Elizabeth continued, “It is not I you should be concerned about. I fear Mr. Lewis and his temper. It would be a shame if he decided to leave Pemberley before our holiday was over.”
She looked at Isabella. “You are of age, you know. You do not need your brother’s consent. If the colonel had a common license, Pemberley has a chapel, and a rector resides not a mile from here. I am certain Mr. Darcy would stand up at your wedding, Richard. And I would stand up for you, Isabella. You could be married here on Pemberley land.”
Both Richard and Isabella stared at her in surprise, and then in delight as they realized the truth of her words.
Richard turned to Isabella. “Let us speak of it tonight. I cannot leave the others early, or your brother will take notice. But perhaps we can meet in the drawing room before dinner, before anyone else arrives. In the meantime, think on what Mrs. Darcy has said.”
Isabella, eyes bright with excitement, said, “I will.”
He pressed her hand, then ran up the stairs into the house and was gone.
Isabella turned to Elizabeth with a sigh. “I will be good for nothing the rest of the day, but I will come. I need something to help me pass the time until I can be with Richard again.”
Chapter 38: The Fishing Party
Darcy had just cast his line when Bingley propped his rod against a rock and went to meet Jane.
“You have returned from your shopping trip,” he said warmly. “May I bring you a little ratafia or some water?”
He guided her to a chair and began to serve her a drink. Darcy turned, his attention drawn to the path leading from the house. The ladies were approaching through the shade of the trees, Peter Miller following behind with two fishing rods and a basket.
Among the group, Elizabeth caught his eye at once. She wore one of her simple muslin gowns, her hair loosely bound, and looked, he thought, like a girl setting out on an adventure. His gaze lingered on her lips, and he was so powerfully drawn to her that a sharp pang pierced him. He had grown dependent upon her. He feared that he might have become too dependent.What if she, too, proved unfaithful?The thought struck him like a blow. This, this was precisely what he had spent years guarding against, dependence upon a woman. The realization left him shaken and deeply troubled.
She drew close and lifted her face to meet his eyes, her lips now curved in a smile, her own eyes laughing.
“Good afternoon, sir. I brought pudding. It is in the basket Peter carries.”
He felt himself relax. She was exactly as she appeared. Her open expression and trusting gaze assured him she was an innocent, guileless woman; she was his Elizabeth, his wife.
Peter set down the rods and the basket. Elizabeth unfolded a blanket she was carrying and spread it beneath a great oak. Darcy propped his rod and called to the other men, “My wife brought us the best pudding this side of heaven, if anyone wishes a respite.”
Robert soon appeared with another basket containing tea, coffee, and wine. When Mr. Rivendell approached, Darcy made the introductions. “Elizabeth, may I present my friend and neighbor, Charles Rivendell. Rivendell, my wife, Mrs. Darcy. This is her sister, Miss Mary Bennet, and beside Bingley stands her elder sister, Miss Jane Bennet. They are recently betrothed. You know Miss Isabella already.”
Mr. Rivendell bowed to each lady in turn. Elizabeth then directed, “Peter will hold up the basket, gentlemen, help yourselves to the pudding. I shall pour the tea and wine if you tell me your preference.”
Within minutes, they were all comfortably settled, some on blankets, others upon stones or leaning against tree trunks, enjoying the promised pudding, sipping wine or tea, and chatting with good humor. Bingley fetched the only remaining chair, placed it beside Jane, and turned to Mary with an inviting smile. “Miss Bennet, will you not sit?”
Mr. Rivendell soon drew near to Mary. “Miss Bennet, are you Mrs. Darcy’s twin?”
Mary’s eyes shone with amusement. “No, sir, though many have thought so. I was born nearly two years after Lizzy. I am just turned nineteen, and she will be one and twenty in March.”
“Do you make a long stay at Pemberley?”
“Until October, when we remove to Hertfordshire for my sister Jane’s wedding. Afterwards, we will winter in London.”
“Then perhaps we may meet there,” he said, smiling. “Will you save a dance for me?”
“That would be delightful, sir. Which one shall I reserve?”
“The first waltz.”
A delicate flush warmed her cheek. “I will, sir.”
Elizabeth addressed her husband. “Fitzwilliam, will you allow Isabella and me to cast our lines, or is this sport reserved for gentlemen only?”
Darcy laughed. “Elizabeth, my dear, I had no idea you could cast a line.”
She smiled back. “Indeed, I can, sir. I grew up with a rod in one hand and a fly in the other.”
