside her gloves, but it felt good to drink in the fresh air. For two weeks, she had scarcely stirred outside, preferring instead to remain close to her sister and the family that had adopted her as their own. Her heart still stung, and not an hour passed that some surge of rage or despondency did not threaten to cripple her afresh. But, over the past days, she had begun to find her feet—and with them, a renewal of her resolve.
And so, when the earl once more mentioned the cottage he had offered, she leapt at the chance of a tour. She stopped Sage, as she had re-christened Mr Darcy’s former polo horse, and surveyed the little town before her. The road crawled up through a snow-covered valley that must have been lush in warmer months, with low, gentle hills rolling down from either side. Quaint stone buildings, some new and some ancient, dotted the way.
“Darley Dale,” Matlock said from atop his Thoroughbred beside her. “And just there is the Whitworth Institute. Care for billiards, Elizabeth?” he asked with a laugh. “Community rooms, a library and a hotel, that sort of thing. They even have an indoor swimming pool.”
She admired the building from a distance. “So much! But how?”
“Oh, the Whitworths from Stancliffe built it and donated it to the community. Remarkable story, but let us not chat about it in the cold. Are you warm enough?”
“I have been much colder than this, and for much longer,” she replied. “This is less than three miles, but I used to ride ten regularly, rain or shine.”
The earl looked over at her. “Even so, I think you may be the only lady I know who preferred a ride on horseback to a warm carriage in January. Even Georgiana did not venture out with us.”
“It is a clear day, and I have been too much indoors of late.”
He nodded. “Restless—yes, I understand. Richard was much that way when he was cooped up. Darcy is worse! Myself, I can be quite content roasting my hide by a fire on a day such as this. We will explore Darley another time, and I will even introduce you around the village. Come, let us look over the cottage and turn back before I become an icicle.”
She followed the earl at a trot, back the way they had come. After a few moments, he turned them up a narrow lane, then over a short slope. A quarter-mile to the southeast of the village, they stopped at a modest little dwelling. It still bore an old-fashioned thatched roof, with what appeared to be a place for a vegetable garden on the southern side.
“Within walking distance of the village,” the earl said. “Especially for an adventurous sort like yourself.”
She was taking in each tuck and corner of the cottage, admiring the charming imperfections and contrivances that marked it as a real home. “No stable,” she mused, though too late she realised she had spoken aloud.
“No,” the earl conceded. “Nor place for a groom or the like. I am afraid the mare will have to remain at Matlock, or perhaps you could send her back to Pemberley.”
She nearly laughed at the irony—it had never occurred to her that if she kept a horse, she would require a groom. The notion was a foolish one anyway, because what business did she have taking on such an expenditure? It was not like she would require a horse to get to the market. Not like home…
They walked about the house and yard for a few minutes. Two rooms upstairs, and a fair sitting room below. It smelled musty and stale, but already her mind was at work. With clean linens, a warm fire and a hot meal on the stove, the cottage would be perfectly inviting.
