“This is my brother, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she beamed. “Brother, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and her uncle, Mr Gardiner. She has been gracious enough to lend me Mrs Laurence’s latest novel, and to invite me to call on her to return it when the time comes.”
Though Elizabeth had thought the suggestion only practical when she made it, she was consumed by a sudden twinge of doubt. Everything about the Darcy’s dress and manners proclaimed their wealth and consequence. Such a stately brother, and one so evidently careful of his sister, might not wish her to call on them in the unfashionable, albeit safe, neighbourhood of Cheapside.
It would not do to make Miss Darcy feel obligated to call, simply because she had borrowed a book. “Or, you may send it along with a servant when you have finished, if calling is inconvenient,” Elizabeth suggested brightly.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. Mr Gardiner,” Mr Darcy nodded to each of them. “Your kindness to my sister is greatly appreciated, I assure you. I cannot thank you enough for the service you have rendered her this afternoon.” His stern face lit with a smile. Elizabeth marvelled at how the expression changed his face, making it all the more handsome. “We have been all over London looking for a copy of the book for her.”
“I do not wonder that your search has been so difficult,” Mr Gardiner said. “I hear the book has been very difficult to find since its debut.”
Elizabeth held her breath, wishing her uncle had not said anything that could reveal their greater knowledge of Mrs Laurence and her works. The slightest slip of the tongue could mean her secret was out for good. And once the London gossip columns got a hold of the story, there would be no taking it back.
“Yes, that is what we have been told at every bookstore we have visited today,” Mr Darcy said.
“Won’t you sit down, Mr Darcy?” Mr Gardiner invited. The gentleman had been left standing while his sister remained seated. It would seem she was not eager to be away.
Miss Darcy moved to make room for another chair to be brought by one of the staff at the tearoom, and Mr Darcy was soon seated.
“Have you read Mrs Laurence’s first book, Miss Bennet?” Miss Darcy asked excitedly.
“Yes, I have,” Elizabeth replied. She hoped her face did not give away how nervous she felt. Prudently, she tried to steer the conversation away from herself. “And what about you, Mr Darcy? Do you enjoy reading?”
“I do. Very much, in fact.”
“And have you read anything from Mrs Laurence?” Mr Gardiner asked.
“No, I have not had the pleasure.” Mr Darcy said tightly. He glanced at his sister. “I suppose they do well enough to entertain young ladies. But I do not have the time to read as much as I would like.” He smiled again, but Elizabeth could not like this smile so well as the first. Was it not rather patronising?
But it would not do to take the comment too personally. Mr Darcy obviously had intended no offense, and he could not know that he was presently speaking to the book’s author. “What do you enjoy reading, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, when I am afforded time in my schedule, I enjoy reading a wide variety of subjects. I love history and the arts, as well as science, philosophy, and so on. Other than the classics, though, fiction does not make up a significant part of my reading.”
“My brother is too serious for such things,” Miss Darcy said with a good-natured smile. “I, however, have been dying to read Mrs Laurence’s next book. How fortunate you are to know her publisher! However did you come into the connection? I think it must be frightfully interesting to know someone who works in the publishing world.”
For a moment, Elizabeth was entirely at a loss for words. She looked to her uncle for help.
Thankfully, he took the hint and came to her aid. “As I own a trading company, I have many acquaintances around the city. Mr Tilney is a friend of a friend,” he explained.
“It is only a recent acquaintance,” Elizabeth said hurriedly, feeling guilty for the small lie. She had to find a way to get them off the subject of publishing before all was lost. “I hear Derbyshire is very beautiful.”
“Oh, it is,” Miss Darcy agreed. “How I love it! Doubtless I am quite prejudiced, but I think our home is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Such woods we have, and such beautiful hills and mountains! Have you ever been to the Peak District, Miss Bennet?”
“I have not. But I do long to travel someday. As it is, I have only been to London and my former home of Hertfordshire.”
“I hope you may have the opportunity to travel to Derbyshire one day, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said. “My sister has not exaggerated. It is indeed a most beautiful part of the country. But I am afraid we have taken up a great deal of your time. Georgiana, we really must be going.”
Miss Darcy looked disappointed, then turned to Elizabeth. “Well, I am beholden to you, Miss Bennet,” she said. She stood, and her brother soon followed. They said theirgoodbyes, and Miss Darcy repeated her promise that she would guard the book with her life and ensure nothing happened to damage it. Elizabeth thanked them both.
Perhaps Mr Darcy had been motivated by the knowledge of another appointment, as well as a wish that Miss Darcy should not importune them, for the Darcys soon left the teashop. Elizabeth looked at her uncle with a half-smile.
“That was quite the strange occurrence, was it not?” Elizabeth remarked.
“It would seem we should leave before you are convinced to give away your other copies. I am not sure your aunt will appreciate having hers given away if any more young ladies should beg you for assistance,” Mr Gardiner said with a chuckle. He pulled her chair out for her, and they were soon back in the carriage heading home.
Elizabeth could not help but think about the sweetly shy Miss Darcy and her brother. He was a handsome fellow, to be sure. He might do rather well for a hero in a future book, in fact. Solemn, rather impressive, with a sudden, flashing smile…he would have to have some secret for the heroine to discover, of course, all the better for her to fall in love with him.
But while Elizabeth’s heroines might be a perfect match for a fictional Mr Darcy, she was under no illusions that he, or indeed any man of such obvious wealth and consequence, would look at her in such a way. Given the vast social gulf between them, likely they would never see each other again. He would send back the book with a servant, and that would be the end of it.
Elizabeth looked down at her hands, thankful she had worn gloves to cover the ink stains on her fingers. She did notthink she could have borne up under the derisive glances she would surely have received if they had noticed her hands.
