Miss Bennet eyed the fabric with admiration. Running her fingers over the material, she sighed. “I do like this material very much. And it would be a good memento, wouldn’t it?”
“It would indeed,” Georgiana said.
Miss Bennet turned away from them as she counted the money in her reticule. Georgiana eyed him, as though to say they ought to offer to pay, but thankfully remained silent. His sister knew well that it was impossible. It would be completely inappropriate, even though Darcy would have gladly spent the money on Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.What was wrong with him, to think of a young woman of no relation to him by her first name? He ought to know better. She must remain Miss Bennet in his mind, just as she was in his conversation.
Darcy knew it for a lie. She was Elizabeth to him now and would remain so forever, though he might never speak the name aloud.
When she had finished counting, Elizabeth nodded to the dressmaker. “Yes, I should like to order a dress in the tartan as well,” she announced.
“How wonderful!” Georgiana said and linked arms with her. “We will be just like sisters in our matching dresses!”
It was the work of moments for Elizabeth to select a dress pattern, and little more for the dressmaker to take her measurements. Darcy hardly felt that he had waited long at all when Georgiana told him they were ready to go. She turned eagerly to the dressmaker. “Would you make the tartans first and have them delivered to Strathalt House as soon as possible?”
“Of course, miss. It would be my pleasure,” the dressmaker said. She was clearly delighted at having received so many commissions all in one day. Darcy considered his money well spent, for he was glad he and his family could bring a little prosperity to the area by being there.
But there was one more surprise left in store for him.
“Will you also have a kilt, sir?” the dressmaker suggested eagerly. “I could easily make a traditional kilt and white shirt for you, so you wouldn’t be left out with the ladies looking so fine,” she offered.
“Why — I hardly think —” Darcy sputtered.A kilt?He could just think of how uproariously Bingley would laugh if he saw him in such a thing. Not to mention his cousin Fitzwilliam. The colonel would laugh himself off his horse at such a sight.
“Oh, Fitz, you must,” Georgiana urged him. “How wonderful that would be. Please do!”
Darcy looked from her eager face to that of Elizabeth. His mouth suddenly went dry.
“What do you think, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked hoarsely, wondering what on earth he was doing. “I have greatly admired the advice you have given Georgiana. Do you think I ought to purchase a kilt?”
Surely it must have been a trick of the light, or perhaps only wishful thinking. Surely she could not have looked —intrigued —for a moment before schooling her features to polite interest.
Still, she nodded. “I think it would look very well on you, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied. “Then you, too, can have an outfit to match Miss Darcy.”
“In that case, I shall be glad to order one,” Darcy said, turning to the seamstress. “It would be a pity to be left out.” In any case, he did not want to offend the locals, especially if he might soon find he owned one of the oldest houses in the area. That was certainly why he had said yes, and not because Elizabeth had given the idea her approval.
The woman’s husband led him to the back room and took his measurements. Likely he would never wear the kilt and shirt, but they would at least remind him of a most memorable morning with Georgiana, Elizabeth — and Nessie.
Chapter 11
By the time three weeks had passed, Elizabeth found her love for Strathalt House increasing with every rising sun. The quiet was much like her childhood home, but there was a certain mystery and excitement in being in such a wild country that brought her imagination to life. Already she had written several pages of a novel that was shaping into quite an adventure. She doubted anyone would ever read it, but it was a cathartic pastime that she would treasure for the rest of her life, something she could read again and again and remember this place with fondness. Once, she had desperately hoped that her father might solve the riddles and win Strathalt House as a solution to the problem of the entail on Longbourn. That need had not altered, and yet gradually Elizabeth had come to love Strathalt House for its own sake as much as for the security it represented. And not least for the many happy hours she had spent working on her little novel.
A sudden thought made Elizabeth frown. What would her father say if he knew she was using her time for such an endeavour? To have a daughter with a mind was one thing. It was another matter entirely if she tried her hand at actually supporting herself like the infamous Mrs Radcliffe. Of course, she would never dream of showing her little novel to anyone, save for Jane, perhaps.
Thinking of Jane made her brow furrow still deeper. Her sister had not written back to her yet, even though Elizabeth had sent a letter upon their arrival at Strathalt. It was very odd indeed, for whenever they had had occasion to be apart, even for a short while, they had written back and forth almost every day. Mary had written, though they were not nearly as close, and yet Jane had not.
Had something happened? Elizabeth could not help but think that Jane was angry with her, inconceivable as that possibility sounded. Jane was never angry with anyone—or if she was, she never let it show or allowed it to make her treat people differently.
Elizabeth sighed and looked around the empty drawing room, thankful for some time away from all the hubbub. She was entirely alone except for Bruce, who dozed at her side, having begged for pets until he drifted off to sleep. He was a lapdog indeed, if one the size of a small pony.
A little time on her own with no companion other than Bruce was very welcome. No one had solved the riddle yet. It seemed that Mr Campbell had given them all a “stumper”. If neither her father nor Mr Darcy could solve it, they might live here together for all time.
She smiled at the thought of the Bennets and Darcys living under the roof of Strathalt House, sharing it. And in her mind, it did not seem a bad idea at all. Though she would miss her sisters, Miss Darcy was growing to be a dear, dear friend, nearly as close as a sister.
It was a wonderful dream, to think that they might split the use of Strathalt House. But an unlikely one. Impossible, even. Her father would no doubt want to set aside the house as a place where the Bennets could find sanctuary after he wasgone. And Mr Darcy would no doubt want to add to his holdings. Likely, he would see it as his duty to improve his family’s wealth and position, as other generations had done before him.
If no one solved the riddle soon, she was unsure what Mr Campbell would do — perhaps give them another. In the meantime, the steward had been familiarising her father and Mr Darcy with the estate, so whoever won the wager could take over immediately.
She furrowed her brow again, thinking of the riddle. If only she could help her father to solve it, they might inherit and be on their way. Much as she hated the thought of leaving Strathalt House and the Darcys, her worry over Jane and the rest of the girls made her almost wish to be gone. What nonsense their mother had allowed in the younger girls while they were away, she paled to think about. And Jane would not have checked them, for she could not bring herself to do it.
