“That is simple enough—Stephen is his favourite, then Rebecca, then Anne, then Frederick. The viscount is his least favourite, but I think only because he continues to lose to him at both fencing and chess. Two things Master Fitzwilliam generally excels at.”
“That is correct, to the last detail,” Darcy stuttered.
There was a moment of stunned silence followed by a peal of laughter from everyone, including Darcy.
“I think our Georgiana has been telling tales on you, son.”
“No, you mustn’t think that, Fitzwilliam. I did not even know you disliked Edward so very much. I do talk about our cousins a great deal, but I do not think . . .”
Georgiana sounded truly distraught, but before Elizabeth could save her with the truth, Darcy swept his sister into his arms. “It is no matter, pet. I do not blame you.”
After placing Georgiana back on her own two feet, Darcy fell into step next to Elizabeth as their host called them to adjourn to the parlour, where she would be presented with her prize. Darcy offered her his arm, which she took with as much deliberation and grace as her feelings and their present circumstance allowed.
“I did not mean to cause any trouble,” Elizabeth whispered, then even more hesitantly added, “or betray your confidence.”
“Please do not make yourself uneasy,” he said, placing a hand over hers where it rested on his arm. This time, with the barrier of their gloves, Elizabeth was able to keep her composure somewhat, though not completely. “It is not as if you shared what I told you. It was more your very accurate extrapolation from the times we have discussed my cousins. In truth, I admire your insight.”
Elizabeth nodded, thankful he was not angry and that he called it insight and not obsession.
“Thank you,” she said, the smile clear in her voice. “If you are not averse to continuing to share family stories with me, I shall continue to be an eager listener and might request your next be the tale of distractions that you and your father seem to have experienced together. I imagine it might be interesting.”
“Perhaps,” he laughed.
Elizabeth was sure that, regardless of anything else that might happen that day and for the rest of her life, this birthday—where she played games at an indoor picnic, ate chocolate mousse and walked the halls of Pemberley on the arm of her Mr. Darcy, having made him laugh—would not be topped if she lived to be a hundred.
As she had the previous year, Elizabeth spent the night at Pemberley after the birthday celebration. Mary was thrilled to be included, and as her family prepared to leave, her excitement grew—she and Georgiana talked with considerable animation about their plans for the evening and the following day.
Several hours after the end of the picnic games, the Barlow Hall party declared their intent to leave. Even though they were pressed to stay for dinner, it was clear Mr. Barlow was too tired. Those who would remain saw the others to their carriage, a footman trailing behind with a small trunk; Elizabeth was sending her prize home with Mr. Barlow and the Gardiners.
“I wonder what would have happened if Master Darcy had won? You possess all six volumes in the library here at Pemberley,” Elizabeth mused.
She had been elated that the prize turned out to be the multi-volume History of the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. It was a text she had long wanted to tackle but had only managed to obtain a copy of the third volume from Meryton’s circulating library last winter. Once Elizabeth got over her joy and ceased expressing her boundless gratitude, she did wonder at how perfectly tailored the prize seemed to be for her. She doubted anyone else, save possibly Mr. Gardiner, would have appreciated it.
“Perhaps the purchase of the books as the prize was my way of betting on you from the start.”
“You are too good to me, Mr. Darcy. I am so thankful for the gift.”
“As you already told me many times when we presented them to you. I assure you your gratitude was ably conveyed by the tears, the hugs and the promise of many discussions based on your reading,” he teased. “And I will hold you to that promise.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth laughed. “It is no hardship to me to keep it.”
“We will take good care of your prize, Lizzy,” Mr. Gardiner assured her as the trunk was loaded onto the carriage.
“I confess I hope you will keep the set at Barlow Hall, though of course you would bring the volume you are reading with you back to Longbourn—you can keep me abreast of your progress in your letters. That way we can be certain you will always return—for how else will you know the ending?”
“I hope you know, sir, that I need no such motivation to come to Derbyshire,” she rejoined, taking his arm. “And though I am not quite so well read as some who call Pemberley home, I like to think I am at least literate enough to know the fate of Rome without having to read the entirety of the histories you have gifted me.”
They waved the carriage off and proceeded to return to the house. Over dinner, the conversation centred on the respective plans of those present for the summer. Georgiana was disappointed to not have more time at Pemberley and withElizabeth and Mary, but she was excited about their upcoming travels which would take them to the estate of a Darcy cousin in Cornwall before they travelled toAilleach, the Darcy estate in Scotland.
“I can hardly wait to see Trewithen,” Georgiana said, referencing the family estate they were to visit.
“You have seen it before,” her father reminded her. “Your mother and I travelled there with you and Fitzwilliam many years ago.”
“Yes, but I was so young. I hardly remember a thing.”
“Is that where the portrait of Mrs. Darcy was done?” Elizabeth asked, thinking of the painting that had pride of place above the fireplace in the most-used sitting room.
“My cousin commissioned it as a gift for my fiftieth birthday,” Mr. Darcy responded. “More than any portrait we had done before or after, it captured her spirit as well as her likeness. Anne loved the sea, and I often wish I had taken her to Cornwall and many other seaside locales more often.”
