He started, then tried to cover up his unease by wiping the surprise from his face. No doubt it would have been quite comical, had he allowed the ladies to see it. “Ah, yes, of course.”
His heart thudded in his chest as he walked up the hill to join Miss Bennet and his sister. He had made such a show of disbelief back at the house that he could not very well tell them he too thought he had seen something strange stirring in the waters.
But though Darcy could not bring himself to speak it aloud, he knew the truth. He had seen Nessie as well. In his madness, he even thought that she had given him a knowing look. Had she shown herself on purpose, somehow knowing that he did not believe in old myths and folklore?
Darcy shook his head as he came to the summit of the little hill, where the road levelled out. He could not deny that he had indeed seen Nessie. But he would never be able to tell a soul, level-headed as he prided himself on being.
Perhaps a wife, one day — if I had a wife in whom one might confide anything and everything.
With an effort, he shook away the thought.
“Well? What took you so long?” Georgiana asked, her eyes flashing with mischief. “Did you have to look one more timeto see if you could catch a glimpse of what Miss Bennet and I saw?” She held up her hand as if to say, do not bother denying it. “I know you say you do not believe in fables, but admit it — you were disappointed that you did not see Nessie, too.”
Darcy glanced at Miss Bennet, who gave him a smile and a nod, as though in shared enjoyment of Georgiana’s enthusiasm. “Yes, I suppose I am a little jealous,” he admitted, willing himself to look away from Miss Bennet. Doing so was more difficult than he could have believed only days ago. She was the picture of loveliness, with a healthy blush showing on her cheeks from the chill morning air. Her eyes sparkled with life, no doubt thanks to the adventure they had had together.
“Well, do not fret, brother. I am sure we will have many more mornings to come down to the loch and seek out Nessie.” Georgiana settled in the seat, then nodded for him to instruct the coachman that they were ready to go.
The ladies kept up a lively discussion on their way into the village. For his part, Darcy was enjoying listening to them far too much to comment more than a handful of times. He was proud to hear Georgiana conversing more freely than he had ever heard her with anyone but himself, and with much more exuberance than he had seen from her even before the Wickham debacle.
When they arrived at the dressmaker’s shop, he helped them each down from the carriage, then followed them in to wait in the little sitting area at the front of the shop. He could hear them conversing for a few moments before Miss Bennet came out.
“The dressmaker has a sample gown that she said Miss Darcy may try on. I think the style will suit her,” she explained.
A few minutes later, his sister came out dressed in a very becoming white gown with a low collar that dipped well below what she was used to wearing, though not too low for a girl of her age. It had a high Empire waist and embroidery to accentuate her trim waist.
“It is too short,” Georgiana said shyly.
“Oh, but when the dress is made for you, that will not be a concern, miss,” the Scottish seamstress said in her lilting accent. “This style becomes you nicely.”
“Yes, I agree,” Miss Bennet said, rising from the chair she had been sitting in beside him. Darcy shuddered, suddenly more aware of her nearness than he ought to be, and strangely bereft at having her move away. “What do you think, Mr Darcy?” she asked.
“I am very pleased with anything you deem appropriate.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Mr Darcy, please.”
He knew he was taking the coward’s way out, but he was very much out of his league when it came to ladies’ fashions. “I think it very becoming, Georgiana,” he said, and so it was. “How does it make you feel?”
Georgiana turned and looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. “I adore it!”
“Very well, then I suggest you order one of these gowns in white, Miss Darcy, and perhaps another in a more brilliant shade. Perhaps a rich emerald green? Or a royal blue, if that is too bright?” she suggested. She went over to one of the tall tables where fabrics were laid out.
“May I suggest even a dark crimson? Your fair complexion and blonde hair would contrast it beautifully,” the dressmaker said.
“Yes, it would look breathtaking,” Miss Bennet agreed. She assisted Georgiana in selecting fabrics to be done up in three new dresses, all in styles that even Darcy could tell would suit her much better than what she had been accustomed to wearing.
“Oh! Look at this,” Georgiana said, running her fingers over yet another bolt of fabric. “What is this called again?”
The dressmaker approached, beaming with pride. “That is our local tartan,” she explained. “It is associated with the district rather than a specific clan, in honour of Loch Ness. As you can see, it is a captivating blue and green plaid, adorned with thin white lines and a bold black stripe — all colours that symbolise the mysterious depths of Loch Ness.”
“How very charming,” Georgiana said.
“You know, women have dresses made of tartan too, nowadays,” the woman said rather slyly. “It’s not just used for kilts anymore.”
“Really?” Georgiana’s eyes went wide. She turned to Miss Bennet. “Do you think these colours would suit me?”
Miss Bennet nodded. “I do. They are lovely.”
“I’ll have one in the tartan then, too,” Georgiana told the dressmaker, beaming with pride. She turned to Miss Bennet. “Perhaps you ought to order one too! From all you have taught me about colours, I am sure it would be flattering to you as well. And wouldn’t it be a lovely way to remember our time here in Scotland?”
