“Have you met her?” Elizabeth asked, eagerly.
“Will you be incredibly jealous if I tell you that I have held her on more than one occasion?”
“I will indeed! Tell me everything.”
And he did. Elizabeth and Darcy spoke for several minutes exclusively about Miss Amelia Gardiner. Darcy patiently and in great detail answered all of her questions. She had many. Though both her aunt and uncle had written to her since the birth, they were understandably short missives conveying little beyond their joy and the well-being of mother and child. Darcy shared the details Elizabeth had yet to learn.
What colour was her hair—she was practically bald with a tuft of brown on the top of a very round head.
What about her eyes—she kept them closed more often than not, but he had glimpsed enough to know they were light brown.
Is her aunt truly well—yes, she appears not only healthy but as happy as Darcy has ever seen her. She could not stop smiling at her daughter.
Does she look like her parents—Darcy swore he saw a little of Elizabeth in her.
Though Elizabeth wanted to stay on this declaration, perhaps ask why or what reminded Darcy of herself, she had one question that had plagued her since she received the announcement of her cousin’s birth.
“Was my uncle disappointed . . . that it is a girl?” She glanced quickly at the others, who seemed engrossed in their own conversation. “Or Mr. Barlow?”
Darcy looked surprised for a moment, then seemed to consider his response.
“I have seen no evidence of any disappointment,” he said quietly, leaning slightly closer. “They both seem nothing but delighted, enraptured even.”
Elizabeth nodded as she took in his words. Being her father’s favourite among five daughters had not meant that both her parents didn’t often make clear that their desire with each birth was for a son. This made sense as Longbourn was entailed away from the female line, but that knowledge did not lessen the sting of the consistent expressions of lament for their lack of a son.
“Thank you,” she whispered as Mrs. Goulding rose and the gentlemen then did likewise.
“Well, Miss Lizzy, I understand your friends will want to get on the road as you only have a few hours of daylight to reach Leicester.”
“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth responded, rising. “Shall I find Thomas and have him move my trunk?”
“It is a lovely afternoon now that the rain has stopped; shall we all walk out while the carriages and the baggage are made ready?” Mr. Goulding offered.
“A wonderful idea,” Mr. Darcy agreed with a smile. “Let us stretch our legs before spending another few hours confined in our respective conveyances.”
Mrs. Goulding attached Queen Charlotte’s black leather leash to her collar, and the party made their way outside. The Gouldings’ coachman, with the help of the Darcys’ tiger, unloaded Elizabeth’s small trunk and secured it on top of the Darcy carriage.
“We will miss you, Lizzy,” Mr. Goulding said. “It has been a pleasure to get to know you just a little bit better. I hope you will not be a stranger when we return to the neighbourhood.”
“Yes, my dear,” Mrs. Goulding agreed, coming to stand beside her husband. “We will miss your company.” With this, she pulled Lizzy into a fierce embrace and whispered, “I hope you enjoy the pleasant vistas ahead of you,” then, winking, she added, “and I do not mean the ones outside of the carriage.”
Lizzy laughed a little nervously, looking to see if the Darcys were far enough away to have missed this. Mrs. Goulding’s whisper was not quite as quiet as she thought it was. Mr. Darcy seemed oblivious as he looked at something his coachman was pointing out with one of the horses, but the red suffusing her Darcy’s cheeks seemed to indicate he had heard.
Pulling her mind from this, Elizabeth managed to thank the Gouldings for their hospitality and generosity in seeing her to Coventry and promised to visit as soon as they returned to Hertfordshire in the spring. She also gave them two small parcels, wrapped in brown packaging, each adorned with a sprig of holly.
“You mustn’t open those until Christmas,” she admonished as they said their final goodbyes. The Darcys came to offer their farewells, and Elizabeth had to stifle a giggle at the return of Darcy’s blush when Mrs. Goulding presented her cheek for a kiss, declaring that she could not let such a handsome man get away without one. Elizabeth was still laughing to herself about it as the three of them settled into their seats, the gentlemen on the opposite bench and Elizabeth in the forward-facing seat.
“What amuses you so, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked.
The carriage lurched to life, and Elizabeth found no reason to prevaricate.
“Your son’s reaction to Mrs. Goulding, sir.”
While Darcy shot her an accusing glance, his father insisted on an explanation. Though perhaps she could have been embarrassed about the conversation, as her father had trained her, she chose to find humour in it and frankly enjoyed Darcy’s embarrassment. She had certainly felt enough of that in his presence over the years.
“For a young man who must be used to people remarking on his handsome features and pleasing countenance, he is surprisingly squeamish about it.” She smiled at both men—one looked entertained, the other increasingly surly. Turning to Darcy, she added, “It is not as if you have done anything to deserve the attention or contributed to its cause, so I would advise you to accept it as you would someone admiring a painting at Pemberley or perhaps one of your horses.”
Mr. Darcy barked out a laugh at this, and his son turned the accusing glare to him.
