“Ah. Well, one can only hope for the best in such cases.”
The colonel did not seem unduly concerned. Then again, why should he? Lydia was no one to him. Though, having had his own experience with a young lady of fifteen left unattended at the seaside, she would have thought he might have more to say about it.
“I believe I heard Lord Saye mention that you had a younger sister?”
The colonel nodded. “She is married now and has lately had a daughter. It does not seem so long ago that she was causing us all similar worries over where she went and whom she was with.”
“Did she give you much cause for alarm?”
“No, not really. Aurelia is the spirited sort, it is true, but she is the daughter of an earl and the sister of a military man. Then there is Saye, who likes to boast that, by virtue of his less seemly connexions, he could send a note at breakfast and have anyone at all murdered before it was time to dress for dinner.”
Elizabeth laughed with shock. “Surely he speaks in jest?”
“One never knows with Saye. But taken altogether, it was protection enough for Aurelia to be safely settled without incident.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, her mind busily contrasting that with her own situation. Lydia had no brother—one who could order a murder or otherwise—and her father was not onlynotan aristocrat, he could scarcely be prevailed upon to look up from his book.
“I think I should speak to my father again and urge him to—” she began but the colonel interrupted her.
“I wonder, Miss Elizabeth, if you have any favourite walks hereabouts?” He leant in, his eyes again seeming determinedly piercing and twinkly. “I have missed our conversations in Kent.”
If you miss our conversation so much, why not allow me to finish my sentence?She could say no such thing, naturally.
“I have many favourite walks,” she began but then stopped. Somehow the idea of the colonel and his discomfiting stares and comments intruding upon her time was not enticing. They had been good friends in Kent, but now, when any chance remark might be met by some advance, he was less agreeable to her.Perhaps I am too peevish?She decided she did not care if she was.
“Regrettably, my mother has forbidden me to walk these days.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “She thinks every waking moment ought to be dedicated to Jane’s wedding.”
His attention was partly elsewhere, she observed; turning, she saw that Mr Darcy had drawn near, perhaps even close enough to overhear their conversation, and something in the tilt of the colonel’s head suggested he was aware of his cousin’s movements.
He was ostensibly listening to her reply, but evidently he had not listened closely enough for, returning to her with one of his meaningful stares, he said, a trifle loudly, “Splendid! I always enjoy a morning walk myself, so perhaps I might meet you one day.”
“I am doing as muchas I can,” Fitzwilliam told his brother a short time after his dance with Elizabeth. “You should have heard me—I was all but shouting at her about taking walks in the morning, trying to give him a hint.”
“Did he hear? These blasted musicians are nearly making me deaf.” Saye grimaced. “I am unaccustomed to small ballrooms.”
“The music does seem louder, does it not?” Fitzwilliam thought about it. “I believe he heard me but I cannot be sure.”
“I suppose we shall find out tomorrow morning, if he appears from an early morning ride or walk of his own. You will not find me traipsing about the countryside at dawn for a woman, I shall tell you that much.”
“Not even if Miss Goddard were in the habit of a morning ramble?”
“I do not need to rely on chance in that quarter.” He smiled smugly. “Bingley had not yet given her an invitation to his ball, so I told him I would very obligingly take it to the Goddards myself.”
“How good of you,” Fitzwilliam said with a laugh. “In the meantime, do you not think it would be a handsome gesture to dance with your hostess?”
Miss Bingley had followed Saye hopefully all night. She had looked meanly put upon when he danced with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, but had seemed on the brink of apoplexy when he surrounded himself with matrons for the remainder of the evening.
“To dance with Miss Bingley would give her expectations,” Saye replied. “She is just that sort. I could not so cruelly disappoint her. You and Darcy both danced with her. I daresay that is enough.”
From the window, they saw Saye’s carriage being brought up. “Go and get Darcy, will you? I expect he will have had enough of this too.”
Fitzwilliam glanced to where Darcy stood, eyes still fixed on Miss Elizabeth, who was, even then, dancing with one of her local friends. “Is he ready to depart, do you think?”
“If he has not gathered up bollocks enough to ask her yet, then I doubt it will happen in the last gasps of the evening,” Saye replied. “Let us get him home to bed so he can be awake early for his walk.”
“She argued with him,”Mary reported later that evening. As was her custom, she had not danced at the assembly. Her evening was spent in a chair at the edge of dance floor, quiet and overlooked and happily quite near to where Lizzy and Mr Darcy had feuded. “He thinks she’s in love with Mr Wickham.”
“See? I did too,” Lydia crowed from where she lolled on her bed in her chemise.
